Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Thomas Gleaner. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Thomas, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. What’s been one of the most interesting investments you’ve made – and did you win or lose? (Note, these responses are only intended as entertainment and shouldn’t be construed as investment advice)
I have long felt that you will never go wrong investing in yourself. This can obviously mean a lot of different things. One example is when it became evident that making and marketing my art was to be my life’s pursuit, I felt it necessary to learn as much as I could about the materials that I was going to be using. If I was to commit an inordinate amount of time to my practice, I should honor my efforts by doing whatever it took to acquire the best materials possible.
On an artist’s list of monthly expenditures, materials often come in second only to studio rent. In my case, it meant I could not buy everything I wanted all at once, but over time it was possible to reinvest a portion of my earnings to improve my inventory of pigments, mediums, tools, and substrates. While “more expensive” does not also mean “better”, I have learned over many years of use, study, and consultation where I can curb costs in order to go big on others. The long-term benefit is that your work has a better chance of remaining stable and standing the test of time (i.e., not fading or delaminating). This is important as it instills a certain level of confidence and trust in the collectors who are investing in you.
There is a rich and influential history of artists who incorporate “fugitive” found objects and materials into their work, much of which I hold in high regard. However, I prefer to explore the ephemeral nature of life and systems in a more permanent way. And don’t think for a minute the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
As a visual artist, I am a tireless experimenter – with both ideas and materials. Forming the foundation of my interdisciplinary practice is my artist’s books, which have been referred to as “patchwork quilts of the subconscious.” Extensions of my book practice include performance videos along with text-based drawings, paintings, and sculpture that may be characterized as both examinations of myself and society as a whole.
I grew up in Mount Airy, North Carolina – the actual southern town on which TV’s fictional Mayberry is based. There, I developed a love of drawing and music. I never really had a “summer break” from school as I was expected to work in my father’s construction company. I wasn’t the most enthusiastic son/employee then, maybe because my days started at 5:00 am and all my friends were sleeping late, getting high, and going to the pool. While my relationship with my father could, at times, be contentious, I know now those formative years instilled in me resilience, independence, and a strong work ethic. He died unexpectedly several years ago, but fortunately we had worked through our differences and held a real love for each other. Now, when I’m making something or pushing through a few more hours in the studio, I know he’s with me.
I was the first in my family to attend college. When staring down the barrel of the rest of my life, I figured my drawing skills paired with an ingrained knowledge of how to build things would be a suitable combination for pursuing a degree in architecture. But when I took my first formal art class, I was hooked and never looked back.
For the most part, I was self-employed throughout my twenties. I pieced together a respectable living installing art, working on homes, and even had a brief stint working as a crew member in the movie industry. While these gigs exposed me to a wide variety of career paths, the main objective was to earn enough money to spend large swaths of time in the studio pursuing my own art. Along the way there have been so many individuals who supported my efforts by either exhibiting and purchasing my work or even giving me access to their wood shop so I could build frames. I hope that through the purchase of emerging artists’ work or facilitating introductions I can, in some small way, pay forward the generosity that I’ve been afforded.
At the same time I was making and promoting my own work, I was also helping organize art events that eventually led to channeling all my experiences into a 16-year run as a museum curator and arts administrator. I had the privilege of collaborating with so many remarkable creatives, including artists that I had admired during my undergraduate studies. I cannot begin to express how gratifying it was to participate in helping artists find the “yes” in their practice, but over time, I realized that it came at the expense of saying “no” to my own.
Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?
Well, the big ‘pivot’ came when I realized after all those years my heart was still in the studio. While organizing exhibitions, writing essays, building collections, and leading public programs requires an exorbitant amount of energy, creativity, and collaboration, I felt a sense of urgency mounting. Was I going to stay the professional administrative course or take a proverbial leap of faith and return my first love? Whatever the decision, it wasn’t going to be easy as I now had a family and myriad other responsibilities.
In spring of 2015, I focused on preparing our house to put on the market as our family was relocating to Minnesota from North Carolina. This period of time also afforded me the opportunity to go through some of my art that was still in storage. I’m not sure why it came as a surprise to me, but everything was in such great shape. If I could, I would have patted 25-year-old me on the back for investing the time and effort to ensure everything was well made and stable. With the help of Chandra Johnson, owner of SOCO Gallery, I connected with the managers of a vacant space in the center of Charlotte for a pop-up exhibition. The Common Market, owned by my long-time friend Chuck Barger, sponsored the opening. The turnout and sales that evening were far beyond my expectations. This one event gave me the confidence and the means to pursue the next phase of “Artist 2.0”.
Once settled in Saint Paul, I found a studio and gave myself one year to see if I still had the aesthetic chops and more importantly, the fire in my gut to pursue making art again at an elevated level. Thankfully, I had experience in managing the volatility of self-employment, but the pros far outweigh the cons. More than eight years on, I find myself more curious and motivated than ever to advance a sustainable creative practice that will remain central to the rest of my life.
Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?
I have long been drawn to the concept of systems in decline or things on the verge of falling apart. I can probably trace this affinity way back to my first encounters with the music of Tom Waits or sitting at the base of one of Anselm Kiefer’s monumental stacks of old paintings, books, and debris, which resembled a soon-to-be-lit bonfire more than an art installation.
Over time, I have focused my practice on the inherent vulnerability of language, which is susceptible to spin, manipulation, obfuscation, and misinterpretation. More specifically, my work illustrates a sort of collective cognitive dissonance. It ponders humanity’s enduring unwillingness to heed the wise counsel of life lessons compiled throughout the ages. As the inherent nature of humanity remains impulsive and fallible, it is my hope these works might illuminate one’s unconscious reluctance to convert rational awareness into a more positive and sustainable life practice. In another sense, this all may be seen as my own search for harmony within the dissonance. In this “Information Age”, we have unlimited access to all this wisdom and knowledge, but to what end?
Contact Info:
- Website: thomasgleaner.com
- Instagram: @thomasgleaner
Image Credits
SOCO Gallery (Charlotte, NC), Andy Graydon, Ben Premeaux, Christopher Selleck, and Don Myhre