Zeppelin Dufour
Zeppelin Dufour (Brooklyn, NY) is a Brooklyn based painter, ceramicist, and fabricator who sees existence in our contemporary moment in the deep grunge of distortions. A self proclaimed “good boy zeitgeist succubus”, where the meme of the second, scenes from a commuter rail, and news clippings of ecological destruction and humanitarian horrors intrinsically permeate into the work. Dufour captures each moment with an urgency that comes from an existential dread of existence. Where each turn looms with the potential of immense disaster or enticing ecstasy. Pissin’ at Domino Park is such an example of a turn that has taken us directly into the path of disaster [albeit rather miniscule in comparison to our current dystopian material conditions]. Instead of a clear imitation of Domino Park [nuzzled between S 5th & Grand] Dufour finds intrigue in an obscene act of a dog absent an owner — or maybe its a monkey or a cryptid — a potential nod to the monster of Hieronymus Bosch where such creatures interact with the immoral dishing out absurd punishments. Regardless, this four-limbed creature is found pissing on what could be a trash can or simultaneously an unfinished soda that you have set down for a split second. In highlighting this moment instead of depicting an urban environment, Dufour is questioning contemporary morality from the bedrock of a grassroot perspective. Begging the question; have we already been trusted into the first stages of the Apocalypse? Unlike short form content, to be swiped away with ease, you are forced to grapple with the unsavory moments; joining in with a cigarette or experiencing it through painting. Acidic greens, cautionary yellows, high-vision oranges, and satanic reds all sit on a heavily textured surface depicting a distorted figure smoking a cigarette pointing towards the absurdity of the moment. Dufour’s work understands that much of our contemporary existence is unsavory and while we await the next news cycle drop, painting moments of absurdity becomes a definitive act of resilience.In Conversation with Zeppelin Dufour: “The end of the day reveals the weird thing that I made and it usually makes me laugh.”
Easthaus:
Zeppelin Dufour, thank you for accepting an invitation to submit to our exhibition, Grassroots. I am happy that you were on board to sit down (at your computer or on your phone) to complete an online interview with Easthaus. Let's get started!
Zeppelin Dufour:
ಠ_ಠ
EH:
To give us a glimpse into your life and practice as an artist, I think it would be great to hear you speak on your creative practice a little. You speak as a sort of immediate documentarian in a way but how does your work come to fruition? How would you describe your time in the studio or during a commute? What is a successful day for you? How do you approach a new project or artwork? Where do you start? Where do you know when to end?
I currently work four days a week for Scott Daniel making ceramic furniture and large scale lighting fixtures. His studio is only a few blocks from mine, so I try to get a few hours in at my studio before/after clocking into his. Also getting to get a few small ceramic pieces through the studio kilns every once in a while is a nice perk. I also try to spend every Friday-Sunday at my studio, if not going to my partner’s yoga classes or rotting on the couch watching Survivor reruns on my iPad. My commute is only 20 minutes by train, so I get a few sketchbook pages in a day. I always have a tote bag slung over my shoulder with —often too many— sketchbooks and color pencils. If the train car is packed like a sardine can, I pull out my smallest sketchbook and make tight detailed marks, but if it’s empty I’m able to pull out my biggest pad and the pencils dance across the paper. Sometimes I start projects straight from sketched ideas, sometimes I attack the canvas with paint for a few weeks to build up some tasty gunk, sometimes a scroll through my camera roll does the trick, and sometimes an insomnia induced late night procreate session leads to a decent painting or sculpture.
ZD:
EH:
In the exhibition writing I briefly talk about Heironeous Bosch and his noted demonic creatures. In a similar way you may address morality or absurdity in our moment? How does that resonate with your work, if at all? I would be curious who else is in your artistic family tree historically and who do you consider as your current contemporary colleagues? Who do you find yourself in dialogue with?
Straight out of high school, I worked for two years in a greasy Fish and Chips joint and saved enough money to solo trek across Europe for a summer. While in Madrid, I saw the Garden of Earthly Delights in the Prado and spent more than an hour sketching all the psychosexual orgy monsters. I grew up on Walter Wick’s “Can You See What I See” books and all of the David Shannon books like “A Bad Case of the Stripes.” I had a mentor a few years ago suggest that I learn who inspired the artists that inspired me, to better understand the pyramid of shoulders that I stand on as an Artist. The short list of people I always found myself going back to while first smushing around paint were:, Basil Wolverton, Degas, Monet, & The Hairy Who Collective. Those don’t resonate as much with me now. Artists making right now are way cooler anyways: Rebecca Ness, Catherine Repko, Trey Abdella, Jackson Shaner, Kristy Moreno, my studio mates Virgil Warren & Forrest Knight & Robin Gammons, and my old high school friend flesh.png—to name a few.
ZD:
I think as artists we all have different views about what it means to be an artist and to hold a creative practice. In our contemporary moment, it seemingly seems even more important now to be a creative person. Would you mind telling us what your overall philosophy about art is? What keeps bringing you back to the studio? What do you feel is your role as an artist in this greater societal grassroot movement we are living though?
EH:
To be quite honest, sometimes making art is a selfish act to nurture my soul. The tension in my jaw disappears, my breathing mellows, my heartbeat slows, and a step back at the end of the day reveals the weird thing that I painted/sculpted and it usually makes me laugh. And sometimes it just feels so good to lean into being a social media succubus. Give me violence, give me sex, give me AbSoLuTeLy fried memes of Elon Musk riding a dildo rocket with aliens. But, I’d be lying if I didn’t speak about how occasionally I do think about the significance of certain works and what they mean in the grand scheme of things. Some studio days start with “What needs to be said today to better the world?” I used to approach my practice that way everyday, but it was detrimental and unsustainable for my practice.
ZD:
EH:
I wrote about the ways in which I feel that your work fits the conversation around this exhibition; speaking on how imperative it is to hold close ties to grassroot movements. How do you feel your work approaches the topic? What are some of the ways that you notice how this bottom-up position has come up in your practice?
ZD:
Artists have been at the front lines in social and political change and I hope that never changes. Creative force is one of the most significant attributes a person can have, and continuing to nurture the flame is so important in times like this. Even the most influential individuals had off days, but staying true to one’s beliefs ripples through communities and collectively makes our voices stronger.
EH:
I find it always interesting to see what artists have pinned up on their walls; deadlines, to-do lists, art inspiration/mood boards, ect. It says a lot about how the artist's mind works and how they connect the dots and how it all feeds into the work. Do you have any images from the studio you would like to share with us? What do you have up on your walls currently?
ZD:
Just sent some photos. After graduating my MFA degree, my studio space shrunk more than half in size. So, wall space is pretty maxed out for paintings only. For years, I’ve designed projects piece by by on a cork board like a screenwriter using a big post-it note storyboard. But now, all of that lives in my studio daily task book.
EH:
Zeppelin, thank you for your time contributing to the conversation for the exhibition, Grassroots, which is on view until February 28th here at Easthaus.
