Curt LeMieux: Art and Artists Gave Me Hope

Curt LeMieux vividly remembers the two prints hanging in his childhood home in Mesabi, Minnesota: Eric Enstrom’s “Grace'' and Emile Renouf’s “Helping Hand”, both of them purchased from catalogs passed around at Tupperware parties. Those reproductions were the two artistic references he first encountered in his life. 

It was not until he randomly came across Meatloaf’s “Bat Outta Hell” album that he felt what a true exposure to “art” could mean.

Album cover art is the base of the series “HEROES” presented at Chelsea Walls. It represents LeMieux’s own playful rendition to the music imagery that helped him find an escape and an identity, both artistically and personally.

How did you first start in the world of art? You have previously mentioned how, as a child, growing up in the Rust Belt you didn't really have access to fine art, and that it was through first seeing Meatloaf's Bat Outta Hell cover art that you somehow became inspired. Could you tell me more about that?

I grew up adjacent to the Mesabi Iron Range, in a part of the country I call “the ass end of the Rust Belt”. An industrial wasteland with dilapidated buildings and abandoned infrastructure. Violence, alcoholism, and depression were commonplace. 

As a young child, I spent an afternoon in a hospital waiting room after a family member attempted suicide. The walls were heavily stained from cigarette smoke. The carpet was brown and frayed. The swivel chairs were a faded mustard color and sounded an eerie little creek with any movement. Someone, a nurse I assume, placed a bin full of albums on a shelf next to the board games and the pulp fiction novels. I pulled out Meatloaf’s Bat Outta Hell. The animated and ostentatious scene stood in direct contrast to the bleak environment.  

So album cover art was my first meaningful exposure to “art”. Unlike the regional expressions of culture, large Green Bay Packer themed snowmen, dyed with food coloring and adorned with NFL paraphernalia, rock imagery was edgy and exciting. Desperately searching for an identity and a means of escape, music became an obsession. 

At the age of 6, I watched the television in awe as Rod Stewart performed Do Ya Think I’m Sexy. I spent the next summer reenacting Rod’s movements on a small boating dock at a run-down lakeside resort. The glistening water served as my audience and a tarnished fishing stringer served as my microphone. Then my aunt had a copy of Sticky Fingers by The Rolling Stones and I remember being transfixed by the metal zipper adhered to the cardboard sleeve. The explicit reference to male sexuality electrified me. 

I remember my dad would return from parent conferences during my eighth-grade year with hand written notes: “Does whatever he wants. Knock off the heavy metal. Too much heavy metal in his journals”. My assignments were littered with skulls, bat wings, crosses, and lettering. I got a leather jacket and made sure it stunk. I grew my hair half way down to my ass crack. I ripped my jeans so that they just barely clung to my legs. I plastered the walls with spandex-clad rock stars. 

Above all, I made art. Bad art. I painted a large cloaked demon with horns and hooves on my bedroom door. I covered a foam novelty skull with layers of wax and stuck a dagger through the top. I collected viscous tar from an abandoned petroleum tank and used a stick to scrawl rudimentary drawings on any available surface. My teachers were correct, I was out of control. 

I failed out of high school because I hated PE and refused to attend. Instead, I would sit in the student parking lot and smoke pot for an hour while I waited for my art class. 

I was 22 and freshly sober when I received a high school equivalency diploma and enrolled as an art student at the local university. For the first time in my life, I felt as if I had a place in the world. Art and artists gave me hope. 

I guess one could say that is how I got my start in the art world. 

After reinterpreting more than 20 (iconic) LP covers, including Patti Smith's "Horses" or Black Sabbath's "Paranoid", it is "Heroes" (David Bowie) who ends up encapsulating the series and being the title for this exhibition. Why is that? Can you walk us through your creative process for this work?

I was looking at cigarette and alcohol ads in magazines from the 70s and 80s. Also, record club ads. They contained long lists of albums from the era. The initial sketch for Rod Stewart’s Blonds Have More Fun came that way. From there, things snowballed. I quickly completed Donna Summer’s The Wanderer, Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, George Michael’s Faith, and The Clash‘s Give ‘Em Enough Rope. Once I got going, things got frenzied. I checked out books from the library and scoured the Internet for album cover art. 

David Bowie is the only artist I did twice. I interpreted Diamond Dogs first and then Heroes a short while later. I was unhappy with Diamond Dogs because the original album cover art is heavily illustrative and is in fact a painting in its own right. For no reason in particular, that made me somewhat uneasy. 

As I progressed in the series, I gravitated towards albums with covers that relied on portrait photography rather than other forms of artwork. Patti Smith, Tom Waits, Michael Jackson, and Dusty Springfield certainly fit into that category. 

It takes courage to make art and to live as an artist and it is sometimes difficult to sustain integrity. For me, Bowie stands apart from other musicians. Not as a hero but as someone who pushed and pulled and prodded. Lazarus, Bowie’s swan song, solidified his position as an individual with a uniquely developed temperament, in my view. 

Culturally, Bowie is iconic. So, there’s that. While putting together this exhibition with Josh White from WhiteBox.LA, we brainstormed a few title options, but it was Heroes that we kept coming back to. 

When you talk about your work in your artist statement, you mention the importance of the viewer's personal and cultural memory when encountering a work of art. How does this translate into this specific series now on view at Chelsea Walls?

Everyone has stories centered around music. People enjoy sharing common themes and experiences. “My dad took me to see The Doors and Frank Zappa at the Hollywood Bowl in ‘72”, “The Nearness of You is our wedding song. We play it every year when…”,  “Rock With You is our jam. When that track came on my friend and I…”, “My co-worker always sings Stand By Your Man at karaoke. She says it reminds her of…”

Countless people have shared memories with me based on my interpretation of classic album covers. Most are superficial and lighthearted yet carry great significance for the teller. New relationships and understandings emerge in the playing out of these recollections. 

With the "Heroes" series being all about music, I'm curious, how did your playlist look like when you were creating this series? What were you listening to? 

I’m going to get specific here and perhaps somewhat geeky. 

I happened to have my end of year Spotify statistics available for that time period. “You’re a seeker of sound. You venture out into the unknown, searching for fresher, artist, deeper cuts, newer tracks - especially gems yet to be found”. My top song was Agboju Logun - Mr Bong by Shina Williams & His African Percussionists. I listened to it 94 times! 

Rounding out my top five were In the Dark by Nina Simone, Could Heaven Ever Be Like This by Idris Muhammad, Sunday Morning by Amanaz, and Shake Your Hips by Slim Harpo. 

In terms of “Heroes”, I’d sometimes listen to select tracks, mostly for nostalgic reasons. Opps!… I Did It Again. Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough. These Boots Are Made For Walking. I try to listen to Black Sabbath’s Paranoid at least once a year just because it is so damn good. The drumming on that record is incredible. Beast of Burden by The Rolling Stones is also a song that I return to often. 

I love the photo on the cover of Are You Ready For The Country by Waylon Jennings and I am very happy with my interpretation. Of all the albums in “Heroes”, that is one of the album that has stayed heavy in my music rotation. Waylon’s voice is deep and seductive. His version of MacArthur Park is both sappy and complex. A wonderful combo.

Other stand out songs include Can’t You See and Precious Memories. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Sinead O’Connor. I played 8 Good Reasons a lot while working on “Heroes”. 

The Lion And The Cobra is on my list of album covers yet to be interpreted. I have a list of about 20. I was also listening to Meshell Ndegeocello’s Weather on repeat. Her version of Leonard Cohen’s Chelsea Hotel is mesmerizing. 

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