In this engaging and introspective interview, Mike Ryczek delves into the intricacies of his artistic journey, revealing the profound passion and persistent curiosity that fuel his creative endeavours. With a reflective approach that seamlessly blends personal experiences with broader artistic influences, Mike discusses why visual art remains his chosen mode of expression, despite having a deeper emotional connection to music. His insights shed light on the complexities of artistic identity and the delicate balance between personal satisfaction and public engagement.

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Why visual art, among all other mediums of expression? 

I think I gravitated toward it from a young age because it was one of simplest mediums to delve into - I just needed a pencil and some paper.  I guess music could supersede visual art as it’s even more primitive and direct.  Interestingly, I think I’ve always had a more emotional connection to music than painting, but I’m still somehow more comfortable expressing myself visually.  The actor Jeremy Irons once said something like “I’ve always felt somewhat detached from acting and I think that’s why I’m successful at it”.  I love painting, but music is so important to me that I think I might crumble under the weight of it if I got serious about making it myself.  That’s not to say I might not still try and fail, someday…  


Discuss your strategies for staying motivated and continually finding inspiration in your artistic practice. 

Continuing to look at artists who’ve done work very dissimilar from mine but that have some core to it that I respect and identify with is a great source of motivation.  I don’t have a lot of other people’s art up in my studio but I do have a few small prints from the Japanese artist Toshio Saeki, who was known for his simple line drawings of mostly Asian women in bizarre, humorous, violent and sexual imagined scenarios. 

 

They are so delicately simple yet so potent and disturbing.  It is a constant reminder to me that simplicity is often best and never fails to pull me out the creative vacuums I find myself in.  I can’t help but feel like whatever I’m working on is lifeless and safe relative to his work, which forces me to reconsider why I’m making something and think of ways to make it more engaging for myself. 

Reflect on your favourite creation and the reasons behind your choice. Could you tell us about your favourite piece that you have created? What makes this piece particularly significant to you, and what was the inspiration or story behind it?

Narrowing it down to one painting is a tall order, but I will try.  One piece from a series I did based on my experiences in South Korea called “Level” has stuck with me as a unique accomplishment. It felt like an outlier from the rest of the show in style and subject matter.  I usually work closely with photographic references and at some point the painting takes a slight departure.  This piece started with a photo I took out our hotel window of a Jumbotron resting atop the Seoul skyline, but at the point where the source stopped carrying the painting, I wasn’t quite sure where I wanted it to go. It slowly started to develop into something completely fantastical and I began responding to what was happening in the painting to the point where I forgot what the source material was - it became irrelevant. 

 

I ended up at a totally imagined environment where I was able to incorporate fantasy elements from Korean toy culture mixed with nostalgic memories of Japanese designed video games from my childhood.  The end result was silly, darkly humorous and very self indulgent, but still anchored to reality in some way.  I was able to channel something childish while avoiding triviality or gimmicks, and I just felt I’d created an environment I wanted to go into and explore.


Describe how your approach to art has evolved over time. In what ways has your approach to creating art changed over the years? What have been the significant influences or learning experiences that have shaped your evolution as an artist? 

The most important realization I’ve had after making art for over a decade with the intention of selling it is that the effort is simply not worth it unless you’re making sure the process is completely and utterly fulfilling for you.  I’m approaching 40 now, and painting can be a physically taxing activity.  The whims of the art market have always been and largely remain a mystery to artists and dealers.  Income is sparse and sporadic, and can be affected by an infinite number of unknowns.  After living with these realities, I’ve learned to embrace the freedom I have to explore the issues and emotional struggles that I’m going through right now or that I’ve been dealing with for most of my life, and to use painting more as an outlet than a mask to hide behind.  

 

There is a painting I worked on in 2017 that I feel really pushed me to start thinking differently about what I wanted this to be for me.  I spent an entire Summer working on it - creating a small-scale environment to use as a reference, working through collages in Photoshop, pushing paint around in the studio and hitting wall after wall.  I’d wake up in the morning, take a cold shower and tell myself “I’m finishing it today”, and by the end of the day I’d feel it had somehow taken two steps back.  It was infuriating but I couldn’t walk away from it.  I actually threw a paint loaded brush at the canvas and screamed at it like it was a living thing intent on putting my entire life on hold.  By the time I completed it, it became more or less what I had imagined at the outset, but I felt so detached from it.  It felt lifeless to me, and all of the self-imposed anguish I experienced while creating it was invisible, hidden underneath layers of perfectionism and forced will.  It did not feel like a healthy struggle, and I promised myself I would never get trapped like that again - stubbornly pouring so much of my energy into something just for the sake of finishing a painting.  Essentially, it taught me how to know when it’s time to let go and move on, which has served me well.

How do you think social media platforms influence the way art is created and perceived today?

Social media continues to have a strange contradictory effect on artistic output and perception, and I continue to have conflicting emotions about it.  The reach we have as artists is unprecedented, but the troublingly addictive qualities of the platforms minimize the experience of looking at art and the time for reflection that’s needed to appreciate it.  Quickly taking in an image while scrolling through Instagram is the polar opposite of sitting with the physical work in a quiet gallery.  As someone who can take months to resolve a painting, I frequently feel like I’m cheapening what I’ve done when tossing it into an algorithm for people to look at on their phones.

 

In terms of output, I think it can’t not affect the way an artist goes about making an artwork - at least in some small way.  It’s hard not to feel a constant pressure to maintain a presence, which can lead to rushed attempts to create work quickly and with little thought so that you stay in people’s minds.  The problem of sexually explicit or disturbing art frequently being censored is a big one.  Seeing provocative artwork with star symbols placed over the nipples or genitalia by the artist so it doesn’t get reported is a sad thing to see.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have small reservations about creating future work with potentially offensive content because I’m thinking “Well, I can’t put that on Instagram unless I want to get into a whole thing with them”.  To know that this platform created solely for getting eyeballs and keeping them there at all costs is even slightly influencing my creative process is frankly disturbing, and I feel a deep responsibility to myself and other artists to push against those reservations.   

Contemplate the role and responsibilities of an artist in society today. How do you perceive the role of an artist in today's society? What responsibilities, if any, do you believe artists have towards their communities or the broader public?

As a reclusive painter whose priorities remain indulging my own obsessions, I don’t personally feel a responsibility to the public nor do I feel they have a responsibility to make sure I can continue doing what I do.  Regarding our role in society - one where we are seeing AI software generating authentic-looking digital artwork and encroaching on the human ability to draw connections between seemingly unrelated concepts and “create” something unique - the role of the artist is an increasingly complex thing to define. 

 

My inner optimist tells me that the ease with which anyone can now create an engaging image using a simple text prompt will only force artists to question their own relevance in the face of this technology and push them to distinguish themselves by making more authentic, confessional work.  I spent some time playing with Midjourney earlier this year and it was a jarring experience - you type “Taj Mahal made of meat in the style of Courbet” and with a few enhancements you’ve something very close to that in minutes, but everything has this lack of humanity behind it that’s impossible to ignore.  It reminded me that people don’t typically spend thousands of dollars on an original piece of art for the end product - they’re (ideally) purchasing a piece of the person behind it and the lifetime of experiences that led to its creation.  Going back to the dilemma of censorship on social media, I think software like Midjourney and DALL-E makes the need for artwork that comes from a genuine, human place, and therefore risks offending people, that much more urgent. 

 

As we all continue down the path of becoming more socially isolated than the previous generation, technology will only continue to make us feel more alone and miserable if we let it.  Most artists are unusually passionate people who yearn to connect with others in a meaningful way but generally suck at doing so in conventional ways, so they either destroy themselves or create out of necessity.  In this way, even if it is often rooted in a kind of selfishness, artists have the power to share their truths in ways that might make other people feel less alone and encourage them to embrace their own imperfect nature, which is something that society - today’s and yesterday’s - has generally discouraged. 

Do you believe art can be perceived as pretentious? If so, under what circumstances?

Well, pretension in the art world is one of the most well established cliches there is, so yes.  Of course this mostly applies to the top-tier art stars selling with Zwirner or Gagosian where pretension is almost a prerequisite for being seen and succeeding.  I and 99% of other artists do not exist in this universe and simply gaze at the hype and astronomical auction prices in disbelief from a distance.  Someone like Anish Kapoor for example, with his recent show of Vantablack paintings in NY - this is a man who is playing an entirely different game from me that I can not relate to, so while I’m still open to understanding what it is he’s trying to accomplish, it simply doesn’t make sense to compare myself to him.  Very few of the artists I’ve come to know in or outside of Boston have struck me as especially pretentious. 

 

They have spent so much time being humbled by their struggles to continue making the art they want to make while also making a living that there is little room for narcissism and little desire to push people away.  Perceptions of pretension usually come from a feeling that you are being intentionally excluded from a conversation - that you are not welcome to give your input or try to relate if you don’t have the necessary pedigree. I remember an ex-NY gallerist telling me she was instructed by the owner to ignore anyone who came into the gallery unless they were someone worth knowing or were there to buy something.  The sale of blue-chip art is and has always been wholly dependent on the perception of exclusivity, which must be generated and reinforced by those who sell it.  While any artist in any stratosphere can be pretentious, the only place I really see it as a defining characteristic is at the very top of the totem pole.

Identify five habits or concerns that you are actively working to change or release from your artistic practice. 

✧ Fearing that something interesting to me will be boring to someone else.

 

✧ Allowing a piece to become so precious that I fear ruining it.

 

✧ Hesitating to make work with objectionable subject matter.

 

✧ Holing up in my studio instead of getting out and talking to more artists.

 

✧ Trying not to repeat myself while simultaneously trying not to stray too much from my existing body of work.

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Mike Ryczek's reflective narrative offers a profound glimpse into the life of an artist who is deeply committed to exploring the challenges and rewards of the creative process. His dedication to evolving his artistic expression, while maintaining authenticity in his work, serves as a potent reminder of the personal fulfilment that art can provide. Continue to watch Mike's portfolio as he navigates the evolving landscape of art with his unique blend of introspection and innovative artistic expression, enriching the visual arts scene with each new creation.