Italo Calvino pondered whether there is a single universe, multiple universes, or no universe at all. I find myself similarly destabilized when viewing the work of Miguel Ángel Payano Jr. The artist, who I might categorize as postmodern, would surely (and swiftly) reject that label along with any others that attempt to contain his broad and intercultural practice. In his current exhibition at Charles Moffett, he invites us to let go of linear time in favor of "poly-presence" and to avoid the inclination to understand seeing as a passive act.
-Melissa Joseph
Melissa Joseph:
What was your goal with this show?
Miguel Ángel Payano Jr:
I hoped to hone in on some overarching theme. Generally, I actively spread myself out in terms of the different kinds of work that I generate. And I've always tried to be a different artist, with different works. I want it to look like it comes from different people.
MJ:
Fernando Pessoa was like that. He had different personalities and names who wrote completely different bodies of work.
MAP:
It's stepping into a different space. You can turn into a different person. I want to have range or keep flexible so that I can always have the option of changing. I recoil from having a niche, which is kind of counter to what the art world is, or really any business.
MJ:
I get that. Can you talk about form? Some works are flat, some sculptural, and some are in between?
MAP:
Paintings, sculptures, and relief sculptures-or, as I call them, "heavy collages." They have many collage elements, but they're not quite sculptures. They're kind of painting and sculpture.
MP:
Scaintings?
MAP:
Yeah, scaintings!
MJ:
How do you usually name things?
MAP:
Individual pieces name themselves mostly. For shows I have a page on the wall that I write titles on anytime one comes up in my head. Sometimes I'll go back and cross things out. Right now, one that's had the longest run on the wall is "Paradox and Parallax."
MJ:
Like from an astronomical standpoint?
MAP:
Well, paradox is something that I've been thinking a lot about the last three years. So many things are happening personally. The paradox is that some things are going to shit, but somehow because of that they're going really well.
I found out that I got Parkinson's Disease (PD), and it was fucking tragic. I was depressed, but at the same time it gave me such a surge. You have this specter constantly reminding you of your own vulnerability, so it's the biggest bullwhip. Do you know what I mean?
MJ:
Honestly? No, I can't even say I can imagine. Would you like to talk about it? Have you noticed things changing?
MAP:
For sure. In the studio the physical changes affect the way I work. It reaffirms the need to keep my practice wide so that as my body changes I have options of things that I can continue to do. I'm progressively becoming more left-handed, and I have to be more efficient with my energy. I have to have more focus. But it can't be all work, so it's finding the balance. There's the idea of this ticking clock, and it's there for everybody because life is a one-way street; but now it just feels much more present.
MJ:
Your clock got louder?
MAP:
Yeah, you feel it. It makes you anxious but also motivated. So paradox comes back. And there are other things, like my marriage ending. It was for a lot of reasons, but not because of a lack of love. I was just in Beijing, my home of nearly twenty years, and the love is still there. It's like tree branches. You grow together, and then at one point a branch decides that I need another node because this way I get more light and can expand and get more from the space.
MJ:
It gives new meaning to the branches I've seen in your works.
MAP:
It's love, but there is a point where, and you don't want to say it, but the reality is that you've got to choose between the union or yourself.
MJ:
There's a lot there in that sentence. Can what it means to choose yourself change?
MAP:
Yeah, for sure, because at the end of the day you have to have self-integrity to be happy. You have to know who you are. Love can't change your core, or perhaps it couldn't change mine.
MAP:
For this body of work I tried to keep the methodology broad but to focus on central concepts like synecdoche. I deconstruct the human form as a way to ruminate on macro-human experience. Limbs, legs, hands, and mouths are separated referents of the whole form. I'll use those as stand-ins for individuals but also tap into aspects of what that body part can or can't do.
MJ:
Someone told me recently that her husband understands there are three people in their relationship: the two of them and her paintings.
MAP:
Yeah, it's clear to me, for better or worse, that everything comes second to the studio. I don't know if that's good or bad, but that's just the nature of it.
MJ:
I can't give it a qualitative judgment, but those might be the people who have the best shot at making it in the art world.
MAP:
If people ask me, I tell them, "Don't be an artist!" The ones that are going to be artists have no choice. You can't deter them.
MJ:
Cosign. So, we talked about paradox. What about parallax?
MAP:
I think about it as foreground and distant background and how there's a discrepancy in how fast things are moving or in observing how things move. With the heavy collages, there's an optical experience of a shallow-depth parallax. The protruding sculpture reads as flat from the front, but as you move to the side it starts deconstructing itself. Parallax is when what we see changes due to a shift in observation point. I think it also applies to shifts in cultures.
MJ:
That makes a lot of sense considering your background. Are you able to articulate how your experience of moving through multiple cultures is embedded in the work?
MAP:
My parents are Spanish-speaking from the Dominican Republic. I spent a lot of time in New England in very privileged white spaces, and then I spent half of my life in China. These are cultural spaces that, for me, are very different. I function in a place where I have an intimate relationship with all of them as well as with the funny interactive moments that those relationships produce. There's an idea I call "poly-presence." The way I use peaches, for instance. In Asia it's a special fruit; there's folklore, mythology, and magic associated with it, which makes me think about acculturation and how we learn culture.
MJ:
I would love to hear more about "poly-presence."
MAP:
It's disparate customs, habits, and ideologies concurrently existing, and the disorder of having to navigate that throughout the work.
MJ:
And navigating in different languages, which I have heard you address before.
MAP:
To me, language is the gateway to cultural indoctrination, but it also shapes how our brains build neural connections. In your native language, you learn syntax for constructing grammar and thoughts. A new syntax is a new way to visualize the world. With Mandarin, there are no future or past tenses, so time functions in a totally different way than in languages that use tenses. In those, time is sequential and linear. But in Mandarin, verbs are always happening in the present tense, and you can locate the actions in the past or future by stating a time: yesterday I eat; tomorrow I eat. It's one example, but it happens with many other aspects.
MJ:
I'm visualizing little action cubes that can be moved around in space-time like Minecraft.
MAP:
Sometimes I'm playing in a cultural space that I'm drawn to because of my own existence. Approaching the work, something that's quite obvious in one cultural context might be invisible in another. It's called aspect blindness because you don't have the reference for it, even though it might be right in your face. It's why I like to hear people talk about my work, because they offer things that I didn't consider.
MJ:
Do people try to distill you down to one thing? Sometimes I get pigeon-holed as a "felt artist."
MAP:
Yes, that can happen. I don't want to be the "PD artist"; but at the same time, I can't not talk about it.
MJ:
I'm surprised that you've kept it quiet this long, but I also think it's brave to talk about it now.
MAP:
I don't know if it's brave. I feel it's necessary. That's more where I'm at because it is becoming more visible. I started casting hands right around the time that I got my diagnosis. In hindsight, it's so obvious why! The anxiety of having a tremor was coming into the work. It's made everything urgent.
MJ:
What about non-art things? What do you do for fun?
MAP:
Vacation, hanging out with friends. I have to be extra careful about my health and exercise. But at the same time I need occasional instances of indulging so that I stay sane. It's probably seventy percent to thirty percent work to everything else.
MJ:
What's something inspirational for you at the moment?
MAP:
Something that's surprisingly been helpful for me lately is Stoic philosophy. Marcus Aurelius's "The obstacle is the way." It goes back to the idea of paradox and how what impedes one's path also directs one to the new path.
Having this disease has really opened up a new space for things I've never felt before. It's a conflation of emotions: sadness, gratitude, and happiness simultaneously. This is the hand that I was dealt-Let's play! I remember waking to tears and feeling deep sorrow, but in my next breath also joyful in thinking, "Thank you, God. Thank you so fucking much for more time."
Miguel Ángel Payano Jr.: Out From is on view at Charles Moffett in New York City until May 13.
Melissa Joseph is a Brooklyn-based artist interested in connecting people through shared memories and experiences. Her work addresses themes of diaspora, family history, and the politics of how we occupy spaces. Her work is on view in Crisis of Image at MoCA Arlington, and she will have a solo presentation at Independent Art Fair with REGULARNORMAL in New York City, May 11-14.
