Tropical Flavored Nightmare: Sean Norvet’s Paintings Are Reflective Mountains of Disgusting Excess
This article originally appeared in Hi-Fructose Issue 52, which is sold out. Get our next print issue with a Hi-Fructose subscription here.
Sean Norvet’s newest brood of paintings mark a bold path forward for his art practice. The painter has long been described as a Renaissance-inspired satirist, a mish-masher of photorealism and cartoons into goofy–gruesome critiques of consumer culture or social media habits or other twenty-first-century concerns.
The profundity that viewers tend to find in Norvet’s paintings is a testament to the intricate detailing and technical prowess that he brings to each idea. The point, however, is so much simpler than his acid-trip ruminations tend to suggest. For Norvet, painting is about taking elements that shouldn’t belong together and yet presenting them harmoniously. This materializes in ways as fundamental as the merger of background content with the figure, as inscrutable as the juxtaposition of Saturday morning cartoon characters from the 1980s with classically styled memento mori objects, and basically everything between.
Here is Sean Norvet in his own words, on the nature and scope of his artmaking.
Clayton Schuster (CS): You originally mentioned plans for your newer works but those gave way to you being guided by “intuition.” What were those initial plans and at what point you realized you needed to let go and be conceptually looser?
Sean Norvet (SN): Some of the original concepts were let go because I couldn’t execute them the way I envisioned them. I think that’s just part of the process for a lot of artists though. Some ideas sound great initially, but have trouble connecting once they start. That’s where “intuition” comes in and I just try to not overthink anything and work.
CS: Is working by intuition something that’s new to this current body of work?
SN: I think intuition has always played a part in my process. I usually start with an initial plan and over time, instinct kicks in and it becomes a completely different painting. If something’s not working, I have no problem with covering it up and starting over. I’ve restarted paintings that were almost completed because they just didn’t pack the punch I wanted. For me, this keeps the process exciting, and keeps the energy moving in the work.
CS: Why is it important for you to clash low elements with high ones?
SN: I think I’m just entertained by the clashing. Arranging different elements with one another can create some new and exciting thematics, and trying to find a balance becomes like a puzzle. I think it goes back to my process, where the constant push and pull can create a certain energy I’m striving for.
CS: Do you feel like you champion low art or low culture?
SN: The term “low art” makes me uncomfortable. Always has. We’re living in a time where “high” and “low” is
becoming one thing. We’re overwhelmed with images and information to a point where they are impossible to process, at least consciously. My paintings are about the world I grew up in and see around me—a world flooded with information that’s in a constant, chaotic, even psychedelic dance. My paintings can have sunsets, plants and fruits along with brand logos and cartoon dogs. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not making a statement by including elements someone could interpret as “low.” I’m interested in the energy, balance, and tension created by combining images that are part of our shared reality. I want my work to stand for what it is and evokes. I don’t have any agenda beyond that.
CS: How would you describe your sense of humor—bleak, dark?
SN: I’ve got a pretty dark sense of humor, I think. When I first began to deconstruct portraits, I did have some fun pushing certain elements. I can see how people saw that as sardonic, but I was always more interested in combining unlikely elements than making a statement. People may see a bleakness in elements of my work, but I see lushness, too, in the overwhelming combinations. If you look at my most recent work, it’s much more about combining unlikely elements into a graceful balance. Any time there’s a two dimensional character in one of my works, I see how people can see some playfulness and humor in that. The truth is, I paint what I see around me and try to combine it in a way that pleases me and I think evokes something. To put it simply, most of my work now is more about wonder than any kind of statement.
CS: Your work is such a maelstrom of different styles, I’m curious where that comes from.
SN: I was introduced to a variety of art at an early age, mostly through my father’s collection of art books. Underground comix with Moscoso and Crumb, and the early pop-art movement guys like Rauschenberg and Rosenquist stuck out the most. I would absorb these alongside an abundant amount of cartoons. I think these forms of art, especially cartoons, were gateways to making art. My high school art teacher Lynn Coleman introduced me to the idea of art school. She saw promise in me and pointed me in the way of some renowned institutions here, around Los Angeles. I took a tour at Art Center in Pasadena and was blown away by the student and alumni work.
CS: What initially interested you in messing around with the human figure? My understanding is that you started down this path by distorting anatomy.
SN: I explored painting and drawing anatomy thoroughly in school, and started enjoying artists who distorted anatomy in various ways. Lucian Freud, Francis Bacon, Thomas Hart Benton, Cubism, and others. Eventually, I became inspired to deconstruct portraits even further, which is now leading into a completely different direction.
CS: Is the sixteenth-century Italian portraitist Giuseppe Arcimboldo among those influences?
SN: I discovered his work towards the end of art school and it assisted me to rethink and reconsider different paths for figurative and portraiture painting. I think it really just clicked for me. Plus, that he approached portraiture in such a distinctive way in the 1500’s was fascinating as well.
CS: It seems like you regularly make realistic exaggerations of hair and pores. Why are those consistent touchstones?
SN: That was arguably true in my earlier work, but I haven’t used skin or flesh elements to any appreciable degree since 2017. When I was using them, it was about pushing the limits when combining them with other improbable elements. Eventually, I fell in love with the energy created by combining unlikely elements, and that’s what propels my current work more than anything else.
CS: I saw some recent photos of your desk and noticed a book of still lifes. Do you look for inspiration in those classical examples, or anywhere else in particular?
SN: I dig through a variety of references, mostly from books I’ve collected. For this newest series some of the main inspirations were: Himalayan Art books, Gorezone and Fangoria Magazines, Dutch still lifes, Donald Duck comics from Mexico, books on character trademarks, cartoon animation tutorial booklets, Whole Earth Catalogs, books on film tricks and techniques, and more. I have a wide variety of interests and try to keep an expansive set of sources so that everything feels fresh.
CS: What about artists, specific works, and other stuff that gets you feeling inspired?
SN: Different influences appear for me every day. For now, it’s a really a mixture of art, environment, and entertainment. Artists like Peter Saul, Kaz Oshiro, Neo Rauch, Abraham Mignon, Victor Moscoso, James Rosenquist, Arthur Szyk, Bosch, Jan Davidsz de Heem, and Rick Griffin to name a few. Another few examples that come to mind include nature, landscapes, storefronts, alters, signage, packaging, logos, psychedelia, animation, horror movies, optical illusions, and tombstones. For the most part I like imagery and experiences that evoke something in me, and that’s where I try to recreate the energy into my work.
People may see a bleakness in elements of my work, but I see lushness, too, in the overwhelming combinations.
The more I’ve worked, the more it’s become about the tension and balance between seemingly disparate or unlikely elements and the ultimate composition.
CS: Your works are so complex, I was wondering if you work in layers, or top-down finishing details as you go, or however it actually is?
SN: It really depends. I would say a majority of the paintings go through multiple layers, cover-ups and revisions. It usually starts big to small, painting one element at a time. Then halfway through elements will change, and be re-painted. Other times the figure is finished but I won’t like the background, so I’ll revise that last. The process is definitely sporadic, but eventually it gets me to the final product.
CS: What about your process getting from an idea to a finished piece?
SN: I sketch really loose compositions and shapes so I can find the motion and gesture that I’m looking for. Then I usually bring the sketches into Photoshop and add elements. Once I have some material, I’ll transfer the sketch to panel and start painting. After that, the process changes piece to piece. My process relies heavily on instinct so I push and pull between painting and composing in Photoshop, going back and forth until it finally feels finished. In practice, that means a painting can take anywhere from three days to three months to finish.
CS: What do those initial ideas look like?
SN: If a particular logo or symbol really influences me I begin by sketching a composition around that specific element. Other times I’m just fitting elements to certain shapes. Occasionally, I’ll have a title or phrase I’m thinking about that becomes the foundation for a finished painting.
CS: Your most recent work has taken a new direction that feels markedly distinct from anything else you’ve shown. It’s like the next step in the evolution of your playing with the tension of the figure and the background. Do you feel like there’s something new going on?
SN: I believe my art is in the beginning stage of its next step towards some exciting new ideas. The more I’ve worked, the more it’s become about the tension and balance between seemingly disparate or unlikely elements and the ultimate composition. My work has changed a lot this year, and I’ve learned as much from ideas that didn’t work as I have from the ones that have. This is what I ultimately believe in as an artist—finding limits and pushing beyond them.*
This article originally appeared in Hi-Fructose Issue 52, which is sold out. Get our next print issue with a Hi-Fructose subscription here.
In Oliver Vernon's new abstract works at an upcoming KIRK Gallery show, the artist abandons collage entirely and pushes his work forward only using acrylics. "Brushing Away the Veil," starting on Nov. 2, represents a new body of work and direction for the Brooklynite. There’s another new component to the works, as well, as Vernon says “is the excavation of buried paint layers through sanding. Since many of these pieces have had numerous stages of accumulation, they were like gold mines of hidden color.”
Ian Francis crafts mixed-media paintings packed with ghostly abstractions and figures that appear as evaporating memories. The artist uses a combination of oil, ink, acrylics, and other materials to create each work.
A couple of weeks ago, Pejac shared a simple window drawing on his Facebook profile, as a tribute to legendary French high-wire walker, Philippe Petit. The drawing was done using acrylic on a window glass to commemorate the 40th anniversary of Petit's walk between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City. This simple idea, captured on camera by his friend Silvia Guinovart Pujol, shows the riskiness and fragility of the art of tightrope and is a great example of the Spanish artist's style: simple, minimalist yet effective.
Australian artist Ben Smith's take on portraiture is loose and impressionistic, adhering to the classical tradition of figure painting. Yet his latest series, titled "Flux," pops with candy-colored hues — the artificial colors that bleed into our lives by way of mass-produced products and media. The teals and violets add a playful quality to the work, accentuated by the surreal creatures he introduces into his whimsical scenarios. A miniature albino lion in one piece looks like it would make for an excellent viral pet video if it were a real animal; in another painting, a two-headed horse presents a perplexing and ultimately disturbing anatomical riddle. Tying together various threads in the world around him, Smith creates imaginative vignettes that engage the senses.Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Ut elit tellus, luctus nec ullamcorper mattis, pulvinar dapibus leo.