Q&A’s - Tatler

Did you have an idea of the type and size of the space you wanted ‘Grace Thunders’ to be showcased in the St. Regis?

I knew I wanted to be challenged creatively and to work at large scale, and the Hotel lobby with its high ceilings would allow this. I wanted to create something epic, something larger than life. 

What emotions would you like your art to inspire/invoke when patrons of the St. Regis glimpse ‘Grace Thunders’ for the first time? 

I think most of us live in small temporary stories. Our apps, phones, and tablets hold our gaze much of the time. I wanted to break that eye contact and create a much larger drama unfolding for guests in the hotel space. I want the viewer to be transported to a place & time they’ve never been before, a place too dangerous for any person. I wanted to take the viewer right into the epicentre of a Polo game amidst the charging thunder of the ponies. I can’t dictate or conjure the emotional response from each person, all the artist can do is try to take the viewer on a visual journey, the emotional response will be unique for each individual, but my hope is that the work would be inspiring. 

Why did you decide to depict a dramatic Polo Game in your specially commissioned piece for the St. Regis?

Polo has a rich heritage in both Malaysia and the UK, and it was something that we discussed in great detail. The horse is a common language for mankind, and the relationship between man and horse is something that crosses culture and history. The relationship between man and horse is something timeless, and I felt it would speak a universal language beyond race, age or gender. The inspiration began with a frustration. I was bored and uninspired with how such a dangerous, dynamic sport such as Polo had been photographed historically. I wanted to push the boundaries on how the images were captured, and shooting with long lenses from the safety of the side-lines of the field would never allow me to achieve this. I had to shoot with the camera directly under the thundering hooves to get the images I wanted. Danger is intrinsic to the sport, that had to be experienced and felt. 

How do you believe your diptych of two hand-etched leather installations fits in with the general aesthetic of the St. Regis Kuala Lumpur? 

It’s difficult to answer that honestly as I had not seen much of the hotel’s aesthetic when I started to create the artwork in 2011. The hotel had not been built back then. My focus was to create a singular theme in my own work and trust Carmen Chua and her team at the St Regis with the setting of the art piece, she has been instrumental in pulling together the general aesthetic for the hotel. My focus was the art and the story it was telling. 

What was it like working and collaborating with the St. Regis Kuala Lumpur on this project? Was it different to the process you normally employ when you work on an art piece

Yes it was very different. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to achieve but I had to communicate that vision and get the whole KL team excited before I ever took one photo or ever etched one hide. I had to bring the team on a creative journey with me, which is unusual for an artist, as it’s often a solitary, lonely journey. This was a collaboration of desires and ideas and we all pulled together to achieve something special. I especially enjoyed working with Carmen Chua and over the 6 years we’ve become friends and she has become a collector of my other pieces. 

Q&A’s – Other

What was your first thought when the St. Regis reached out to you to commission some pieces for them?

I was excited about the prospect of working on a larger scale, and to have an opportunity to work in Asia. I knew I wanted to be challenged creatively and to create work for the St Regis lobby with it’s high ceilings would allow me to work on larger pieces than I have ever done previously. I wanted to create something epic, something larger than life. 

What was the inspiration for these particular pieces?

The inspiration began with a frustration. I was bored and uninspired with how such a dangerous, dynamic sport such as Polo had been photographed historically. I wanted to push the boundaries on how the images were captured, and shooting with long lenses from the safety of the side-lines of the field would never allow me to achieve this. I had to shoot with the camera directly under the thundering hooves to get the images I wanted. The inspiration was to take the viewer to a place they’ve never been before and show the game from a new point of view. Polo has a rich heritage in both Malaysia and the UK, and so there was a common bond, it was something that we discussed in great detail. Also the horse is a common language for mankind, and the relationship between man and horse is something that crosses culture and history. The relationship between man and horse is something timeless, and I felt the polo artwork would speak a universal language beyond race, age or gender. 

What’s your process before the first strike on the leather and all the way till the end?

Before I make my first incision in the leather, before my knives ever come out I have a lot of work to do. Firstly I have to find the right hides, my leather is sourced from all over the world, but the best hides come from Scandinavia where the cattle have lush green pasture and no barbed wire fences to hurt the animal or damage the skin. From there my hides all get shipped and tanned in Italy. The Italians are the best tanners in the world. I usually use Aniline or Semi Aniline, Full Grain leathers, and each leather hide is hand picked. Then the tanning process is completed by me and my team in the studio, this can take months to get right. The hides are then upholstered onto panels and waxed ready for my knives to come out. 

Are there any other methods that go into your work besides carving?

Tanning, waxing, dyeing and sometimes tattooing the leather. 

I’ve read about the lengths you went through to capture the images that would become these pieces of art; How important was the entire process and would the works of art have been different than if, say, you had just left a camera on the ground to take the pictures by itself?

Photography is an art form in itself, having the camera on a remote would not have worked for what I wanted. It was about feeling the shot, hearing those thundering hooves overhead and waiting for the precise moment to get the perfect image. When the fear was at it’s worst the shot would be the best. It was about human instinct. 

Given the amount of time it took to complete the pieces, did you change any details of the work at any time along the process?

Once we had taken the photos I had over 700 images to choose from. When I had narrowed them down to the best 2 shots we had a pretty solid idea of what the work would look like when completed. Then there were the technical issues that arose that we had to overcome, this meant the images had to be changed to fit in their environments, for example the reception desk height and the chandelier in the ceiling meant I had to adjust the compositions slightly to make the most impact, and give the best eye line for the viewer.

Was it a continuous process or did you take breaks (weeks, or months) in between? If there were, how important are those breaks? If there weren’t, would you have preferred a break or two? 

It wasn’t a continuous process from day one, as there were times of selecting images & hides and times where I was in discussion with St Regis about compositions or technical questions, these natural breaks and rhythms allowed me to work on other smaller pieces. But then when all the selection processes were complete, the creative decisions had been made, and the panels were ready, it was a continuous etching process which lasted for nearly 2 years. It was long days up ladders and I was pushed to very edge of my ability. It was thousands of hours of meticulous detail, painstaking precision and patience. 

Was it intimidating at any point, given the scale and where they would be placed?

Yes, pushing yourself beyond what you’ve done before is always intimidating, but it’s what you do when you feel intimidated that defines you. Fear is a force that either paralyses or provokes, and I’m a big believer in facing the unknown head on. Being off your own grid is where magic happens and how creative growth occurs. I like the challenge of that. My work is micro-sculpture but on a large scale and each piece can take months (or years in this case) to complete. It’s surgical precision and if I ever make a single mistake and slice through the hide I have to go back and start again from the beginning. With a knife, what's done cannot be undone, there's no 'cmd-Z' ! Any cut or slice could go wrong, and so every piece is made, quite literally on a knife edge, and that means I’m always facing intimidation & working under pressure. Ultimately it’s about overcoming the intimidation. Pressure creates diamonds from coal. 

You’ve admitted to being a little obsessively meticulous, is that a boon or a bane when it comes to pieces of this scale?  

It’s both. It’s always both. There’s a flip side to every coin. Some days an honest pursuit of excellence is the energy source and the obsessive desire puts wind in your sails, or rocket fuel in your jets… other times perfectionism is a hard task master. 

Do you ever worry about making mistakes? What do you do if you do make a mistake?

I don’t worry any more, I have learned how to stay focussed in the tension. I can’t make mistakes, if I did I’d have to begin the piece all over again. 

A lot of your previous pieces appear to be statements in some ways? Which is more important to you, the statement, or the piece of art in itself?

To be honest it’s difficult to separate the two. For me creating art is an emotional, tactile, visceral experience. It encompasses the inner & outer worlds of thought & touch, and both experiences are closely intertwined. Statements and concepts in art can be cerebral, mental intellectual things… but the piece of art itself can have a life of it’s own. It exists. It is. 

Art can move, seduce, confront or inspire a person beyond the mental realm of thought.

What do you hope for when people look at your work? Or is that not really important?

I think the most any artist can hope for is an honest response to the work. On an initial, creative level it’s not important at all what anyone else thinks, as primarily the work needs to speak to me, and if it does I’m happy. I can’t create when I’m a prisoner to the opinions of others, or be afraid of what popular opinion is when I’m making the art. However on a wider, global level, when the work is done and has left my studio, then it’s vitally important what other’s think, as the work needs to get out, and in order to do so it has to have the passion, belief and backing of other people. What I’m trying to say is I can’t live in fear of whether people like my work or not when I’m making it, I have to just make what I love. If others love it too, that’s great. If the work speaks to people then it’s even greater. But if people don’t like it, then I just have to keep making new work. As Warhol said “Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.” My favourite British brand is Marmite, they don’t care whether people love it or hate it, they are not going to make Marmite lite, Cherry Marmite, or sugar coated Marmite. Marmite is Marmite. I love that confidence in their own flavour, it polarizes opinion. Art should do the same.