Russell Hoffman
Based on forms experienced in everyday life, Hoffman creates large-scale paintings that challenge our desire to find 'pure geometry'.
Interview with Russell Hoffman
CP: Many people have said that you are both elusive and reclusive. Do you agree with either of these descriptions?
RH: Who are these 'many people'? I think there are about 7 people in the world who are interested in what I'm doing. Luckily, 5 of them regularly buy my paintings! However, to answer your question, I'd say that I'm apologetically elusive and unapologetically reclusive. I just don't get much from being out and about on the town - though I am by know means anti-social. As for being 'elusive' - I think this refers to the fact that I'm not good at talking about my pictures. I guess I always hoped that painting would mean I wouldn't have to talk so much.
CP: So you're not very comfortable giving interviews?
RH: That's not really true. Actually, since I was a child, I have had the habit of interviewing myself in daydreams. It's kind of how I think about things - by asking myself hard questions. I even sometimes hold imaginary conversations with critics and historical figures. I take a lot of shit yet always maintain my composure. The funny thing is that these imaginary conversations and interviews don't seem to make me any more prepared for actual interviews.
CP: In one of your self-interviews, what is a typical question and response?
RH: Let's see. It might be something specific like, 'Why are the 2 white lines in your painting different widths?' Instead of really answering why, I generally find myself getting defensive and pseudo-philosophical - replying with something like, 'Because it's the width the line decided to be.' I also ask myself broad questions such as 'What makes your paintings valid as art?' Though I cannot answer this now, I always provide eloquent statements in my daydreams. I make myself proud.
CP: Do you mind if I ask how you came about to be a painter? I know that you started off in college as a student of photography.
RH: It's true. I studied photography at Rochester for 2 years before transferring to the Rhode Island Institute of Design, where I quickly changed my focus to painting.
CP: Were you dissatisfied with photography or did you just find yourself drawn to painting?
RH: Well, very much both. My initial interest in photography was journalistic - I wanted to photograph the 'social landscape'. However, I gradually found myself approaching picture-taking from an angle that was more formalist and materialistic. Shapes became more important to me than people. Another major factor was my summer job - I built roads and parking lots. In addition to asphalt work, I did seal-coating and even striping. I became very involved in the physical aspects of applying shape and color. Not only were photographs overly flat and largely devoid of texture, the processes of image-making lacked the immediacy of painting on a large canvas.
CP: Were there any artists who had a great influence on you as you made this transition?
RH: Many. Just to name a few, Aaron Siskand, Rodchenko, Franz Kline, Antoni Tapies and Robert Motherwell. However, no one influenced me more than Barnett Newman. His large canvases taught me the joy of staring at walls.
CP: What about Jackson Pollack? You use the same numbering system as he did for titling your work.
RH: Of course I found his painting and energy inspiring. However, I have always had a strong preference for work that makes use of solid geometry. As for borrowing his number system, it just made sense. 'Untitled' sounds lazy. Yet if I have to title a painting in order to make it more interesting to viewers, then the actual painting must lack something. Of course, I am referring only to my own work.
CP: When talking about your work, you often mention 'pure' and 'impure' geometry. How does this relate to your approach to painting?
RH: This is a topic that has interested me since my photography days, when I would wrestle with a camera's bellows to try and make a building appear flat and geometric. 'Pure' geometry refers to shapes such as circles and squares, cubes and spheres, etcetera. The rectangular shape of a canvas or the marks made within are often 'conceptually pure geometry'. However, the shapes we actually see with our own eyes are almost always 'impure geometry'. For example, we believe that we are experiencing a rectangle when we stand in the middle of a football field, but it never actually looks like a rectangle to our eyes. I like to express this desire for a pure geometry in a world where it is actually quite difficult to come by.
CP: A lot of your paintings feature shapes that are not quite perfect or as you say 'pure'. Do you actually favor these shapes?
RH: Not really. I personally love perfect squares and circles. However, as a painter, I appreciate the tension that 'impure' geometry creates. Being a little bit off references the perfect. We try to fix the shape in our mind's eye. We participate more fully in the painting and come away with a better understanding of how we view things - our visual desires.
Interview with Russell Hoffman
from Contemporary Painters March 2007
CP: Many people have said that you are both elusive and reclusive. Do you agree with either of these descriptions?
RH: Who are these 'many people'? I think there are about 7 people in the world who are interested in what I'm doing. Luckily, 5 of them regularly buy my paintings! However, to answer your question, I'd say that I'm apologetically elusive and unapologetically reclusive. I just don't get much from being out and about on the town - though I am by know means anti-social. As for being 'elusive' - I think this refers to the fact that I'm not good at talking about my pictures. I guess I always hoped that painting would mean I wouldn't have to talk so much.
CP: So you're not very comfortable giving interviews?
RH: That's not really true. Actually, since I was a child, I have had the habit of interviewing myself in daydreams. It's kind of how I think about things - by asking myself hard questions. I even sometimes hold imaginary conversations with critics and historical figures. I take a lot of shit yet always maintain my composure. The funny thing is that these imaginary conversations and interviews don't seem to make me any more prepared for actual interviews.
CP: In one of your self-interviews, what is a typical question and response?
RH: Let's see. It might be something specific like, 'Why are the 2 white lines in your painting different widths?' Instead of really answering why, I generally find myself getting defensive and pseudo-philosophical - replying with something like, 'Because it's the width the line decided to be.' I also ask myself broad questions such as 'What makes your paintings valid as art?' Though I cannot answer this now, I always provide eloquent statements in my daydreams. I make myself proud.
CP: Do you mind if I ask how you came about to be a painter? I know that you started off in college as a student of photography.
RH: It's true. I studied photography at Rochester for 2 years before transferring to the Rhode Island Institute of Design, where I quickly changed my focus to painting.
CP: Were you dissatisfied with photography or did you just find yourself drawn to painting?
RH: Well, very much both. My initial interest in photography was journalistic - I wanted to photograph the 'social landscape'. However, I gradually found myself approaching picture-taking from an angle that was more formalist and materialistic. Shapes became more important to me than people. Another major factor was my summer job - I built roads and parking lots. In addition to asphalt work, I did seal-coating and even striping. I became very involved in the physical aspects of applying shape and color. Not only were photographs overly flat and largely devoid of texture, the processes of image-making lacked the immediacy of painting on a large canvas.
CP: Were there any artists who had a great influence on you as you made this transition?
RH: Many. Just to name a few, Aaron Siskand, Rodchenko, Franz Kline, Antoni Tapies and Robert Motherwell. However, no one influenced me more than Barnett Newman. His large canvases taught me the joy of staring at walls.
CP: What about Jackson Pollack? You use the same numbering system as he did for titling your work.
RH: Of course I found his painting and energy inspiring. However, I have always had a strong preference for work that makes use of solid geometry. As for borrowing his number system, it just made sense. 'Untitled' sounds lazy. Yet if I have to title a painting in order to make it more interesting to viewers, then the actual painting must lack something. Of course, I am referring only to my own work.
CP: When talking about your work, you often mention 'pure' and 'impure' geometry. How does this relate to your approach to painting?
RH: This is a topic that has interested me since my photography days, when I would wrestle with a camera's bellows to try and make a building appear flat and geometric. 'Pure' geometry refers to shapes such as circles and squares, cubes and spheres, etcetera. The rectangular shape of a canvas or the marks made within are often 'conceptually pure geometry'. However, the shapes we actually see with our own eyes are almost always 'impure geometry'. For example, we believe that we are experiencing a rectangle when we stand in the middle of a football field, but it never actually looks like a rectangle to our eyes. I like to express this desire for a pure geometry in a world where it is actually quite difficult to come by.
CP: A lot of your paintings feature shapes that are not quite perfect or as you say 'pure'. Do you actually favor these shapes?
RH: Not really. I personally love perfect squares and circles. However, as a painter, I appreciate the tension that 'impure' geometry creates. Being a little bit off references the perfect. We try to fix the shape in our mind's eye. We participate more fully in the painting and come away with a better understanding of how we view things - our visual desires.
