Rodger Stevens was born in Brooklyn, New York, and studied at the Parsons School of Design and the School of Visual Arts. His sculptures, installations, and drawings have been exhibited in galleries and museums in New York, California, Paris and other locations since 1993. He’s also appeared in a variety of publications worldwide, commissions include works for Yohji Yamamoto, MTV and Persol.
Interview date: 17th of May, 2013
We’ve long been admirers of Rodger Steven’s work, a talented wire sculptor from New York. I remember locating him early last year and I’ve had the pleasure of exchanging conversation through email, so it made sense to do an interview with him so that other creatives can join in on the experience and discover his work.
He’s highly admired in the art scene and it’s easy to see why, he has a unique style, using reclaimed materials to create forms that are both flamboyant and eye-catching. Although his wire sculptures are wild at first sight, once you look closely you can see all the intricacies and details that have been painstakingly implemented. With each wire sculpture having a sense of playfulness and intrigue about them.
Rodger is also quite unusual in the sense that he works in a medium that isn’t all that common. With wire he creates a variety of forms, from mobiles to wall hangings, each one stems from Rodgers own creative brain. He also experiments with wood to create different sculptures, so he’s always on the look out for interesting concepts to pursue. Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading through his thoughts below.
Born in New York to a complicated doctor and an indefatigable mother, the third child under two sensational siblings. Still fully a son and a brother and now a father of two. A maker of things since the beginning. Childhood was playing in the street and drawing. I studied Economics then Art, reported to Sotheby’s for six years, and never stopped trying to devout as much time as possible to doing my work. That pursuit continues.
I used to think that what had the most influence on my work was all the stuff people made: the bridges, the buildings, the schoolyards, the buses, the hotdog stands and graffiti. Now I think it was the people themselves.
A wall commission for a gallery space drawn using just chalk on a blackboard type painted surface. Superb geometric shapes and complex patterns, notice the house on the left hand side.
The alchemical exercise of taking one thing and turning into something else is as thrilling to me now as it was when I was four. And besides, buying “art supplies” seems far too easy.
Often the more limiting a material is, the greater the challenge and consequently the greater the reward when you’re through. Wire is such a material: elemental like a pencil line but, with sufficient intervention, fantastically expressive.
Never sketches. Always visions. And then pursuit.
Inside Rodger Stevens workshop with all his tools and Knick-knacks. The piece on the wall is a sculpture piece that he made out of wood.
For me, content is the fuel. A story or a subject is at the core of every piece I make. If I’m not striving toward the manifestation of meaning, the work suffers and I suffer through the working.
Both enterprises have their charms. Commissions are almost always edifying thanks to the presence of an alternate viewpoint. Making work for a show is a more solitary proceeding, a more unbridled one, but not at all without restrictions and the countless considerations of making objects for public consumption.
One of Mr Stevens installations titled “Between Tuesday and Jupiter”, which he put up at the Abingdon 12 gallery in Manhattan’s west Village.
Inspiration comes from everywhere. Everywhere. I certainly look at a lot of art but I am as likely to be moved by an Olmec temple or a Bernini Marble or an Etruscan Chariot as I am by a pile of trash.
Probably for the same reason we watch films or clouds or waves: to be surprised.
My work is like my children’s toys: it gets picked up, considered, put down, hung up, ignored, rediscovered. It’s just part of our surroundings.
I’ve nearly always worked and lived under the same roof; usually it was the roof of an apartment building. Making things is so thoroughly incorporated with the rest of my life that seems only natural that the space where most of that making takes place would be just as connected to my home as the kitchen or bathroom or garden.
Exhibitions come and go like the weather. When there is one in the offing or underway, minor adjustments are made to prepare; measures are taken to minimize hiccups. The heavier elements of the process are all cognitive and those, like “what shall I make and why” involve sundry mystifications too tedious to detail.
Downpour – 96″ x 56″ x 82″, steel wire (private commission, Blesso Properties, New York, New York)
I just completed a 28 foot long mural, executed in chalk, for an office lobby in lower Manhattan. And this goes back to your question about materials: to take something as simple as a piece of white chalk and compose an art work that, with any luck, will engage eyes and minds for years … that is a near-optimal storyline.
Imagine what work you would make if no one was ever going to see it. Make that work. In the end, even if no one ever likes it or buys it or shows it, there will always be at least one person who absolutely loves it and understands it, you.
Intricate wire sculpture by Rodger Stevens, made for a gallery space. Notice all the complex shapes and structures.