http://www.slimlimb.com
Chris Kerr has been making interesting work in Chicago for a while, I found out about him a couple of years ago. His work straddles the area between reality and cartoon, seriousness and anarchy; and I think Chris is trying to tell us all something, I am going to ask him what here:
Bill: Chris your work is playful and often feels cartoonish and jokey, but there is also a vein of criticism that seems to link the work back to reality. Can you describe the relationship between the jokes and critiques in your work?
Chris Kerr: Well, often times people don’t think I’m that serious, but as you point out there is usually some kind of meaning behind the joke. If you spent some time with me you would see that I live that way as well. It’s kind of like that line in the Disney movie Mary Poppins: “…Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down…” I enjoy using serious themes in my art, but with simplified color schemes and characters with smiling faces and a childlike innocence. My boss at work is always making fun of me for making my own T-shirts, wearing camouflage and bandanas, etc. The people I have been working with for a long time respect me for my experience, and the people who meet me for the first time are usually freaked out.
B: What does the supernatural world represent in your work, for instance your book “The Amish Elf” seems to put religion and nature into conflict.
Chris: I have a lot of problems with religion, but I believe in ghosts, zombies, witchcraft, wizardry, folklore, and tall tales, so at some point I decided that I couldn’t ignore organized religion or its importance for most of the civilized world. Most of civilization was created or destroyed by faith-based initiatives. I was raised Southern Baptist in rural Kentucky. It kept me in line, but I always had a bit of the devil in me. When I left Kentucky in 1992, I was kind of thrown out into the secular world. Amish Elf explores the simple yet profound themes of nature: Birth, Life, Death and Reincarnation. The Amish Elf character has no control over his environment. He encounters supernatural beings and endures harsh consequences for his actions. I love thinking in extremes. I spend a lot of time daydreaming.
B: As a follow up another example of the supernatural colliding with reality is the great sculpture you made of an elf in a green outfit with a hat that is very pointy popping himself out of a red tent on what appears to be a college campus. To me this sculpture kind of brings together a lot of your other work because it makes me consider the differences between a more natural fantastical world and the everyday world in an abrupt moment.
Chris: That sculpture was for an academic museum in Evanston, IL. Most of the work that is shown there is scholarly, abstract painting and sculpture. I may be generalizing a bit, since they do show contemporary art occasionally. I was anxious to do something simple and funny. Gardenfresh (great contemporary collective and gallery in Chicago) curated the exhibit. They provided tents for all the artists to make work in. I didn’t know that they were only providing tiny kids sized tents, so I had to bring my own dome tent. It was kind of funny because the elf was in this big ass tent with his sleeping bag looking out towards Lake Michigan in search of a campfire to roast his marshmallow.
B: You have been producing Zines. How did you get into that?
Chris: I was going to Quimby’s bookstore in Chicago at least once a month. They carry thousands of artists’ DIY zines and comics. I’d usually find a couple that I liked, but everything was always so text heavy. I decided to make a completely wordless and weird zine: The Amish Elf. After I finished it, I had a much greater respect for sequential artists. It’s considerably harder than making a painting, yet no one wants to spend more than $5 on a zine. For my second zine: Last Face You’ll Ever See, I tried to keep things more spontaneous by not using a narrative and decided to photocopy the entire zine myself. The zine is definitely crazier than the first zine and has received a totally different response. I kind of love that about it. It’s like a child that only a mother could love.
B: What is the Zine scene like in Chicago? I know there is that one store, Quimby’s, that is hugely popular. (Incidently when I was in Afghanistan one of my best friends, Jamie Boling, sent me a bunch of semi-pornographic comic books from Quimby’s so I have a soft spot in my heart for that place.) Do you trade zines, send them to galleries?
Chris: Quimby’s is awesome. I don’t read porn myself, but every time I go into Quimby’s, I can’t help but pick up something pornographic. It will usually be disguised by something that I’m into like Wizards or Eskimos, and then penises and vaginas will just start popping out everywhere. They have a very magical collection of stuff. I am very inspired by a book I found there: Homemade Tattoos Rule. Zines and comics are huge in Chicago, probably because the winters are so fucking long. Most people hole up with their handle of whiskey and their Micron pens and go crazy making zines. I also wanted to have something to offer average people (like me) at my shows. I got tired of hearing everyone say, “Love your work, but I‘m broke right now.” I might sell a few paintings or drawings, but for those that are on a tighter budget, there’s also affordable merchandise like cheap prints, t-shirts, and zines that people may buy.
B: What is your relationship with Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors? You emailed me a sculpture of Prozac containers stuck together by a plastic holder like a six-pack of beer. I am assuming you are against how easy the pills are too get, and how they just make people dull?
Chris: I don’t spend that much time thinking about anti-depressants, really. I was on something for about six months when I first moved to Chicago and now that you mention it, it did make me dull. I love beer. I think it’s funny that I drink a shit ton of beer and it’s very heavy and very noticeable at the super market. I like to stock up, so I’ll buy four twelve packs at a time. The clerks always say something like, “Whoa, look who’s having a party tonight. Can I come?” Back in the Pharmacy, people walk out with two months of prescription pills in a little white bag. It’s so discrete. I thought it would be fun to create a “party pack of Prozac.”
B: Are you religious?
Chris: I’m with Bill Maher. I just don’t claim to have any answers. What I am against is people not making their own decisions. I don’t like to see people losing their independent voice, because their religion dictates how they should vote, where they should shop, what movies they should watch, and who they should marry… I think that is sad.
B:What do you think about the strange landscape of homegrown religions in North America: like the Shakers (semi-British but really took off in upstate New York), Mormons, Scientologists, and Jehovahs Witnesses?
Chris: The Shakers were so fucking horny, they danced (shook) to try and rid themselves of their voracious sexual appetite. Come on, that’s pretty awesome! It’s surprising they never thought of the consequences their celibacy would have on future generations of Shakers. They created some awesome furniture and architecture and invented the first table saw. Their symmetrical drawings were also impeccable. Mormons, Scientologists and Jehovah’s Witnesses are also very interesting as well. Mormons have the history of polygamy. Scientologists have Tom Cruise. Jehovah’s Witnesses ride bikes and try to talk people into riding bikes too. Look, I don’t bad mouth anyone, but I have a hard time believing that people in organized religions are truly happy. It’s funny and weird from the outside, but from my experience in organized religion, it’s very hard to determine a path for your life when you are not actually allowed to make decisions for yourself. All of my family members (excluding myself) swear by it.
B: Where did you grow up?
Chris: Radcliff, Kentucky (5 miles south of Fort Knox). It was basically a town full of fast-food chains that catered to soldiers who were craving junk food. All around Radcliff were farms, hollers, coal mines and moonshine stills. My dad and I used to steal moonshine from the Amish and sell it to the Mennonites. My first horse was named “Schwinn.”
B: Do you do anything interesting besides making art?
Chris: No
B: In the photo you sent of yourself you seem to be cultivating a semi-biker-ish look, nice snake bandana. Is it all showbiz, or is that how you really dress?
Chris: I generally look like that. Usually my mullet and beard are a little longer, and I’m in my 85’ Ford F-150, rather than my girlfriends 92’ Pontiac Firebird.
B: What does “Lord I Love You” mean in your recent paintings (or are they screened)? It seems like a general statement of enthusiasm, but could also be a profession of faith, or something someone says when they get a good birthday present that they weren’t expecting.
Chris: They are tempera paintings on paper with screen-printed text. I’ve always listened to a lot of Spacemen 3. They always repeat things a zillion times. Wondered how it would be to “freestyle” with tempera on paper and then go back and enforce the same text onto all 34 paintings. It could have been any text though: “Taco’s and Beer” or “Lucifer Loves You” would have worked as well, I suppose.
B: What part does Beer play in your creative process? Do you prefer Pabst or Coors?
Chris: I like to drink beer. I don’t use it as a creative tool though. Beer makes a monotonous task like sanding gesso, sculpting pink polystyrene foam, or painting eyes on wee beasties more fun though.
B: Real artists prefer Pabst.
Chris: Coors is shit. I’d drink squirrel piss before Coors. Pabst is my favorite everyday drinking beer. Only in bottles though. Someone who worked at Warehouse Liquors in downtown Chicago once told me that canned Pabst can only retain it’s true flavor for a couple of months, but bottled Pabst flavor will last for years. I’ve been drinking Pabst bottles for so long now that I can feel inconsistencies in the thickness of the bottles.
B: How often do you find yourself in a state of existential crisis?
Chris: What does that mean?
B: What is the single most important thing to you when making work?
Chris: Number one: Is it Neo Country? Number two: Is it encyclopedic? (Have I successfully drawn inspiration from a variety of sources, or am I resting in something comfortable and known to me)? Number three: Does it leave questions? (Will it inspire me and surprise me enough to make the next piece)?
B: What would you like to have written on your gravestone? I have been fascinated by epitaphs since I saw the Royal Tenebaums where Royal’s grave reads: Royal O’Reilly Tenenbaum (1932-2001). Died tragically rescuing his family from the
wreckage of a destroyed sinking battleship.”
Chris: Royals’ grave is hard to beat. There is a tomb pictured in American Folk Sculpture. It reads: “In Memory of Mr. Elisha Maynard…Death is a debt to nature due. Which I have paid and so must you.” It’s interesting that Death is presented as something that loomed over poor Elisha’s head. My tombstone might say: “Sleep When You’re Dead.” My girlfriend and I say that to each other all the time to prod each other into getting more out of life. I also like how Mark Ryden has Thai carvers who hand carve picture frames for his elaborate paintings. I think it would be cool to have a completely wordless grave or have one of my images carved on a tombstone with simple text like, Who Drank All the Blood?
