Interview with Peter Gerakaris, Part Two

July 8, 2010 by Caroline von Kuhn  
Filed under BLOG-Z

It’s so many of our stories. Move to New York from our relevant home towns and pursue our art. In theory a beautiful dream – in reality a bumpy road – full of service industry supplementary jobs, failed shows, interviews or auditions leading to new ideas but not necessarily new work and the rent check barely paid in time each month. The choice is brave, heroic and often difficult.

In the second installment of an interview with artist Peter Gerakaris, he talks a bit more about his art and gives some invaluable advise to those of us pursuing a career in art.

CvK – Can you talk a little about your murals? How does the space where they went up influence the mural you create?

PG – When I did the solo show / installation “Sprectrumorphosis” at Wave Hill, I created translucent site-specific paintings on glass that filtered exterior light into the gallery. It generated an interplay between the plants, viewers, transmitted color and overall space. However, there was a 14-foot windowless wall which was very anti-climactic, so I had to transform it somehow. I had two or three days left during the install and decided with curators Jennifer McGregor and Erica Strongin do a giant “Helianthus Rorschach” mural. I think it did bring that half of the gallery to life and seemed fitting since they this particular was called the “Sun Room”.

I also have a detailed, “hypothetical” mural proposal on file that would cover the entire north wall of the National Academy Museum on 89th Street and 5th Ave. It was part of a mural fellowship (The Abbey Mural Fellowship) and show I recently took part in at the National Academy. The imagery strives to unite iconography from Central Park with Museum Mile in an attempt to reinvigorate interest in the National Academy by turning the large wall into a beacon. Although I am not holding my breath that it will ever happen, you never know.

CvK – When did you decide to be an artist professionally?

PG – I fantasized about being a Major League Baseball pitcher for years, but threw out my arm in high school so I naturally fell back on art.

I was then too naive to know any better when I moved to New York at age 21 to pursue art after graduating from Cornell. From day one out of undergraduate, I always managed to avoid a day job, despite sometimes wondering what it would be like to get a steady paycheck. But it was a simple deduction: I either spend all my time pouring creative energy into someone else’s project and unhappily wish I were painting, or put that energy into my own pursuits, so the latter is what I did. I also asked myself, “can I really call myself an artist if I am not making art”? Given my disposition, I had no choice, but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.

CvK – It’s phenomenal how your career has taken off. How have you found the transition from grad school into the professional art world in NY?

PG – Well, it feels great to be treated like a professional adult again, not a student. Of course if you had asked me two months ago when I was still trying to find a comfortable painting studio (which is not easy these days in NYC), I may have answered differently. New York is as challenging as ever for artists trying to eek out a life, but the opportunities can often outweigh the challenges.

As for grad school, it’s important to remember that an MFA is a terminal degree and that people go back to school at a variety of stages in life. I at least had a few years of “real world” experience between Cornell and Hunter, so I had professional momentum coming into the program. It probably would not have been appropriate to attend an MFA program had I been a lot younger or waited any longer, but luckily the timing turned out to be really perfect.

I will add that where I did my MFA (CUNY Hunter College) fortunately allows students to balance having one foot in the “real world” and the other in academics—it’s a tasty cocktail of “practice” and “theory”. Plus, it is in the middle of NYC and people are there to take advantage of the pluralistic art scene, so Hunter tends to be less afflicted by the “bubble” or “vacuum” syndromes than some of the other competitive MFA programs. By the end of grad school, you have become so hyper-conscious of yourself as an artist that it is only healthy to take a step back. So all good things must come to an end, including student days. When you come to the realization that you no longer need anyone to orchestrate your learning process and that being labeled a “student artist” by the outside world imposes a ceiling, it means it is time to graduate

CvK – What advise would you give to an artist at the start of their career?

PG – Well, when I first moved to NYC I met an elderly Russian painter who gave me his business card, which read: “if you meet an artist, kill him.”

Aside from that advice, I would say make the best possible work you can and stay true to your own personal vision—be genuine. If you let other people or trends dictate what you should or should not make, you will not be making your own work, you won’t have fun making it, and it will probably not be very good.

No one every said being an artist is easy. It is a tough job because you must be very sensitive to feedback and aware of external stimuli. Simultaneously, you also need a thick skin because you cannot take all the advice or criticism you receive to heart. To paraphrase Herbie Hancock, who was recently asked in an interview if he is “…making music for any particular audience or critic”, he responded by saying “no”—basically, that his biggest responsibility is making music with which he is happy. In a sense, I think that is far more genuine and challenging than pretending to make art under the misguided premise of pleasing others. It is like Kenny G versus Herbie Hancock. But I think Herbie’s response incidentally touches upon the great notion of how specificity can lead to universality: that when you successfully hone in on the specific in art—ie you and your completely unique perspective of the world—you paradoxically arrive at something more universal.

Please visit the artist’s website at www.petergerakaris.com

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