Jeremy Olson

Jeremy Olson’s This Time of Monsters draws its title from Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci’s reflections on an ancient Roman term, interregnum, which signifies a period of long transition between historical stages. Olson’s world and its anthropomorphic monsters live on the precipice of imminent catastrophe. However, despite the apocalyptic scenes of disaster and collapse around them, the artist injects some humor. These monsters are introspective, confused, and very human-like. They check their cellphones, lounge around reading, play, party, and entertain. We caught up with the Brooklyn-based artist about his latest show at UNIT London. 

Luc Sokolsky: How does this body of work fit into your broader oeuvre? What are the continuing themes and developments that you’re excited about since prior exhibitions?

Jeremy Olson: The works in this show address similar themes to my last few shows, with a focus on environmental concerns and alienation under consumer capitalism. The 3 sculptures are something of a digression as they explicitly reference the Kaiju genre, with its more literal monsters capable of destroying civilization. I’ve always been interested in scale contrasts, and this genre takes that to an extreme.

LS: Despite the evidence of the decline of society and apocalyptic conditions, the monsters in your paintings appear at leisure. They play music and are often on their phones, blind to the chaos that surrounds them. How does this remark on the nature of doom-scrolling, and the apparent apathy it instigates?

JO: It just feels very clear to me that’s where we already are in a sense. Awareness of suffering, even of one’s own impending suffering, seems to quickly hit a limit in inspiring action. You can only remain in a state of vigilance or panic for a very limited time. Even in the most troubled times you’re going to find interpersonal rivalries, alliances and cliques, gossip, boredom. All the varieties of human relationships can emerge in almost any circumstance you can really get used to anything.
I don’t find this cynical exactly, in that I think most people are capable of great compassion and even sacrifice if given the opportunity. But I think it’s important to be honest with ourselves
about who we are.

LS: Your love of cinema, science fiction and horror permeates this body of work. Are there any particular influences apparent in this exhibition?

JO: My visual lexicon is so saturated with 80’s and 90’s horror and sci-fi that I couldn’t escape it if I wanted to. I think some significant part of my imagination was developed trying to envision all the weird and scary movies I wasn’t allowed to see as a child. Most of the influences are diffused. However the big monster in the largest sculpture was partly inspired by the movie Shin Godzilla, the early half-fish version of Godzilla in that movie is just the best.

LS: The title of the exhibition is derived from the Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci. Gramsci was known for his theory or cultural hegemony, which relates to the manner in which the bourgeoisie maintain power through ideology rather than coercion under the guise of maintaining the status quo. Viewed under the allegory of Gramsci’s theory, who are the monsters in these paintings?

JO: That’s really the question of the show I suppose. I think most of us are implicated in some way in monstrous systems or processes. I would certainly include myself in that. In any case true ideology is a thing we can’t easily see, we’re so embedded in it.

LS: This body of work can be understood as apocalyptic or as hopeful, depending on if the viewer sees decay or regrowth. Which path, if either, do you take?

JO: Probably a little bit of both. When I try to take an objective look at where things appear to be going, it seems pretty hopeless. Just to pick one issue, I don’t see realistic solutions to the ongoing climate collapse anywhere on the horizon. I don’t see the political will or imagination to make the necessary changes even if we had the technologies we would need.
On the other hand, if I really believed in my heart that things were so completely doomed I wouldn’t be able to live my life. And in my daily existence I don’t feel that way at all, I see a lot of beauty and joy in the world in addition to the negatives. There are so many things l’m looking forward to in the short to medium term, even if the longer time horizons look incredibly bleak. And of course entirely unexpected things happen all the time, so who knows what could happen? So, I guess I believe at least two contradictory things at once. I try to be a clear-eyed realist and materialist, but there’s an element of romanticism and escapism I can’t completely deny.

LS: You’ve created large-scale sculptures and installations in the past, yet this seems to be your first foray into 3D printing. Do you find the translation of creative expression across these mediums to come naturally?

JO: I had played a little with 3D printing in the past, but nothing at the scale or complexity of the sculptures in this show. I enjoy learning new tools and processes, and digital world-building had already become a big part of my painting process where I was already using many of the same tools, so it seemed like a natural evolution. There was definitely a steep learning curve and lots of mistakes made along the way, but I’m happy with where things ended up.