This week, the NOT REAL ART podcast features Casey Fletcher, a grant recipient whose exploration of identity, faith, and artistic expression is both personal and provocative. As a biracial artist raised in a family committed to the Salvation Army, Fletcher's work reflects his own experiences while challenging societal norms and sparking meaningful conversations about culture, spirituality, and belonging. 

In this episode, he shares details about his recent project involving the Chamberlain Rock—a boulder removed from the University of Wisconsin campus because of its association with racist terminology. This initiative showcases Casey's dedication to confronting historical injustices and initiating dialogue about race and identity. For him, art transcends mere self-expression; it is a powerful means of cultivating community discourse that fosters understanding and healing. 

Throughout the episode, Casey articulates a vision of art that is deeply connected to his faith and personal convictions. He views his artistic practice as a journey toward truth, encouraging others to embark on their own paths of discovery. Ultimately, this episode highlights the transformative nature of art, demonstrating how creativity can serve as a catalyst for change and a bridge for empathy in an increasingly divided society.

Casey Fletcher

NOT REAL ART

NOT REAL ART Artist Grant

NOT REAL ART 2024 Grant Winners Exhibition

Scott “Sourdough” Power

For more information, please visit https://notrealart.com/casey-fletcher

The Not Real Art podcast is intended for creative audiences only.

The Not Real Art Podcast celebrates creativity and creative culture worldwide.

It contains material that is fresh, fun, and inspiring and is not suitable for boring old art snobs.

Now let's get started and enjoy the show.

Casey Fletcher.

Welcome to Not Real Art.

Glad to be here.

And while you're here, because you've earned it, you know, this.

Congratulations.

We were so.

This is our fifth cycle.

The first year, we had 100 applicants.

So we had 800 artists that didn't even, unfortunately make the cut.

Right?

As justly as we possibly can.

And you know the old saying, the cream rises to the top.

And apparently you are cream, my friend.

You.

You.

You rose to the top.

I can safely say I've never been called cream, but, dude, I will take it.

Thank you so much for the opportunity.

I'm sure I will thank you a lot over the course of this, but, yeah, it really was a highlight of my year and seriously meant so much to.

To receive that.

Oh, that's great.

Thank you.

Yeah, you're so welcome.

My God, you.

You earned it.

You know, one of the best days of my job is the day that I get to call those six artists and say, congratulations, you're one of our recipients.

And, you know, listen, I mean, it's.

It's not the.

You know, it's $2,000.

You know, it's not, you know, a ton of money, but, you know, we.

It's not even about the money for us.

It's about really amplifying artists and their stories.

And it is one of the ways that we try to prove our values and demonstrate our values that we're here to empower and empower artists and celebrate and elevate artists.

And so the grant is just one of the ways that we try to do that.

And so we're so grateful to have you and proud of you and your.

Your career and practice and story and journey.

And so, as you know, and as our audience knows, I mean, one of the.

The benefits of being a grant recipient is to come on the Podcast with me and, and, and for better and worse, spend some time with me and talk and talk about, talk about you and, and you know, so, so, so this.

Yeah, so, so.

Man, I'm just so grateful.

And, and you know, you're, you know you're in a special place, right, because you're based in Madison, Wisconsin.

I grew up outside of Chicago.

I've spent a lot of time in Madison over the years and boy, what a great city Madison is.

I hope you are enjoying your time there as much as I do when I visit.

Yeah, certainly, it's, it's a great town.

It's one of those places that's close to so many other places that are especially critical for art practice.

Stuff like going to see shows in Chicago or Milwaukee or Twin Cities.

But yeah, we've got a great thing here too.

I mean, again, I'm only here for a couple years at least that's the plan for now.

But yeah, I mean, a lot of free museums.

The Chazen, which is attached to the university, and then the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art, another free museum.

It's one that I work for part time doing art handling.

Yeah, I mean, it's a town that certainly cares about the arts.

Nestled within a state that has a complex relationship with the arts, at least in terms of funding.

I think we're something like 49th out of 50 in terms of like state art funding or something like that.

But you wouldn't, you wouldn't necessarily know it being in Madison.

It's, yeah, it's a great community, in large part because of the university.

Well, you know, it's an interesting point you're making.

You know, one of our other grant recipients, Jesse Rodriguez, is from Minnesota.

She's in the Twin Cities, you already mentioned.

And you know, it was funny, we were having a conversation about why she's in Minnesota because of course it's damn cold, right?

And, and, and I was sort of remembering we were joking about this interview with, that I heard years ago, some reporter was interviewing the, the one and only Prince music artist Prince, may he rest in peace.

And they were asking him, you know, Prince, you're a famous rock star.

You could live in anywhere in the world.

Why are you living in Minnesota?

It's so damn cold.

And he said, without flinching, he said, yeah, the cold weather keeps the mean people away.

And so Jesse Rodriguez and I were talking about that.

I said, well, why are you, why are you in Minnesota?

And she said, you know, she feels like the state of Minnesota really supports artists and supports the arts.

And every state is obviously different.

And I guess your critique is that Wisconsin could do better, could do more in terms of supporting artists and art.

But you are.

But you feel seen and heard in Madison as an artist.

Yeah, certainly.

And like, you know, all that kind of funding stuff.

And by the way, you know, this is only like a conversation I've really heard secondhand.

But so much of that stuff is at, like, the state level.

But in terms of, for instance, like the university, a big reason why I came here is because they really back the truck up for their graduate students, people that are part of their program.

Yeah, it's a fully funded program.

Get a great studio space.

I'm in my studio right now, and it's, you know, it's like the size of a double wide shipping container or something.

It's.

It's nice.

But yeah, we have a lot of great resources within the university, and probably the biggest of which is human resources.

You know, there are a ton of smart people that love to hear themselves talk and are happy to share whatever questions you have.

They're happy to kind of unpack that with you about 90% of the time.

And, you know, that's been what I've been happy to take the most advantage of since I've been here is just the be well.

You know, I have to admit I'm trying to remember now if there was any, any place in our grant application where maybe might have read where you kind of grew up or where you originate from.

But where, where.

Where did you grow up?

I.

I can't remember if I know that or not.

Yeah, it's a.

It's a long story, but I'll try to keep it, you know, relatively succinct.

I was born in 93 in Utica, New York, which I learned much later in life.

It has the nickname the town God forgot because apparently there was some steady mob activity.

People coming up from the city to then do dirty work.

In Utica, I don't know.

I was born there and then shortly after that lived in burlington, Vermont for 11 years.

So pretty much right after birth, age 11, and then moved to central Ohio, really rural little town called Coshocton.

It's the only place in the world called that.

And then spent, spent high school and again, rural coal country, central Pennsylvania, little town called Clearfield.

And then did college and a little bit after college, mostly in the Philly area, went to like a little Mennonite school called Messiah University in Harrisburg.

And then, yeah, I worked in furniture fabrication and design in Philly for two Years.

Kind of kept doing that down in Tennessee, where I met my partner, and that's basically where we were until we came to Madison for my graduate studies.

So all over the place.

The reason being for the childhood moves where my parents worked for the Salvation army for about 40 years, which, if you or the listeners at home don't know, it's more than just the thrift stores.

It's like a whole kind of religious movement.

Um, and so they were pastors and sort of not like certified social workers, but they were doing that kind of stuff with the public and also running the stores, toy distributions, all this stuff.

Like the regular army, they move families around every couple years.

Um, so that led to an interesting childhood.

You know, a lot of time being sort of by myself and having to figure out ways to entertain myself and.

Yeah, making art was a good way to do that, but.

Yeah, yeah, that's.

That's.

Where I'm from is basically New England to Pennsylvania and Ohio is like childhood formative.

Sounds like you're an American.

Yeah, I would say that's.

That's always the short.

Right.

Yeah.

Well, you know, this is a good, interesting segue, you know, maybe into a more substantive kind of talk about your work and, you know, your.

The story you're trying to tell, stories you're trying to tell and kind of what drives you.

Because, you know, I was.

For all kinds of reasons that maybe I'll share, but I mean, for all kinds of reasons, I was really curious and wanted to talk about how and why, you know, among other things, Christian faith and love and these themes and these histories are part of your work.

You know, where did that come from?

Now I'm starting to seem a little bit where it came from.

Being essentially the child of missionaries on a certain level.

Right.

I mean, the Salvation army on a certain level is.

Is.

Is.

Is just that, an army of missionaries and doing good work and.

And just, you know, sharing a little bit.

You know, my grandfather was a minister.

I grew up on the church pew, and my mom was a preacher's kid.

And.

And so.

So having, you know.

And so in some ways, I share a similar journey in that, you know, I was.

I was being groomed to follow in my grandfather's footsteps and go to seminary and go to, you know, and I, you know, rejected that.

Yeah.

You know, when I was 15, 16, I, like, you know, I lost my religion, so to speak.

Not to say I lost my faith, not to say I lost my love, not to say I, you know, all of those things.

So I'm super interested to.

And then you even, you know, you talk about forgetting the word now, but, you know, you talk about these.

This border stalker concept, you know, in your.

In.

And.

And as I read it and understood it, you know, it's like almost like the hero's journey in some ways, you know, seeking the truth for oneself.

Right.

That may be different than where we come from.

And so, anyway, so I just was really curious about you and Journey and how you got there and why these themes are so important in your work and why they drive you in your work.

And are you at odds with your origin story?

Are you at peace with your origin story and how that informs your work?

Yeah, that's a great question.

I mean, I think I am at odds with it, but I think that's sort of the nature of the game.

The game being like many games at once.

Like the families we grew up in and for some of us, like the sort of belief systems that are handed to us, maybe the country we grew up in.

Like, I think especially, like, as an artist, I am kind of always pushing back, or was always pushing back against sort of the water I was swimming in.

But there's something there of like, you know, does it take a certain type or does it make a certain type to like, make art?

And I think, you know, when I was growing up, I spent a lot of time sort of feeling on the periphery of a lot of spaces, including the church, you know, and that kind of pushes you to a place where you're on the outside looking in and kind of in that border stalker position.

Mayor Kstappa is the.

The word that Makato Fujimura didn't coin, but he cites in his book Culture Care.

So, yeah, I think my relationship to it was always.

I was always interested in, like, how the message of Christianity was sort of like a radical thing, I think, especially during, obviously before I was born, but in the 60s, the kind of Jesus people movement of sort of this weird overlap of like, hippie counterculturalism and then sort of the message of gospel as sort of a countercultural thing of, you know, getting rid of all you have and loving your enemies and radically embracing peace in the face of state oppression, these things.

I always thought that was really powerful.

And I thought it, especially as I entered adulthood, thought it was really remarkable of how.

How like, none of that makes it into, like, the mainstream Christian experience, especially in America, even within the Salvation army and, you know, the Christian college I went to, I was always surprised to see people claiming to, like, have a relationship with the same God I was supposedly in relationship with, but supported drone strikes, for instance, or like any number of ways of being that did not really align with like, red letter Christianity.

Like, you know, the things that supposedly left Christ's mouth that we have today.

And so all of that to say, like, tied up in that, and I think tied up in the words of Jesus are this sort of is a cultural critique looking out in the world, being kind of disappointed with it or frustrated with it, but at the same time loving it and wanting the best for it.

And so wanting to speak to culture and speak to what you see out there and say, like, a better way is possible.

Maybe it's this.

Here's what I see that you're doing that could be done differently.

And at least since I'm, you know, a human being, here's what I'm maybe not doing so great, and here's what I could do differently.

Just offering like a.

Another way through.

Yeah.

Making.

Making art and showing how things can be different.

That's sort of at least how, like, my Christian upbringing and like, my still like, Christian practice, my active one kind of meets my art practice, you know.

Hope that makes sense.

Yeah, no, it totally makes sense and it resonates on a lot of different levels, you know, because.

Well, it's, you know, for my own journey, like, there was something about, like the group think aspect.

And to me, my understanding of Jesus Christ was that he was a rebel, you know, that he was.

He was.

He was not part of, of the establishment.

He was there to, To.

To call and talk truth to power.

Yeah.

And obviously was ultimately crucified for it.

And, and, you know, in.

In my, My.

And this is.

I'm.

I think you'll take this in the spirit I offer it.

But it's like, over the years, I've.

I've joked that it's like Christ.

Jesus Christ was the original hippie.

And by the way, he was also a performance artist and the Crucifixion was his masterpiece.

You know, he.

He.

He died for his art, you know, he died for his message, you know, which was love, which was turn the other cheek.

That was revolutionary at that time.

Right.

Yeah.

And I think, like, so much, you know, I don't want to get like, too heady necessarily.

Unless you.

Unless you want to.

Well, we can be.

Get as heady as you want, pal.

You know?

Yeah, I'm doing, you know, since I got to my.

Since I got to grad school, I've been doing a lot more, you know, reading of like, critical theory and all these things out, like, you know, critical race theory being one of them.

But, you know, a bunch of, A bunch of stuff written by people smarter than me about.

Yeah, how we decide that we know things or understand things within different disciplines, like in the sciences or in the arts, all this stuff.

But a common theme I keep running into is this sort of goal to like, displace oneself from what they are studying or what they're working on and also to like, sort of place oneself.

So, like, what I mean by that is in Christianity and like a lot of religions, like, this is true in Buddhism too, there's a kind of interest in like dying to yourself while you're alive.

Like, I have written above my desk, like, learned how to die daily.

That was something that was said during MLK's eulogy by.

I'm gonna forget her name.

Dorothy Day, who, like, courted the Catholic Worker movement.

And that idea that like, kind of at all times, you know, love yourself, but at the same time, like, if there's a part of you that' getting in the way of righteousness or knowledge or love, like, let that part of you die or like, let your specific interest that you have for yourself die so that goodness can kind of like work around you.

I forget exactly where I was going with that.

Except.

No, it's gone.

I forgot.

I lost it.

I'm, I'm the old one here.

I'm 54.

I'm not supposed to, you're, you're not supposed to have senior moments.

But it's, you know, it, it's, it's, it's totally fine.

I, you know, it's a, it's, it's such a, it's such a powerful thing to think about shedding one's skin and removing, removing barriers to growth.

And, you know, and, and, and you know, speaking for myself, you know, like at 54, like, I, you know, I think my younger self would scoff at how set in my ways I've become.

And yet I would argue that I'm probably more aware, more self aware of my limitations than maybe most people are, you know, But I've, I, as I've gotten older, I guess I've just, I've just found it harder to die every day, if that makes sense, you know?

Like, like, like, yeah.

I mean, if for no other reason, you know, I got two kids under 12 and I'm, I'm sleep deprived and I'm, and I'm, and I'm going to soccer games.

It's like, I don't, I don't have time to die today.

But, you know, I think the argument would be, like, taking your kids to soccer practice or whatever, whatever you do for your children is sort of like a death to self moment.

By the way, you're 100% right.

I feel all the time like, where's my time?

Where's the me time?

I get no me time.

But, yeah, I guess maybe the point I was trying to make, I guess, was that, yeah, that's the parallel I see in, like, the best versions of Christianity and the best versions of, like, a lot of organized religion is that sort of death to self moment.

And I try to do that in my practice, too, where, like, I.

I definitely have some stuff I want to say about my lived experience and my specific stuff that happens to me that I'm thinking about, that I'm feeling.

But, yeah, I want to do that in the service of saying, hey, maybe you, the viewer, also feel this thing.

Like, as much as this is mine, it's probably also ours.

And I think that sort of, like, yeah, owning myself, but also, like, letting go of myself so that other people can kind of pick it up.

You know what I'm saying?

Yeah.

You know, that's a great point you're making.

I mean, I'm guilty of that, too.

Like, you know, we sort of waste so much time feeling like we're the only.

Our problems are unique or our experiences are unique, or we're so unique.

And it turns out.

No, actually, yeah, maybe I'm not so unique.

And there's a lot of people out there just like me or struggling with similar challenges just like me.

And.

And it's.

It's in.

But there are these barriers and walls that, you know, maybe more now than ever, you know, that make it.

In some ways.

Well, I don't know.

In some ways, it's harder, in some ways easier these days to communicate with others, you know, and, you know, it's like technology in and of itself.

You know, I think my friend said it best years ago.

He said technology brings farther people farther apart, closer together, and people close together, farther apart, you know, and.

And.

And.

And so anyway, this just idea of being able to understand, like, I'm not alone, because loneliness apparently is off the charts.

Right.

Right now.

Right.

And yet we're more connected than ever.

You know, it's just.

It's.

You know, and.

Yeah, yeah, I think that, too, is something that.

Sorry.

That too, is something that I think about a lot with kind of Christianity and I guess, like, a lot of the work, the artwork that I'M drawn to is.

Yeah, it's, like, rife with contradiction.

And, like, you know, a lot of people justifiably will point to, like, the Bible and be like, hey, you know, this one part they said this thing, and then a couple chapters or books or whatever later, they say this other thing and, you know, serve that as a criticism.

And a lot of times that is, you know, true of, like, bad bookkeeping in the ancient world, whatever.

But, yeah, the thing that I like about or the thing that I keeps me sort of invested in at least thinking about Christianity and a lot of, again, other faith practices is that, like, a lot of times they speak in contradiction and kind of place you in, like, an impossible space.

I think about, like, the Simpsons episode where for whatever.

For whatever reason, Lisa is trying to get Bart to, like, get his head right or something.

And so she takes him out to, like, the outskirts of Springfield and is like, bart, what is the sound of one hand clapping?

And he's, like, easy and starts, like, smacking his hand against itself.

And she's like, no, no, no.

Okay, okay.

And then does the whole, like, you know, if a tree falls in the woods, does it take us down?

And he's like, of course.

And whatever.

And then she, like, helps him unpack it and then gets him to, like, clear his mind because he has to hold two sort of, like, impossible possibilities at once.

And.

Yeah, I just think that sort of the work that I like looking at and the work that I'm, like, proud to have made kind of does that or just presents you with, like, something that feels unique to, like, art.

And I think faith, where, yeah, you're just presented with stuff that you can't really reconcile in one sitting and maybe can't ever reconcile.

It just is constantly, like, stimulating your heart and your mind in this, like, perpetual search that.

Yeah, you know, you can't really get as easily in some of the sciences, certainly can't get it in, like, advertising.

That's, like, the opposite of the goal.

But, yeah, I don't know all that.

Yeah, yeah.

No, I mean, it's.

Yeah, it's.

It's such a fascinating, you know, thing because, you know, if you're going to talk about Christianity or any religion, maybe.

I mean, I think part of the core value proposition for so many of these belief systems is, is this idea of certainty, you know, and so many of the folks that I know in the Christian faith, I think the reason why they are.

Are, you know, stay in that space is because it gives them a certain amount of.

Of of clarity or certainty about some of life's greatest mysteries.

And it strikes me that, you know, many people, if not most people out there, really are uncomfortable with the mystery part.

Yeah.

And I love it.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I love not knowing, you know.

Yeah.

I think I was doing some research, like, last year about what were they?

They were monks in the medieval period.

And, yeah, we kind of think of, like, religion as being such a certain thing, and there are certain, like, promises made in it.

Right.

But one of the promises is this sort of promise of mystery and, like, promise that, like, certain things are not exactly unknowable, but, like, infinitely knowable and, you know, take comfort in certain things, whatever, but kind of know that you will ever forever be sort of at arm's length from the base reality of stuff.

And again, I think that's, like.

That's art space.

Like, that's what I'm happy to see in a gallery is stuff that, like, gives me something, like, gives me a little thing to latch onto such that it can catapult me into a space of mystery and, like, a pursuit of something that's never exactly reached, but, you know, the journey is a reward.

So they say.

Well, but it's.

So this is an interesting segue into this notion of, you know, artists as seers and artists as truth seekers and philosophers.

I mean, you know, my.

I have a.

You know, I have friends that are comics and.

And my joke is that.

Or my.

My.

I often say, you know, comedians are the new philosophers.

You know, like, you know, and.

And.

And artists, you know, I think are, you know, not to sound hyperbolic or whatever, but I mean, it certainly are.

I've known artists, some artists that I would maybe suggest they're angels among us.

I mean, in terms of seeing through the mystery or being.

Or being a vessel or.

Or a conduit for a greater truth, you know, that, you know, borders on the divine.

And, you know, at least at a.

You know, I think.

I feel like art can be that and artists can be that conduit, and maybe some artists strive or aspire to that, and maybe some artists don't, and that's fine.

But.

But, But.

But what say you about that notion that.

That.

That art allows us to glimpse the divine and artists can be or should be a conduit for the mystery.

Yeah, I mean, I think it's really important.

I mean, I've talked a little bit about work that I am interested in, but I think, like, work that I am less interested in in is the stuff that, yeah.

Is not interested in.

Mystery or, like, kind of says there is no truth.

There's something like the kind of two ends of that spectrum can be, like, sort of nihilist art.

I can't think of, like, any of the names, probably because I haven't committed them to memory, because they, like, make me just deeply sad.

But, like, you know, like, a lot of paintings that came out, I think, especially, like, Peak Irony period of, like, the 90s or something that are sort of.

I don't want to say like, Jeff Koons, because I actually, like, respect what that guy does.

And I'm, like, really interested in sort of his making it such a business game.

But, like, people maybe that rhyme with his style.

Yeah, I think, like, that work kind of.

It just isn't taking full advantage of, like, the power of the gesture of making art.

And the other side of the spectrum is like, you know, for instance, like, bad Christian art that tries to, like, neatly package the totality of this supposed entity, like divine entity, into, like, a painting that looks like Thomas Kincaid or something.

Like, that's equally sad to me.

But, yeah, I think, like, I do kind of take it as a privilege and think it's really noble as an artist to try to pursue truth and try to just, like, I don't know, like, probe in the darkness and, like, probe into the nothingness and try to find something.

And I think, you know, we're uniquely positioned to do that.

Again, does it take a certain type or make a certain type?

But, like, you know, I think a lot of artists share that sort of sense of dispossession and being on the outside.

And funny thing about the outside is you get, like, a really good view of the inside and can speak to what maybe people on the inside can't see because they're swimming.

And, you know.

But yeah, I think I buy that idea that artists are sort frequently are kind of truth seekers.

And, you know, an interesting kind of counterpoint, too, is, like, somebody like Harmony Coren who, you know, if you know his work is.

Seems very, like, nihilistic on the surface.

And, like, I wonder that he would even deny that.

But he's even said in interviews, like, artists are so, like, interested in, like, chasing the truth and trying to figure out the truth.

But, like, I'm tasking myself with, like, finding kind of anti truth, which is still, like, using truth as a point of reference.

So, like, whatever is said in making of, like, Kids or Spring breakers, that's, like, supposedly anti truth.

If you just, like, look at the negative space left by that movie, then it's like, oh, there might be some, like, truth to be inferred or projected there.

So.

Yeah, man.

I think.

I think any artist that's not just trying to make, like, a buck, and it's, like, listening to, like, their interests and their heart is whether they like it or not, kind of after truth a little bit, you know?

Yeah.

And it's.

It's.

You know, I'm reminded of what Socrates talked about in terms of, like, being the gadfly.

Right.

Like.

Like, artists can be a true seeker.

Doesn't mean.

Right, that we're.

That artists have a.

They actually have the truth or know the truth.

But it's this idea of the provocateur.

Right.

It's the gadfly.

You know, the idea of, like.

No, no, no, no.

I'm just trying to offer you an alternative idea.

Yeah.

Yep.

Yeah.

And I.

Yeah, that's a.

That's actually a really great point too.

Like, kind of bringing in that idea of, like, displacing oneself in the process.

Like, it's not my job to, like.

I don't think it's my job because I don't think I can, like, make something that, like, illustrates the truth, but I do think I can make something that agitates the viewer enough to, like, start that trip on their own, you know, and get there.

If I could bring people to truth, I wouldn't be making art.

I'd be, like, you know, making propaganda posters or something.

Yeah.

Giving people that.

That kernel.

I had.

I didn't.

I'd never heard that gadfly reference before, but I'm gonna look into that.

Yeah.

Check it out.

I mean, you just, you know, you talked about, you know, he was talking about being the gadfly that sort of bites the horse and wakes the horse up out of its slumber.

And he was just talking about, you know, this idea that, you know, as a philosopher, that's what he does.

He's just trying to wake people up, you know, And.

And, you know, and I.

And I, you know, I mean, we know this.

I mean, that's.

For me, anyway, and I think for you, obviously, that's one of the roles of art, you know.

You know, to stir the pot.

Right.

To wake people up and raise consciousness, expand consciousness.

That's all.

You know, you talked about how your lived experience informs your work, or you reference.

Talked about, you know, your.

Your lived experience.

And, you know, you know, you talk about, you know, your experience as a biracial man.

You know, so, you know, just, you know, just a little context you know, so my wife is black and my kids are biracial.

You know, I, you know, really interested to hear from you about this very particular aspect of your lived experience and how being a biracial man, you know, to the extent that even led you to be this.

This idea of a border stalker.

Right.

Like.

Like.

Like how what?

You know, obviously one goes, you know, it seems to me they're linked, and then how all that informs your art.

It's one thing to be the son of missionaries.

I get that.

You know, but then when you add this other layer of complexity as a biracial man, a son of a missionaries in a capitalistic society that, you know, maybe doesn't want to be challenged.

Right.

You know, and, man, you've.

You've got a lot of source material.

Yeah, yeah.

You could stay.

Yeah.

It's interesting you bring up capitalism there because, like, you know, I think if you try to imagine, like, a neat, a neatly working business or, like, economic system, like, categories are real important to, like, sort things.

Like, I don't.

I don't know how Amazon works, but I imagine, like, it is basically a system of, like, does this product fit into this camp of things?

Great, let's ship it this way through this category of whatever.

You know, I'm not gonna.

I'm getting in over my head.

But the point being, like, yeah, I think, like, categories are really convenient, and things that sort of divide, defy, or push against categorization are really inconvenient.

But sort of like, the gadfly, I think, are, like, good for agitating and kind of stimulating generative thought and experience.

But, yeah, I mean, I think in my grad school applications and, like, a lot of different things I've written, I said something like, yeah, I grew up, like, too secular for the Christians, too Christian for the secular kids, too white for the black kids, too black for the white kids, you know, and, yeah, that certainly led to a lot of, like, you know, again, sort of being on the outside looking in.

But I think the other thing, too is, like, it.

It led to, like, a lot of trying to figure out who I am in relation to, well, anything, and then eventually, like, in relation to myself.

And part of that, too, is, like, my parents are.

They're both white.

Like, the.

The mom.

I.

My mom is my biological mom.

And then my dad that I grew up with is kind of my stepdad.

I.

I don't really understand, like, the law around it, but basically, like, you know, there was a sort of extramarital thing that happened with my Black biological dad, but the family unit stuck together.

So, like, we, like, I just grew up in this white family in Vermont, which, like, if you've ever been, is.

I proposed to my wife in Vermont.

No way.

Wait, where did.

Where'd you do it?

In stone.

Okay, awesome.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

No, it was a whole thing.

That's a whole nother podcast.

This isn't.

This isn't.

This isn't the time.

But I, I, I do have a.

Vermont holds a special place, for sure.

Well, and just so everybody knows, Scott did a really good thing there, proposing in a place that nice and that pretty and that wonderful.

It was gorgeous.

Yeah, it was autumn.

Trees were changing.

It was perfect.

Yeah.

But, yeah, like, Vermont's like a pretty white space, you know, Like, I just had no frame of reference, right.

For, like, who I am, what I'm doing here.

It's all sort of this, like, thing that I just had to wrestle with.

And that was true basically every place we moved when I was a kid.

And, yeah, I just had to sort of build the world that was not built for me.

And that's, that's how I ended up doing a lot of art stuff, I think, like, especially as it formed my sort of.

I mean, my way of art making, but also, like, my way of politics to an extent and all sorts of stuff was just like, yeah, you look on TV or you listen to certain music or read certain books, and there's a kind of a way of taking whole people groups and putting them into categories of, you know, poor whites or 1 percenters or urban black men, whatever.

And all of those categories are really useful for certain things, but they're not especially useful for, like, just, like, getting to know somebody, you know?

And that was the case for me.

Like, a lot of people made a lot of assumptions about who I was, both with, like, positive assumptions and negative assumptions that I was like, oh, you're not really talking about me.

You're talking about this idea, right?

And, yeah, you know, like, it's a, It's a weird way to grow up, but I think helps you make good artwork.

Absolutely.

And, yeah, I mean, it's, It's.

It is interesting how the categories, seemingly, whatever we're talking about, Right?

Categories, you know, I guess, again, give people certainty, right?

Like, like, to the extent that life is a mystery, to the extent that no one knows what the hell is really going on, but, you know, we feel.

But in that scary.

So we need to, like, have a little more clarity, a little more certainty.

So we're gonna.

We're gonna grasp onto certain.

Certain belief systems, certain categories, just because it helps to clarify and simplify and.

And yet I think, you know, maybe some of us, what we're, you know, what.

What some humans are kind of waking up to is this idea of this.

The fact that there's a spectrum, right.

Of existence.

You know, it's not.

Life isn't just binary.

Yeah, sure, it can be binary.

You're black, you're white, you're male, you're female.

But it turns out there is all this other stuff in between.

The call to grayscale, from white to black or whatever, right?

Yeah.

From light to dark and into it again.

To me, and I think you would agree, like, that just.

That to me just makes me fall in love with life even more.

That makes me just love the gods even more.

And yet I don't have to understand it all.

I just marvel at it, you know, it's like, wow.

Yeah.

I think one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen written.

That's like a long way to say it.

Most beautiful thing I've ever read.

Yeah.

Was like, it was when I was doing some soul searching in college specifically about, like, LGBT issues.

And I think it was the Human Rights Commission that put out this statement that was like, specifically talking to Christians.

And they were like.

When they were talking about, like, gender binary and, like, breaking the binary, they were talking about how, like, okay, if you read Genesis, right, God creates, you know, heaven, the earth, blah, blah, blah, and then also creates morning and night.

But what do you call, like an autumn day at, like, 4:45pm it's not day or night, but surely it exists.

And it is like, God given and, like, yeah, why not?

So many of the other things that we kind of put into these neat categories, why can't they also have, yeah.

Like, a broader expression and like a totally legitimate way of being that just doesn't neatly match the two things that were written down one time, you know?

And like, you're saying, I think, like, I read that and so many other things even in, like, God, like post colonial theory, all this other stuff that I'm just like, yeah, this is not like, for me, hurting the case for.

For God or for goodness or whatever.

This is, like, making it so much richer and I'm, like, loving that thing.

I believe in or have faith in, I should say more than I did before.

Right.

So, yeah, it's a weird.

It's a weird good time to be alive with all that stuff.

Well, I'm.

I'm glad to hear you say that, because, you know, I think there are a lot of people out there that think that this is a horrible time to be alive.

And, and I would argue that, you know, objectively speaking, on so many metrics, this is the best time to be alive maybe in the history of mankind.

I don't, I'm not saying it's perfect.

It's far from perfect.

There are major, real fucking problems.

And I understand, I have a certain amount of white privilege and all that good stuff, but I'm just talking about the reality objectively that on so many metrics, not the least of which is, you know, medicine, science, health, you know, so on and so forth.

I mean, I, I wouldn't want to have lived a hundred years ago or 150 years ago or 500 years ago.

It's like, those are brutal times.

Yeah.

I mean, yeah, there's the argument that it was like a simpler time.

And you know, that's something that is true.

But you know.

Yeah, similar if you were, if you were a, maybe a white male property owner.

Right.

You know, in this country at a certain, you know.

Yeah, sure, depending on where you're coming from, maybe.

But, but you know, but there still wasn't indoor plumbing and electricity.

Yeah, exactly.

I still, I have this whole thing about the.

As far as I'm concerned, the best invention ever, hands down, was running hot water on demand.

Potable hot water on demand at your fingertips.

Yeah, it's a fucking game changer.

Like, I'm sorry.

Yeah, no, dude, I still wake up and, you know, I don't know what days this is.

Maybe it's like I just got real good sleep and I'm like about to have my coffee.

But yeah, I like wash my hands or something in the morning.

I'm like, this is a trip.

How is this like in this old kind of, not exactly public housing, but like university housing thing that's just been here forever?

Like, how's this still working?

You know, it's like little miracles every day.

It's awesome.

Well, yeah, and you just think about, you know, what.

Yeah.

What people had to do right, back in the day just to get hot water, the whole thing.

And here we are just living, living luxuriously, you know, turn a knob and there it is.

But, well, anyway, I, you know, I, I'm glad to hear.

And you know, listen, I mean, to the extent that you have hope and faith, I gotta believe that one of the sources of your hope and faith is your art making.

I mean, am I wrong about that?

That's a good question.

I was talking with somebody the other day about art therapy.

Like, I believe, first of all, I believe in art and I believe in therapy and I do believe in art therapy as like a good thing.

I think my practice is sort of like, it doesn't like sustain me in a way that sort of.

It's not like I don't use it to like heal stuff in me, I guess.

Like I use therapy for that or I use like exercise or whatever.

But certainly like, you know, taking some ideas or thoughts that I have and putting them into physical form or just like working with material to then arrive at something that just like makes sense or like precisely doesn't make sense in the right way.

That does kind of.

Yeah, it stokes faith.

I think it stokes faith like meaning or like, I think like, especially if I'm working more sculpturally and just like, I don't know, working with either new materials or like working with old materials in a new way.

And then they surprise me with like a.

A thing I'm not expecting.

Like they splinter in a certain way or they like arrive at a certain surface finish that I wasn't expecting.

I mean, all of that stuff is just like a reminder that like I have not reached the full potential of the waking world yet.

Like this place that we live in is full of surprises and it's just begging us to kind of engage with them and find them.

So I would say in that way it's like my practice making art for me is.

It's definitely a.

It's, you know, it's a.

It is like a faith practice.

It's like a hope instilling thing because it just constantly reminds me that I'm not done yet.

Or like that.

Yeah, there's just more to know and more to love out there.

So, you know, it's not a one to one of like, definitely not therapy, but it is related to it.

Yeah, it's a nurturing thing.

Otherwise, you know, I'd stop.

Like, it's definitely not the money and it's definitely not the, not the prestige.

It is, it's that other thing.

I don't know.

Well, that's.

But that's part of the reason I ask, right, is because, you know, I believe that for so many artists, right, it's not a choice, it's a calling and compulsion or whatever.

And I've just come to believe that, you know, it's a source, it's an energy source, a life affirming energy source for these artists.

Otherwise they couldn't do it, they wouldn't do it.

Right.

And.

And they have to do it.

And maybe that's where they're drawing their, Their life energy from their, you know, and, but, but in.

Baked in there somewhere, I hope there is hope and faith and, and vision and, and, and, you know, and in a, In a sustaining nutrition, you know, whatever, you know, because if there isn't, I, you know, why the hell are you doing it?

Yeah, you know, I don't.

Is a tough, tough, tough life, you know.

Yeah, yeah.

Like you.

You use the word calling, which I.

In some other writings and stuff like, I don't know, I've talked about, but I.

It's something I think about a lot because.

Yeah, when I look around where I am, especially on, like, days when a painting is just not cooperating with me or something, I'm like, what am I doing here?

Yeah, I think that's sort of the only thing that can account for it is.

I do think it is like a calling or like, when I was an undergrad at that Christian college, we talked a lot about vocation and like, that being.

Whatever it is that is the overlap of your specific skills and interests and then the needs of the world.

Like, that's, that's vocation.

And then in a much less beautiful, but I think equally true way, I was a studio assistant for this guy named Ted Prescott, who, oh, I think he was in his late 60s, early 70s when I started working for him in undergrad.

And we would, we would get into it a lot about, like, the value of making art or, you know, choosing this as a career because I was still, you know, a student at that point.

And he, you know, salty New England, raised old at one point was I.

I was like, look, how do you stay in this game?

Like, how do you keep making work when you, as like a, you know, old Christian man, like, pay attention to, like, the suffering of others, you see how much worse it is in, like, Africa or like, the Middle East.

You see all this pain, and yet you can just like, sit here and like, make art.

Like, how.

How do you reconcile that?

And he was like, you know, I think about it like this, that if I don't do it, some other asshole who wants it less and is worse than me at this is going to do it in my place.

So it might as well be me doing it, you know, And I think about that too.

Like, I think about that kind of every day.

I.

I feel called to this, and if I don't do it, maybe that space is going to get taken up by somebody who, like, wants it less or is, like, less compelled to do it.

And, yeah, if I really embody bottoming out, that's kind of what I come back to.

And I'm like, all right, let's just finish this painting.

Let's try to get it done.

Well, so, okay, so in terms of your voice as an artist, you know, in.

I'll preface this by saying, like, we'll.

We'll concede that, you know, it's an ever evolving story, right?

Like, your voice, you know, like, I have a whole thing about, like, you know, this idea of, like, emerging.

Like, are you emerging artists?

Well, I mean, I would argue that every artist should be an emerging artist no matter where you are in your career, right?

You're emerging from where you were yesterday or last year.

So.

But to the extent that, you know, an artist finds their voice and to the extent that that voice evolves and changes, but.

But certainly finding one's voice that first day, right?

That first moment where.

Where it clicks, you know, and you.

And you.

I don't know, you feel like, okay, now I know what I'm trying to say, or now I know what I want to say, or I.

Now I know how to say what I want to say.

You know, my guess is that you feel like you found your voice as an.

As an artist.

Maybe you.

Maybe you don't feel that way.

I don't know.

But.

But talk about your voice.

Talk about your journey to finding your voice and where you're at in terms of saying what you want to say with your voice.

Yeah, I mean, I think I agree with what you said about that kind of perpetual emergence or something as an artist, that's.

That's kind of what I lean into, you know, again, kind of on the subject of categorization and stuff.

Like, I'm.

I'm sort of resigned to the fact that I'm not ever gonna find a place to, like, really put my down, you know what I mean?

Like, and that's.

There's something freeing to that.

I mean, it's like, yeah, just riding a motorcycle into the distance kind of forever, but, like, a lot of real stuff happens along the way.

And so, I mean, in terms of my voice, and it's something that I've talked about with other people before.

Like, I kind of consider myself a liaison a lot of the time that.

To say, like, I find what other people are saying a lot of the time.

So either, like, in history as a discipline or in primary source material, that extra mission series that I did of those really tall sculptures with, like, the wood spikes coming out.

Yeah, a lot of that was me being like, all right, I'm black, I'm religious.

Let's start there and see what comes out.

And I think my voice is sort of just a harmonization of those two things at any given point.

Two things that are sort of apparently distant in space or distant thematically.

And my voice typically ends up being in the middle of those two things.

So, like, another piece that I have on my website called who do youo say that I Am?

Is that same principle of taking two things in one hand, like the lived embodied experience of who Jesus Christ is said to have been, and then in the other hand, the lived embodied experience of trans masculine people.

And I have a good deal of distance from both of those things.

And but putting them together, there's like a really interesting activated space between them.

And that's again, sort of where my voice lies is I don't know if like a.

A band leader or just like an interest intercessor between these two things that, you know, often aren't talked about in the same places.

When they are talked about in the same places is, like, really interesting.

You know, with that specific piece, it was just about like, you know, the final miracle before Christ dies and then comes back to life is, you know, he's on the cross and gets pierced under the ribs by a Roman soldier.

And instead of blood coming out, water comes out.

But if you look at, like, where the incision is, it's like right below one of his pecs.

And, you know, I was thinking about that moment and also thinking about, like, top surgery scars and like, that's that sort of like in the same way, this sight and this sign of this, like, final miracle before you kind of die and then come back to life renewed and sort of like a new person, like a truer person, or like a sort of fulfillment of this promise that you made yourself and made to others.

And again, like, none of that happens.

Like, none of that is stuff I'm, like, already thinking about or saying to anybody.

I just, like, frequently find my voice by picking two things that are just really, really different.

And doing what, you know, in academic speak would be like, comparative analysis.

Like, what does a fork have to do with a lawnmower?

Not a lot immediately, but there's probably something there.

And it's probably a conversation people aren't having.

And so, yeah, I just try to.

I want to say weasel, but I try to.

I try to weasel myself into spaces that are just not.

Not very, like, discussed and not very, like.

Yeah, just not talked about frequently at the same time because that's a new conversation almost always.

So, yeah, I think that's probably the way I find my voice.

And I think too, just, like, trying to, like, keep a moral compass with it, I guess, too.

Like, is it loving?

Is it kind?

Is it true?

Is it faithful?

Is it gentle?

If it's all those things, sure.

Then, like, great.

That's a conversation worth having.

And that's what I try to do.

Yeah, I guess, too.

My dad also plays into that also, like, as far as voice formation, even before I was making art, my dad as, like, a pastor and also a guy who grew up as sort of a.

A lone wolf in a lot of ways.

He, like, frequently found himself on the outside of things and, like, he actually apologized to me once for this.

But yeah, he used to kind of do a lot of, like, scathing critiques of, like, stuff you would see, like, other people doing and sort of, like, put himself in a place of observation and, like, cultural critique a lot.

So that certainly informed my voice and my sort of, like, predisposition towards, like, looking outwards and then trying to bring it in and then send it back out.

But, yeah, it's a long way to say all of that, but that's.

That's, I think, where the voice comes from and kind of what I use as a point of orientation and deciding what to say next.

Well, speaking of what to say next and deciding what to say next as we wrap up today, Kasey, what, what.

What is next for you?

What are you working on right now?

What, what, what?

What is.

What, what, you know, what are you.

What are you searching for right now in terms of what's next?

Yeah, so I.

I am really into this big rock that used to be on the University of Wisconsin's campus.

If you search Chamberlain Rock, it'll show up, but it's a 42 ton boulder that used to be on this hill just, you know, a couple hundred feet from where I'm sitting right now.

And I'm doing, like, a lot of research into how it got there because it was brought in about half a million years ago by glaciers that were coming from southern Canada.

And it took this 42 ton piece of rock and dropped it on this hilltop.

It had this racist nickname that I won't say, but if you Google it, you'll find it.

Okay.

It had this racist nickname attached to it.

And yeah, it was like, in the.

In about the cost of like, you know, $50,000 was taken 10 miles that way southeast, and is supposedly like, you know, not a problem.

But I think it's still kind of a problem, not.

Not in the way that it's racist.

I just think a lot of the decision making around its removal and a lot of how it has been talked about and how that process, how certain students involved and certain administrators involved in this removal were talked about is still a problem and warrants, like, more conversation.

So some of what I'm working on is, like, ways to, like, in scare quotes, like, bring the rock back to campus, maybe reconstructing it at full scale and saying, look, this conversation isn't over.

We're going to talk about this thing some more.

But also, yeah, a lot of stuff about the rock's sort of history and trying to, like.

I don't know exactly how to say it yet, but kind of return some agency to this, like, poor Boulder that, number one, didn't even want to be here as much as a rock can want anything.

It just woke up, quote, one day, hundreds of miles from where it started, and then all of a sudden people are mad at it, and then it gets moved another 10 miles and it's this sort of like, you know, I see a lot of myself in that rock, and I think I also see a lot of other people in that rock, too.

And so I want to give an opportunity through an exhibition in the spring to sort of.

Yeah, give people a chance to look at this very strange sort of myth of Sisyphus type story and find themselves in it and place themselves in it a little bit, because it's super weird.

I think it's super funny.

And, yeah, I've had a lot of good interviews with people involved about it, and they're excited for what I'm going to do it or what we, as kind of a campus community are going to do with it.

So.

Well, that's kind of what's on the deck.

You've got to come back and talk about this when this project has kind of fully been realized.

And it's sort of, you know, for lack of a better way, way of putting it, hanging because.

Because this is so fascinating to me and I think, you know, it totally makes sense to me, knowing you the way I know you and knowing your Work the way I know it and so on and so forth that you would take this on.

And it's, it's so interesting because it's sort of like.

And I have to tread carefully here because as a white guy, like, you know, what do I know but like about systemic racism and so on and so forth about so many things.

But the point is, is that, you know, it's like you talked about, you know, the rock seeing, seeing people in this rock, but it's like the rocks just being a rock and it says so much more about people.

Right?

Like, it's like, it's like this is about, this isn't about the rock.

This is about you people and how you think and feel and what your lived experience is or is it, you know, and.

Wow.

Yeah, that's sort of the central idea though.

That's sort of the central idea I want to unpack is.

And like make known is that you know, as everything that anybody is kind of saying about this rock, they are really kind of saying about themselves.

Totally.

And yeah, that's, that's fertile ground, dude, to have like some uncomfortable, hopefully interesting conversation.

It's called projection.

And the idea that the rock becomes like a screen that you project images on.

Wow, that's, that's awesome, Casey.

I can't wait to hear more about that.

Good, good, good on you pal, for taking that.

That's, that's super interesting and cool.

Please, please, please keep me posted about the progress of that.

And, and Casey, I just, you know, as we wrap up today, man, I just want to thank you for being on.

I want to thank you for being part of our little family and community here at not rellard.

I want to thank you for applying to our grant and I want to congratulate you on your success in your practice and your career and congratulate you on receiving our grant.

Is.

Is as simple as that is.

But I, or self serving as that might be sound.

But I just am grateful for you man.

And thank you for being a part of our community.

Yeah, grateful for you too.

And yeah, again thank you so much for the opportunity and it's been a pleasure, absolute pleasure.

Well, you're welcome back anytime, my friend.

There is more to come.

You're stuck with us, like it or not.

We're like, we're like a fungus.

It's.

We're very hard to get rid of.

But.

But we're, but we're a friendly fungus.

So I don't know if I maybe I should not use that analogy.

Fungus is kind of gross.

But anyway, Casey, be well my friend, and have a beautiful day.

Yeah, you as well.

Thank you.

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