DECONSTRUCTING PERCEPTION WITH SAM HUTCHINSON

Firmly entrenched in DIY culture, Sam Hutchinson has honed his craft over the past 11 years. A multi-faceted artist, photographer, musician, skateboarder and zine maker, the 31-year old’s experiences invested in subcultures have guided his artistic and creative practices, imbuing his approach with a sensibility and freeness that comes with an autodidactic mindset.

Born in Sunderland but now based in Leeds, Sam’s creative practice spans a myriad of different mediums, stemming from still life photography and sculpture to publishing, with his own imprint BOOT MAG showcasing a razor-sharp curatorial streak. A pro-skater and vocalist in the hardcore punk band Pleasure, the Northerner embodies the do-it-yourself approach to creative experimentation that pervades so many of his passions, channelling experiences of doing and making into his output across the spectrum of his endeavours.

Connecting with the artist at his studio ahead of the launch of the END. x Vans LX Old Skool 136 “Parachute” collaboration, Sam created a number of sculptural photographs encapsulating the atmosphere and concept behind the product, delivered through his own singular lens. Getting into the heart of his creative practice, END. sat down with Sam to discuss his approach to photography, sculpture and objects, and the impact DIY culture has had on his work.

What originally led you to pursue a career as an artist and photographer?

I got into art and photography through a variety of ways, but predominantly I always had an interest in creative subjects. My brain works in that kind of way where I understand my surroundings and my landscape a lot more through hands-on and visual experiences, and I've always had an imaginative and photographic kind of brain. Academically, I've always been quite bad, so I've tended to understand things and understand the world a bit more through a creative lens.

My introduction to working out that I wanted to pursue somewhat of a career making art and being a photographer, because the two are so intrinsically linked for me, was through things like punk music and skateboarding making me realise that what I was into and what I was doing was a culture that was visual enough to document and then one thing led to the next and I realised that I started understanding more through conceptual art practices and understanding photography as a medium for artistic practice. I make art with photography and images as the base conceptual standpoint and then my ideas develop from there.

Working in both photography and sculpture, your still images often invoke a sense of sculpture within them. Do you see them as an extension of your sculptural work or do they exist as an entirely different thing?

I've always been fascinated with sculpture on a whole, and I think when I started discovering different photographic artists that worked with sculptural forms, I was fascinated by it because, to me, a sculpture is the thing that you define as a construction of materials or a construction of ideas and photography has this really intrinsic power to manipulate your idea of the representation of reality. So, when I'm making sculpture, I like the idea that the things that I'm creating and photographing, that same object, as an idea or concept, can exist in a variety of different ways, whether it's as an image or pieces of a physical remnant. There are so many more interesting things to say in our current age of consumption of images and the way that we consume things like advertising, media and social media. We view the world and how people and events, politics and other things are represented through images. There’s so much to understand and deconstruct by trying to work out how people perceive the representation of truth within images. A physical sculpture exists as this one object, but with a photographic sculpture, I can reuse the same materials to talk about different elements of some sort of concept that I'm working towards.

What is great about that is that the process of it lends itself really nicely to things like commercial photography and work like that I really enjoy doing because I can use something for an organization or a brand to create something interesting that has more context than the original objects and being able to transform an object or a product into something that takes the audience into a tangible reality, but also surreal, I think is a really nice way to engage with objects, sculpture and products.

Your latest solo exhibition, Vape Cloud Premonition, looked to depictions of threat for inspiration, filtered through the shroud of Y2K aesthetics that have become synonymous with our current era’s premier obsession. What appeals to you about the aesthetics of threat? And how do we tangibly determine what threat is when so many subcultures utilise these aesthetics with the aim of titillation and excitement?

Going back to the representation of reality and the representation of some sort of subject that we view within an image, everything means something different to everyone, and in our current day and age our current societal norms ensure that we have these ideas that something that's dark or gothic or edgy is this source of evil. Whereas I think that the evilest things in the world wear a suit and they're driven by greed and this corporate ideal of capitalism. So, we've got this weird juxtaposition of aesthetic representation, where the aesthetics that we deem traditionally maybe horrifying or evil are actually quite ironic, and Y2K aesthetics have especially capitalised on that and it's almost as if they're a weird, ironic representation of themselves. I quite like the idea that the subject of an image or the focus of one of my artworks could be seen instantly as something quite negative or evil, but it's slightly tongue in cheek. You know, it's grinning and bearing it through what it's actually depicting.

In my last solo show, Vape Cloud Premonition, I had photographs that look very sculptural of gravestones, which we associate with things like death and trauma. But the gravestones in the image, if you look closer, are actually representations of gravestones that a funeral director was selling. So, even this object of death becomes something capitalised on and commercial. And you know, things like the Blade DVDs, the film’s idea is that it's depicting this violent, hot, kind of aggressive, protagonist. But actually, it's very camp and of its time, and it's almost quite queer and how it represents itself is sleek and all the black leather and latex outfits. It's actually really like full of this unashamed version of self, and that's a good depiction of something that's trying to be aggressive, but actually it's quite different in reality.

These ideas of representation play with our inbuilt notions of what we deem on first glance to be somewhat negative or positive. This kind of thing translates over into a lot of persuasive or propaganda-based imagery where the media is dominated with political or advertising bias. And I don't think there's any image that's made without bias because even documentary photography can be problematic in that it never documents something without a neutral point of view.

Why do you think our generation has this fascination with Y2K aesthetics? Is it just the twenty-year cycle coming around again? Do people have this anemoia and faux nostalgia for something, or do you think it is because we can apply these more contemporary readings onto this different era now?

I grew up partly without the internet and without a phone, but I also grew up at a very crucial point where I was becoming a young adult with the internet and with a phone. So, I think Y2K for me signifies this change in the way that we all communicate and see the world because we're exposed to all this information so quickly and things like the birth of the internet around that time, or at least accessible internet, means that as a kid, I was exposed to things horrific shock websites, which doesn't really happen as much now, and I wonder if people, especially from my generation, have a different kind of outlook on life because they saw this unfiltered version of the internet that was maybe a little bit more like horrifying. Around Y2K, we've got this excitement about the development of technology, and I don't think we have that excitement about technology anymore because people are so used to the idea that we have these objects that are so easily obtainable or easily usable that can make our life so much easier. Whereas around that time, it seemed like the possibilities were infinite to what kind of technology would be created, and I think there was a real optimism around the time of the new millennium that we were about to enter this world that had infinite possibility. Whereas I feel like the outlook isn't as optimistic anymore, within social and political contexts, probably worldwide. Maybe that time signifies the last source of optimism that people understood, or at least they can understand through rose tinted glasses. People that weren't from that generation can kind of sense the optimism, even through representations of the media or the music or the art and culture at the time.

You founded BOOT Magazine in late 2023 and have recently released the second issue. What is it that you’re looking to celebrate in the work that you feature in the magazine? Is there a shared ethos that binds the contributors together?

The magazines I buy tend to be fashion, or more political, or specific to a subject rather than on the general subjects of photography and art, I think this annoys me- it seems hard to find a magazine that crosses the boundaries of a photobook/art publication and magazine. I find that a lot of photography magazines tend to be quite old guard, less affordable if they're more art based, or show a failure to not lean to cultural clout or being narrow within the conceptual photographic spectrum. I wanted to create a magazine that is both unique in its concept, and financially accessible. Essentially the cliche of creating something that I want myself or that I feel doesn't already exist. All of the contributors I feature show a perspective of both issues themes (Harsh Tender, and Reality Paradox) that I feel access a new point of understanding image and the nuances between fiction and reality, or more so, creating fiction from something that exists. This issue is something I think drives my obsession with photographic art, and I'm always very thankful that the contributors trust me with their work, most of it which is new and/or unpublished, to represent them to an audience in the right way. 

What has the experience of running a magazine taught you about your own approach to creating art and photography?

That making work can truly transgress most usual logic, in that you can be conceptual, mature and cheeky at the same time. You can show both humour and compassion, using something that is exciting or hot whilst instinctually creating something raw and real. Images are so open to interpretation, but we can also be guided through routes of context that help us to find our own meaning to why we resonate with the subjects depicted. I enjoy being able to curate works also that I might not usually make myself, work which inspires and informs my own practice whilst not aesthetically or conceptually being something that I would choose to express myself. It's another dimension to experiencing and understanding work- being able to add my own layer to artists/photographers by curatorially asking questions. I think as a creative, having many visceral ways to interact with our interests and studies can only help us to understand the world better. 

As a prolific zine maker, what is it about that sort of practice, alongside your more traditional approach to exhibiting your work, that you find so compelling about making zines?

I think zines are just so accessible and so integral to the development of ideas and concepts when you work, especially with images, because zines don't have to be this large, finalized book, they can be an explosion of experimentation, and it's just putting something to print and having something that's cheap to make and cheap to buy. If someone goes to an exhibition, the chances are a lot of people that are working class, working artists, can't really afford to buy art that you see in exhibitions, whereas most people can afford a zine. I think that accessibility is really important when it comes to how we consume and look at art, especially physical art, because online we see images in the same format so much. You're desensitised to it. With a zine, you can create something cheap and accessible that has an element of yourself in there, and you can share it with an audience in a way that's curated so that they can absorb it. I also think that zines are just so fun in terms of the community they foster. I work for Village, which is a bookshop and a gallery based in Leeds and Manchester, and Village and Joe Tord, who runs it, were a really important group of people that helped shape my artistic practice today by just finding a community where I could talk about these things and artist books and photography and these different ideas around what was accessible and the challenges with class in the art world as well. I think artist books and zines are a really good way to dissect these notions and get ideas out on paper.

Outside of your artistic practice, you’re a pro skater and have been involved in the subculture for a long time now. Do you feel that your experiences as a skater and your experiences in the hardcore scene have informed your artistic practice in any way?

It's really funny actually when I think about that, you know, if I meet someone new, especially if they're from an older generation, I am literally the definition of the worst, most cliche millennial ever. I'm a vocalist in a hardcore band that also works as an artist and photographer and as a skateboarder. I'm glad I'm in a relationship because I if had to put that on a dating profile, I would just look like the biggest arsehole ever. (Laughs)

I think all of these things appeal to me because they all come from a place of DIY culture and there being no boundaries. With punk and hardcore, anyone can learn to play an instrument. It doesn't need to be technically precise, and it's the same with art, you can craft your practice as much as you want, but it's just that expression. Skateboarding is a really physical and raw expression where you can be creative or you can be technical, and I feel like with hardcore and punk music and art and photography, they all share the same drive where it's all about the expression and the output for these ideas. And the kind of concepts or the physicality of all of these things, the way it manifests is true to yourself. If you put work into these creative things, rather than you directing yourself into how it wants to aesthetically or musically or visually be, it's more the way that you learn and understand these things that dictates how the output appears in the world. I think that's a really authentic and honest way to express yourself.

I always joke that skating gets a lot of my mental and physical energy out, whereas art and photography is more of a precise way of learning and understanding the world. Then hardcore, similar to skating, is more of a visceral, raw and personal outlet to release energy out in a positive way.

Vans has been a classic brand for many skaters since its conception in 1966. Can you remember your first experiences with their shoes? Why do you think they have had such a long-term impact?

 I've skated and worn Vans my whole life, and to me, my favourite thing about Vans, especially when I was younger, was the fact that Vans had a crossover with different subcultures, like art, music and skateboarding. Vans transcended all of these subcultural references. I think they're still very authentic to themselves and how they sponsor skateboarders or music events and have a creative direction. They’re always pushing it out there and trying to do something interesting that hasn't quite been done before, especially with different events that they've done around Europe in the last few years.

It's been really exciting to be part of some of those to see how it can benefit skateboarders, creatives and fashion in a way that represents subculture still to this day after probably going on 50 years now.