I sat down with Vale Magazine, Whitewall, and Contemporary Art Issue to discuss my newest exhibition, thirsty while drowning, at Villanova. Check it out!
VALE MAGAZINE - THIRSTY WHILE DROWNING - AN INTERVIEW WITH ARTIST COLE STERNBERG
Villanova University in Pennsylvania is welcoming back one of its most exceptional alumni for a campus-wide exhibition. ‘thirsty while drowning’ is the latest project of California-based visual artist Cole Sternberg and will be on full display throughout Villanova University through January 18, 2023.
The exhibition will flood Villanova’s main complex with Sternberg’s visual commentary on environmental sustainability. Witfully named, ‘thirsty while drowning’ highlights the ever-deepening crisis of climate change in parallel with society’s insatiable urge to develop the Earth’s natural resources.
It features pieces of varying size, each of which combines archetypes of consumerism and nature in their own unique way. Much of the project has been inspired by Sternberg’s personal travels around the world, as well as his time spent aboard the maiden voyage of a shipping vessel across the Pacific Ocean. From oceanic murals wrapping the columns of Bartley Hall to imperfect waterscapes flowing across Jake Nevin Field House’s windows, the exhibition is an awe-inspiring illustration of humanity’s disruptive nature.
As Cole Sternberg’s first solo project with Villanova University, ‘thirsty while drowning’ is set to overtake the school’s historic buildings and outdoor spaces with numerous installations and murals. The artist’s “contemporary plein air” paintings will also be showcased in the Villanova University Art Gallery for public viewing.
From painting tiny oil scenes in his dorm room to now installing massive works across campus, Sternberg has expressed great excitement in the lead up to this collaboration. He graduated from the Villanova School of Business in 2001 and considers the chance to come back to share his passion for art “very rewarding.”
‘thirsty while drowning’ opened on November 3, 2022, and will be on display through January 18, 2023. Members of the public are highly encouraged to visit and explore the artist’s unique take on sustainability.
What are the pieces in your current exhibition doing? Do they tell a story? Evoke a feeling? Expose a reality? Suggest a solution?
Perhaps they tell the tale of the waters rising and the earth taking itself back from human degradation. Or, they hint at the irony of our collective incapacity. Or, they impart an emotion that could subconsciously inspire viewers to further positive creativity and exploration.
How does the title (thirsty while drowning) contribute to our understanding of the meaning behind the exhibition?
The title declares the intent of the exhibition. It speaks to humankind’s desire for mass capitalist consumption even while facing collective demise from such largess. The play on words expresses that there is still hope and possibility in addressing the situation.
If these artworks had sound effects, what would they sound like?
On occasion, I actually do accompany this style of work with sound, such as the sound of swallows flying en masse, the metal chain of a massive anchor pulling up, or a heartbeat amplified. If they could develop into famed musicians, I’d hope they’d sound like Philip Glass, Max Richter, John Prine, or Kendrick Lamar.
What would it feel to be in these artworks?
It depends on the nerves of the person, but they could feel like wet sandpaper or cashmere.
How might we feel differently about the world after looking at these artworks?
I hope one would be curious as to their composition, methodology, and desires; curious enough to engender further research.
How would you describe this exhibition to someone who has not seen it yet?
The murals drown buildings and tilt the earth’s axis. The paintings erase the human hand and honor the patterns made by the earth.
Who do you think that would really hate these artworks? Why would they hate them?
I don’t think the word ‘hate’ would aptly fit anyone’s feelings about the work. Hate is a strong word that we use to amplify for dramatic purposes, but it rarely captures the correct emotional state. If someone were to feel actual hate for the exhibition, it would be due to their own internal strife, to which I’m unable to speak, but I hope they work it out.
If this exhibition could travel anywhere in the world, where would it go?
The face of the moon, Google’s front page, a sidewalk in Beijing and the Louvre… all at once.
Some creators thrive in solitude. It’s often a necessary ingredient to access their creativity. What about you?
I find it nearly impossible to paint or write with an audience, so solitude is a necessity (or at least tunnel vision and headphones). Otherwise, it is easy to become self-conscious or distracted.
How is your personality reflected in your work?
I think the dark comedic nature of my personality comes through in my work. The work is serious, yet visually appealing. I’m honoring the earth, but speaking to our collective demise. I’m begging for change while smiling.
Who are some of the artists you’ve been influenced by or inspired by?
Bas Jan Ader, Joseph Beuys, Cy Twombly, Aldous Huxley, John Kennedy O’Toole, Joan Didion, Herman Melville, David Wallace Wells, Joan Mitchell, Lorna Simpson, and Christian Boltanski come to mind.
What advice would you give to your younger self?
There is no reward in achievement, there is only reward in creation.
What superpower would you have and why?
To affect time for myself and others – freezing it, bending it, traveling through it at varying speeds. Time is everything.
WHITEWALL - THIRSTY WHILE DROWNING: COLE STERNBERG FLOODS VILLANOVA UNIVERSITY WITH ART
Cole Sternberg’s “thirsty while drowning” is currently on view through January 18, 2023 at the University Art Collection and Gallery at Villanova University. The campus-wide exhibition by the artist and Villanova alum transforms the campus and gallery with thought-provoking works that, while entrancingly beautiful, scream out the impending consequences that we face at the hand of climate change.
“There's something special about the Villanova alumni network it really is a continuation of the community that I feel a part of every day. So to have such a renowned artist return to campus was a no-brainer,” said Jennie Castillo, the Curator of the University Art Collection and Gallery Director at Villanova University.
Sternberg’s objective with the exhibition was to activate the minds of the student body, engaging with them in far more intriguing ways than just canvases on the walls of a gallery. “My first in-person meeting with Cole lasted about seven hours,” Castillo noted. “We walked around campus with curiosity and chatter and brainstorming and a ton of ‘what ifs.’ Although our art gallery is in the Connelly [Building] (our student union building) not many students knew it even existed, this became our follow the ‘Easter eggs’ that lead to the pièce de résistance.”
Flooding far beyond the Connelly Building, the final form of “thirsty while drowning” sees multiple structures around campus—the Vasey black box theater, the Jake Nevin Fieldhouse, and the Business School’s Bartley Hall—bearing evidence of Sternberg’s environmental musings, painted both indoors and out with photographic murals taken from imagery of his journey across the Pacific Ocean on a shipping vessel. After following the evidence around campus, it is the hope of Sternberg and Castillo that students will make their way to the Art Gallery, where the artist’s signature works—painted canvases completed in collaboration with nature—continue the oceanic themes that ripple across the campus. To learn more about the encompassing project at Villanova University and Sternberg’s intriguing earth-informed practice, Whitewall spoke with the artist to learn more.
When you were invited to do this exhibition, why was it important for you to extend it beyond the gallery walls?
When I went to Villanova I didn’t know there was an art gallery. Integrating the student body into the discussion was critical for me. We went and walked around campus and I noticed the black box theater, diagonal from the gallery. I thought, if I walked by that and saw a mural as a student, maybe I’d start thinking about the artwork a little bit.
Then, we went to the business school which had been completely redone. It was visually difficult for me—there were all these screens and information at the front, and a ticker tape. I mean, I went to the business school and I studied marketing. I thought, there’s a way I can address this situation, too.
The important thing is getting to the paintings in the end, with all of these markers along the way. There’s no way that a student can avoid seeing at least one of the murals. And because they’re on these different buildings for different majors, they’ll at least think about why these visuals are there and maybe get to the point of going to the museum and learning a little more about it.
How did you arrive at the theme and the works on view?
I have this imagery of crossing the Pacific. I thought I could make it look like one of the buildings is flooding. And from that idea, I decided I was going to focus on climate change and the environment, beautifully taking itself back and owning itself irrespective of what humankind does.
From there, my idea was to do a sort of mini-retrospective of my works that have been dragged in large bodies of water. I’ve been doing that for about six years and I wanted to touch on a few generations of those.
Then, it was shaping how I want it to feel in the space. One is size, and then the color palette. I wanted to have most of it feel like freezing or drowning and water in its hard state or liquid state, but also have a few that touched on land and fire and the other elements of the earth. It progresses through the space in that way. There are some that are a little more dark and foreboding and some that are a little more hopeful.
How did your series of dragging paintings in bodies of water come about?
I had this fascination—since college—about traveling across the Pacific because it was the longest distance you could travel. You don’t have cell coverage, you don’t see land, and you don’t see another ship for quite some time. I also, in parallel, got interested in trade and naval power and how the whole earth interacts. For example, an iPhone is designed in California, it was built in China, it comes on the ship here, we use it, and we used to send it back to China to be recycled… I just thought that whole movement across the world is so strange.
I thought maybe I could go on a shipping vessel across the Pacific, not a sailboat or private yacht. Finally, I found a way to get on a ship and I brought a documentary crew to capture the journey. I didn’t think it would be about me, more about the floating island, the people working on the ship, their lives, and how this little environment exists—because they stay together on the ship without much outside contact for six months at a time.
How long were you on it?
It ended up being 22 days. I set up the studio and painted as I would normally. I painted some on the big holds outside, as well, and hooked them with little carabiners and rope and tape. And then a heavy storm hit and we were locked in the interior for three days and I thought I had lost these three big paintings. But I went out and they had all ripped completely off their rope but they’d all saved themselves. They’d all wrapped around different bits of the ship like a human would hold [on]. That was the first inspirational thing.
Then, one day I got brave enough, when the captain wasn’t looking, to throw one in the water and that one came out as a rich blue watercolor palette and looked like light fracturing through the water. The human hand—my paintbrush strokes—had basically disappeared. That felt like a miracle—like the earth was composing it. You could call it a form of abstraction because I lose control, but it felt more like a collaboration with the earth.
And then over the years, I’ve been working on that method. What if I added a little acrylic to the mix or paint the back in a different way? Or go in freshwater or go at a different speed? I kept seeing different patterns, so it'll be the light fracturing through, or the bark of a tree, or a sort of reptile skin. All these patterns repeating themselves were doing the same things on the paintings. That felt really special and I liked that idea because it’s like the earth is taking itself back—you don’t need me, these things could theoretically make themselves.
Tell us about the murals across the Villanova campus—where are they located?
We covered the theater and then in the business school there are two sets of them. One, you walk into the lobby [and] there are two large pillars that frame the doorway and go up three stories. It’s water going up both of those. I put a word only on two of the works and [on] that one, it says “ticker.” It’s up to interpretation, but it could be the stock ticker that it’s facing. It could be the clock ticking down to human mass extinction, it could be a heartbeat. That one is a direct play on what is happening in the space.
Then the other mural [has] two scenes of the water. There are big windows that are the same size—it’s like window, mural, window, mural, window. The windows look out on greenery and a sort of rich environmental space. How the green and blue, palette-wise play together, but also look how rich the environment is, whether you’re staring down at the ocean or through the window at this nice tree on campus—that one did probably the nicest job of interacting with an actual environment.
Then, the biggest one is the one on the old basketball stadium, which faces Lancaster Avenue, the main entrance of Villanova is right there. So it gets more eyeballs. For that one, I wanted to do something more dramatic and it’s as if the earth’s axis is tilted and the horizon is tilted and it’s a glorious sunset in the middle of the Pacific.
In order for people to react and think about the message at hand, you do need to be a bit jarred. There’s obvious beauty there but there should be a little trepidation, fear, and urgency.
Oh yeah, totally. That’s why the title is “thirsty while drowning”. It’s kind of a funny play on words, too, but it’s meant to be more shocking. The idea of drowning and being thirsty is a scary one but that’s what we are. We’re just consuming and consuming and burying ourselves.
You did a tour of the show with students on campus. What was that like, especially as an alum?
They were really into it. They seem a lot smarter than I was at their age. Their base of knowledge is pretty wide and they get it immediately. Then, their patience and analysis is pretty good. They were richly-analyzing things and asking nice questions. It was great.
CONTEMPORARY ART ISSUE - AN INTERVIEW WITH COLE STERNBERG: THIRSTY WHILE DROWNING
On the occasion of Cole Sternberg’s campus-wide solo show thirsty while drowning at Villanova University, we have the pleasure of sitting down with the Villanova alumnus for a conversation about his work, process, journey, and—of course—the exhibition in question. The exhibition runs from November 3, 2022, until January 18, 2023.
Cole Sternberg, born in 1979 in Richmond, Virginia, is a conceptual artist residing and working in Los Angeles. Encompassing sculpture, installation, performance, photography, film, writing, and arguably predominantly painting, Sternberg’s multidisciplinary practice discusses the disharmonic juxtaposition of humanity’s destructive character and being eternally connected to nature. An existential discord with frightening relevance today.
Julien Delagrange: Dear Cole Sternberg, welcome to CAI. First and foremost, congratulations on thirsty while drowning. The exhibition consists of multiple site-specific installations across the university’s historic buildings and outdoor spaces. Could you talk us through how the exhibition came about and what it means for you personally as an alumnus of Villanova University?
Cole Sternberg: Thank you so much, Julien. The exhibition came about due to a few chats with the Director, Jennie Castillo. We had similar desires for the University’s newfound commitment to contemporary and conceptual art discussions. Meanwhile, as an alumnus, I was excited by the idea of coming home to the school to complete a circle of life—from painting tiny oil scenes in my dorm room to installing massive murals across campus. It felt like a very rewarding proposition to explore.
JD: It is clear that your road toward artistry was not the traditional journey of an artist, encompassing art school or art education, before entering the art world. Here, at Villanova University, you studied business before achieving a Juris Doctor at American University. When did you realize you were destined to be an artist?
CS: I was always making art; drawing, painting, writing, … I just didn’t know how to pay my bills. There isn’t a significant amount of financial support for artists in the United States, so I thought I needed to get a paying job in the capitalist machine to keep a roof over my head. That led me (out of intellectual curiosity and that need) to study and practice law for a few years. With hindsight being 20/20, I’m really happy it went that way; the studies in other fields greatly enriched my practice. The knowledge base developed in those studies allows me to address conceptual structures more effectively.
JD: The show is titled thirsty while drowning, a title that incites immediate interest, both for its irony in the form of dark humor and the confrontational character of a nascent and inconvenient truth. Could you expand on the title in question and your conceptual and/or activist mission with this show?
CS: This title always makes me smile because of the dark comedic nature you eluded to. A title like thirsty while drowning effectively addresses the issue at hand, that of human ignorance of climate change paralleled with human interest in mass consumption, while also feeling welcoming in its silly play on words. It delivers this serious subject matter without a heavy-handed tone or sermon. My hope is that students would be intrigued by it and motivated to investigate further.
JD: Why this mission, for this show, at this location?
CS: This mission should be applied everywhere all the time; we are approaching mass extinction due to climate change. All amplification is necessary, especially in the United States, where half the population thinks climate change isn’t caused by humans and nearly all the population wastes at epic levels.
JD: It feels as if the notion of the Sublime—in the Romantic tradition of J.M.W. Turner (1775-1851) and Caspar David Friedrich (1774-1840), but also with Modern masters such as Mark Rothko (1903-1970) and Barnett Newman (1905-1970)—plays a vital role throughout the exhibition. Is the presence of the Sublime a premeditated strategy or a natural effect of the exhibition concept?
CS: I hope the presence of the sublime comes with each work and across my practice. My desire is to find something earthly, ethereal, and void of the human hand. So yes, that’s a premeditated strategy, but that pre-meditation also demands that human pre-meditation isn’t visually apparent. If that allows for a relationship to the romantic nature of Turner, Friedrich, Rothko, and Newman, then wow, that sounds ideal to me.
JD: A series of contemporary plein-air paintings are on view in the newly renovated Villanova University Art Gallery. What was the conceptual foundation and process for this series of works? And how do these paintings relate to your painterly practice in general?
CS: These paintings are part of a process I’ve been exploring for the past seven years. Each work is exposed to the elements—left in wind, rain, and, most importantly, dragged through large bodies of water. This exposure to the elements takes away the human hand, erases, and recomposes, cumulatively adding the earthy patterning of the work. From my first exhibition, in a bar in Washington, DC, in 2003, until now, my practice has addressed the environment and the movement of water. This exhibition is a natural extension of that commentary.
JD: The paintings are mixed media on linen—could you please elaborate on the mixed media?
CS: It’s funny, people are always interested in what ‘mixed media’ means, and I’m afraid it’s nothing too intriguing. Largely, in this case, ‘mixed media’ means watercolor, acrylic, and a bit of graphite.
JD: As a multidisciplinary artist, is your methodology determined by the medium—or, as a conceptual artist, by the concept? Please run us through your artistic practice; what is your overall approach?
CS: For me, everything starts with the concept. Here, I wanted to address climate change in a manner that could intrigue students and push them toward the creative and social exploration of the theme; what style of murals could be compelling and get the point across elegantly? What could they discover in the exhibition that effectively speaks to the concept? How can the statement inspire positive action? Et cetera.
Other exhibitions become more complicated; for example, in Freestate at ESMoA, I wanted to show what a more enlightened nation could look like and how we could get there. To do that required visuals that presented a social movement as it happens—campaign signs, budgets, histories, a new constitution, as well as photography and sculpture that captured the idea of mass societal progression. Another project revolved entirely around Ray Johnson’s final performance piece as a metaphor for humanity merging with the earth, the media in that exhibition included painting, video, and performance to get the point across.
Needless to say, I get caught up in the concept and go from there. My practice touches many disciplines and requires a large amount of research and concept-building before anything physically manifests. It is the nature of the beast or my obsession with continuing to learn and grow.
JD: Whether you are tackling human rights issues, environmental issues, or whatever is troubling you in life, in your artistic practice, these issues are always veiled by beauty. Would you say beauty is the stepping stone to a deeper understanding of these issues? Do we look, think, or interact differently because of the presence of beauty?
CS: I think beauty is present everywhere. It is essential and inescapable. I don’t think beauty is a veil in my work, but it is undoubtedly a path to more extensive discussions and analysis. I hope viewers are motivated by the beauty to explore what it means to exist and how one can honor and protect the beauty surrounding them. To answer the final part of your question, yes.
JD: Arguably, this is precisely where socio-politically motivated conceptual art often fails. But on the other hand, your work also has a sense of hopelessness. As if we have already failed or are destined to fail no matter our efforts. A Schopenhauer-Esque conclusion, but in the end, the beauty keeps us going. Does your art bring you reconciliation?
CS: Hopelessness and beauty can co-exist, like comedy and sadness. As beauty exists everywhere, so do the individual feelings of insignificance or lack of hope. I think by recognizing this, one can find a path forward. I suppose the sense of hopelessness isn’t encompassing; it is simply a bump in the road. As long as you keep driving over those bumps, reconciliation is possible.
JD: Thank you, Cole Sternberg, for this wonderful conversation and bringing beauty to life’s ironic existential discords.