Erik Thor Sandberg, American, born in 1975

Using symbolism both established and personal, Sandberg creates narratives without definitive beginnings or ends; he captures pivotal moments and isolates them from time.


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Artist Statement

I am drawn to vice as a subject matter. My paintings are narratives. I can’t think of a compelling story out there that doesn’t revolve around vice. Vice creates conflict and conflict is what makes life interesting. It is a constant in the world, past present and future. I don’t approach the subject from a theological perspective but instead as more of an existential dilemma.
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Biography

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born 1975, Quantico, VA
Reviews

Erik Thorn Sandberg
dontpanic online.com
by Siobhan Morrin
July 19, 2011

Nude girls strapping rabbits to their feet, berating deformed slaves and spray painting chicks - Erik Thor Sandberg is an American artist with a decidedly surreal take on traditional Rennaissance themes of vice and virtue. Curvaceous and outrightly obese nudes sprout animal heads, gorge themselves, and exist in huge worlds of deformed humanity. Elsewhere, limbless people are made spectacle, and birds fly, tied to tongues. We caught up with him to discuss the depravity and his fascination with humankind’s weakness.

Erik Thor Sandberg, Alterations
Alterations, 2010

Your paintings have a traditional fine art feel to them, and are reminiscent of Hieronymus Bosch - the naked bodies, God-like position of the painter- do you see him as an influence? Where else do you take influence and inspiration from?

I favor Peter Brueghel the Elder more than Bosch. But obviously he was influenced by Bosch. So I guess in a way, I have to acknowledge his influence too. I prefer Brueghel for his greater connection to humanity. Bosch did these largely religious, surreal images. Brueghel painted people for the most part with all of the faults and foibles. I find the fallibility of man to be the subject that I connect with the most in most artwork. I love the work of Goya, James Ensor and Walton Ford for the same reasons.

The paintings seem to reflect on the huge issues of morality such as death, sex, greed. How are you commenting on these as they exist in the modern world?

As I similarly said in the previous answer, I am drawn to vice as a subject matter. My paintings are narratives. I can’t think of a compelling story out there that doesn’t revolve around vice. Vice creates conflict and conflict is what makes life interesting. It is a constant in the world, past present and future. I don’t approach the subject from a theological perspective but instead as more of an existential dilemma.

I use the human form as a metaphor to help convey whatever the message for a particular work might be. If a figure is broken or misshapen then the idea or notion that they represent is somehow flawed as well. I draw a lot from old allegorical imagery and iconology that made use of the same structure for its narratives. It is also why a good deal of the figures in my paintings are female. When I started the Vice series, I looked at very early representations of vice and virtue all the way back to Prudentius. All of the vices and virtues in his poems were female because the Latin words that represented all of these abstract notions were feminine. I kind of liked sticking to that translation of the text to physical incarnations. The figures I tended to stray from that gender assignation were the vices that I felt connected to the most. Those I made males.

What is the significance of fusion between humans and animals in many paintings?

I assign attributes to most of my figures so that they better represent an idea. Animals are generally very rich in symbolic history, so it is much easier to have fun with them and be perverse in my own way.

Do you use life models for your paintings? How about for the animals?

For the small figure work I work mostly from my head. The larger figure work necessitates models. I find people forgive the quirky flaws on a small scale. On a large scale people don’t want the inaccuracies of anatomy.

Erik Thor Sandberg, Once and FutureOnce and Future, 2010 (left panel)

How long does each take you, and how do you first set about a new work?

The time dedicated to each work always varies. The most successful paintings always seem to take the least amount of time. The ones I struggle with may take a lot of time because of a lot of reworking or because it is put aside for some time to rethink it, or both. The answer I always have in my head when someone asks that is, “ Too long”.



Washington Post
Is Realism Relevant?
Erik Thor Sandberg, Nathaniel Rogers, Katie Miller

Academic painting has some explaining to do, at least in the context of a contemporary art gallery. At Conner Contemporary, it stands up to the challenge in an exhibition featuring Erik Thor Sandberg, Nathaniel Rogers and Katie Miller. Even the show’s title,

“Is Realism Relevant?” seems to question the genre.

Can such painting — filled with figures, landscapes and objects depicted in fine detail, evoking Dutch and Flemish art from the 16th and 17th centuries — hold up against the barrage of new media that has flooded the art world for the past 50 years? Can such work still be relevant when abstract art has already wrestled figurative art countless times over?

The artists, Sandberg, Rogers, and Miller, do not necessarily answer all of these questions, but they provoke such conversation. And they hold up a mirror — often erotic, removed, and surreal — to the world that surrounds us.

Some pictures even leap from the walls. Sandberg mounts his paintings on curved wooden armatures that allow the images to float in space. On these sculptural bases, his paintings depict long-necked, half-naked female subjects who wrestle in different ways with the natural world, their animalistic tendencies, and a biological balance.

One trio of panoramic paintings, which create a semicircle with their wooden structures, begins with the image of a woman connected intravenously to an orchid through her ear by a string of dewy matter. The middle painting shows a blue porta-potty settled among gnarled old trees on a cliff side overlooking a river’s bend, where smoke from a distant factory muddies the sky. At the far end, another starry-eyed nude woman perches on a hilltop, presiding over a panoply of birds flying in from an expansive

Insatiably detailed, Sandberg’s odd scenes offer visual candy, as his figures pose languidly amid such fantastical environments. But their presence, like the porta-potty, seems wrong. Their connection to the natural world is tentative, and often sexuality explicit, as other paintings show figures acting on bizarre erotic impulses (acts involving lovers dressed as teddy bears) and exposing their nudity grotesquely.

Eroticism pervades Miller’s paintings as well in her portraits of young children gussied up with rouged cheeks and spray-tans, and depicted mostly in the nude, as if plucked from some episode of “Toddlers & Tiaras” gone horribly wrong. One boy with chiseled features and honed abs (qualities naturally impossible with one so young) even poses beside a horse that wears mascara. Situated as figures of worship and devotion, Miller’s glossy, red-faced tots shine in the glow of consumer culture and adult desire.

These are troubling contemporary issues that almost take away from the paintings’ crisp details and jeweled surfaces, as well as Miller’s hypnotic depiction of rosy skin filled with life. In this style of portraiture, she evokes historic predecessors, such as 16th-century painter Hans Holbein the Younger, whose portrait of Edward VI as a child (on view at the National Gallery of Art) could be the model for Miller’s picture of a young boy wearing large headphones, a gold pacifier, and a shirt with “bling” in the form of another pacifier.

Finding such historic threads in the work of these artists, who reside in the Baltimore and Washington area, lends credence to their relevancy. Yet it’s not the style that gives these works a platform to speak from, but their thought-provoking subjects.

Rogers’s narratives evoke a different sort of cultural anxiety, wrapped up in his fascination with the effects of virtual reality, gaming, and technological communication on the physical space that surrounds us.

In one scene a woman stands triumphant over the body of a slain life-sized Lego toy king as Lego walls crumble to reveal a house ablaze in wildfire. The woman seems to ignore the looming threat of the fire, which — real or imagined — appears as an unyielding natural force in a several of Rogers’s paintings.

Another painting shows a large woman in a bathing suit leaning over to allow a smaller woman to drive a nail into her behind, while a Ferris wheel looms in the background. Meanwhile, a piece of the sky appears to be peeling away, revealing wood paneling beneath. Such illusionistic details and illogical narratives remind the viewer that these scenes are constructed and only the stuff of paint. These are just pictures after all — their subjects no more concrete than the scores of images we absorb on a daily basis, and as tentative as any virtual experience.

While the works by Sandberg, Miller, and Rogers don’t herald the rebirth of painting, they evoke the tradition of realism bent on this interest in painting daily modern life, whether it be in boisterous genre paintings riddled with moralistic lessons by Dutch master Jan Steen or 19th-century Parisian street scenes painted by Edouard Manet and written about by Charles Baudelaire (who remarked in 1845 that “the true painter . . . extracts from present-day life its epic aspects”).

The vulgar sexuality and peculiar subjects in these paintings may eclipse any ambitions for epic greatness, but the work insists that academic painting can still foster contemporary conversation and, when done well, can even be sublime.

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