Artist profile — Ty Williams

By Shannon McGregor

Unlike a lot of art, which I don’t pretend to understand, Ty Williams’ creations have just enough nautical whimsy to inspire a smile. Hell, even a grin. Images of sea folk and sea creatures are weighted with found photos, text and the odd naked lady. A consummate conversationalist, his projects run the gamut from a store in Japan to a children’s book sea odyssey. Drift spoke with Ty as he was en route from the Oldest to Maine to speak at a Montessori school.

Drift: So what are you working on right now?
Ty Williams: I just finished working with Urban Outfitters. They’re a small retail chain; you may have hard of them – they’re Amish and from rural Pennsylvania. I’m doing five t-shirts for the men’s line and one stretched house print – art for a home. Before that, I was fortunate enough to do a room at Ace Hotel in NYC. They pick different artists that they feel could contain themselves in a room long enough to do something on a wall. Some artists I’ve really looked up to have rooms there: Shepard Fairey and KAWS. Before that, I wrapped up a children’s book, My Home Floats, which I’m working on getting published. Before that, I was in Japan.

D: What was it like? Why did you go there?
TW: I went to Japan because I met a guy at a class that my friends with Grain Surfboards give, where they invite folks from all over to come make wooden surfboards. We had a lot in common – we’d both broken up with our girlfriends, and he took what money he had left and fled the country. I had just gotten dumped, arrested and mugged, so I was really doing well at that point too. We bonded over beer, and he invited me to Japan. He had the idea that I should do an art show at this big surf contest they hold every year, the Greenroom Festival. I already had some paintings going over there, so I decided to go myself. I ended up meeting a bunch of storeowners – everything kind of snowballs over there. You meet one person who introduces you to another person, and eventually I got an art show in Tokyo. I stayed there for three months, mostly painting and making stuff, which didn’t leave much time for dating. But I sold most of the art at the show, so I left Japan with a good little chunk of change. My Japanese friend and I decided to open up a retail store with another friend. It’s opening soon – Buoys.

D: Now you’re into the Far East, but for a while you were on a bien kick. Are you still a Francophile?
TW: I started as a journalism major at Flagler College. I really wanted to take art classes, but I was worried the professors would look down on someone who wasn’t trained. I started painting at home, on South Street in Lincolnville. My girlfriend at the time was my biggest critic – she went away for a week, and I cranked out a bunch of art. She came home and saw it and suggested I might be able to sell some of it – I just thought we might hang some of the pieces on our walls. Steve Marazzo at Simple Gestures really liked my work, so he let me hang it there. But I didn’t want to sign it because I’m not an artist – I’m not schooled, and I live in a town where a bunch of people are studying art, and they’re going to rip me to shreds over it. So trying to be witty, I came up with bien. I didn’t think my art was great or even good – it was just fine: bien. As I’ve matured and gotten more confident in the work, I shed the whole fake thing, and the only place it remains is in my e-mail address.

D: You’re making T-shirts for Urban Outfitters, but you’re also creating quirky art on canvas. What’s your take on commercial vs. fine art?
TW: If you had asked me that question before I went to New York, I would’ve been really opinionated and told you I thought there was a huge difference between the two. But now I find there’s not much of a difference, especially in the art I like. There are people who are schooled in art and make it for themselves, but then their work might absolutely have an application in the commercial world. If you look at the ’80s New York School artists like Keith Haring, Jean Michel Basquiat and Andy Warhol, they literally grabbed a hold of a time when branding was so thick. Brands like Absolut Vodka were able to commission artists, and let them do their own take. Now it’s the graphic design world that disgusts me and makes me freak out – how overrun the art world is with computer-driven work. Some people are really amazing at it, and that’s totally necessary, but I don’t respect it when I see it in a gallery setting. I consider myself an illustrator, not a fine artist. I didn’t go to school; I didn’t apprentice with anybody; I didn’t go to Art Basel and not get wasted. But I use the same tools that have been available to people for hundreds of years – they use tools that will be obsolete in a six-month period.

D: So you don’t like computers… what’s your creative process like?
TW: You’re right; I highly dislike computers. All I use them for is porn and e-mail. That’s all they’re good for, I think – you can’t trust them. I can trust my hand. Actually, it’s the only thing I do trust. As far as the creative process, I’ve found myself adding different kinds of art to my repertoire. It’s good, because it broadens the dialogue I can have with folks through my work. Because I wasn’t trained, I found myself doing mostly positive, illustrated-based work. I’ve always kept a journal for as long as I can remember. That’s the place where I would put a photo I really liked, a piece of paper with a saying on it, or even a teabag with drawings around it. A few years ago, someone saw one of my journals and really liked it – pointing out that they were a bit darker and more mature looking. So I started doing what I felt were large, journal-esque pieces. My process involves finding an image – I prefer old, not only because it’s fair use, but I’m pretty sure no one else will have it. In New York, I dig through old boxes of family photos at flea markets. I find something that really inspires me, and then I have a dialogue with that on paper, which is my mixed-media work. I think it helps show my diversity.

D: You spend time in New York City, but also in more remote places like Maine and St. Augustine. What do you love and hate about each? How do they affect your creative process?
TW: That’s a great question. Right now, I’d like to narrow it down to one place. But, like you said, each one of the places where my shit is scattered offers something unique. If they were all people, Maine would be my flannelled, single uncle that’s just chill, hangs out, is always there. New York is my crazy brother who’s into art, drugs, booze and loose girls. Florida is my trustworthy aunt who loves me, wants to feed me all the time, nurture me and accept me for my weirdness. And Japan is this crazy exchange student that I hang out with who wants me to come party.