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Gregory Ito When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? It seems as if I always have some sort of minor injury, mostly due to fabricating objects or construction. Hammers meeting flesh, and nerves meeting creative gestures of building something. But in the whirlwind of a world we live in. I find myself physically affected by lack of sleep, and my lack of sleep is due to the lack of time I feel in general circumstances. So little time to do, make, and see the things I would like to experience. It’s not so much about the last time I was hurt, but the time that this hurt continues to last. How does one conclude their relationship with time and the time that they are given to wish, dream, and hope to accomplish in life, in their life. Their only life? As dark as a black hole and as blindingly bright as the sun, their extremes are representative of my want for sleep and rest, which will eventually find me in my ending moments.
Describe the perfect cake. A cake that is not just a cake but a cake that is many things and can shift between ideas of what a cake can become, represent, or give. An amoeba of desires that can change from it’s own will and guidance. One that can stand the flow of time and defeat its destiny as a perishable object dedicated to being consumed and forgotten. The perfect cake is no longer perfect, and will never be perfect, but will follow it’s own path, without prerequisite ideas of it’s form or function into a realm of uncertainty and endless ending of new beginnings.
If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? The main question is why. Why would I use one color over another color? Why would one color become more important than others in a situation of dire circumstances in which I must choose one and only one? Why would I continue to make work knowing that I can only experience one color an infinite amount of times? Would one color hold the power to continue my investigation with the world as a maker? If the initial question were to arise, then these questions will follow, and I cannot say for sure which color I would choose, or if I would choose one at all. It is questions like these that pain me and make me realize the importance of my relationship to the spectrum of opportunities of color that light provides. I hope I will never have to face a situation like this one.
Is your work inherently a self-portrait? As it is an inescapable truth that my work is a bi-product of my experiences with the world. I would say yes, it is inherently a self-portrait or a portrait of my self-awareness or curiosity. The works I produce are physical investigations of my relationship with my surroundings and very often, personal ephemera is included to manifest a breadth of possibilities of personal, intimate, and sincere dialogues with the objects, images, and media I use in my practice. I have made works that were titled Self Portraits, but then it became clear that everything I produce in the studio is a fragment, glance, or shimmer into my operations as a maker and viewer - but foremost, a human being. I then disposed my inclinations to title a work Self Portrait, knowing that it could change in the future. At the end of a day’s work in the studio, I make things for myself, keeping in mind the excitement and joy of sharing my work with the public, other artists, and art enthusiasts. Sharing your work is a gesture of sincerity and sacrifice, and to share your work with others is very much like sharing yourself, with your community and into the vast expanse of individuals that populate this world, which can seem daunting. My work as a portrait of my multiple relationships with the world? Yes. And my work as a bi-product of my self-awareness to the collective consciousness and perceptions of today’s cultural climate? Yes. I am my work and without my work, my ideals of self and individuality begin to dissipate.
How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? In the past, I primarily made meticulous paintings that I found much pleasure in making because of the techniques and materials that I honed and honored. However, it evolved into a finite relationship with the work in which I would propose an idea and then execute it, producing a product - an end result, an answer to a question or challenge that I faced. By the end of an experience with a painting, the surface would be soaked in my presence and it would be done, finished, complete. But I had more questions for myself in the studio, and I wanted to face questions without answers and keep a spirit of freedom in approaches to my practice. Working sculpturally opened avenues of discovery that I never had before. Using consumer objects, personal ephemera, and ready-mades, I was able to explore possibilities without the restriction to one surface. Even though my relationship with the surface is a complicated one, I still cherish it, knowing it is the foundation for my life as an artist. Now when I work, I’ll reach a point where I feel comfortable in my investigation with a piece. It’s always hard to say when something is finished, but there is a moment when I reach a state of content with the work. Many times, I go back to a piece and play around with new perspectives that I had not yet realized, but there are some works that I don’t revisit and they continue to exist as they were the last time I encountered them. Like the perfect cake, I will allow my work to become imperfect, shifting and changing as it wishes. The cake is perfectly imperfect, and a rebirth with one’s work is a humbling gesture of accepting change in the relentless struggle against time we all face.