KATHERINE MCMAHON
Habitat is a weekly series that visits with artists in their workspaces.
This week’s studio: Nick van Woert in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. “What I’ve started to see and what has defined the subtext to much of the work I do is that the comfort that many materials provide is only camouflage for the horror underneath,” van Woert said, when asked about his process. “Things are not as they appear.”
Originally from Reno, Nevada, van Woert has been working at his Greenpoint studio space for four years. He originally studied architecture before switching to art, but one can see his earlier training in many of his pieces, like 6221 Osage Ave, which is a model of a home that once stood at 6221 Osage Avenue in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In 1985, the house was occupied by a black liberation group called MOVE. The cops dropped a bomb on the house, killing 11 people and burning down 60 other homes in the process. “I wanted to resurrect this house,” he said. “The piece of zombie architecture became a symbol for the unwritten laws that we all live by—assimilate or die.” Situated nearby, a giant Mickey Mouse figurine covered in battery acid peers in our direction.
At the time of this shoot, van Woert was gearing up for a show at Moran Bondaroff in Los Angeles, which is currently on view until October 10. Below, van Woert shares some insight into his creative process and takes us around his workspace, where motorcycles, giant Indian sculptures, and hanging giraffes coexist.
ALL PHOTOS: KATHERINE MCMAHON
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"This is a model of 6221 Osage Ave. Philadelphia in 1985. The house was occupied by a return to nature, black liberation group called MOVE. They were being evicted by the police department. MOVE was not going to move, the cops dropped a bomb on the roof, it started a fire, and the cops said, “Let it burn.” It burned out of control, killing 5 kids and 6 adults that were inside while burning down 60 other homes. The model sits on the ground. As you move around it you occupy the perspective of the helicopter—the executioner’s gaze."
“ 'When the white man came, he had the Bible and we had the land. He gave us the Bible and told us to close our eyes and pray. When we opened our eyes, we had the Bible and they had the land.' —unknown. I took found cigar store indians and carved Indian killer faces directly into them."
"This is an untitled copper and steel sculpture in progress."
"I don’t like to make things. There is always too much room for doubt. I don’t trust my own decisions. If you can grow sculpture there is no doubt, there is no conversation about proportion, there is no beauty, there is no ugly. There is room for a grotesque beauty though."
"Battery acid erodes the quartz inside granite."
"The materials should be as varied as the world around me. Half of the materials I use have some kind of personal connection to my life, the other half I have adopted from people I find interesting."
"I am obsessed with the things that exist but were not made. These are the things that define reality. These are the things that I do not question. This is nature. I want to my work to fall into this category."
A giraffe figure hangs from the ceiling.
"Air to Fuel."
"Haruspex. He was a guy who in ancient Roman times would dissect animals and inspect their entrails to see if they were healthy. If so, the land they were found on was deemed healthy. They saw a direct connection between you and the place you live. If you apply that idea to the city, the ingredients, the DNA, get more interesting. You are what you eat. You are concrete, glass, steel, cat little, hair gel, chlorine, muscle milk, chainsaw, car crash."
"Anyone want to buy a bike? I need to get rid of some of these."
Overlooking the studio from the office area.