Interview with artist Ernie Parada

Ernie Parada: I grew up in a very creative family. We were much more of an art-and-music family than a sports family. I also grew up in Astoria, where every kid I knew was a musician or an artist of some kind. The whole neighborhood was like that, so art has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. As a kid, drawing was all I wanted to do. Early on, I was hugely inspired by album cover art and the growing graffiti movement.

 

 

In my neighborhood there’s a shop called Yogi Lala that’s been there for over 50 years. In the early ’80s, they had in-house graffiti artists, some of whom went on to become legends like Caine One, Lee, and Lady Pink, who would paint the backs of denim jackets. The shop hung Polaroids of these masterpieces for everyone to see, and I was mesmerized. I had to learn how to do that. I asked around until I found out about acrylic paint, and that’s why I still use acrylics today. What makes painting different from music or graphic design is that there’s no collaboration. It’s just you and your thoughts. You’re doing exactly what you want to do.

 

 

Definitely. I’ve spent most of my life in the New York hardcore scene. I basically grew up inside CBGB. I’ve been playing and recording since I was 15, and I just released a new album this week (ernieparada.com/discography). I think that experience shows up in the gritty, unforgiving lens I see the city through. New York City is my main subject and my passion.

 

 

 

 

I like to paint ordinary situations, things anyone could see on any day but never stopped to notice how interesting they are. Often I’ll add something off or askew so the painting raises a question. I’m very inspired by René Magritte, and like him, I have a long background in advertising. Good advertising is built on a great idea, and a great idea is really a different way to tell a story. That’s what always intrigues me.

 

 

Before I start. Not every painting has one, and I like that too. Sometimes it’s just a scene, nothing more. But if you’re familiar with my work, you might spend a few extra seconds looking for it. Very little in my work is accidental. Almost everything is carefully planned.

 

 

That’s the act of designing the painting. I’ll get an idea like “the moon is in a giant birdcage on a rooftop in Brooklyn.” Then I ask: what do I need to include to get the viewer to consider that concept and nothing else? Any element that doesn’t serve that goal gets removed.

 

 

Yes. I think I’m wrapped up in the emptiness of places. I love finding locations, or moments, that few people ever experience, whether because it’s early in the morning or because they’re behind a locked gate. Empty subway seats, lonely streets, rooftops. I’m not sure it’s loneliness so much as emptiness.

 

Could you elaborate on how "emptiness" connects to recurring motifs like subway stations, rooftops, and the moon in your new body of work, Askew?

 

I think it's the sense of ownership that one feels when they arrive at a place in their hometown that's completely empty. When you get into a train and there's nobody there or platform, or even just looking up at a building with all the lights off but one, there's a certain sense of this is mine, this is my city. 

 

 

 

 

I can only hope it’s the feeling you get the first time you see The Son of Man. Actually, The Empire of Light is my standard of excellence. Something is off, and you don’t know what, but when you finally get it, it’s brilliant. They used to say in advertising, “The burn can be slow, but it better be hot."

 

In painting these locations, do you feel you remain an observer or become part of the space itself?

 

You are an observer. in a strange way, like you are a parent. This place is not strange to you. It's in your blood. It's very, very familiar. It's almost like you're painting a portrait of a loved one while they're in a very strange, unusual mood.

 

 

In some ways yes, and in some ways no. Just as I want to show scenes most people don’t notice, sometimes I’m the one not noticing. I actually have a painting called I Didn’t Even Notice about exactly that. I never realized how incredible a certain view was because I saw it every day. But I love this city as much as I ever did, and with each passing day I feel a little more ownership of it.

 

What shift do you hope viewers experience in how they perceive their own daily surroundings after seeing this body of work?

 

 It's not a shift, it's an alignment. I would love for viewers to have a sense of "I know exactly how that feels " even if they've never been in New York City, I'd love for the viewer to associate closely with the feeling that I'm trying to convey.

 

 

I’d like to take this as far as I can, and then who knows. I constantly consider switching to oil paint, but that would mean changing the way I think about building a painting, and I’m not sure I’m down for that.

 

 

 

Ernie Parada's exhibition Askew will open on December 12th at Harman Projects NYC!

 

An advance collector's preview will be available online before the exhibition opens, if you would like to receive a price list please contact us at info@harmanprojects.com