Infinitely Irregular - Issue 4
Written by Imogen Neale
From comical light boxes to historically accurate landscapes, from photographs that spill out onto the frame to a snapped skateboard refigured as Tokyo’s skyline; no idea is too random for this talented graffiti artist.
Spencer Harrington runs a tanned left hand over the heavyset Japanese characters tattooed into in his right forearm. He watches what he’s doing with the same intensity as someone studying where the tea leaves will settle or the Magic-8 ball will land.
Suddenly he looks up - I can tell he’s made his decision.
“Yeah, I’ll have a coffee.’
What latter arrives, however, is not a coffee at all but a tall glass of liquid chocolate with a marshmallow plopped on top.
Spencer blushes at the indecency of it all, I mean, how is an aspiring young graffiti artist cum swarthy mechanic supposed to be taken seriously when there’s a giant pink marshmallow sailing around the rim of his glass?
“Well’, he offers with a cough, ‘that’s a bit random.’
Random is a word Spencer uses a lot, which is perfectly fitting given that it’s his artistic alias and the meaning behind the bold Japanese characters inked into his forearm. Well, almost:
“I got this in Japan.” Spencer explains, “I wanted it to say ‘life is random’ but they don’t have a word that directly translates so, it means whatever you want it to mean, but the literal translation is ‘life is infinitely irregular’.”
It’s an axiom that Spencer feels is equally fitting, especially as he’s an artist who didn’t take art seriously at school. Sure, he spent a lot of time doodling (doodles that old class mates are now digging out to have signed), and he did well in art class, but he never once considered it to be anything other than a pleasantly distracting hobby. Indeed, right up until he attended an exhibition at the now defunct Disrupt gallery, Spencer probably assumed that he’d be a mechanic - given that’s what he has a degree, and a job, in.
The exhibition he happened upon was a collection of works by the French graffiti artist Mist. Something about Mist’s approach to graffiti inspired him so much he went back; this time with his mum, who is also an established artist, in tow.
“After that I started buying magazines and books – it all grew from there.” In fact, Spencer still has an insatiable appetite for anything and everything graffiti art. To the extent that wall and shelf space in his flat is now a valuable commodity:
“I own almost every graffiti art book there is to own. As soon as I started getting in to it people started buying them for me and I began collecting them myself… to the point that people gave me some this Christmas and I had to exchange a lot of them.”
Adding,
“And honestly, you walk into my flat and there’s not a space on the wall. You can’t even see what the colour of the wallpaper was. There is just so much art up, and so many posters.”
With all this art in the air, perhaps it should come as no surprise that Spencer doesn’t want to be a mechanic for much longer. He dreams, he says, of living off his art. Whether or not he can achieve this without going to art school and jumping through all the academic hoops, he has yet to decide.
“If you want to be a big name, I don’t think you can just be some random person who is good at art. I heard my mother talking to my grandfather, and I don’t think she knew I was listening, and she wants me to art school so I can have a name that has a bit more oomph…”
He hesitates for a moment, clearly still thinking it over, then adds:
“One thing, with my art, I do need structure and that’s the sort of thing I would get help with at art school.”
Thus far, however, his experiences have led him to believe that he has enough passion and talent to get by. Indeed, with a number of successful exhibitions already under his belt and more already booked for ‘08, the biggest dilemma Spencer currently faces is coming to terms with selling his pieces:
“I want people to own my art but it’s so hard getting rid of them because every time I paint, it becomes my favourite painting!”
That, and coping with the increasing number of friends who ask him to create, rather than buy them something for their birthday present:
“Now I’m more recognised as an artist I get ‘My birthday is coming up, can you do me a piece?’ I get that all the time, ‘Just do me a piece’.”
Given all the planning Spencer pours into each piece, and the fact he’s still working fulltime though, personalised birthday presents just aren’t possible. A cold reality that bothers him; particularly as he’s acutely aware that many of his friends, who’d love to own a piece, just can’t afford it.
Cue the exhibition Spencer has devised as a solution:
“I’m having the ‘For My Mates’ exhibition – just a whole lot of little things, for $25, $30, maybe a couple for $150 – so all my mates, who love my work and who’ve been there to support me, can own something.”
He’s hoping to stage it at Sideroom.com, originally an online gallery and virtual congregation point for the local art community that now has an exhibition space in Kingsland. And, although he’s yet to create the work to fill the space, he’s already designed the exhibitions flyer. But that’s Spencer, a million ideas, in no particular order, at a million miles an hour. Or, in other words, really rather random.
He says, as would most artists, that money is a major issue. Even more so now that he’s started thinking outside the square canvas. Indeed when Spencer was in Mount Maunganui during the Christmas break he happened upon an exhibition that featured photography printed directly onto corrugated iron. The concept aroused his curiosity so much so that he spent a long time talking to the gallery staff about the how to go about creating something similar.
“Seeing that made all these ideas pop into my head. But you know, it would be expensive. I’d have to put a good price tag on it and while I’m sure it would sell, I’d have to spend $500 to even do it in the first place.”
Spencer takes a deep breath after he’s said this. It’s obvious he’s aware some things just do take a lot longer to happen. But being aware doesn’t mean accepting, and I’m not surprised in the least when, after a few quiet seconds, he says;
“You know, I’d really like everything to happen today.”
For Spencer, ‘everything’ includes working alongside his world renowned body painting artist Aunty in LA, making a second, much longer, trip to Japan, staging a number of successful exhibitions, sourcing high quality t-shirts for his clothing range, making his mind up about art school and, most importantly, getting the ideas out of his head and on to canvas (or, for that matter, corrugated iron…).
“I go to bed at night and I want to go to sleep. But I wake up the next morning and I’ve got five new ideas for paintings. But all I wanted to do was sleep.”
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