Since the early 80s, abstract minimalist American artist Peter Halley has been painting the same subject over and over again––a jail window from a prison cell. The idea behind it is simple: nothing is boring. Rather, boredom (and delight, for that matter) is in the eye of the beholder. As an essayist, Halley has also written about the prison cell as a metaphor for modern isolation. But his originality also lays in his use of colors and textures. Along with The Hole's Kathy Grayson, Jeremy and I visited the artist in his studio as he prepares for his show at Mary Boone Gallery opening on May 2nd, 2013.
Kathy Grayson: Do you feel like you connect with a lot of young artists?
Peter Halley: Well, yes. I just stopped being director of the painting program at Yale two years ago, and I keep up with a lot of former students. It was just amazing connecting with artists when they are in that stage of development. They were so gifted in doing such interesting things.
Alexandre Stipanovich: In your first show, at International with Monument in 1985, were you already using your prison cell motif?
PH: Yes, the way I work developed in 1981 or 1982. People sometimes complain that my work doesn't change. I think it has changed a lot, but the basic iconography remains very static.
AS: At the time, were you already thinking of painting it for the rest of your life?
PH: Well, it's not one motif. It started with prisons. And then I began to think about prisons being connected to each other. And then I began to think that prisons were maybe a bit 19th century, and that I should get rid of the windows, so they became cells… And so it's been prisons and cells, connected by conduits, ever since then. I do feel that each painting is both autobiographical and looking outside; each painting is both a self-portrait and a landscape at the same time.
KG: How has your technique changed in terms of paint materials and approach? It looks like the paintings start mummified with tape, which comes off at different times.
PH: Making the paintings has become a lot more sophisticated. I started using Roll-A-Tex® in 1981. You didn't need a special virtuosity to use the Roll-A-Tex®, the DayGlo, or the commercial techniques––anybody could make the paintings. In New York at the time, people had returned to oil painting using a brush, making figurative and romantic paintings. One thing I wanted to get back into was having physical signifiers in the painting. So when I wanted to make a ground line, I put two canvases together, and when I wanted to make something feel physical, I'd put stucco on it. So the paintings are low-relief rather than illusionistic. I have to say that, even more in the 2000s than before, the most popular artists are because of virtuosity. To me, virtuosity is a little anti-democratic.
KG: Like, the lone genius who's the only one able to make the specific thing?
PH: It's not all bad, but it's not a good role model. It’s terribly exclusive.
KG: How many layers of acrylic do you use in your works? It’s almost half a centimeter!
PH: Yeah, it’s about fifty. You have to re-tape it every five coats. I was lucky to find the acrylic because it wasn't actually paint, but Roll-A-Tex® powder mixed with paint. So I could mix it with artist’s acrylic and it wouldn't fall apart.
Jeremy Liebman: I grew up in Texas, and there was Roll-A-Tex® on the ceiling in my bedroom. I'd just lay there and look for patterns for hours.
PH: Actu
Kathy Grayson: Do you feel like you connect with a lot of young artists?
Peter Halley: Well, yes. I just stopped being director of the painting program at Yale two years ago, and I keep up with a lot of former students. It was just amazing connecting with artists when they are in that stage of development. They were so gifted in doing such interesting things.
Alexandre Stipanovich: In your first show, at International with Monument in 1985, were you already using your prison cell motif?
PH: Yes, the way I work developed in 1981 or 1982. People sometimes complain that my work doesn't change. I think it has changed a lot, but the basic iconography remains very static.
AS: At the time, were you already thinking of painting it for the rest of your life?
PH: Well, it's not one motif. It started with prisons. And then I began to think about prisons being connected to each other. And then I began to think that prisons were maybe a bit 19th century, and that I should get rid of the windows, so they became cells… And so it's been prisons and cells, connected by conduits, ever since then. I do feel that each painting is both autobiographical and looking outside; each painting is both a self-portrait and a landscape at the same time.
KG: How has your technique changed in terms of paint materials and approach? It looks like the paintings start mummified with tape, which comes off at different times.
PH: Making the paintings has become a lot more sophisticated. I started using Roll-A-Tex® in 1981. You didn't need a special virtuosity to use the Roll-A-Tex®, the DayGlo, or the commercial techniques––anybody could make the paintings. In New York at the time, people had returned to oil painting using a brush, making figurative and romantic paintings. One thing I wanted to get back into was having physical signifiers in the painting. So when I wanted to make a ground line, I put two canvases together, and when I wanted to make something feel physical, I'd put stucco on it. So the paintings are low-relief rather than illusionistic. I have to say that, even more in the 2000s than before, the most popular artists are because of virtuosity. To me, virtuosity is a little anti-democratic.
KG: Like, the lone genius who's the only one able to make the specific thing?
PH: It's not all bad, but it's not a good role model. It’s terribly exclusive.
KG: How many layers of acrylic do you use in your works? It’s almost half a centimeter!
PH: Yeah, it’s about fifty. You have to re-tape it every five coats. I was lucky to find the acrylic because it wasn't actually paint, but Roll-A-Tex® powder mixed with paint. So I could mix it with artist’s acrylic and it wouldn't fall apart.
Jeremy Liebman: I grew up in Texas, and there was Roll-A-Tex® on the ceiling in my bedroom. I'd just lay there and look for patterns for hours.
PH: Actu