The very first art show I saw when I arrived in New York was Dash Snow and Dan Colen's Nest at Deitch Projects in 2007, in which they filled the gallery with 2,000 shredded telephone books. I remember feeling the energy, the intrepidness, and the absolute fun that emanated from the piece; I thought these guys were the like the Rolling Stones playing the day after Armageddon. Dan Colen's artworks ally both meticulousness and savagery, and from their contemplation, the feeling of a presence often emerges. When asked which artist he felt the most connected to, revolutionary artist Richard Prince answered "Dan Colen," among others. Jeremy and I recently dropped by his studio to ask him about his past and upcoming work.
Photos by Jeremy Liebman
Alexandre Stipanovich: So you come from New Jersey?
Dan Colen: My family's from Brooklyn, and my parents basically moved me to New Jersey just to have a backyard. So I grew up right across from the Washington Bridge, and I skateboarded there a lot. I was close to the rest of my family––they were all in Brooklyn. Then I went to school in Rhode Island but I would always come down and stay with RYAN [MCGINLEY]. Then when I stopped living with my family, I just kind of permanently moved in with him.
And then you had your first show at Rivington Arms?
Yep.
After Rivington Arms, your work evolved but so did your persona; you became a very wild performer. Do you think you have calmed down since?
I'm not sure I have a real answer to that question. Why I act the way I act at any given time in my life is, you know... I was definitely trying to follow my intuitions. But early on in my life there were certain things that were a lot bigger than me––things that I didn’t understand, that I didn’t agree with, and that I didn’t understand that I wanted. I had some instinct to try to make sure that I projected that sort of defiance to people that were around me, whether they were strangers or family members, friends or enemies.
Is the idea of failure something you like to explore in your work?
I do like to. And I think a lot of discovery comes out of it. I have a body of work made in collaboration with Dash Snow that is only about failure. I like to experience things that I don't have much experience with. And so often, the work doesn’t look like the work previous to it, because once I become comfortable with a material, technique, or an idea, I don’t like to continue to handle it. Because there is less discovery and less failure.
And I think most poignant successes come out of that trajectory. At the end of that, there is a real epiphany. It’s really hard for me to connect to my inspiration. That kind of behavior I had developed from a very young age was before I had any philosophies. It was just about instinct. I have a different outlook at life now––a drastic shift, from negative to positive. I've started to search for a clarity in the failure, instead of just flailing in it. But I do still relate to my past. And my past has played a major role in my present. It informs everything. But I do feel like I am constantly changing. And I sure had a major shift sometime after Dash died, for sure.
Can you tell us a little bit about how the idea for the Nest came about?
Dash and I would travel around, and we heard one of
Photos by Jeremy Liebman
Alexandre Stipanovich: So you come from New Jersey?
Dan Colen: My family's from Brooklyn, and my parents basically moved me to New Jersey just to have a backyard. So I grew up right across from the Washington Bridge, and I skateboarded there a lot. I was close to the rest of my family––they were all in Brooklyn. Then I went to school in Rhode Island but I would always come down and stay with RYAN [MCGINLEY]. Then when I stopped living with my family, I just kind of permanently moved in with him.
And then you had your first show at Rivington Arms?
Yep.
After Rivington Arms, your work evolved but so did your persona; you became a very wild performer. Do you think you have calmed down since?
I'm not sure I have a real answer to that question. Why I act the way I act at any given time in my life is, you know... I was definitely trying to follow my intuitions. But early on in my life there were certain things that were a lot bigger than me––things that I didn’t understand, that I didn’t agree with, and that I didn’t understand that I wanted. I had some instinct to try to make sure that I projected that sort of defiance to people that were around me, whether they were strangers or family members, friends or enemies.
Is the idea of failure something you like to explore in your work?
I do like to. And I think a lot of discovery comes out of it. I have a body of work made in collaboration with Dash Snow that is only about failure. I like to experience things that I don't have much experience with. And so often, the work doesn’t look like the work previous to it, because once I become comfortable with a material, technique, or an idea, I don’t like to continue to handle it. Because there is less discovery and less failure.
And I think most poignant successes come out of that trajectory. At the end of that, there is a real epiphany. It’s really hard for me to connect to my inspiration. That kind of behavior I had developed from a very young age was before I had any philosophies. It was just about instinct. I have a different outlook at life now––a drastic shift, from negative to positive. I've started to search for a clarity in the failure, instead of just flailing in it. But I do still relate to my past. And my past has played a major role in my present. It informs everything. But I do feel like I am constantly changing. And I sure had a major shift sometime after Dash died, for sure.
Can you tell us a little bit about how the idea for the Nest came about?
Dash and I would travel around, and we heard one of