Gary Taxali in his Toronto studioPeter Power/The Globe and Mail
Gary Taxali, 42, has been commissioned to do work for magazines from GQ to Fortune to Reader's Digest, as well as galleries the world over. The OCAD faculty member was just in New York, where his work was part of a group show produced using a new Polaroid printer – a project affiliated with their new creative director, Lady Gaga. His next solo show is in April, 2012, at The Outsiders, an alternative space in London run by Steve Lazarides, England-based graffiti artist Banksy's former agent. Mr. Taxali's creations have also leapt into action as vinyl toys, on wine labels, as a children's book ( This Is Silly!) and now in two books collecting his work, I Love You, OK? and Mono Taxali, both of which will be launched at the AGO this week.
You graduated from OCAD in 1991. Would you say the scene was more friendly then or now to illustrators?
It wasn't friendly then. When I was starting out, there was a recession, and in many ways it was a really great thing for me because a whole lot of people were complaining, but since I was starting at the bottom, there was no place left to go but up, so everything was a perk. I didn't know any better. I kind of think that there's a better community today – things are nicer now. I can't comment on fine art so much because even though that's become a bigger part of my career, I didn't get into it until about ten years ago.
Are there people in Toronto who are your contemporaries from that time?
Not so much in Toronto because I've always been kind of disconnected from what's happened here. To be honest, I think most of the artists [like me]are California-based. Why that is, I don't know – they're not originally from California, but they just happened to have ended up there. One person I have to say I have a lot of crossover with is Marcel Dzama, because he and I have been in a lot of the same shows and books. He's a brilliant artist, and I do think that his success has really helped me a lot.
Are there particular places in the city that you're inspired by?
Oh yeah, my neighbourhood. I live in the Junction, my studio is in an old felt factory built in 1929 next to the train tracks. I think it's a really unique neighbourhood. I've been to Portugal and the bakery next door to me, the Caldense Bakery, has pastries and snacks that rival any Lisboan pastry. Also, there's a puppet shop around the corner from me, and it puts a big smile on my face every time I drive by. I've been in there a couple of times – [the owner]makes handmade puppets and she sells vintage puppets. She's the real deal.
Out of curiosity, have you been to The Monkey's Paw vintage bookstore?
Many, many times. I have to be careful going there because usually I walk out of there after spending a few hundred dollars, but I have to because it's just so incredible what they have.
A lot of your characters seem anxious, but they're presented with humour, too. What draws you to that combination?
Well, everything is a self-portrait. I think anything anybody makes is a self-portrait to a degree, when you're honest about it. That said, I'm not saying I'm an anxiety-ridden mess [laughs] There is definitely a humorous cynicism in my world; the characters are more like me – less in the way they look, or at least, I hope so – and more in their reaction to things, strange, contradictory things in the world. A lot of the time, I don't see them as being anxiety-ridden, I just see them as being, uh, inquisitive.
You obviously have a relationship with Depression-era art, and you've worked that into your own vernacular. But you don't dress like your characters, or eschew pop culture. Is it a nostalgia thing, is that you want to live back there? Or is it just aesthetic?
It's a combination of both. I'd only want to live back there because so much of what was happening in the world are things I like. You know, there's a great line in the latest Woody Allen film, Midnight in Paris – I'm not even going to do it justice –something along the lines of, 'We look back at things and we like things from the past because we're unhappy with things in the present.' And maybe there is kind of a disdain for a lot of regurgitation that's going on. It's really rampant in art and design, rather than people trying to do innovative things.
Back then, people had limited means – having to work with two or three colours – the economy wasn't good, and I think people were just very resilient and were working with what they had.
I don't think I could survive one single day in 1930. I think I would be disgusted by the [lack of]hygiene, the lack of availability of things … [laughs]
This interview has been condensed and edited.