By KEVIN SITES
Phil Hansen stubbornly adheres to one artistic cliche. He's willing to
suffer for his art.
Take the giant portrait he made of North Korean leader Kim Jong Il as a
protest against nuclear proliferation. He applied 6,000 adhesive
bandages on a plywood backdrop. Then, using a quart-sized bag of his
own blood, he painted Kim's face on the exposed gauze. His
sister-in-law, a doctor, helped him draw the 500ml he needed.
Phil Hansen stubbornly adheres to one artistic cliche. He's willing to
suffer for his art.
Take the giant portrait he made of North Korean leader Kim Jong Il as a
protest against nuclear proliferation. He applied 6,000 adhesive
bandages on a plywood backdrop. Then, using a quart-sized bag of his
own blood, he painted Kim's face on the exposed gauze. His
sister-in-law, a doctor, helped him draw the 500ml he needed.
Hansen shrugs off the experience.
"Five hundred cc's of blood seems like a
lot, but it's just nothing," he says from
the basement of his brother's house outside
St. Paul, Minnesota, where he currently
lives and makes his art. "I don't even have
scars on my arms from it."
It's not the suffering that really
distinguishes Hansen's work (after all, it's
hard to top Van Gogh) but his style and
method for displaying it. Hansen eschews
"Five hundred cc's of blood seems like a
lot, but it's just nothing," he says from
the basement of his brother's house outside
St. Paul, Minnesota, where he currently
lives and makes his art. "I don't even have
scars on my arms from it."
It's not the suffering that really
distinguishes Hansen's work (after all, it's
hard to top Van Gogh) but his style and
method for displaying it. Hansen eschews
galleries, preferring to take his art directly to the eyeballs rather
than bringing the eyeballs to the art — through the Internet.
An art school dropout, Hansen works as an X-ray technician by day,
spending all of his spare time and money on his art. But his work, and
his method of presenting it, has given him a huge audience.
His breakthrough piece was a time-lapse video of a two-day project
called "Influences." He painted 30 pictures on his own chest, one over
the other, with each picture representing an influence in his life. When
he was done, he peeled the quarter-inch thick layer of paint from his
skin and cut out a silhouette of his own profile. The video was streamed
more than a million times on the Web — a cyber art phenomenon in which
both process and final piece were revealed.
than bringing the eyeballs to the art — through the Internet.
An art school dropout, Hansen works as an X-ray technician by day,
spending all of his spare time and money on his art. But his work, and
his method of presenting it, has given him a huge audience.
His breakthrough piece was a time-lapse video of a two-day project
called "Influences." He painted 30 pictures on his own chest, one over
the other, with each picture representing an influence in his life. When
he was done, he peeled the quarter-inch thick layer of paint from his
skin and cut out a silhouette of his own profile. The video was streamed
more than a million times on the Web — a cyber art phenomenon in which
both process and final piece were revealed.
His works often have a political stance. Several years ago, Hansen
devised an image of President George W. Bush by hand-painting the names
of 1,700 coalition soldiers killed from the beginning of the Iraq War
until April 2005.
devised an image of President George W. Bush by hand-painting the names
of 1,700 coalition soldiers killed from the beginning of the Iraq War
until April 2005.
Hansen often uses the
technique of pointillism, in
which the canvas is dabbed
with tiny bits of color,
rather than fluid brush
strokes, to create a larger
image.
But he gives pointillism a
modern twist. You might call
it kinetic fragmentism —
pointillism in motion.
For instance, Hansen
completed an on-camera piece
of paint-dipped karate chops
to reveal a portrait of
martial arts legend Bruce
Lee.
technique of pointillism, in
which the canvas is dabbed
with tiny bits of color,
rather than fluid brush
strokes, to create a larger
image.
But he gives pointillism a
modern twist. You might call
it kinetic fragmentism —
pointillism in motion.
For instance, Hansen
completed an on-camera piece
of paint-dipped karate chops
to reveal a portrait of
martial arts legend Bruce
Lee.
"They're dying for George Bush," he explains. "They're dying for an
idea that he had and unfortunately it wasn't a clear idea."
Covering the entire back wall of his brother's basement is a 7 x 14
foot mural of the Ku Klux Klan, made up from thousands of verses copied
from the bible and individually cut out. It's a companion piece to an
image of civil rights hero Rosa Parks — also made from bible verses.
Hansen says the idea was to show the far-reaching influences of
religion for both evil and good.
Hansen's commitment to his own brand of pointillism is most evident in
a portrait of the so-called Green River killer, Gary Ridgeway.
He made the piece by drawing one-inch portraits of each of Ridgeway's
48 female victims in various shades of light and dark. He then
photocopied the drawings and cut them out into 12,000 tiny squares
which he arranged, one by one, to reveal the killer's face.
Hansen says it's about remembering the victims — women all connected by
the misfortune of having crossed paths with Ridgeway. The project took
four months.
The detail work has taken its toll. Hansen holds up his right hand to
show me a twitch he says he's had since high school, when he was first
introduced to pointillism and became obsessed with it.
Hansen created his self-portrait 'A Moment' over the course of six
days, oven sitting cross-legged for up to 12 hours straight.
His latest project used the Internet to connect his viewers to the art
being created. He created a ten-foot, spinning, circular canvas in his
brother's garage, then moved in there himself. Taking a week off work,
he spent six days straight living in front of his web cam, sleeping on
the floor, eating takeout and encouraging people to call him or email
him with a "moment" that changed their lives.
idea that he had and unfortunately it wasn't a clear idea."
Covering the entire back wall of his brother's basement is a 7 x 14
foot mural of the Ku Klux Klan, made up from thousands of verses copied
from the bible and individually cut out. It's a companion piece to an
image of civil rights hero Rosa Parks — also made from bible verses.
Hansen says the idea was to show the far-reaching influences of
religion for both evil and good.
Hansen's commitment to his own brand of pointillism is most evident in
a portrait of the so-called Green River killer, Gary Ridgeway.
He made the piece by drawing one-inch portraits of each of Ridgeway's
48 female victims in various shades of light and dark. He then
photocopied the drawings and cut them out into 12,000 tiny squares
which he arranged, one by one, to reveal the killer's face.
Hansen says it's about remembering the victims — women all connected by
the misfortune of having crossed paths with Ridgeway. The project took
four months.
The detail work has taken its toll. Hansen holds up his right hand to
show me a twitch he says he's had since high school, when he was first
introduced to pointillism and became obsessed with it.
Hansen created his self-portrait 'A Moment' over the course of six
days, oven sitting cross-legged for up to 12 hours straight.
His latest project used the Internet to connect his viewers to the art
being created. He created a ten-foot, spinning, circular canvas in his
brother's garage, then moved in there himself. Taking a week off work,
he spent six days straight living in front of his web cam, sleeping on
the floor, eating takeout and encouraging people to call him or email
him with a "moment" that changed their lives.
Starting from the center of the canvas, Hansen then painted their
words, working out to the edges until the image they had collectively
created was a face — Hansen's own — bordered by seven hands.
"There's always someone or something, maybe even ourselves, supporting
us," Hansen tells me by phone, shortly after completing the piece. "But
at the same time there is some experience... trying to push us down.
And somehow, as we move through life, most people end up kind of
staying in the center, in the middle through that experience."
Strangely, Hansen says the jitter in his hand that has plagued him for
so many years went away while he was making the piece.
words, working out to the edges until the image they had collectively
created was a face — Hansen's own — bordered by seven hands.
"There's always someone or something, maybe even ourselves, supporting
us," Hansen tells me by phone, shortly after completing the piece. "But
at the same time there is some experience... trying to push us down.
And somehow, as we move through life, most people end up kind of
staying in the center, in the middle through that experience."
Strangely, Hansen says the jitter in his hand that has plagued him for
so many years went away while he was making the piece.
"I'm really interested
in how all of our
experiences build
together to create
whatever world we live
in," he said before
starting the project.
He got over 600
responses. People from
all over the world, from
the United Kingdom to
Romania to Botswana,
told him their personal
moments: their first
time acting on stage;
the death of a parent
without being about to
say goodbye; seeing the
rainforest destroyed.
in how all of our
experiences build
together to create
whatever world we live
in," he said before
starting the project.
He got over 600
responses. People from
all over the world, from
the United Kingdom to
Romania to Botswana,
told him their personal
moments: their first
time acting on stage;
the death of a parent
without being about to
say goodbye; seeing the
rainforest destroyed.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
