Isaac Arvold has a complicated relationship with his hands. The Brooklyn-based artist relies on them to paint massive murals and surrealist canvases that have been exhibited internationally, yet their insistence on creating has thrown his life for a loop more than once. No wonder his first solo show at Gallery Poulsen in Denmark, where he is represented, was titled “These Hands are Monsters.”
“Our hands allow us to do amazing things: they allow us to build things, make things, create things,” the artist explains. “They also allow us to do horrible things: hurt things, murder things. Not all monsters are bad. Not all monsters are good.”
Arvold’s art is far from terrifying. Rather, it’s intriguing. At times cartoonish, almost Seussian, frequently oceanic – a place where tentacled creatures of the depths co-mingle with skulls, deranged animals, and extraterrestrial beings. Fingers are a recurring image, as are botanicals.
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That there’s something playful and storybook-ish about his work is not surprising when you find out that Arvold, who grew up in a tiny township outside of Alexandria, Minnesota, spent much of his early professional life working with children. After obtaining a degree in education, he taught science and social studies to middle school kids and later worked with developmentally disabled students in Minneapolis.
But life on the road wasn’t feasible forever. He needed to put down roots. Enter Brooklyn. “Either you do it at 30 or you don’t do it all,” he says of moving to New York and settling in a Bushwick studio. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
His first job in the Big Apple was working as one of four nannies for a family that had three children. He traveled frequently with them, spending entire months in the Hamptons and Aspen. “There’s a certain front when you’re playing that role,” he says. “When I was a schoolteacher or working with this family, I felt torn, [thinking] ‘When I’m away from this I can finally just be me.’”
He did get away, and through painting, came more fully into himself. But it wasn’t always easy. One day, while in a rush, he misplaced a bag that contained his beloved drawing notebooks. He never saw them again. A Kickstarter campaign helped him raise over $7,000 to re-create the lost work and mount an exhibition called “Second Hand Emotion,” based on lyrics lifted from the song “What’s Love Got To Do With It.” The 48 paintings he showed at CO Exhibitions in Minneapolis represented a rebirth after the loss of his drawings and the end of a long-term relationship.
Things have been looking up for Arvold since being taken under Gallery Poulsen’s wing. The relationship, which he describes as having “a family vibe,” opened up new avenues and helped him forge friendships with the other artists represented by the gallery. “Being a part of this group of artists definitely pushes me,” he says. “I feel like the little kid skateboarding with all the big kids.”
Making art is therapeutic for Arvold, who posts progress pics on his @artisbad Instagram account, and exploring fresh ground energizes him. Lately, that’s meant an affinity for pastel pink, calming blue, and bold yellow; sunrise colors, interspersed with feathery leaves. “I see things in my brain, how I want them to look. Sometimes I achieve that. Sometimes it’s a process. You learn what you like and don’t like. It’s almost like dating,” he says with a laugh. “With anybody that’s an artist, you would hope they’re evolving and changing as humans do. That’s what makes it interesting. If Led Zepplin just kept making the same record again, I don’t think it would be awesome. As an artist it’s important to challenge yourself and grow.”
Now 36, he’s also noticed a change in what he worries about. Gone are concerns about what’s popular or cool; now he’s focused on 1099 forms, paying bills, and scheduling doctor’s visits. “That’s the short list,” he says. “Nothing ever gets easier. Hopefully, we just get more comfortable in our skin.”
