Spirit & Flesh Magazine
Chuck Close Artist Collaboration
Photography by Roberto Patella
Creative Direction by Antonello Patella
Poster Design by Sandro Patella
Editorial Interview by Roberto Patella
“As my brother Antonello and I approached Chuck Close’s
studio in NoHo to photograph a portrait of the great portrait
artist, we were nervous. But once we got underway, things just
took a course of their own. There’s been much said about how
he is a kind man. He certainly exceeded our expectations.
He almost immediately opened up to us. He entrusted us entirely
with the direction of the photo shoot. It was the penultimate show
of respect for another artist. Wonderful conversations about
ourselves (our affinity for a Polaroid 180 Land Camera), art
(a shared respect for John Baldessari), and life in general
(our mutual love of wine) sparked a creative collaboration
between the three of us that I will never forget. I left with so
much to look back on. What compelled me most was his
insatiable desire to know life and how to live it. One of so many
qualities that make him one of the most prodigious
living artists today.” - Roberto Patella
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studio in NoHo to photograph a portrait of the great portrait
artist, we were nervous. But once we got underway, things just
took a course of their own. There’s been much said about how
he is a kind man. He certainly exceeded our expectations.
He almost immediately opened up to us. He entrusted us entirely
with the direction of the photo shoot. It was the penultimate show
of respect for another artist. Wonderful conversations about
ourselves (our affinity for a Polaroid 180 Land Camera), art
(a shared respect for John Baldessari), and life in general
(our mutual love of wine) sparked a creative collaboration
between the three of us that I will never forget. I left with so
much to look back on. What compelled me most was his
insatiable desire to know life and how to live it. One of so many
qualities that make him one of the most prodigious
living artists today.” - Roberto Patella
ROBERTO PATELLA: When did you realize that art would become your life?
CHUCK CLOSE: I knew I wanted to be an artist at age five. My father made me an easel for
my fifth Christmas. By age eight, my father had enrolled me in private art instruction in Tacoma,
Washington, where I actually drew and painted from live nude models. I’ve been trying to get
women to take their clothes off ever since.
RP: Talk about starting them off young! Can you recall any other figures who encouraged you?
CC: Well, my father died when I was 11, but I had some mentors. Even in a poor, white-trash
mill town [Monroe, WA] we had art and music. It was a guaranteed right; every school in America
had to have art and music several days a week. If I hadn’t had that, I don’t know what I would
have done. Dropped out of school probably. I was so learning-disabled and face blind [Close
suffers from prosopagnosia, a condition marked by an inability to recognize faces], I couldn’t
memorize a thing. I never learned to add or subtract, multiply or divide.
RP: You were a teacher at University of Massachusetts for awhile. Did your students inspire you?
CC: I’ve always said inspiration is for amateurs. I’m not a big believer in inspiration; I’ve always
said inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and do the work. To sit around and
just wait to be struck by a bolt of lightning – it may never happen. Everything grows by the work
itself and doors open because of that. You know, the public has this belief in inspiration, that if
something happens it’s because somebody turned on a light bulb. I just never found that to be
credible.
RP: So how has interacting with other artists in New York affected your work?
CC: It’s important to know what they’re doing but you don’t want to make anything that looks
like theirs. You’re driven in your own personal direction and that’s antithetical to the idea of
someone influencing you. Although it is an influence, it’s an influence in the sense of, “Oh, shit,
now I can’t do that.”RP: So it’s a process of elimination?
CC: You can’t afford not to know. Nobody gives you a free pass because you’re ignorant.
RP: Is that what encouraged you to move to New York?
CC: I always liked to live on the water, and Western Massachusetts is land-locked. Anyhow,
I hated it there. It’s much more important to be in an arts center like New York where other
people agree that what you are doing is important. If you are in the Midwest somewhere where
no one else is doing much, you don’t have a community. You are not making stuff for others to
see and have dialogue with other artists. It’s very hard to be an artist. You’ll be an outsider artist,
perhaps. The sophistication of your work depends on exposure. Just like how I wanted to get
out of Seattle. There was much interest in Asian and Native American Eskimo art there but they
weren’t interested in what I was interested in. I wanted to get to New York.
RP: Would you elaborate on face blindness and what that was like for you as a child?
CC: It was horrible. At the end of each school year I couldn’t distinguish between those who
were in my class versus others, let alone tell what their names were. It was a real problem.
RP: Has this shaped your art?
CC: Everything that I am and have become is directly related to my disabilities. It’s my life.
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CHUCK CLOSE: I knew I wanted to be an artist at age five. My father made me an easel for
my fifth Christmas. By age eight, my father had enrolled me in private art instruction in Tacoma,
Washington, where I actually drew and painted from live nude models. I’ve been trying to get
women to take their clothes off ever since.
RP: Talk about starting them off young! Can you recall any other figures who encouraged you?
CC: Well, my father died when I was 11, but I had some mentors. Even in a poor, white-trash
mill town [Monroe, WA] we had art and music. It was a guaranteed right; every school in America
had to have art and music several days a week. If I hadn’t had that, I don’t know what I would
have done. Dropped out of school probably. I was so learning-disabled and face blind [Close
suffers from prosopagnosia, a condition marked by an inability to recognize faces], I couldn’t
memorize a thing. I never learned to add or subtract, multiply or divide.
RP: You were a teacher at University of Massachusetts for awhile. Did your students inspire you?
CC: I’ve always said inspiration is for amateurs. I’m not a big believer in inspiration; I’ve always
said inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up and do the work. To sit around and
just wait to be struck by a bolt of lightning – it may never happen. Everything grows by the work
itself and doors open because of that. You know, the public has this belief in inspiration, that if
something happens it’s because somebody turned on a light bulb. I just never found that to be
credible.
RP: So how has interacting with other artists in New York affected your work?
CC: It’s important to know what they’re doing but you don’t want to make anything that looks
like theirs. You’re driven in your own personal direction and that’s antithetical to the idea of
someone influencing you. Although it is an influence, it’s an influence in the sense of, “Oh, shit,
now I can’t do that.”RP: So it’s a process of elimination?
CC: You can’t afford not to know. Nobody gives you a free pass because you’re ignorant.
RP: Is that what encouraged you to move to New York?
CC: I always liked to live on the water, and Western Massachusetts is land-locked. Anyhow,
I hated it there. It’s much more important to be in an arts center like New York where other
people agree that what you are doing is important. If you are in the Midwest somewhere where
no one else is doing much, you don’t have a community. You are not making stuff for others to
see and have dialogue with other artists. It’s very hard to be an artist. You’ll be an outsider artist,
perhaps. The sophistication of your work depends on exposure. Just like how I wanted to get
out of Seattle. There was much interest in Asian and Native American Eskimo art there but they
weren’t interested in what I was interested in. I wanted to get to New York.
RP: Would you elaborate on face blindness and what that was like for you as a child?
CC: It was horrible. At the end of each school year I couldn’t distinguish between those who
were in my class versus others, let alone tell what their names were. It was a real problem.
RP: Has this shaped your art?
CC: Everything that I am and have become is directly related to my disabilities. It’s my life.
