Interview: Tim Wilson

 'In progress,' Harpooner, 20x24, oil on canvas, 2012

Tim Wilson creates stunning portraits. Using rich earthy hues and scattered, gestural strokes, he depicts figures with faces obscured, eyes painted over, the end result being a rather ghoulish look, as if the characters are either tormented or tormenting. Or perhaps they are just otherworldly. Tim’s backgrounds tend to be rich and grand, thick swaths of paint hinting at clouds, brooding sky, thick black night. Born and raised in Southern Maine, he came back here to work after receiving his BFA from RISD. Although he has mixed feelings about people saying this: watch this guy—I really enjoy his work now and I’m incredibly curious to see what his work will be like in three years, six years, fifteen years.

(((Unless otherwise specified, photographs for this piece were taken by Julia Wood)))

What’s on the top of your inspiration pile right now?

TW: I went to a few antique shops last week and picked up an amazing children’s pillow, with French maritime tick and fraying seams. Four dollars. It's amazing! I have a Maritime Bank check tacked in my studio that I picked up at the same location as well. From the 19th century. The whale stamp in the middle is what did it. Having those historic images just helps to inform my senses, whether or not I directly use them in my work. I have a book of old saw woodcuts, a large format book of Velsaquez, and a book of Alchemy right in front of me right now. Oh, and a little still life on my window sill of some old hunting knives and a broken seashell and an old copper cow bell. They look really nice together when the sun hits, and feel simultaneously like an adventure story, a Wyeth still life, and a seaside flotsam pile. I can just look at them and be happy for hours.

Do you collect anything?

I'm a big collector of ephemera. I frequent little antique nooks and shops, and although I lust after the higher end items, the sturdy objects that have survived wear and tear, the ephemera is really the only type of item that is within my budget ~ and it is also what informs my graphic work: readapting what is old into new labels and textile graphics. I do have a small collection of antique claws from bathtubs, and books, books, books....I used to have a collection of driftwood and knick-knacks, but without a solidified place to keep them, I ended up slowly displacing them the past few years.

On the digital front, I literally have gigabytes of images, each under different folders and labels, ranging from occult, anatomical practices, medieval woodcuts, barn broadsides....to individually labeled artists. The advent of the internet has made my obsessive image collecting a dangerous addiction.

On the wall in Tim’s studio.

Who are your favorite artists?

Favorite artists! So many. So many movements, artists, random effective images. At one point it was only sci-fi illustrators, then comic artists… however, for the past five years or so my inspiration has been very [consistent].

Jusepe Ribera is by and far the most influential, his color palette and gritty realism and depiction of martyrdoms have truly struck a chord with me. My book of his work has been re-bound once already. Rubens and Van Dyck are always on my desk; the 'rubenesque' curves and obvious love of anatomy and character are so romantic to me. Memling, Weyden and Gossaert pick up the more baroque element of things for me, their altarpieces and stylizations are always a forefront, and, I believe, mix well with the more modern 'antique' folk paintings that inspire me, the way the backgrounds are flattened and almost comically and poetically depicted.

I am greatly inspired by Phil Hale for the tension in his characters and compositions, and what he manages to do with such a limited palette. Nicola Samori is someone I have been fond of in the past few months ~ not in the sense that I feel inspired to create after seeing his work (in fact the opposite, i feel exhausted after looking at it--out of amazement!).  He takes the notions of decay and pentimenti and thrusts them in such a bewitching direction.

Self Portrait, 11x13, oil on canvas, 2010.  

And the Wyeths and Winslow Homer. The entire romance and lifestyle of Andrew, Jamie and Winslow are a constant drive for me, and perhaps the reason why I yearn to find a way to move to a more northern location in Maine and truly rekindle a connection with the land and my childhood. A collector of Homer bought a series of my paintings, and I was literally beaming for days.

And Edward Gorey. Edward Gorey. Edward Gorey. Not only his images, but his wordplay.

People say I must be inspired by Francis Bacon. I see the resemblance, but I never actually get anything from looking at his work.

The Sighting, 40x50 roughly, oil on canvas, 2012. Photo courtesy of the artist.

You have a really distinct color palette: loamy reddish-browns, pale icy blues, deep grey-blues. Can you tell me a little bit about why you gravitate toward those colors?

Color is kind of an issue for me. I love color, but I feel a lot more comfortable with tonal colors, black and white. I try to mix things that will fit together, which means earth tones. And the sea is a large inspiration, and whaling, which means more earth tones.

Tell me about the figures in your paintings.

I’ve noticed that a lot of my characters and portraits have closed eyes, and you can’t really tell if they are peacefully dead or calmly relaxing, and I like that.  The characters I sketch… their arms are often up, and they look like they could be dancing, or running away from something, and you can’t really tell if it’s fun dancing or a nightmare. I like that duality. 

Head in the Clouds, 22x30, 2011. Photo courtesy of the artist.

What do you look for in a model?

I like to have some sort of relationship with them; I mean, I need there to be some sort of previous interaction so that I can get to know them. That, in turn, helps me to articulate certain features about them or soften things in the paintings I make. The people I choose often have striking features. For example, my friend Meghan has really white skin and a premature graying of her hair. It’s such a forceful image. 

Study for a painting.

When I painted her, I really didn’t accentuate that at all, but having looked at her and drawn her helps to inform my vocabulary, so the next few paintings that I did incorporated that. I choose people [who I see, and think], “I want their features.”

Any upcoming projects?

I will be in the Aucocisco figurative show [in Portland in May], and I have a summer long show at the Foc’sle gallery in Provincetown and a group show at the TNC Gallery in New York in July. Possible shows at the Corey Daniels Gallery and Accident & Artifact. And a solo show at the Design Center showrooms in Boston in September.

Wow.

And I’ve been asked to sell items on consignment at a new store that is opening up in town. It's called the Portland Trading Company. I don’t think there is a web presence or site as of yet. I will be selling t-shirts and eventually other items—antique re-salvaged linen napkins, waxed placemats, primitive folk pillows and stitched dolls… and maybe more, under the brand name Powers Shoe Company (the name of my grandfather's old company). It will be a long process. 

Where do you see yourself living and working in 10 years?

I see myself still having a residence in Maine. I truly feel something magical here. But I am also so inspired by places that have an overwhelming sense of history, like Ireland and Scotland. I took a semester in Edinburgh, and travelled through the highlands. You can feel the weight of age in the air. I loved it. My ten year plan is to find an old farmhouse in down east [Maine] and convert it into a studio. I’d also like to make it a place for an art residency. I love the notion of creating an environment and having the buzz of fellow artists to bring it to life, creating a place for likeminded folk who just want to feel a closer bond to remote nature for just a few months, then take that exposure back to the city and keep it behind their ears while they work.

The Grand Gulon, 40x52, oil on canvas, 2012. Photo courtesy of the artist.

I grew up in old farmhouses and I miss the tinkering of my father’s tools, the overgrown footpaths through the woods and along water, the outhouses and chicken coops and stonewalls. 

See more of Tim Wilson's work HERE and HERE.