John LaMacchia Interview

Advertising creatives are a fascinating bunch – driven, high energy, idea oriented. John LaMacchia, with whom I had worked on an SAP ad, struck me as even more unique in that he has developed personal art projects outside of his day job. After our shoot he showed me a fanzine-like artist book; It was smart and provocative, executed in a simple way that evoked the best of the punk rock aesthetic. He was my people. 

We reconnected recently, shooting for Cigna Insurance (thank you!), and I wanted to continue the conversation about his art practice. We sat down for a proper Q&A at his workshop and studio last month.

Although he’s had three solo exhibitions and published multiple books, LaMacchia works largely outside of the mainstream art market. Because he’s not reliant on the gallery dealings to make a living, he’s been able to develop a deep and varied body of work without constraints. His work can be found in a range of mediums, from sculpture, to works on paper, photography, and sound-based pieces. He deftly conceptualizes each piece and collaborates with artisans in niche disciplines to produce precise finished pieces. 

Central is maintaining a thematic through-line. In a recent biographical statement he said that his practice, “celebrates the subversive potential of beauty and the profane.” He added “My work draws from my experience as a creative director in advertising, which is an industry that preys on image and human desire.”

Chris Buck: I am fascinated by someone working in the commercial space and also making art. I imagine that other people in advertising think of themselves as artists, but you actually went out and made the work.

John LaMacchia: I was longing for an identity. When you work in a commercial setting, you're working in a team, and I love working in a team setting, but at the end of the day, it's all “ours.” 

I wanted to do something that was just mine. I also wanted to hone my voice, and personal art projects are something that you can develop over years. 

Do you think it's helped your commercial work?

Very much so. Some of the best work is arrived at by taking the handcuffs off. A lot of the times you're starting from a specific place in a commercial setting. The boundaries are given to you, and so, you have to systematically break out of them, because, at the end of the day, it's your client's brief.

I'm given an assignment for somebody else's brand; but my artwork is my brand. With somebody else's brief, another brand, I'm solving their problem, and their solutions are whatever's right for their problem. Versus my work, I create my own boundaries and it goes back to the breaking point of doing novelty books and becoming a more "serious artist."

I wanted to have a defined voice. I wanted to make sure that everything I was doing was adding to a core set of values and aesthetics. That it's building upon that; variation on a theme versus, “Oh, he's just kind of being funny.” 

It’s okay to do a series of one-off pieces, as long as they ladder up to the core body of work, and that's a limitation that I put on myself.

Do you think that you need an overarching idea because you're so varied, medium-wise? You can't be pegged as working in, say, sculpture, it's important that it have through-lines?

Absolutely. I think it's how I keep myself in check and that I don't fall into novelty thinking. 

Do you think that your fear of novelty thinking comes from that being so valued in advertising?

100%!
 
When some people see my books, they tell me, “You know what would be a good idea?” And they give me this horrible idea, and I think, “That sucks.” I can see why they think it might be clever, but it doesn't go anywhere. 

People think it's easy. Somebody might come up with a clever idea, and go, “Oh, I can do this, too.” But I ask, “Where does it go after that? Is it a random one-off floating out in the abyss? Or is it tied to a larger idea?” Advertising has taught me this systemic kind of thinking which can be beneficial to making art.

I see you commenting on being human and culture, but it doesn't strike me as being grievance art. Are you ever concerned that clients would see your work as being a critique of advertising?

What would a client say knowing that you're making art projects about your shit? And you know, for me, it marks a moment of time in who I am as an art director, as an artist, as well.

I wanted to say that it was meant to be my next book. At the time, food photography was a big thing, and again, I was longing for an identity as an artist. I was like, am I just going to be making funny and clever books, or is there something else, something deeper? 

And that book, the idea of packaging feces in a way that looks appetizing - another light bulb that went off. And it was drawing on a lot of things that I do as an art director in advertising: How can I make something look appealing...

So, rather than publish it as yet another book, I hit pause. This idea is now one of the oldest - it's probably 20 years old now, and I haven't officially published it.

That's what set me on my path forward, because I did see that there was something bigger. It's the idea of “matter in the wrong place.”

It inspired me, and it gave me lots of ideas of mixing worlds, mixing vernaculars - taking one thing, making it look like another. It truly brought my advertising sensibilities and my art sensibilities together.

The execution is impeccable. I didn't know what it was at first, I had to read about it to understand, and then I revisited the work.

When you say you “put it on pause,” you mean that you weren't ready to make this book? 

I felt that if I came out with this book, it will be seen as a novelty idea, and that was the moment in time when I wanted things to ladder up to something bigger. I thought, “I'm not ready to publish this, and maybe it's the last series I'll ever publish,” but it inspired multiple bodies of work that you can see ...

Were you hesitant to make it public because it is so “out there”?

I wanted other bodies of work to back it up. I didn't want the shock value of, “This artist is making work with his shit. Oh, look how ...”

For me, that series is just another series in a larger body of work that relates to what I'm doing.

To me you're finding beauty in the vulgar and the profane.

It's the dichotomy, yes. At the core of what I'm doing are these dualities and dichotomy. I love that tension, the duality of where it meets.

I see in your work a tension between wanting to make work that is accessible, but also serious.

I think that it’s about nuance. It's variation. What one project might overtly do; another one camouflages. For me, the mix of projects adds up to ...

What do you mean “camouflages”? 

It's trying not to be overtly commercial, in a way, or overtly accessible. It's funny, when we talk about the art world, you say, “Well, you're not supposed to understand it.” That's what makes it art, or that's what makes it better. So, there is that dance between how do I make this both impactful, but not so simple that it becomes forgetful. If the idea or the execution goes beyond, it belongs to a bigger narrative.

The art world, in part, defines itself against popular art. It's not dynamic, it's not exciting. When people make work that looks like art, it's super dry. 

You seem to be using some of that vocabulary in your work, drawing on that dryness to add to the subtlety. But there is also the part of you that, as a next-level communicator, who wants the ideas to come through, and you want to actually connect to the audience.

Yes, for sure. I would never want to be so abstract or introverted that nobody can connect with the piece, but at the same time, I don't want people to go, “Oh, I got it,” right away. It should resonate, and it should stand the test of time. It should be able to be part of the conversation beyond the piece itself.

Let’s go back to my first question, why don't more ad people make art outside of their jobs?

There are tons of people who love advertising, and they just eat it up. It's advertising!

Making outside work takes time, and they don't want second jobs. That's great, and it’s a healthy place to be.

I like what I do, but I was always curious about how I can use advertising and the things that I've learned to build my own kind of work as well.

Top Image: Birds of America: Blue Jay, 2016 (illustration by Dan Cole, calligraphy by Hamid Reza Ebrahimi). Pigment print.
Second Image: Consumption, 2020. Oil on Canvas.
Third Image: Things on Doilies: Plastic Cup, 2022. Chromatographic Print.
Fourth Image: Seagulls Over Dump, 2018. Ceramic.
Fifth Image: Coprophagic Series: Sundae Delight, 2009. Giclée Print.
Bottom Image: Portrait of the artist, by the interviewer, 2023