Redoing Eden: Joseph Smolinski

"I was thinking about what would happen if the serpent eats the apple. And Adam and Eve have become skulls on the ground, overgrown with weeds," Minnesota-born Joseph Smolinski says of turning the Eden myth on its nose for "After the Fall." This piece inspired the namesake of his current show at New York's Mixed Greens. This isn't to say that he's a macabre man, though. In fact, he's an artist whose palette bears a streak of equanimity -- and this objectivity is what gives heft to his breakdown of the war between nature and technology. Amidst the frenzy of those going Green, Smolinski's work performs a calculated pas de deux with industrialization, never taking sides but never backing down from more incisive questions either. "After the Fall" bows formally with a reception on September 4 and runs through October. And in this interview, Smolinski waxes philosophical on everything from parasitic cell phone towers to potato batteries.

What can you tell me about “After the Fall”? How did the pieces come to be?
“After the Fall” is split up into two sections. Half of the gallery is based on cell phone tree drawings. Where there are these cell phone towers manufactured to look like trees—trees that camouflage them to the landscape. But they’re pretty obvious. They look like biotech hybrids—but really bad ones, trying to blend into the landscape. They’re like parasites—trying to take over the landscape, having it become the host for these biotech creatures. Often times they’re humorous. “After the Fall” came about from the large work [pictured above]. I envisioned with technology controlling nature—and in this case, technology is winning and what happens when the garden dies. I think about this narrative constantly—the natural environment taken over by technology. In the other gallery there’s “Tree Turbines.” It came out of the same idea as the cell phone tree, but was more optimistic. I was looking at what else the tree could become and with wind-power being very efficient and clean energy, I sketched these trees that generated electricity.

How serendipitous is it, then, that your art is featured at a gallery called “Mixed Greens”?
I’ve been stalking Mixed Greens for a while—it’s a great gallery, and the artists that they show there are excellent. They featured me in a group show last year called ”Road Trip,” and now I’m represented by the gallery. They’re amazing and supportive of the work—I couldn’t be happier.

When did you get started?
My grandfather was a landscape painter. He would sit me at the easel and teach me how to paint. But he would concentrate more on wildlife, like ducks and birds. It was an interesting process of me, learning the craft from him. His brother worked in California—he was a sci-fi artist who painted movie sets. He’d be called to imagine what the surface of Pluto would look like. I’ve also been fortunate enough to be in New Haven, where there’s a great artists community. That’s my evolution. I try to go back to my roots a lot, which is the landscape of Minnesota and early explorations of science fiction.

So do you find most of your inspiration to stem from trees?
The trees evolved into this icon or symbol for me. I worked with other materials. The tree is this icon with all of these histories—like the Tree of Life or totem poles. And even economy. All of these cultures use trees; trees getting cut down for ships and homes—there are histories and cultural identities built into it. I also once worked with potatoes;: I did installations with these potato batteries and flashed LED lights.

How did your work come to incorporate such vastly different media—from video installations to graphite-based drawings?
I’m a tinkerer. I like to take things apart and see how they work. The video and sculptural work comes from my curiosities. I have a hard time staying in one media. I have a tendency to move myself in another media. With “Tree Turbines,” I had to work with scientists and engineers—and I became the director or the designer and did much of the handiwork myself. Drawing is something with control I can deal with—it’s something I’ve always had at my foundation. Something I’ve always had at school and continued through grad school. It’s the conceptualization. Sometimes it’s just an idea, and other times it becomes the finished product.

Who are some artists you admire—and are there any non-artist figures who you draw influences from as well?
Tim Hawkinson—the first time I went to Mass MOCA and saw ”Natural Science”—a giant sculpture of these humongous inflated bagpipes reminiscent of human organs. Everything was held together. He designed every little component of it. It made you shrink down—in this huge space, you were this little person walking through these enormous sculptures. Some heroes include Albrecht Dürer, who did a series of prints about the apocalypse, super highly detailed. I look at many different avenues—and to science as well.

As we approach the new art season, what are some trends or just general differences you’re noticing between now and this time last year?
In an interesting time—a lot going on politically that’s charging work. Work dealing with the environment—the waterfall projects around Manhattan, for example. In the scale of things, it’s starting to shift a little bit. Artists are exploring different ways to comment a little bit louder on the state of the affairs of the environment or political things that are going on. Things are also moving farther outside of the gallery—like those waterfall pieces in the public realm.

Who are some artists you’re looking forward to?
A close friend, Pawel Wojtasik. Anyway he’s got a show coming up in September—there’s a video he’s been documenting an autopsy—I’m excited about that. There’s a lot going on. It’s hard to pick out major pieces, but his show is one worth noting; it’ll be amazing.

And with your own work, where do you see yourself in the future?
As I continue to make work, I don’t want to make it for a small audience. Not by necessarily reinventing the wheel. But starting a dialog. Incorporating alternative energy further into our society—generating power. When people get excited and start to talk about it, that’s when it becomes more rewarding than someone really liking a graphite drawing. I want to think larger, continue to think larger and larger—but not only for my own benefit.