“I see my work as reaching back through history, creating a visual conversation with the often forgotten subjects of so many old photographs. So much of what we know about history is told through a one dimensional lens. I aim to give my characters depth, spirituality, and a new kind of legacy— one that was often denied them in their own time.” -Stan Squirewell
59x44x2 inches.
The only thing as dynamic and multifaceted as Stan Squirewell’s remixed portraits is the artist himself. The Harlem native is on a lifelong exploration of his craft, initially studying painting in school and then carving out a style uniquely his own. Starting with archival photographs from the 1900s featuring Black and mixed-race people, Squirewell then uses various techniques to create identities for these anonymous original figures. Squirewell brings new life to those who have otherwise been cast aside through collage, burning, scraping, ripping, and more.
Squirewell has a newly launched solo show at the Claire Oliver Gallery in Harlem entitled “We Speak In Rivers.” The exhibition features 15 works and will be on view through January 13, 2024. To celebrate this achievement, I recently had the joy of speaking with Squirewell directly about his artistic practice, the development of his distinct style, and his grandfather’s eyes. Our conversation is below.
(This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity and length.)
How did you develop this artistic process and style that is so uniquely yours?
The process itself came from everything I’ve done, experimenting here, playing around with that—just years and years of doing things, trial and error.
I’ve always loved mixed media. From the moment I went to arts high school, I enjoyed mixing things up. I never wanted to do one medium because I would get bored. So, if it was just a drawing, I wanted to add something else to it to elevate it and make it different. Mixing things has always been a part of my practice, even as a child.
This particular process right here helps me do a little of all of the things that I love doing. The drawing aspect of things, drafting things out, painting, cutting and burning images and layering them on top of each other, scraping away images, and adding new stuff on top of that.
I never know what’s going to go where. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. It’s like playing in the sandbox; every time I dig into something, I find something great. I even amaze myself.
Stan Squirewell
[Experimenting and layering] also keeps up with my thought process because I can easily change my mind with something. Dealing with collage, if I lay one thing down and I don’t necessarily care for that, I can lay something else over the top of it or paint something in there and completely rework the entire image. I’ve done that to some pieces; I’ve reworked them 10, 15, 20 times until I got what I really wanted.
I’m always collecting images, cutting and burning them, and having my assistant bag things up according to the color or if it’s a masculine or feminine-looking fabric or anything like that. I have bags of thousands upon thousands of pieces of burnt paper, and I never know what will go where. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. It’s like playing in the sandbox; every time I dig into something, I find something great. I even amaze myself.
How do you know when a piece is complete and you can step away?
I just feel satisfied. I’m like, Ooh, that’s it! I got it. I don’t need to do anything more. The piece requires nothing more of me. That’s when I’m done. Because if I overthink it, [the piece] will become overworked. The work is already multi-layered, so, in a sense, overworking it is the aesthetic. But there’s always a balance between the sharpness of things I’m printing and the blurriness of the photographs and the backgrounds. I’m always curious about finding what more this aesthetic can lend itself to.
I’m always intrigued by the aspect of actually bringing forth things from the past.
Stan Squirewell
When it comes to the photographs you’re manipulating, where do you find them? And why do you choose the photos that you do? What is it about a particular photo that will speak to you?
I see something familiar in them. I see family in their faces. Sometimes, the image strikes me. I say, This is a very striking individual, and I want to work with it. Or it’s the composition. I often find low-res images that aren’t very high quality, which lend themselves to me being able to paint in them to bring out that extra detail. These documents are hundreds of years old, so my paintbrush can go in and add magic to them again and bring life back to them again. I’m always intrigued by the aspect of actually bringing forth things from the past.
I get images from all over the place. People send me images now. They’re like, Oh, my God, I think you would like this! And they’re usually right! I also get them from family albums, estate sales, archives, and online; there are images all over the place. But finding the right ones that really resonate with me takes time. I have to envision myself doing them. And once I get that go-ahead, that this is the one, that’s when the process starts. There are many that I’ve started and didn’t feel the energy in them, and I left them alone. But the ones that make it are the ones that chose me, in a way. It’s a shared process. I believe that the spirit of the individual in the photograph speaks to me. They really do. It is a very spiritual process. It’s a very familiar, ceremonial process.
Right: Lil Clyde & Nyals; Cut photograph collage, oil, and glitter in hand-carved shou sugi ban frame, 2023; 28×22 inches.
It’s like you’re building a relationship between yourself and these people who, in one aspect, are long gone but, in another sense, are being kept very much alive by you.
Well, see, here’s the thing: I see the same faces. They haven’t gone anywhere. They’re not gone. Those individuals may be gone, but their offspring, their descendants, are very much still here. As they say, “energy is neither created nor destroyed.” It’s just a cyclical thing. We see the same faces generation after generation after generation; it’s just amazing.
Funny story: My maternal granddad is from Barbados, and he had eyes that would change colors according to the season. So one moment, they’d be green; the next, they were light gray; the next season, they’d be light brown. And everybody’s waiting to see whose child will get these eyes! So far, 13 grandbabies, and nobody’s got ‘em yet. We are waiting to see when Grandpa’s coming back.
Right: Bunny; Cut photograph collage, oil, and glitter in hand-carved shou sugi ban frame, 2023 18×16 inches.
Can you tell me more about the frame carving process you’ve incorporated into your practice?
It’s a Japanese burning process called shou sugi ban. It makes the woodgrain come out, but it also wards off insects in the process of carbonizing it. Insects don’t like that char. So, it preserves the wood, and I find it a very beautiful process.
That part of my practice is also part of the ceremonial aspect of my work. As every part of the collage burns, it represents things we do not know but are very much felt. We can feel it, but we may not be able to comprehend it or explain it in a literal context. We just know. Certain things are instinctual. It may not be apparent to us, but it is very much in us.
I enjoy being in a space of knowing certain things that are just innately there; they’re innately with us. Just like histories. Like with our ancestors. We know them because we look at them every day; you see them every time you look in the mirror. Millions upon millions of your ancestors culminating into you. Every single cell in your body could be representative of an ancestor. With the burning process, things go up in smoke like a spirit. [The spirit] is still oddly present; it’s still in the air. It’s still in the ether. The spirit is still with us.
Right: Meli & Maude; Cut photograph collage, oil, and glitter in hand-carved shou sugi ban frame; 2023 16×11 inches.
Featured banner images:
Left: Aponi & Halona; Cut photograph collage, oil, and glitter in hand-carved shou sugi ban frame, 2023; 58×48 inches.
Center: Junie; Cut photograph collage, oil, and glitter in hand-carved shou sugi ban frame, 2023; 39x20x2 inches.
Right: Mrs. Johnson’s Sunday Best; Mixed media collage, paint, hand-carved shou sugi ban frame, 2023; 68x68x2 inches.