BEST PRINCESS OF POP

Mention the name Kathie Olivas and three things come to mind. a) She holds the Planet title for Best Most Prolific Curator; b) She’s got her artistic antenna tuned in to every artist under 30 (give or take a couple a decades); c) Now she’s far more than the Bay area’s art scene diva. Olivas is our choice as first Princess of Pop. Local spin has it that Olivas brings a unique, independent vision to Tampa Bay’s fertile pop scene, where, truth be told, local young ‘uns with a penchant for pop make art that looks too much like everybody else’s stuff. But our Kathie is anything but a cookie-cutter type. How about her little parody figures wearing cutesy Olivas couture? Who would even dare to appropriate Ms. Olivas’ bloomer girls? Check out her unbeatable strategy: She dons real or fictional personas and then creates fresh visual commentaries on issues such as women, identity, eroticism and female inferiority. She departed her Hyde Park Fine Arts curating nest, but look for her to continue organizing shows there and at Covivant. What else is in her future? Watch her art travel the national pop circuit.

ARTIST: KATHIE OLIVAS ⎮ COUNTRY: TAMPA/FLORIDA/US ⎮ WEB: www.miserychildren.com

Whether you know who’s behind the Futura name and iconography or not, you’ve seen the influence of his work in art and design. Growing up in New York in the ’70s, Futura is one of the pioneers of graffiti as art, and definitely influences much of the “street art” (not my favorite term) that’s so popular right now. Futura gained his fame coming up alongside big names like Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat, two of his contemporaries in the infamous New York art scene of the early ’80s.

With the long legacy Futura has created, there’s a sense of history about his work, but also of a person that was before his time, and may still be ahead of his time. Given the reverence and fanaticism Futura generates in Japan, and the fact that the Land of the Rising Sun has been leading the culture charge for quite a while, I’d say Futura’s appeal in the US will only grow. Brisk sales at his recent art show in LA are evidence of his growing following stateside.

NY guy Stash handed Futura a joint as we started the interview, and while it burned the conversation wandered down some odd paths until the interview was cut off by time constraints. It’s kind of a random talk, but if you can follow, you could learn a lot about the past and Futura. And if you can’t follow the leader here, you can still catch up with him later at futura2000.com.

How long have you been out in LA?

Well, in preparation for this show I’ve been out here off and on for weeks, just for the organization of the work and getting pieces framed. But I was also working out here at a space.

So you did a lot of the new work out here? Yeah, with the exception of the “point man” character paintings and two or three others shipped from New York, everything was done out here. This is all brand new work, this isn’t some retrospective of my work; it’s all just for this show. And from what I hear 75% of it is sold already and we haven’t even opened. So that’s encouraging.

How’s your art evolved through the years? Can you identify periods or phases in your own work?

Right now, this marks a return to committing to do a show on this level. In the past, I’ve been part of various exhibitions and group shows, but hadn’t been thinking about doing a real proper show until recently. A lot of people were asking me, “Hey, Futura, are you painting?” And the mood and temperature of where things are at right now, where there’s a new crop of artists coming up, I feel blessed to be given this opportunity to create this show, which is different, more of a pop-up than a gallery show. And it’s my decision to come back and paint now. Maybe I’ve laid low enough. So it’s something to prove to myself as a painter, like “Can I still do it?” And I’ve proven to myself that I can. And based on the show I did last year in London with Jose Parla, it was obvious that people were still interested in it.

Although it’s a year and some months later, maybe this is a period for me to consider some of the other work I’ve been doing, which is more commercial, more graphic and accessible. I don’t want to stop doing that, but at the same time I’m encouraged by doing a show like this. The success is an inspiration in itself to move forward. I haven’t had a solo show since 2001.

Why were you laying low for so long?

I’ve been busy with other projects. And a lot of it has to do with the fact that I lost a studio space that I had. In New York, I’ve been working more as a designer and producer than I have as an artist. But last year I got a studio again. The lure to come back and paint has always been there. I think I can always find buyers, you know what I mean? But just ‘cause someone wants to give me a bunch of money, it’s never been the initiative to make the work. Fortunately, at this point in my life I’m not so dependent. I’ve been able to make a good living outside of my artwork, so I’m in a more powerful position. Because to be independent costs money. I had some problems with the art world, too, the classic form of it and the way people treat you as a commodity and not a person.

Do you feel the burden of your legacy, being so well known? Sure. The legacy part only bothers me because I feel that legacy is not fulfilled. I’m still very capable of doing more interesting things, continuing to develop styles that I’ve created. My evolution is still in progress. The whole, “You’re a living legend…” Oh, wow, thank you. You want to give props to that degree, go for it. But I don’t want to rest on that. Put that on me once I’m gone. But at the same time, with my body of work, I’m a complicated person and I have a lot of means of expressing myself. On the Recon store homepage, there’s an area that I post photos on. In the past few months, I’ve been going to every major league ballpark in America and seeing games in every stadium and documenting it. I get absorbed in it. I’m at the park three hours before it opens, reconning it. It’s not even about the athletes, really; they’re secondary. It’s about the cathedrals of the game.

I have fun with that, because people are confused that I do that, they can’t quite pigeonhole me. They’ll never be able to.

There are a lot of things I want to do and I’m trying to get done, and they don’t all revolve around being Futura. I’m trying to separate myself from that cultural niche world. I walked through all those doors already. And in the time that’s followed, lots of others have followed. And I’m happy I broke some barriers and opened some doors for myself and others. Some doors get opened just ’cause I’m the older guy with the name credibility. I realize my presence can help the greater art community. But the problem with being known and the mythology, people see me as the work, which isn’t me. Some people like to ride that fame, but I’m embarrassed by it. My approach to the whole thing is different. I’ve always been grateful, I have humility, and damn, there are a lot of other artists that should be here, too.

Given where you started, tagging in the ’70s, did you ever imagine you’d be in the place you are now?

Never… Never. And that’s remarkable and wonderful, and I’m grateful. But parallel to the Futura life there’s also been the Lenny sagame being a parent, a teacher. I always say, my greatest works are my two children. My son just came back from Japan. They’re my legacy. In the visual world, I’ve left some impressions, that’s a good thing. Part of my success is my longevity. So much has come back around.

So your son lives in Japan?

He used to. When he got out of high school, he went out there to visit and ended up staying four years. He was working for Burton.

Is that how you got onto the top of the line Burton board?

Yeah, well, no. Stash is friends with Jake Burton, and I’ve been up to their offices in Vermont, and I know Keir [Dillon]. But my son is a great artist, too. He’s my man. We’re working together a lot. We essentially have a family business at this point.

Speaking of Japan, are you shocked by the difference in your status between here and there?

That I’m more or less unknown in my own country? Yeah. It’s funny, back in the ’80s when the graffiti scene was transitioning from underground to galleries, unless you were a cool guy from New York, you were hating us. ’Cause we were just vandals, plain and simple. So what happened was the Europeans started investing in us and having shows with us. It was kind of like jazz musicians: they kind of had to go over there to get their start. The Europeans are just a bit ahead in culture and art.

I mean, we’re a 200-and-something- year-old country. We can kick ass in all kinds of other things, but we’re young. No other way to say it. They have a more developed art culture. It is what it is. But in that gallery scene, I was also feeling manipulated and exploited, not knowing enough about the gallery system and how it worked. In the ’80s I was carried through by people like Keith Haring and Fab Five Freddy, people who were more saavy.

What would you consider your big break?

In 1981 I collaborated with The Clash, and that was my big, big break as an artist; it gave me name recognition. When I came back to New York after that, I was flavor of the month. And from ’79 to ’83, New York was so amazing. Everything was so new. We didn’t even know what we were doing, but it was all coming together. Graffiti was peaking on trains, to the point of full cars, so developed and so mature. The stuff I was doing in 1970… Ten years later, after a four-year stint in the military, while I was gone was when the scene had cultivated. I came back, I was intimidated by the great works of art. People still remembered the Futura signature, my tag with the arrows, but I was less of a classic graffiti artist, which is why I went abstract. I could tag the shit out of the name Futura 2000, but I didn’t even think I had a reputation until I came back from the military. I was well known as a tagger, but it wasn’t until 1980 when I came back and did a real painting on a train. It was just color fields with lines and tape. I was bringing tape along to paint trains.

So you developed your own style because you couldn’t match what other graffiti artists were doing?

Absolutely. All these other guys, it was about the outline, the character, the shadowing, the light, the fill-ins, and all that crap. But I could make an entire painting just based on that shit and leave my name out of it. That was it. I needed to stop worrying about making a Futura piece with my name, and instead start making paintings by Futura. Even though I had reasoned that out, I was still very insecure as an artist. I didn’t know anything about art. So I stumbled through the next few years doing some shows here and there, and then when I finally got into some real good shows in proper galleries, the critics in Art Forum and the high art magazines destroyed me. “He’s copying so-and-so,” naming artists I was copying from that I’d never heard of. That was impossible because I didn’t have that art school background and all that, but it really bummed me out. And then my son was born, and I had to get my shit together. I just abandoned the whole art shit and went out and got myself a job, and became a messenger. I was on a fixed bike in ’87 when people didn’t know what that was. I was making $100 bucks a day, and I was psyched. I was fully confident in what I was doing, and I was making money. There were no insecurities involved in the job. I didn’t have to be critiqued by other people, I didn’t have to be judged. I just delivered packages.

You obviously went through a lot of phases, but when did it finally all come together for you?

After Mo’ Wax and going to Japan. ‘Cause Mo’ Wax was the return of Futura, through James Lavelle in the early ’90s. After the messenger period ended with an accident and took my Superman complex away, I reconsidered what I was doing. Then Agnes.B bought a few paintings, and I got some money and a studio, but I turned off to the elitist part of the art world. I wanted to appeal to the everyday person. Me and Stash were getting into clothing, too, as an alternative. Then in ’92, James got me and put the paintings right on the covers of Mo’ Wax records. So that spawned all that and the creation of the “point man.” And then a big trip to Japan in ’95, I met Tokyo again, and this time they were ready for me. I was in Tokyo in 1974, in a military uniform. I was in Tokyo in 1984 with Wild Style, the movie. Now I was in Tokyo in ’94 with Lavelle and Nigo and the beginning of A Bathing Ape and all that shit. And this time it was on. I always had this thing about Japan. When I first went out there in the military, I was embarrassed, because I had strong feelings about the atom bomb. I thought we overdid it, and I felt guilty about walking around in a uniform. Then when I came back ’84, I felt exonerated, like, “I’m back, and this is who I really am.” It flashed in the pan, but it never hit. It was just too early. Fast forward, it just got better and better until it really hit.

You’re well known for your collaborations with the biggest companies. What do you consider your most successful partnership? I would have to say the first shoe with Nike. The first shoe with Nike was pret- ty awesome, because it was for charity. They had numbered, limited shoes, and I raised $70,000 for the New York City homeless post-9/11. Nike ended up being wonderful to me. And Burton. Those are my best two. And I’ve done some awesome stuff with North Face, Levis… A lot of good companies. I’m still looking for Apple, Sony, and BMW. I’ve been investing in their products for a long time now.

ARTIST: FUTURA 2000 ⎮ COUNTRY: UNITED STATES ⎮ SOURCE: VAPORS