MG: You’ve created trompe l’oeil latex paintings that
appear as sunlight and shadow on walls—walls upon which, in fact, no sunlight
ever falls—and you’ve classified these works as “conceptual sculptures.” What,
exactly, does that phrase mean?
MT: I’ve never thought of those
pieces as paintings, even though the only material involved is paint, because
the piece is only interesting to me when a viewer uses past experiences to
construct what you might call an architectural aperture in order to help explain
the phenomenon. So, as the viewers intervene, in a way, by supplying an
imaginary window, or skylight, or doorway, they visualize—and thus
create—a sculptural change in the room, and they also very often supply a
specific time of day to go with that imaginary aperture and light source. In
fact, viewers usually turn their backs to the “painting,” in order to find the
source of light that they already have in mind, and when that happens it’s no
longer the paint on the wall that’s engaging them. The art is all conception at
that point. And that’s when it gets interesting.
MG: Geometry,
spatiality, structure. The prominent—perhaps even dominant—themes in your work
seem more sculptural than painterly. Do you have a preference for either medium?
Or is that distinction artificial, and meaningless?
MT: You’re right
about those larger concerns, and access to them comes to me from many
directions. So those distinctions, which are very important to many artists, no
longer really serve the work. I’m very comfortable with paint as a medium
because I have a history with it, but it really is a means to an end, and
ultimately subservient to an idea. I don’t favor painting over other media when
thinking about how a particular piece should come together. Each work is
conceived and imagined in spatial terms, no matter what form it finally takes.
