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You've become a fixture on the lecture circuit. What's the one piece of advice you always bestow on your audience?
I had as tough a time as anybody else, but I've also been very lucky. I got a lot of breaks and used them to my advantage. I also got a lot of rejection and used that as motivation to try and do better. I remember visiting Edward Sorel during one of my first trips to New York. I was a big fan, and still am. He took one look at my work and told me that I should go steal someone else's style. I'll never forget that. He said, "Maybe I'm old, but I just don't get what you're trying to do." It taught me not to visit other artists (laughs). That must have been rough. It depressed the shit out of me (laughs). But it didn't stop me from seeing five different art directors every day of my visit. I always tell young artists that they shouldn't go to art directors looking for work. Go in asking for advice. Don't force them in a position to say "no" to you. Set up a meeting to get their "expertise" and opinion on your portfolio. You don't have to take their advice-and probably shouldn't-because they're usually too wrapped up in their own world. You can go to some silly computer magazine and they'll say, "I think you need to show more computers in your work" (laughs). Listen to what they say and take only what works for you. Ask if there's anyone they think your work might be appropriate for and maybe you can get your foot in the door somewhere else. Then go back three to six months later and tell them you took their advice and want to show them your new stuff. Whatever you do, don't force anyone into confrontation. The only reason I know this is because I did everything wrong (laughs).
Did you study art formally? No. I was a liberal arts major at UCLA. Growing up in Los Angeles, I went to an elementary school located next to the original Art Center and would see what I imagined to be good-for-nothing, lazy artists sitting in trees, drawing. And the kind of art they were producing didn't interest me. I got it into my head that no one could teach you how to be an artist-you developed into one on your own.
Well, it slowed me down socially. I didn't know how to deal with other artists and created a lot of waves when I first started. Not out of meanness, I was just very enthusiastic about my work and people took it the wrong way. I wound up pissing off a lot of them. Actually, the confident artists were supportive, but the insecure ones got offended (laughs). But I didn't care-that was their problem, not mine. I just didn't think I needed art school, although it's good for a lot of young students because it teaches them discipline and provides a certain foundation. However, I believe that it's not until you're out in the real world that you discover how you want to paint and create. I was lucky that I had drive and motivation and didn't need art school in that respect. What was the big turning point in your career? I did a piece for the New York Times Book Review and that was really important to me. Looking back, the piece sucked, but it enabled me to move to New York. The art director, Steve Heller, always gave young artists a chance. I was 24 years old and went to see him with Greg Clarke, who is one of my best friends and a great artist. I could tell that Steve liked Greg's work better than mine, which really depressed me. When we left his office, I threw my portfolio in a garbage can in Times Square (laughs) and Greg went back and fished it out. When Steve and I met again about a year later, he pulled out the cover layout for the New York Times Book Review summer issue and said he had an idea of a character running through the individual sections-like Little Nemo-and asked if I was interested. I couldn't believe it. I came up with many sketches, which he made me re-do over and over.
I would date a lot more (laughs). Actually, I wish I had perspective to realize that each job wasn't life or death. I used to think, "If I get this Time magazine piece, it'll make me." Then it would happen and I'd be like, "Now I have to get another one to keep up." It never ended. I was also never satisfied to do just good work, I wanted to do great work. And I failed a lot. What about now? I think 10% of the work I do is brilliant, 20% is really good and the rest is shit. Even if people tell you the other 70% is great? I don't care (laughs). I mean, that's nice and I thank them when they say that, but it's like, what do they know? >> See more work from Gary Baseman >> See other member spotlights on the member spotlight index >> Find out more on how to become an altpick.com member |
