We were lucky to catch up with Dennis Sohocki recently and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Dennis, thanks for joining us today. How did you learn to do what you do? Knowing what you know now, what could you have done to speed up your learning process? What skills do you think were most essential? What obstacles stood in the way of learning more? How did you learn to do what you do?
My last art class was in junior high, and I probably got a C in it. Yet, I ended up with a 45+-year successful career in sculpture. My “learning the craft” was not a straight-line journey, but a long, winding, convoluted road to where I am today. The journey was often confusing and at times didn’t make sense but, in hindsight, it turned out it taught me to be comfortable in the moment, living with the unexpected. And, since what lies ahead on my journey is still unknown and unexpected, I am still learning.
My loving, fun Grandpa was an artist and my first inspiration. When younger, he carved monumental stone for cemeteries. He drew beautiful pastel drawings of people and animals, just for family, never for sale. I think this joyful man instilled in me a love for art and its creation. For example, he painted our childhood bedroom walls with nursery rhyme murals.
My parents showed my older brother and me the beauty of nature. We were also taught the value of hard work and a do-it-yourself attitude. We both paid our own way through college. Early on, I held many different jobs, such as landscaper, factory worker, truck and forklift driver, landscaper, roofer, etc. These experiences taught me flexibility and helped me appreciate and better understand the world.
My parents also conveyed the importance of education. After studying Environmental Economics at Michigan and Cornell (fellowship), I chose to effectively bum around the world working odd jobs in between. I played cowboy in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, hitchhiked all over (once from Ann Arbor, MI, to Guatemala), backpacked through the Rockies, deserts of the Southwest, Chiapas, and Copper Canyon, and did solo bike tours through the Great Lakes and in Europe (for over 2 months) and, later, cycled almost all of Colorado’s mountain passes.
In my mid-20’s, I travelled to Alaska to see it before it was cut in half with the Alaska pipeline. There, I took a job finally using my college education in economics and the environment, never imagining it would prove to be the beginning of my career in art. I worked for a non-profit training and supporting the 42 villages in the Doyon Native Regional Corporation: a result of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act. I flew out to remote villages working and living with the Athabascan Natives. I learned more from them than I could ever have imagined.
While with the Athabascans, I became very interested in making things myself. I purchased a carving knife from one of my Native friends and proceeded to hand-carve kitchen utensils, such as birch spoons and forks, as well as walking sticks from diamond willow. What impressed me most about the Athabascan and Eskimo artwork was their ability to capture the essence or spirit of things rather than just copying them. Later, I would come to realize this is true of art by Natives around the world. They are able to strike fundamental chords that reach across different races, civilizations, and points in time. We all share the same subconscious hopes, desires, and fears.
Next, I tried my hand at soapstone carving (using simple rasps, files, and sandpapers), enjoying immensely making small animal and symbolic figures. At some point, a woman who owned a gallery in Fairbanks happened to see one of my earliest pieces and commented that she could sell it. A small bell went off in my head, saying “somebody would PAY me to do this?!”
Leaving Alaska, I spent some time in Ann Arbor, MI, living with friends. Sneaking into the Art Department, I taught myself how to make furniture. During this time, I also sold some of my hand-carved kitchen utensils at the local farmers’ markets, setting up outside the entrance so I didn’t have to pay for a booth since money was so tight. I began carving soft stone again and my first sculpture sale was to a friend of mine for $12. This was the auspicious start of my career as a professional sculptor.
I had struggled with what I should be when/if I ever grew up. I so clearly recall one day walking down a street in Ann Arbor when I had this sudden realization that I was (a) going to be a sculptor and (b) there was not going to be a want-ad in the newspaper for a sculpting job, so (c) therefore I had to magically declare myself a sculptor and create my career, my opportunities, and my future in the art world.
At some point, I got my work into a Bloomfield Hills, MI, gallery and began carving and selling earnestly. I ramped up my sculpting time, efforts, and materials. My next gallery was in Shaker Heights, OH. After that, I started doing juried shows where I travelled across the country exhibiting my sculptures.
Eventually, I chose to settle in Denver, CO. When I was 28, I was able to buy a 1910 home for $64,000. I proceeded to renovate the house myself and built out a small studio with an outside garden carving area. During this time period, I picked up additional galleries across the country from the East to West coasts and began casting some of my work in bronze.
My emphasis has always been on creating the final artwork. I have never concerned myself too much with the process involved, i.e. I didn’t need a fancy studio, the best tools, the best equipment. I always preferred working outside and just used the tools that I could afford to acquire over time — hence applying good business principles. I always made sure the sculpture sales were paying for the tools I needed.
Early on, I recognized I would have to create my own path, my vision, my business, through passion, curiosity, and determination. Now, here I am with the career of my dreams, making and doing what I love.
Knowing what you know now, what could you have done to speed up your learning process?
While hindsight tends to be 20/20, I believe there would have been no point to speeding up my progress as an artist. First off, to produce fine art one must have something to say which comes from lots of varied and sometimes difficult experiences. Thoreau always said he would be more interested in hearing what a fisherman had to say because of his real-world experiences, rather than an academic with a superior command of language but no real story to tell. My work comes from my subconscious and the “child within” — that is always what directs my work. The craftsperson inside me, with his technical skills, is never in the driver’s seat. Rather, he sits behind the child, helping him to realize his dreams and visions.
There’s nothing I do in any of my work, whether stone carvings or large, monumental pieces, that require an IQ greater than 100. The real “art” to being an artist is being in touch with that subconscious child-like stream that runs through us all. That part can’t be taught. That part is forged from experiences, both joyful and tragic.
What skills do you think were most essential?
My greatest inspiration flowed from my family, my love of nature, and my experiences. Often, elements affecting my creative abilities were diverse, challenging, and difficult to understand at the time. Probably my most essential skill are determination and a willingness to take risks, which are wed to my passion for art, nature, and the world around us. Because, without my dogged determination to keep going no matter what the challenge and to continue to make only the fine art that I truly believe in, my art and its possibilities would have only been a dream and would not have existed in the real world.
What obstacles stood in the way of learning more?
Obstacles I faced included: No formal art education or training, no equipment, no studio, no money, no connections, and no idea how to promote my work. But I viewed any obstacles as challenges and learning opportunities. What I had was passion, determination, and “street smarts” which helped me to overcome the challenges I encountered along the way. That journey is an integral part of becoming an artist.
I have found I need to continue to make new, original art that pleases and surprises me; otherwise, why bother? That’s what has kept me going. I haven’t let the market dictate what I make. I make things from the heart and the subconscious, which has produced a body of work with tremendous variety. By allowing my artwork to evolve and change in ways it needs to over the years, it has kept the journey interesting and challenging, always revealing to me something new to discover.
Dennis, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
I make contemporary sculptures in stone, bronze, and occasionally wood that are abstract or non-objective, from tabletop to monumental sizes. I consider my work classic modernism in the vein of Henry Moore, Barbara Hepworth, and Alexander Calder. My sculptures are in private and public collections throughout the U.S. and in various other countries. I am known for making unique pieces that, regardless of the material, capture a feeling, a motion, or a desire in ways that touch different people in different ways. I take pride in creating superior-quality sculptures with careful attention to detail and, especially with commissions, completing my work in a timely and professional manner.
The reason I use marble and hardwoods for my originals is because I can hold all the planes and lines perfectly true in a hard material. Granted, it is more difficult to work with hard materials versus clay, but they allow me to create forms that are a pleasure to touch, as well as to view. One kind art critic said of my work, “A Sohocki abstraction is a poem in stone or bronze, opening up the senses, setting off memories and associations, and suggesting more than it states.”
I used to show my work in galleries from coast-to-coast. While somewhat rewarding, it’s also very challenging to work with numerous galleries. Now that I am older, I largely confine my sales to private or public commissions, collectors, and the annual Sculpture in the Park Show in Loveland, Colorado. I have done some teaching in Havana, Cuba and Cairo, Egypt.
My most recent monument entitled “The Space Between Us,” at a height of 7 feet, was installed in Berkeley, California. I have had the pleasure of winning the prestigious National Academy of Design Lindsey Morris Memorial Award in New York City, NY, for my “Torso” sculpture. Denver’s Kirkland Museum of Fine and Decorative Art features one of my bronze sculptures entitled “Harmony.” Some of my monuments in Colorado are currently placed in Littleton, Boulder, Vail, Grand Junction, Greeley, and Loveland. Other of my larger sculptures are scattered across the U.S. and in various countries across the globe.
I designed and created fine art trophies for the World Cup Alpine Ski Championships in Vail, CO. I named the trophy “The Edge” and it was presented to the top six racers for each of the ten World Championship events. I also designed and created the fine art sculptures presented to the winners of the Winter Guard International Performance competition. 5280 Magazine selected me as Reader’s Choice Top Artist in their Top of the Town edition, and I am featured in the Sculpture of the Rockies book from the editors of Southwest Art.
I am particularly proud of my 38 years of involvement with the Loveland Sculpture in the Park show. I have never missed a year of being in this juried show. It has grown from a small-town sculpture show to become the largest and most important sculpture show in the United States, selling well over $1 million every year. What I love most about the show is that it was created to fund the purchase of monumental sculptures each year which are placed in Loveland’s Benson Park and throughout the city. They now have an amazing, large, and diverse sculpture collection that attracts people from all over the world to Loveland throughout the year. The show has maintained its small-town friendliness and openness and loves nothing better than spreading the enjoyment and appreciation of fine art. Held each year, always on the second weekend of August, it is a great place to take kids and family members. They can see endless varieties and styles of sculpture, as well as meet and talk with the artists.
Every year at the Sculpture in the Park show in Loveland, I “mentor” several artists that are new to the show. This has allowed me the privilege of meeting a number of younger and very talented sculptors such as Joshua Pass and Corey Silverman. Also, getting to know my collectors, learning their stories, and hearing how much they enjoy my work is very gratifying.
I am proudest that, in spite of the challenges, I have always remained true to my original vision of making only the artwork that I wanted to make. By constantly challenging myself, it makes the result and the journey a lot more fun, and I love that I get paid to make dust! (My wife might disagree, however).
I am very grateful for all of the help and encouragement kindly given to me through all of these years by my wife Dena, my brother Ken, and each of my dear friends and collectors. A shout-out from me with thanks and love to the Loveland High Plains Arts Council, Patina Artist Pat Kipper, Western Sculpting Supply, and Bronze Services of Loveland. I only wish some of my greatest inspirational family members had lived to see what I have been fortunate enough to create.
My wife and I currently split our time between Colorado and Sedona, Arizona, where we spend much of our time hiking and enjoying wildlife, the wilderness, and going to ancient ruins.
We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.
When living in Ann Arbor, after my time in Alaska, I was working very hard to develop my creative side. At the time, I had a gallery handling my work. For a while, sales just weren’t happening. During this time, while sitting in the living room of the rental I shared with friends, a shelf that held several of my stone carvings suddenly and spontaneously crashed to the floor, destroying my work. It was SO discouraging! But my strong response to this combination of setbacks soon arose: “Fine, if people don’t want to buy my sculptures, I will make so many sculptures that people won’t be able to take a walk without stepping over one of my pieces!” I wasn’t kidding. My resolve and resilience surprised even me, but I knew it was true.
What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?
The most rewarding aspect of being a sculptor? I am very tempted to say, “sleeping in.” And, while that is certainly true, I also love the independence and the ability to make what I want of my life and work. Like I tell people and organizations who want to commission my work, I will make what I want to make. Their job is to say yes or no to a proposal or a maquette, and to provide the funding and understanding that fine art commissions take time. It is not a team effort. They have no say in what I create, only whether they want to buy it.
A little-known secret of being a successful artist is those around you will make excuses for your flaws FOR YOU. For example, I dress abysmally, and I create a lot of dust and mess. I surround myself with tons of marble, wood, and found objects. But, unlike the standard applied to others with these behaviors (i.e., he/she is a slob, mess, etc.), the double standard reveals itself as, “Oh, it’s because he’s an artist.” Yeah!
Contact Info:
- Website: http://sohocki.blogspot.com/