In Conversation: John F. Moore, Jr Interviews Paul Corio

“I’d rather be the man behind the curtain.”

Paul Corio, Cool Tales, 2009-2010. Acrylic on canvas, 48 x 48 in. Courtesy of the artist.

In Conversation: John F. Moore, Jr Interviews Paul Corio

John F. Moore, Jr: Why do you prefer abstract painting?

Paul Corio: Abstract painting is specifically visual. Its main message is color and scale and size and, very specifically, contour. And, y’know, I’m so focused on color—that’s always been and remains my big thing. Color is really sort of bashful. If you use really active figures, particularly if you use faces, or anything recognizable, the color wants to jump into the back seat. Red would much rather be the property of a fire engine or an apple than an entity unto itself. So, if you use bland enough figuration, color becomes the star of the show. That has been my modus operandi, which I inherited from my teachers at Hunter.

But then after a while, all you can paint is stripes and squares, and I’m getting tired of just painting stripes and squares. Some guys are really comfortable with that, but I need a little more wiggle room. I’ve been loosening up to include lettering, and ideas of representation are creeping in.

It’s only been more recent that I’ve been open to these kinds of ideas creeping in. I used to be pretty militant about “No, this is a visual endeavor. Any of these ideas about representation, etc., just get in the way.” But if something’s creeping in in a really natural way, and it seems like the right thing to do, I’m becoming more open to it.

JM: Is there such a thing as a perfectly abstract painting?

PC: I don’t think so. When you see a painting of a tree the idea of the tree comes first, then the properties of the painting. I found the idea of a perfectly abstract painting really compelling while at school. But everything calls something to mind. You can’t paint something that exists wholly apart from human experience. How could you? It’s impossible to paint something that’s absolutely free of external referents.

That tripped me up when I got out of grad school and so I actually stopped painting for a while and instead focused on music. Music’s natural state is abstraction. You can’t make a song of a tree or a song of a river, unless you use lyrics. I focused on music—just the weirdest kind, the most dissonant jazz, because I was pursuing this level of abstraction. But after a while, I realized that this idea of making a perfectly abstract painting with no external referents wasn’t necessarily my battle. Maybe it was my teachers’ battle and I was just becoming a foot soldier. It was important to the extent that I was most interested in color and wanted it to be the star of the show. But in terms of this sort of mission to make the most perfectly abstract painting—I’m not so sure that it’s so important.

JM: And the realization of this doesn’t have to stop you from painting, it can just free you up from certain rules you’ve been imposing on yourself.

PC: Exactly.

JM: What do you think the relationship between the viewer, the picture, and the artist should be?

PC: I recently had a show at 210 Gallery down here on 24th Street in Brooklyn, which is more or less a working class neighborhood. I took special note of the visitors who came through with no art background. Most people looked at the pictures and saw what I hoped they’d see. I considered this a triumph: you don’t need a Ph.D. to navigate these pictures!

At the same time, there’s a lot of the history of painting in these pictures. I love painting; I think about painting a lot; I write about painting. If you’re steeped in that, there’s a lot of stuff for you to see—space, levels of representation, flatness, and lack of flatness.

All that is required to navigate an abstract picture is functioning eyeballs and a basic curiosity. When people are puzzled but clearly curious, and you can tell, I really want to talk to them. They might not have any background in art, but they’re genuinely curious instead of hostile or irritated. I don’t see any real reason to defend my work against hostile viewers who don’t really want to like my work in the first place. They brought their answers into the gallery with them.

JM: What about your role in the work?

PC: I want to be basically invisible. That’s one of several reasons I use tape and no brush stroke. I want the relationship to be between the viewer and the picture. I still love Ab Ex, but—particularly with the gestural guys—it’s so much like an autograph. I’d rather be the man behind the curtain, rather than use the picture as a stand in for me.