Patrick Flibotte

“The only romantic idea of being an artist is for 35 seconds when your friends or someone on the street asks you, ‘Oh, what do you do?’ And you say, ‘Oh, I’m an artist.’ That’s all the romance you get, after that your hands are always bloody, your always working, your always going to bed worrying.”
                                                                                     

I walk into Maggie Brown, a tiny restaurant in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn that’s always pouring plenty of whisky. I look around seeing several local artists, eventually spotting Patrick at the bar, charming everyone as usual. Patrick Flibotte is the kind of person that helps a gal he’s never met move into her third floor apartment on a sweaty, slimy August day. He’s one of those rare people who tell it like it is and genuinely wants everyone to just get along. We decide to grab a drink and get started.

Erica Wilson/Dashboard Co-Op: Ok, you ready?

Patrick Flibotte: Yeah, lets do this.

Dash: Let’s start with telling me how it all came to be, where are your roots?

PF: Well, I guess it all started with my Grandfather’s automotive repair junkyard shop in Braintree, Massachusetts, south of Boston. He opened it in the late 50’s, all my uncles and I worked there. The whole way I got started was being around lots of tools, cars and automotive things. That’s where the whole idea of building things, fixing things, piecing things together and being comfortable with shapes and three-dimensional objects, came from—learning how they came apart and are reassembled. Yeah, when I think about art and the process of creating, it all stems from growing up around my grandfather’s shop.

Then of course I went to art school. I think I’ve always had an eye for detail just because of being around the shop and that whole environment.  I kind of felt like I had to go to college, it was what felt like the next step, yet you never really know what you want to do.

Dash: I know that my personal experience with art school was that it was great but I came out of their in a sensory overloaded state that kept me from creating art for a bit. Did you feel that art school killed the spirit or did it feed the beast?

PF: Well, my father never wanted me to go to art school and my mother always encouraged it. My mother signed me up for art classes since the 4th grade. So since then I was always doing art, thinking about art but at that point it was more painting, water colors that sort of thing. She would take me two times a week to her studio for a group collective type thing. Going to college was a funny thing my father was business all the way I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do ever so you go and then I did I took business classes and failed miserably, signed myself up for art classes and I was like, I want to do sculpture!

Why? Because I know tools I want to build things and when I graduate I can always fall back on being blue collar and that’s what I like to do. So my dad, with his business ways, was like, “do graphic design.” Being all business, he thought he could negotiate my college career. But I decided sculpture was the way.

Dash: And I’m glad you did!

PF: Me too! So doing sculpture in undergrad, taking off with it, in very formal art school with a very formal academic idea of sculpture and of materials so at this time really it was more about craft than art. The idea about art came later. I went to University of Massachusetts, which focuses more on materials and craftsmanship, honing in on your skills and becoming a crafts person before becoming an artist. I think both of those ideas are important but I’m really glad that I came from a very formal institutional background because they teach you how to build things before they teach you how to think, does that make sense?

Dash: Yes, understanding your materials and how to handle it then you can know how to manipulate the materials to express what you want.

PF: Right, exactly. From there I went to University of Georgia graduate school and that is the point when they started having you ask the questions “what are you doing, who are you, where do you come from and why are you making what you are making.” Before it was all formal aspects of art and how to make it then UGA was more about who are you, why are YOU an artist? Which is an important question really.

Dash: So, why do you make?

PF: Well it is an important question for me why would a middle class white male make art what do I have to say what do I have to prove to the world. Well I think I have a lot! But at the same time I feel that it’s an oxymoron.

Dash: It’s always a hard thing to find your context within the world. I was reading your statement and looking at your works and well Greasiel, was that an homage you your family to your grandfather and his shop?

PF: To talk about Greasiel being related to the family business I think subconsciously it was. I’m not too set on that but I had some money in the bank and I wanted to make this Mercedes run on vegetable oil more for enjoyment, but I also had this show coming up so I thought, “I’m going to buy this car and put it in the gallery.” But then a lot of my peers and people I was associated with at the time where like this is not really art. They were looking at this thing and asking why is it art? Why is the Greasiel art? That was the big question. I mean lets think about Duchamp and other artists – it’s art because I say its art – I did it as art, and I thought about it as art. Why is that not a good enough reason?

Dash: Do you feel that somehow there is an importance in this correlation between art and function in life that we are all missing? Do you feel that Greasiel is a way of bringing our attention to that?

PF: Yeah, I think of course even the idea of taking this thing that burns up diesel fuel which is a very dirty evil thing but it has also been said that vegetable oil can be bad as well. Who’s to say?! I did it for myself, I did for fun, I did it for art….I think it smells like French fries, so why hate? I think it was really effective and when it’s all said and done I have a Mercedes Benzes that runs on vegetable oil. Its fun!

Dash: Tell us about your body of work that I’ve seen and how you developed it.

PF: Figuring things out is really important for me, changing and building something new out of things is important. But it makes it in a way hard for me to build the typical body of work that many individuals want you to do. When you look at my website its kind of all over the place, there is this kind of visual playful aesthetic that exists. But at the same time I don’t like making the same thing over and over and over again. I can’t do it. I have the attention span of a two year old. Problem solving and figuring things out is really important in the process of making sculpture and all art. So for me I feel that it is hard to figure out continuity within my body of work.

I do self portraits, marble carvings steel works I want to be as versatile as I can be as an artist but then critics and the public want to see a continuity between materials shapes function and all this to have a formal vernacular vocabulary, but that’s so boring I want to switch gears every time I go to work.

Dash: Isn’t that life in a way? It’s not always the same, well maybe for some people, but life is ever changing. For the time that I have known you and your work you have always had several projects going and a lot happening in your life I found this reflective in your work or am I wrong?

PF: Variety is the spice of life.

Dash: And your work, is it sincere?

PF: Always! Yes the variety the spice is what keeps us going. Why would I want to do the same thing over and over again you never do.

Dash: But Patrick, I do see the relationship in your work and you even said there is a visual aesthetic relationship in it.

PF: Yeah, but that is also a part of me being a member of this “society or subculture” of art, you kind of have to play that game, play that role. If you don’t, well I don’t want to say you become outsider art, but you have to develop something for people to sink their teeth into, to buy into, until you reach a certain level. Once you reach that level then you can do whatever the fuck you want! Do you know what I mean? You have to develop, well not a fan base, but a following. I mean this is all very subjective what I’m saying here, but you know you have to have a niche, a product.

Dash: Do you feel that you just want to scream to people, I’m a maker, I need to make things, just let me make?

PF: Yes, yes totally and once you reach that caliber, like one of my heroes, Mauritzo Cattelan. He does what he wants, when he wants, how he wants. I mean he’s an artist, a true artist.

Dash: Do you find that you are constantly looking for satisfaction?

PF: Even when I’m ready to show my work in a formal way I’m still not always happy or satisfied. But I think so many artists aren’t ever happy or satisfied, that’s why we work so hard, were always pushing ourselves—always, always, always. I’m never satisfied…it’s kind of sad. It can always be better; I’m always looking to see how a product can be better. And you’re like, “Oh, I have an idea of how this can be better.” It’s an innate quality we have to try and one up it. It’s really strange when people start to talk about this whole romantic idea of art, “Oh, I’m an artist.” I just don’t see the romantic idea of being an artist. The only romantic idea of being an artist is for 35 seconds when your friends or someone on the street asks you, “Oh what do you do?” And you say, “Oh I’m an artist.” That’s all the romance you get, after that your hands are always bloody, your always working, your always going to bed worrying about something, how could it be better, does the surface need to be smoother or does it need more texture? All this stuff you’re never ever satisfied with. I’m not walking down the streets saying, “Oh I’m an artist, and this is so beautiful.” No! I’m walking down the street worrying about everything, even the trash on the sidewalk!