Interview: Writer's Monthly
Interview by David Boyne When Nicki Sucec agreed to an interview in her studio, her directions ended with this instruction: "When you come to the big garage door that seems to lead to nowhere, go though it." Feeling a bit like Alice must have felt—when lifting that bottle with the little note attached, "Drink me!"—I did as instructed. I wasn't disappointed. Nicki Sucec's studio is an airy, sometimes downright windy structure of cobbled together wood and sheet metal walls, side doors, a bare concrete floor, and high ceiling somewhere in a San Diego neighborhood that wouldn't even bother to pretend it had seen better times. Nicki Sucec is a slim, dark-haired, woman of 33, with hazel eyes that almost never look away, whether she is speaking or listening. She is also an artist who transforms some of the strongest and most formidable elements of this planet we walk upon into shapes, sculptures, objects, that are all rich with layers of meaning, and stimulate the imagination.
Incense is burning, mixing with the cool fresh air. We drink herbal tea. And I ask questions. Nicki answers with a passion and depth of learning. I can imagine this slim woman having a stimulating conversation with metallurgists, chemists, anthropologists and biologists—as a peer. At one point I ask, "Do you collect anything?" Nicki answers, "Hammers. Oh, and anvils, too."
But this artist collects other things, too: the many shelves around us are littered with an array of natural detritus: animal skulls, oddly shaped stones, twigs and chestnuts. There is a natural disorder to these objects that shows they are often handled, examined. At one point, Nicki takes a cigar box down from a shelf. She turns back the lid of the cigar box and shows me a collection of found, natural objects; dried leaves of reds and oranges and blues, twigs in crooked, yet elegant shapes, a delicate pear-shaped paper-thin gourd. She tells me how she has collected such natural objects since she was a child, and how family and friends often bring things to her, knowing, "Nicki will like this." Nicki Sucec speaks with a direct and eloquent passion, whether explaining the tools that allow her to paint giant scenery backdrops for San Diego's theaters, or describing the delicate intricacies of a metal smithing technique called "chasing", or telling how she spent eight hours a day for weeks studying with a master blacksmith to learn coal-fired forge techniques. And in her excited words that move from topic to topic, there is also a subtle, tentative quality, that reminds me of when a kid is trying to explain the wonder of her world and the urgency of her ideas to an adult who may not "get it", who may not feel or understand such a passionate response to what they consider "ordinary" things.
WM.US—When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up? Nicki— There was a time in fifth grade that I wanted to be a doctor…and for a while I wanted to be a writer. When I was 16 I even had a short story published in The San Diego Reader. But not until I was in college did I know that I wanted to be an artist. And I knew it wouldn't be easy, financially, and in other ways. WM.US—What do you want to be now? Nicki—Essentially what I am now, only I want to be making a better living doing what I do. I work with many different mediums…with metal…paint…wax…found objects… And I love to work on any scale, from really large scale public art pieces, like my Cinnamon Tree in the San Diego Zoo, to small, intensely personal works. I get pressure from the academic world, from clients, to specialize in one medium. People want to catagorize artists. It's true—it does take time and practice to master certain techniques, but I like to keep my options open. There are times when a particular material lends itself to a particular concept better than other materials. Oh, I would also like to be a mother one day. WM.US—What's your earliest memory? Nicki—I have several. I don't know which came first. I remember trying to figure out what certain words meant-- words such as "diet" and "fired." I combined things I had seen and heard in order to come up with a definition. When I was about three years old I used to watch "The Planet of the Apes" on TV with my brother—not the movie, but the series. There was a table that the apes spun the humans around on —I think it was a torture device of some sort. That image stuck in my mind and I later used it to explain what "going on a diet" meant. Long story short, a person with a big stomach went to a place called "a diet" where they lay face down on one of the spinning tables and when they were done spinning they were thin. Hence the phrase, "going on a diet".
WM.US—Did you "do art" when a kid? Nicki—All the time. I made small houses out of twigs, leaves, seedpods… I played with mud, too, of course. I was always drawing. I painted my first painting with my Grandmother out on the patio when I was about four or five. It was of some flowers in a vase on a table. In the painting the flowers were huge and would certainly have knocked over the vase. I remember being proud of that painting because I thought of a way to show the water in the vase. I just used the dirty paintbrush water. Painting something clear seemed a challenge to me. WM.US— How did you "make it," i.e., become a full-time artist, and not a Kinkos employee, a waitress, a chef, a taxi driver, a currency trader?
Nicki—(laughing) Well, in my mind I still haven't "made it." All of the work I am hired to do (not including my personal commissions) is what I would call "artistic" in one way or another. That is, it takes art skills—for instance the scenic art (painting of backdrops and scenery) I do uses drawing and painting skills, sometimes 3-D carving (as in this summer's production of Pericles, at The Globe Theatres), and requires having "an eye" as they say.
I am thankful that there is quite a bit of creativity in the work that others hire me to do. I don't know if I could be happy in a non-creative job. I also appreciate the freedom and flexibility I have; however, it often comes at the expense of security. I don't know if I'll ever "make it." In my mind that goal is almost unattainable in this country for a visual artist. That would mean that I would have to be supporting myself solely on my own personal artwork—not anything purchased for a utilitarian purpose or made for someone else's needs—just art that I created and could sell and have no problem surviving on. WM.US—Do you write? Does your writing influence, interact with, intersect your visual art? Nicki—Yes. I've been keeping a journal/sketchbook since I was in the sixth grade. My writing absolutely interacts with my art. I constantly jot down concepts, feelings, details, etcetera, that I want to remember to include in my art. Many times a line or a phrase will inspire me to paint or will be the impetus for a sculpture. These words or phrases can be from a song, the newspaper, the radio, common jargon, etc. Sometimes a phrase becomes the title of a piece or is incorporated into the actual work. I like to put words into a different context to make a point. An example of this is a painting I did called Upwardly Mobile. I am just now completing a political painting I started about a year or so ago that consists solely of painted versions of newspaper clippings (text and photos) that I arranged in a particular way to evoke thought and highlight certain facts.
WM.US— The very large Cinnamon Tree at the San Diego Zoo is perhaps your most widely known and most public work. How did The Cinnamon Tree come to be? Nicki—The San Diego Zoo commissioned me to design and build a tree sculpture out of metal to go in a Zoo gift shop called the Cinnamon Tree. The architect/interior designer designed the space with the tree sculpture as the centerpiece. After the first meeting with the project team—the Zoo architect, the head of merchandising, the interior designer, and the contractor, it was decided that for earthquake safety reasons the tree had to be mounted both to the floor and the ceiling of the building. Since the largest entryway to the gift shop was only the width of two double doors, it was necessary to make the tree modular so it could fit in the space upon completion. Once these parameters were established I went from there. I started with purely aesthetic drawings and eventually transformed them into a working technical drawing for the tree. After that I made scale models out of metal and life-size branch samples. During this process I refined what metals and techniques would be used. It was up to me to figure out how it would be constructed and installed. Then I had to construct it. After taking into consideration many things•aesthetics, completion deadlines, budget concerns, material weight, installation requirements, and more, I decided that the tree would be best constructed out of steel, foam and copper. I built it in 7 1/2 weeks, off-site, in my studio. During the building process the members of the project team met at my studio just to make sure things were moving along okay and to discuss any potential problems. There was one snag, but I got through it. Toward the end I met several times with the interior designer to discuss patina colors and finishes for the tree. A couple of nice gentlemen from the Zoo transported the sculpture from my studio to the Zoo at the crack of dawn one day. An independent contractor installed it and I added the over one hundred mica leaves with the help of the Zoo's design team. Oh yeah, a week or so before that I hosted a leaf-cutting party at my house with snacks and wine for friends who came to help cut leaves.
WM.US—What advice would you give to others who would seek or are beginning creative careers, such as writing, art, music, etc? Nicki—A favorite quotation by Goethe: "Whatever you can do, or think you can; begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." I would also add: "Be prepared to experience financial insecurity and frustration!" WM.US—Have you experienced "financial insecurity and frustration"? Nicki— All the time. It bothers me that I have so many friends who are artists, musicians, who have an enormous amount of talent but can't spend the time they need to develop their art fully because they have to spend so much time just "surviving." A songwriter I know calls it "whoring" and that is sometimes how it feels. It angers me when people see the choice to make art your life's work as "easy" or as a choice that is made by lazy people. If being an artist were easy, more people would be doing it. WM.US—Do you consider yourself a driven person? Nicki— Yes. Definitely. But not that I ever wanted to be famous. Still don't. I want to feel I'm making the most of my potential. I'm happiest when I'm busy working on an art piece that I love, and have a lot of freedom in creating...I'm trying to master expression. I learned early on, from my mom, all about "follow your bliss" and doing what you love, even when it isn't easy. WM.US—If someone wanted to stop you from working, from making art, what would they have to do? Nicki—They would have to convince me that there was a greater need for me to do something else. I could make some lifestyle changes in order to raise a family or to take care of a sick relative or friend. I could put it on hold if I really had to. I think I'd just have to learn temporary ways of finding an outlet for my creativity. Give it up all together? Never! It's too much of what and who I am.
WM.US—Tell us about one of your favorite pieces. Nicki—One of my favorite pieces is called Dies Veneris. It means "Day of Venus" in Latin. It's part of my series called The Story of Me and You. It is a sculptural container made of patinated copper and sterling silver that was designed to hold a small gift that was made for me by someone I love. That gift was a God's eye made with thread that was intertwined around the bones of a fish skeleton with a pheasant feather attached to it.
The small container was an experiment in polyvalence. I tried to create an object that shows the inexplicable nature of symbols-- to somehow capture or at least hint at that intangible part of symbolic imagery that can never be fully described in words. I think it was Jung who said, "symbols have a wider unconscious aspect that is never precisely defined or fully explained."
WM.US—There seem to be stories behind much of the art you create. Nicki—Sometimes the inspiration for something I create is rooted in my experience, in stories, I guess. Like Birthday Dance. WM.US—That's an intriguing piece. What's the story behind it? Nicki— I was dancing. Barefoot. With a friend of mine, to some Hank Williams music, doing a two-step. And while I was dancing, I stepped on a piece of glass. I didn't realize it for a while, and then I felt it and saw streaks of blood on the floor. Then the friend I was dancing with, he just gathered me up in his arms, and he took care of everything. Eventually, we fell in love and had a wonderful, important relationship for years. Everything I do, work with, is in a way all about expression that goes beyond words. Words don't always work.
WM.US—What would you like most to be doing with your art? Nicki— I hope to show of a lot of my work, soon, and I'd like to show more ofen. I want to sell more of my sculpture work. I've been a working artist for ten years and I'm gaining exposure all the time. I plan to pursue galleries and get involved in more public art projects. I'd really enjoy taking on more commissions like the Zoo tree—metal sculpture that is large scale and placed in a prominent, public location for everyone to enjoy. |
