Creating intriguing works that explore the self, we spoke to Zachari Logan to find out more about his creations and what they mean to him. Art is a form of communication and it is through the use of himself as a subject and his artist mediums that Zachari tells us stories of himself and of the world as we take a personal look at a vision of a man.
By exploring the self through art do you think you’ve learned a lot about yourself?
Of course, and this is the case for all artists. I have been engaged in a continuum of work that involves my image, my body as catalyst; this aspect of transparency allows for the assumption that my work is more about self than someone whose particular iconography isn’t explicitly linked to his/her own image. I believe all artists are ultimately inventing or reshaping from a place within themselves, regardless of their subject, or ultimately the outcome that results. By this I mean, there is an element of self-discovery implicit in creation of any sort, and that will help to foster learning about one‘s self.
Tell us a bit about your piece ‘Emperor’s new clothes?’ what was the motive behind this?
In Emperor’s New Clothes, Monarch butterflies obscure my body, as they might a tree branch in Mexico’s Mariposa sanctuary. The use of the Monarch for me is very specific, as they migrate yearly from south-western Canada/northern US to Mexico. During this process, many do not live long enough to finish the journey; however instinctually their offspring finish the passage, a phenomenon that occurs returning to Canada and the US. This social behaviour is for me an interesting visual metaphor for ideas of collective identity. As a cluster or swarm, the monarchs insulate my body from the gaze of viewers, while simultaneously, each individual butterfly embodies a naked sensuality that contradicts the human conventions of habitual categorization. The title alludes to both the name of the species the “Monarch”, as well as the famous story of the same name, by Hans Christian Anderson. In Anderson’s tale the Emperor is swindled by the promise of an outfit so sensational it can only be seen by a very select few, (namely those fit for their station in life). This tale exposes a fitting literary trope for the internalized fear of being exposed or othered by a group, one that even the emperor, the most powerful individual in the story is not immune to. “Emperor’s New Clothes” imagines personal isolation borne out of projected feelings of anxiety as a spectacle of metamorphic beauty.
Which piece of your work is the most personal and why?
Firstly, I will say that the newer works/themes seem to reveal more a autobiographical tone. This may seem a bit ironic, as the newer work tends to focus less on my body as the single outlet of narrative significance. If pressed to pick one piece, I would say Vignette, a 20 foot drawing I developed for a Montreal exhibition last year called ‘Domestic Queens’ that dealt with queer domesticity. This drawing, an homage to my relationship with my husband Ned produced a shift in the development of space as a key narrative element in my current work, as well it made me re-evaluate the significance of my figure within the work. This shift in focus came about in part through the depiction of a second personage, my husband Ned. Because of the coupled emergence of my husband, myself and our cats, Willow and Asherah, Vignette became the first piece I truly considered a deeply personal image. The depiction of Ned anchored me in a genuinely biographical portrayal, beyond the simple use of my figure. In my earlier works my body acts as a glyph, a conveyance that aimed a focus on critiquing stereotypic masculinity; within Vignette, is a portrait of my family. Politically, this is a critique of masculine norms, but it is also an affirmation of lived experience. Vignette was accompanied by two smaller drawings flanked on either side, titled Apt. 4B and Apt. 15. These were intimate drawings of the most recent apartments we inhabited. These two drawings, both blue pencil on mylar, materially, reference delftware; while the imagery references the works of Vermeer and De hooch, existing as metaphoric ‘blueprints’ of the spaces in which we live our lives together.
Which piece was the hardest to produce?
I think there is a tie. Definitely Vignette. It became a piece that contained a lot of firsts. Not only was it deeply personal, and included the depiction of someone other than myself (for the first time in over 5 years), the space itself became a main narrative element. Rather than being simply defined by a series of directional shadows, like many of my previous works, the space became a much more complex tableau. The composition definitely draws comparisons to earlier works, it remains neo-classical, basically a frieze-like field of depth; however, the use of the garden motif opened up for me a substantial amount of metaphoric potential, and because of its size, it took a very long time to complete. In terms of sheer technical difficulty, definitely Emperor’s New Clothes. It was the first time I’d used pastel on such a large scale, and the constant re-creation/ re-situation of the butterflies to make the image breathe almost caused my brain to spill out.
Duality #1, Abraham & Isaac is a really strong image, how has it been received?
I would say it has garnered a more positive reception, but there have been definitely been negative reactions to this work. This drawing was created for an exhibition in Barcelona from 2010, titled Duality. For this exhibition I enacted the re-visioning of famous art historical/mythological personages from both classical and biblical stories, in an exploration of the dual nature of self. This was the first drawing in the series. I have always found this story fascinating, it is for me, principally, a story about self-annihilation. The dark mix of sadism or trickery on the part of the biblical god coupled with Abraham’s unwavering trust toward his god, and a parallel of Isaac’s unwavering trust toward his father Abraham, presents a deep paradoxical irony. I chose for my version, an exacto to represent the knife, my penis to represent ‘body‘, and my foreskin as the neck. In this re-telling both Abraham and Isaac a re engaged in cutting, and it is themselves they intend to mutilate. This drawing is Similar in context to an earlier series of drawings, the Invincibles, in which I used my body to portray catholic saints and Christ figures in theatrical states of mutilation to critique the morbid use of the male body as a visual tool of violent transcendence. The use of the exacto evokes a correlation to the mythic imagery of 9-11, creating a more subversive association, as does it’s use in the slicing of foreskin, (rather than the neck) a very sensitive area of male anatomy, and its obvious associations to manhood, as well as religious rites.
Do you think you will always keep yourself as the main subject or do you have plans to bring other prominent Subjects into your work?
I feel that a shift has occurred in the figurative element of my work, not that my body has lost it’s significance, but that other aspects have gained in narrative importance. This shift I would describe as the exploration of art-historic motifs along with an emergent focus on the natural processes of both plants and animals in relation to landscape and the human form.
What is your favourite myth or fable?
There are so many that I love, but the myth that currently holds my interest the most is Daphne and Apollo. I have done many, many drawings based on this story. I love the stark queerness of the character of Daphne who at first pleads with her father to let her remain unmarried, a spinster goddess. Then because of the aggressive advances of love by Apollo, (caused by the golden arrow of Eros) whom Daphne in turn loathed (caused by Eros’ lead arrow) again begs her father for help, who in turn, transforms her into a laurel tree. Apollo in a shockingly gay turn, fashions himself a crown out of some of her laurel branches… This story has had a huge influence on me recently. I often embody the part of the story that has been of interest historically to artists like Bernini and Bruegel; that is, the vision of Daphne transforming into the laurel. A recent drawing, Stick-man is in direct reference to this transformation. It is from an exhibition titled Trauma & Other Stories that opened in NYC last November. This series of drawings, exploring the transformative nature of insult on the queer body, actually included several Daphne inspired motifs. The terrifying spectacle of her transformation into something miraculous, something untouchable came to her at the cost of her freedom, her very life. In my opinion, it is a truly important narrative for anyone interested in identity politics.
http://www.zacharilogan.com/
