FLINT BUTERA
Street artist, thirty-something. Born in Little Italy, lives in Brooklyn. Has the most refreshing laugh. Connects with Thoreau because, as he puts it, "He is a good observer of people, and so am I." Resurrects pieces of trash into anti-icons. Collage.
What's the difference between selling in the street and selling through galleries? It's all shady. It doesn't make a difference; it all becomes tainted once money becomes involved.
Are you able to make a living doing this? I don't know what you call making a living.
A rent check. Rent? That's hard to come by. I don't want to get into financial things but
Nah, it's just one of the day-to- day things an artist suffers through. Financial sufferings are nothing compared to the sufferings of talking to dull people all day. You know what I was thinking today? I was praying that they would come up with a time machine, because I would be first on fucking line. I would go anywhere where it's normal to be intellectual.
Is art some form of escapism? No, I would never want to put myself through this torture just to escape. I would just go on some long vacation. I don't want to escape; I want to be out there with the people, talking about art and crazy shit like that. I like to hear people's opinions. Thoreau said he'd walk a mile if someone asked him his opinion. I feel the same way.
Explain art. That's like explaining God, forget it.
Explain your relationship with art. It's very cruel. Your brain tells you to make it, and then you have to figure it out. You become like Sherlock Holmes, and there's no Watson, so you're really fucked up.
You told me that selling art on the street is prostitution. Why? Because I've literally been standing on the corner for 14 years. I'm sure I got more time in than any hooker on 42nd St. during the 70s.
Do you think that your art is a reflection of yourself? No, this is my everyday impression of the streets, a reflection of what I think people are. This is a mirror of society.
What is beauty? Beauty is a concept like plastic surgery. I don't believe in beauty, even though everyone else does. Beauty is like a religion, and I don't pray to that church, because it's a false god. That's why my art is not considered beautiful.
If this isn't beautiful, what is it? It's real. Reality is not a pretty picture.
Flint Butera sells on the corner of Greene and Mercer Sts. in Soho. His work can be seen online at artphobia.com.