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HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO
Bushwick artist Nikita Shoshensky looks to John Wayne to save the contemporary art scene. Dash Snow need not apply.
“First off, the museum is a failing institution,” confides Nikita Shoshensky. “It’s been failing.” Shoshensky, an artist with a still new degree from Cooper Union, sounds almost happy to be hailing the end
of an institution instrumental to his craft. “The Whitney Biennial was horrible,” he says cheerfully. “I don’t care about other people’s fantasies.”
At 24, Shoshensky, who has a lithe frame and an impressive mass of black curls, possesses the cynicism of a much older man, or if not cynicism – Shoshensky seems quite pleased with his life – the ability to recognize bullshit from a mile, at least, away. His take on the much-lauded New Museum, recently dropped smack in the middle of the Bowery?
“I have no issue with what’s in it, per se,” he begins diplomatically. “It’s what it says with what’s in it.” Diplomacy ends. “[It’s a] dogmatic, unemotional, and falsely rigorous assessment of the city and creative practice.” Or, in layman’s terms: “Bad ideas done badly.” Ouch. So who is Shoshensky – an art school grad with a few group shows under his belt – to talk about the establishment like this? In celebrity-driven art world terms, nobody. Which is just fine with him.
Born in Moscow, Shoshensky and his family left Russia and headed for the Bronx when the Soviet Union collapsed. Shoshensky was nine, and his English consisted of the basics: “cat, bat, hat,” he recalls. Partial credit is due to the New York Public School system for preparing him for the phrases and words like “archeology of violence,” “methodology,” and “numerati” that crop up in his speech now, but it’s clear Shoshenksy is a quick study. After graduating from Cooper last spring he moved to Bushwick where he lives and works in one of those great, big, carved-into loft spaces that make Manhattan real estate seem like such a joke.
“It’s a funny place to grow up,” Shoshensky says of Russia, where trying Coca-Cola for the first time qualified as an event. “Places like that don’t exist anymore. You can go to maybe Cuba or North Korea to get a sense of that space.” Despite having been back to Russia several times, Shoshensky’s sense of national identity is as loose as his artistic opinions are fixed. “I don’t feel Russian because I spent most of my life here [in the US],” he says. “But I don’t feel American. I have no nationality.”
While Shoshensky may eschew his American identity, he is happy to embrace the country’s cultural artifacts. After completing a series of paintings based on Bonnie and Clyde and the Barrow Gang, his latest project takes on Westerns in general. He has logged countless hours in front of his computer capturing stills from Rio Bravo, The Magnificent Seven, and The Wild Bunch, watching upwards of four films a day. The result is a series of delicate and impressively done pen and ink sketches of heroes and sidekicks. John Wayne fills the page with his chaps and swagger; only his face is missing. “I decontextualized them by taking away their one recognizable feature, which is their portrait,” Shoshensky explains. “And I sized them down and put them into this isolated space.”
Villains get the star treatment in Shoshensky’s work. The medium changes from ink to acrylic and the canvasses increase in size. “I’m doing basically an encyclopedic cataloguing of all the tertiary villains from Westerns,” he says, less interested in the primary evildoers than those reckoned as disposable plot devices. “At the peak of their bravado or confidence they’re sacrificed for this construct of John Wayne or Clint Eastwood,” Shoshensky says of his subjects, drawing a parallel between their deaths and the deaths of Iraqis in the current war, offered up for the sake of American ideals. “I’m trying to engage the archeology of violence in our culture,” he explains. “This work is about cinema as a gateway to dissecting that history.”
While the war in Iraq was an obvious jumping off point for the project, Shoshensky would prefer not to classify himself as a political artist. “I despise political art,” Shoshensky says with his trademark conviction. “I think it’s preachy and oversimplifies issues.” His view of an artist’s job is slightly more nuanced. “I never want to smack someone over the head with ideas,” he says. “My job is to program the genetics. If somebody is interested in discovering them they can look at the work and find out more because I put it there.”
This might sound like a lot of big talk – bluster from a cocky gunslinger – but Shoshensky’s work is assured, technically sound, and intelligent. Chalk it up to his work ethic, which sees him painting or drawing until ten or eleven o’clock at night. “It’s a stoic workaholic life,” he acknowledges. “It’s not like I get a couple of prostitutes to come in here and…” He trails off, grinning.
The call girl lifestyle runs counter to Shoshensky’s idea of what an artist should be. “If you want good art you’re not going to get it out of Dash Snow or Dan Coleman, you’re going to get bullshit.” (Not that we’re saying these two particular artists pay to get laid, it’s just that they’ve been known to party.) “There’s a lot of thinking that has to happen,” Shoshensky says of his process. “It’s your job as a thinker to present a question.”
Luckily, Shoshensky’s girlfriend, Alexa Adams – who makes up half of the design team behind the Vogue-vetted label Ohne Titel – shares his proclivity for late nights. “She’s doing exactly what she was designed to do,” he says of Adams. As for himself, when it comes to making art he can’t imagine doing anything else with his life, either. “It’s like that or the gutter.”
Shoshensky expects to be finished with the Western series by this spring. He doesn’t know where it will be shown, but based on his projections for the project, it’s bound to be a success. Who knows, if he plays his cards right, maybe he’ll be invited to show at the next Whitney Biennial.
-ALISON BAENEN
To see Nikita’s work, visit his website: www.nikitashoshensky.com.
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FREE YOUR MIND
Juan José Heredia takes on the New York art scene;
countdown to model-filled gallery opening starts…now
It’s not always the case that especially good-looking people are jerks. Not always, but often. Often enough that meeting a really, genuinely nice especially good-looking person is noteworthy. And when that genuinely nice especially good-looking person is an unguarded romantic who keeps a vintage briefcase full of love letters in his apartment and says things like:
“The idea of love to me is super tragic,” it’s hard not to reevaluate your opinions of especially good-looking people in general.
Enter Juan José Heredia.
Born in Mendoza, Argentina, Juan grew up in Miami. A surfer who’s seen swells in Portugal, Mexico, and Morocco, Juan started body boarding when he was 11; now, after moving to New York in 2005, he makes the trek to Rockaway Beach about three times a week. His first surfboard was a gift from a drug dealer – a friend of his older sister’s, Juan explains nonchalantly – but he insists it was a clean exchange. “I didn’t have to do anything,” he reassures, and adds, straight-faced, “I was too young to do any gang-banging at the time.”
Broad-shouldered and tall, with a mouthful of charmingly mismatched teeth, and a forward-falling mop of brown hair that requires constant attention to be kept out of his eyes (They’re hazel. Sigh.), Juan will be more familiar to readers of Vogue, Details, Arena Homme +, and V Magazine for his modeling gigs than for his skill on a short board. But Juan is a surfer first, and a model third. Second, he is an artist.
Juan wears his artistic leanings on his fingernails. They are paint covered, and his pants, ankle-baring ones he’s taken in himself, are specked with stray color. The traditional, embroidered work shirt he wears is from Guatemala and belonged to his mother; worn inside out, only glimpses of thick, hand-sewn red and yellow flowers are visible. Underneath that a girl’s black tank top, run through with silver threads, had also been flipped, creating a subtle impression of shimmer when the shirt hits the light.
Juan’s sartorial miscellany is reflected in his artwork, which is collage-heavy, delicately detailed, abstract, and otherworldly.
“I don’t like to keep things precious,” Juan says of his work. To wit, he’s been known to transport finished canvasses to and from his apartment by bike, folding them up and stuffing them in his backpack. Found objects receive the same anti-reverential treatment (Nylon covers take a particular lashing). His sketchbooks are works of art on their own, swollen with clippings and mementos torn and pasted to the pages, microcosms of a dark interior world.
Juan recently created that world in outsize form. The glass-roofed lounge on the bottom level of Delicatessen, SoHo’s latest see-and-be-seen brunch spot, features a wraparound mural he completed this spring. His eerily charming, distorted figures watch over the banquettes below, sharing billing with menu covers courtesy of Terry Richardson and staff uniforms designed by Charlotte Ronson. “Everything I feel is in there,” Juan says of the space.
Until recently, Juan’s artist-self was unrepresented. His designs could be found on hats and surfboards (he’s one of Volcom’s featured artists, a brand favored by boarders of all terrain), and his canvasses had made a few appearances around Manhattan. Not one to self-promote, Juan was content to work on his own in his Williamsburg apartment, reluctant, he says, to ever seriously consider his art worthy of more attention.
His sister (Maria, of the surfboard deal) thought differently, and it was through her that Juan met his agent, Kate Robinson. Kate, a freelance art advisor who trained her eye at Christie’s, had developed a friendship with Maria, her esthetician at an East Village salon. After several months of knowing each other, Maria broached the topic of her youngest brother’s artistic endeavors to Kate, who, at the time, had no interest in taking on any artists. Juan’s business plan, meanwhile, consisted of giving away his art to friends for free. Cue change of heart: Kate agreed to look at Juan’s work, and was surprised by the potential she saw. “There is something so sincere in what he does,” Kate says of her decision to take on Juan as her sole artist. “It would have been insincere on my part to pass it up.”
Juan’s business-savvy sea change is still in the works. “The potential of someone else seeing the work could fuck with you a little,” he says, admitting that he’s had to learn to “blank out” tributes from Kate. “I don’t believe in compliments,” he says matter-of-factly.
As for the future, well, that’s up to fate. “You know what the path is?” Juan asks when pressed about his artistic ambitions. “Honestly, in a sense, the word ‘path’ I don’t believe in. In life, you constantly experience that when you make plans for things, it has nothing to do with those plans, and dates, and times that you choose. It has so much more to do with fate, energy, life.” Coming from him, this laissez-faire philosophy manages to sound sincere, and not like some kind of hackneyed spiritualism; practicality aside, Juan’s willful naiveté is pretty sweet. “You always have fantasies about doing things,” Juan says, owning up to a few ambitions after all. “If you keep that alive, that’s how you progress.
How did someone so attention-shy end up booking a Ralph Lauren campaign? With reservations. From the beginning, Juan’s been ambivalent about his line of work, legitimate surfboard money aside. For one thing, there were the compliments.
“I didn’t understand that at all,” Juan says of the positive response to his teenage self. “I just didn’t want to hear anything remotely close to that.” At 16, Juan was walking in shows in New York and Milan, but his parent’s recent divorce – an adolescent rite of passage made no less easy by his father’s unexplained, long-term retreat to Argentina – made it hard for him to trust people.
“I’d go to castings and people would say, “You’ve pretty much got the job; all you’ve got to do is this….’
And I just couldn’t do it.” So he quit.
After a three-plus-year break in Miami managing a surf shop, Juan returned to New York and looked up the same agent he’d worked with before. After a shave and a haircut, he was back. “I’m a completely different person now,” he says of his decision to model again. “I like bringing a certain aspect of who I am into anything I do.” While Juan still has an uneasy relationship with his career – “I don’t really like talking about that stuff,” he says of the campaigns he’s booked and publications he’s appeared in. “It’s not an accomplishment in any way.” – the artist in him can’t resist a good collaboration. Take Bruce Weber. The two met through a friend – an assistant who had told the photographer about Juan’s artwork – and Bruce was taken.
A Polaroid shoot ensued, and Juan incorporated his drawings into the frames, turning the photos into multimedia artworks. “I don’t often get to communicate with someone like that,” Juan says of working with Bruce. “He’s an artist.”
Which brings us back to the Juan with the paint-covered fingernails. Despite his youthful unhappiness as a first-time model, the proof of Juan’s first few trips to New York is more than a collection of despondent headshots. Cold, away from the ocean in a place he didn’t want to be, the nascent artist in him found something to be inspired by.
“In all that badness, I couldn’t help but look around and see how old things were,” he recalls. “In Miami everything is so polished. If something’s old, they destroy it. I was so blown away by that.” Sketching and drawing – things Juan had done before with a throwaway attitude – acquired new value. “The only way I could convey my feelings without writing them was through figurative images. Expressing the way I felt internally – the way I looked at myself – was what I was drawing.”
-ALISON BAENEN
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SO SUBVERSIVE
CATOR SPARKS INTERVIEWS JUSTIN GIUNTA IN HIS MANHATTAN HOME
PHOTOGRAPHED BY TREVOR TONDRO
We all know the baroque and bling-ridden pieces that have shot Justin Giunta into
accessories stardom and created copycats galore. But this Renaissance man has a
lot more under his sleeve than baubles, bangles and a devil may care attitude.
His home is an exotic landscape of his own massive paintings and jewelry scattered
about but also full of eccentric finds he has picked up on his travels around the world.
Recently I sat Justin down (which is harder than you can imagine) and dug deeper into
the id of Mr. Giunta. Learning more about the man, his love of art and his obsession with four-horned goats.
Cator: I know jewelry wasn’t aways what you had in mind for a career. You are an artist at heart right?
Justin: Yes. I went to school at Pratt in 1997 on a full scholarship for art.
Then I gave that up and headed to Carnegie Mellon on another scholarship citing
a lack of stimulation! I graduated with a Bachelors degree in Fine Arts and a Minor
in Critical Theory. For my senior year I headed across the pond to the Gerrit
Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam where I studied Textile Design and Painting.
Why Textile Design in Amsterdam?
A large part of my work at Carnegie Mellon was melding painting with fashion
and making my artwork into clothing. So I went over to learn more about patternmaking
and textile design while also honing in on my love of Dutch still life painting.
And when you graduated?
I came back to New York City and couldn’t get a job to save my life! Everyone thought
I would get bored too quickly. They were right! I started making t-shirts and chandeliers
to get by. I was just a boy from Pittsburgh with a suitcase and a dream…
Well when you’re from Pittsburgh you have to do something.
Ha ha. Yes, Mame said it best.
Your apartment is steeped in old world charm. Tin ceilings, brick fireplace, and
great hardwood floors. Do you know the history of the building?
Well I do now that someone posted a photocopy of the history of this building in my hallway.
Thanks Landlord. It was George Gershwin’s office. Built in 1840 in what was then
Tin Pan Alley. Now it’s the Flower District as well as the knock off jewelry district.
I now have the honor of seeing my previous seasons work recreated in plastic in
the wholesale shop three doors down from my house.
Tell us about your artwork? These massive floral
pieces rock.
The florals are a marriage of Dutch baroque made with contemporary art materials including
office supplies such as white out, carbon paper, Sharpies, highlighters and other things of questionable
archival integrity.
I notice lots of portraits. Friends?
Yes, sometimes when I am in the mood its fun. I have friends over all the time and since
I can never sit still it’s fun to do while catching up. It’s always a challenge but people are usually
up for it. One skill I have developed is to draw anything inanimate but to do a portrait with someone
staring at you is sometimes an uphill battle.
Do you have a gallery now?
For four years I showed once a year at a gallery in Paris and Pennsylvania. But I don’t have a
gallery now. At the moment my focus is on jewelry but my passion is painting. I need a
gallery since I have too many pieces in my house! I do sell a fair amount by word of mouth
and from what people see in my home and studio. Any takers?
How did you get into the chandeliers?
A moment of divine inspiration! Also I have a serious love of opulence and decadence.
The construction light cages struck a chord for me and enhancing them with old chandelier crystals
or Swarovski pieces is like looking backwards into art history and paralleling it to being part
of modern art. Recently I have been commissioned to do one offs one for Lauren Santo Domingo
and for Kelly Wearstler.
What’s up with the lampshades in the fireplace?
They stem from another moment of making nothing into
something. While working as a painter doing some faux finishing in a condo at the Dakota
I ended up rummaging through the trash and found a six foot tall Chanel box and a pile of
old lampshades. While the decision was hard I took home the shades and left the Chanel
box for the next dumpster diver. The different shapes sizes and textiles make an excellent
floor light that oscillates between cabaret lighting and a landing strip.
And tell us a bit about the German hunting lodge theme on your wall of stag horns and taxidermied animals?
All gifts from friends and family! I’m an Aries and a goat in the Chinese zodiac so I have
always had an affinity towards an animal with built in defenses. Hence my love of the horn.
So people see an old skull or dead animal and think of you? Charming.
I have become ‘the bone collector’. I get arm bones from Egypt, jaws from God knows where and antlers
from my brother. All I want is a full set from a four-horned goat. I saw one on a recent trip to a ranch in
Texas and have been dreaming of mounting one on my wall ever since.
Any favorites?
My godfather shot the birds so they are family mementos.
Also my friend Stefan painted the one skull referencing an old Austrian tradition where
graves would be dug up as a town grew and needed more space so they would save the
skulls and paint laurels and the persons name on them.
I notice you don’t have a TV. What do you do to unwind?
What’s unwind?! I rarely sleep. But when I do have time on my own I like to paint.
I also take classes at Parsons for etching. I loved Albert Durer’s and Goya’s etchings so I
thought, why not me? I always enjoy learning.
What is on Justin’s iPod at the moment?
My musical tastes are as diverse as Mos Def to Patsy Cline with The Kills in between.
You’re home is such a den of warmth and coziness every time I stop by. As much as people see you
out at social and fashion functions are you more of a homebody?
Absolutely. My home is my bunker. I entertain at home as much as possible.
And by the way what is that scent that is always
wafting through the air? Besides cigarettes!
The now cancelled Diptyque Cyprus that I adore. It smells like pot without even lighting up.
But I guess it’s cheaper to go to Italy and smell it for free than buy all those candles...
And you are quite the cook. How did that come about?
It’s a part of who I am. A tradition passed on from my Mama. My brothers and I are all very competent
in the kitchen. The love of food is from our Italian heritage but my mother’s knowledge of cooking really
instilled it in us.
Favorite dish?
Soup.
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