BmoreArt

Burrows’ work ranges in size and style in the show, but the large paintings wrapped around the center of the observation deck space are moments captured in a dance between a stylised graphic mark making, not dissimilar from 80’s chunky graffiti long since painted over on NYC’s subway cars, tubular in a Keith Haring evocation, and a shimmering fog. Like Basquiat’s fields of immediacy, these two motifs push and pull in some of the work, with the haze evoking probably unintentionally—Anselm Kiefer, and old command-and-conquer video games in which the “fog of war” is what represents what is yet to be discovered on the map. While Burrows’ work draws inspiration from cultural touchstones, through the creative filter of his hand his work is distinctly its own. 

The exhibition has the feel of an artist who has arrived. At the reception, shedding some tears of joy, Burrows fielded questions from Basquiat and some from the crowd, vibrating in vulnerable and muted radiance in his pale chartreuse suit. Burrows described living in an apartment with 150 paintings with his partner, and his move to Baltimore from NYC, and a long love affair with the city starting all the way back in 1998. “Many of these works are self portraits” Burrows answers to a question about inspiration and identity, “We came here to try to build community.” And you can see it. Baltimore’s art scene has shown up and is well-dressed, well-coiffed, and filming on their smartphones. For many in the crowd, and for Burrows himself, this opening reception was a milestone. And for the city’s art scene this felt like a reclamation of an oft-forgotten space in BOPA’s arsenal. Burrows’ work in particular, under the curatorial direction of Kirk Shannon-Butts, represents a progress on a higher level—a large solo exhibition from a respected mid-career Black Artist in a prominent, if historically underutilized, exhibition venue. 

Here, Burrows’ work creates an interesting and somewhat overwhelming effect of mirroring the scale and detail of the panoramic windows overlooking the Baltimore cityscape. But given the space between the windows and the paintings themselves, the work is able to breathe and not be diminished, creating a companionship of fields and depth in which the viewer can wander. Burrow’s work, and its monumental investigation of self, recalls some modernist writers such as Lawrence Ferlinghetti, whose narrative journeys become a vast interior space. 

I was fortunate enough to be able to talk to Burrows on the phone a couple days after the opening about life, art, work, and their overlaps. What stuck out most in our conversation was the voice of an artist who loves creating, a thread that has stretched through all of Burrows’ disciplines. 

What’s on your mood board?

Don’t have one. Usually I go on social media and go and find things that I love, and the algorithm will feed that to me. That’s how I get influence or vibe. Mostly I read for inspiration because my background is in writing. A book that I’ve read the most is Simulacra and Simulacrum, by Baudrillard. Energetically: influenced by Basquiat. But more inspiration from writers, like Ben Okri who wrote Famished Road and Astonishing the Gods. Magical realism is very important as well. And I really like Chuck Palahniuk. Lots of stuff around philosophy and ideas, which I am working out in my work. 

Is there an artist that speaks to you most in their methods, not strictly their style?

I really love Bisa Butler. She does collage, but it looks very photorealistic and detailed. I really respect the rigor that goes into making the work. Her use of color, she’s one of my rabbits. She’s where I want to get to, like a greyhound track. The way she uses color is unreal.  

Your paintings are very distinctive. What has the journey been like for developing the visual style of your work?

For a lot of the work. I would start at (for example ) “Painting A” and there is a tiny part that I think is interesting, and I take that and multiply it by 10 in the next work. There’s been a process of taking one small thing and turning it into another series, and bringing it forward in the new work I’m doing. A sort of evolution. A lot of this came from copying the work of others I saw around until I found my own voice. 

The show at the Top of the World feels like a major milestone. What have been some of your goals with your work? And what do you want viewers to walk away with?

When I started out, I wanted to be able to do a show in NYC with 10 paintings. “Get a little venue, does not have to be a gallery,” I told a friend back then when he asked me what I wanted to do. I started out wanting to be a painter and couldn’t afford it, so I became a writer. I wanted it to go somewhere, but I wasn’t particular. This curator in Flatbush asked where I dreamed of having my art displayed, and I thought of the Tate Modern in London, which I fell in love with when I visited. That became my rabbit, the thing I chased.  

As for viewers, I want them to walk away different, changed, impacted. I don’t know if the word is “difficult” but it’s harder to explain abstract work to the masses, so I just want them to feel something that’s in the work. 

What have you learned about your artistic process over the years, and have you discovered anything new in the process of creating the work for this show?

Over my time being an artist I realized I’m different. Once I start, I stay engaged for hours, like 8 hours straight. When I see others, they stop and smoke and listen to music. But I just stay engaged. I’m always learning new things, but mostly about paint. Most of my process has been learning about and understanding the paint itself rather than the composition.  

At the talk you mentioned starting out as a poet, and that you started painting in 1998. In your bio on the website, it says that you started down the creative path in your 20s. When did you know or start thinking about being a creative person, and what was your relationship to it as a child?

I started painting in 2009. I’ve always been able to draw, even when I was a kid. When we were doing the interview I said 2009 but my sister later reminded me that I was painting jeans, and doing stuff for barber shops. I learned how to cut hair in a barbershop in Jamaica when I was 13, and it requires the same kind of coordination. I came to the US when I was 15 and I’ve never stopped cutting hair. But it’s kind of all the same things. Cutting hair is like painting, which is like writing. All artforms are really connected in this way, with the creative process. In that way all artforms are kind of the same. 

What piece of advice would you give to a young artist starting their journey?

Read as much as you can. Look at as much work as you can. Talk to the people at the bottom as much as you can. Talk to people at the top. Talk to everyone. That’s your school.  The practice of artmaking isn’t in art itself but in the making of you as a person. 

What do you think is missing in the art world today?

This is from me being a performance poet. People want all the things that come with being the artist without doing the work. People say I want to be an artist but I hate people, which doesn’t make sense. Or I want to be a writer but I don’t care about reading. The search for your own humanity and the humanity in others—that’s where great artists make great art. I’m still doing that myself, doing this work. 

What appeals to you about Baltimore’s art scene?

I’ve been coming to Baltimore for a while. There is something that is very genuine and honest about the art work here that I really love. The sense of the community. The distance between neighborhoods isn’t 5 miles. I can go to 5 people’s studios in one day. As opposed to New York, if you’re going to someone’s studio in the Bronx, you see one studio. That’s one day. I really love the artwork that people are making and experimenting with. 

You talked about how important music is in your process. What songs or albums do you think viewers should have in mind while they see your current exhibition at top of the world? 

Easily, most of my work starts off with two albums, either John Coltrane Sunship or John Coltrane Stellar Region. Just to be in the presence of that kind of commitment while I’m painting inspires me with the movement and the freedom he has.  I make playlists. If readers want a playlist on Spotify, I made one called The Third Future for the exhibition (it’s best on shuffle).

What impact do you hope your work has in the long term? And what’s next? 

I haven’t really thought about this. I want the work I do as a painter to affect writers or musicians—do for musicians what Coltrane did for me as a painter. 

Next I have an exhibition in November with Hotel Indigo (Nov 14th to Jan 16th, 2025, opening reception TBA) and December 12-14th I’m doing a live painting project at the BMA Lexington Market outpost.

Also I have a novel that’s coming out next February. My day job is that my partner Laurielle Noel and I run a burlesque show and we do events all over. As part of the show my partner does erotic reading. I wrote a novel and she reads from it at the show. It’s a trilogy and part 3 comes out in February. It’s called Almost Celibate. 

The Third Future: Self Portrait, by Ainsley Burrows is on display now at The World Trade Center Top Of The World Gallery until November 17th, 2004.

The Art Soiree will take place Friday October 25, 2024 7:30 PM, preceded by a Connect + Collect event for BmoreArt members at 6:00 PM .