Philthy Conversations with Artists

Philthy Conversations with Artists was hatched out of my brain thanks to a couple intense weeks at Philadelphia’s Plastic Club, delving into conversation with local artists like Syd Torchio, Anders Hansen, Andrew Hoffman, Rick Wright, and outside of that hub, Rachel J. Cox and others. I’m deeply interested in art and the existential, philosophical, and psychological machinations that go on in the process of making it.

And I also love gut-level talk about it, sans words like “machinations,” but instead: “This shape here…I dream about it…That color there…it reminds me of sex…I don’t know what the fuck happened here, I was just pissed off, I kept trying to get at this feeling, standing at the corner of these two streets, totally overwhelmed by loss, trying to bring that out in the color of the bricks…”

It’s at those moments that the expression on an artist’s face, the look in their eyes, the way their hands are placed, tells you the secret of what they are really striving for.

I have a lot of thoughts about process in terms of writing, and find myself in earnest, candid conversation with some exceptional people in a pretty regular basis. It is at this intersection that I am able to stand outside the world of art and look in, and also able to be already there waiting.

And I look around, at what’s lacking on TV, on the internet, and how much people could use some gut-wrenching, soul-squeezing, unpretentious engagement with themselves, their lives, and art. Who we really are, how we really connect to what’s in front of us, and why it this isn’t just a hobby. I see a lot of character in the artists of Philadelphia: the dirt, the grime that is a part of the character of this old city. And I think it’s important to support and celebrate Philthy artists.

Hence, Philthy Conversations With Artists.

Thanks for getting dirty with us.

Yours,

Nina Alvarez

(Notice the filthy upper lip (brownie, I think). My mother would be horrified.)