Submitted by Michael Williams
It’s where the magic happens as an artist opens to the physical world they grew up with and the spiritual realm where all the magic happens.
Like Jimi Hendrix, Brandon Boyd of Incubus, looks at his career in the same way, as if he is antenna or lightening rod for whatever he creates that comes from that special we can never quite explain … once called the ether.
Miles Davis and Joni Mitchell are painters. So many artists express their creativity in other mediums. Brandon Boyd exhibited his art publicly for the first time in Toronto at Tagialatella Gallery in Yorkville.
Brandon and I wanted to talk not about the new record he is working on, nope I wanted to talk to Brandon the artist and decode that person.
MW: Brandon, was this the first time your art has appeared in Toronto?
BB: Yes. It was a great time….at times overwhelming—the number of people dropping in, the energy of it all. I’ve been a little wrecked ever since, but for all the best reasons. It was amazing to see how many people come out to look at and talk about art. Those are the things I love.
MW: How did you get into art? Did art or music come first?
BB: My mom was both a painter and a singer, so I grew up with her painting, playing piano, and singing. The two things existed side by side throughout my childhood. I had access to her supplies and art books, which was lucky because we didn’t have museums around. I grew up in a rural part of Los Angeles with very little media—no MTV, no constant news—so I was bored enough to want to write music.
MW: Were those the first two things that felt like they belonged to you?
BB: I wouldn’t say they belonged to me. If anything, I borrow from whatever the source is—the universe, maybe. I feel like an instrument myself. What comes through gets channeled onto tape or canvas. I don’t claim much ownership in a metaphysical sense.
MW: How does art influence your music or vice versa?
BB: They usually arrive in tandem. While I was writing the new Incubus record, I was also working on the paintings you saw in Toronto. Painting opens the flow of melodies and word sequences in my head. It’s an enjoyable process.
MW: As you finish a painting, are you also finishing a song?
BB: Not on a schedule. Songs take longer because there are more “cooks in the kitchen”—the guys in my band. But the amorphous beginnings usually happen while I’m painting.
MW: Have you ever painted a song in particular?
BB: In a way, all of them. It’s hard to describe, but ideas feel like sticking my head into a cloud and coming back with my face wet and a glass of water.
MW: Who or what has been your biggest muse?
BB: Many things—my wife and baby daughter who I love dearly, but also the chaos in the world or seeing someone close to me struggle. Everything is inspiration. My job is not to judge it, just to react.
MW: What was your first public piece, and were you nervous?
BB: It depends on what you call “public.” As a kid I drew skate-inspired art—Jim Phillips, Art Nouveau, comic-style stuff—and traded drawings for candy with friends. My first real public offering was my book White Fluffy Clouds (2003) and I’ll leave it at that…laughs.
MW: Have any celebrities commissioned work from you?
BB: I’m not allowed to say who, but yes…laughs.
MW: Where else have you shown this work?
BB: The Toronto show was the first for this series; the paintings were made just a week beforehand. I’ve also posted them on Instagram. I’ve shown work in Europe and the U.S. over the years. I love traveling with the art and talking to people about creativity and inspiring others.
MW: Any Canadian inspirations?
BB: Leonard Cohen—his music makes me cry.
MW: Do you teach?
BB: I’ve lectured at schools. Teaching is something I’d love to do more of. There’s so much mystery in the creative act.
MW: Thanks, Brandon.
BB: Thank you Michael !
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