In the Studio with Indiana Hoover

It feels like every inch of Indiana Hoover’s studio wall is covered in faces. Applied in thick lines, the jagged, distorted features applied to scores of canvases of different sizes—jutting chins, protruding brows and eyes with dense black pupils—make the small room feel crowded.

“I guess there’s a uniformity to them,” says Hoover, sat on a cool box on the studio floor. “I studied traditional drawing and painting, and for a long time I was really interested in a more realist tradition of art making, but that ended up feeling boring after a while, so now I’m mostly focused on simplifying forms. When a painting is successful, for me, is when it feels like I am expressing a lot with very little. Editing it down to its strongest, purest, points.”

Tall and bearded with a languid manner and a frank way of speaking, Hoover feels like a friendly throwback, the sort of artist who isn’t prone to arrogance or grand gestures. He grew up in New York and can walk home from this out of the way pocket of Queens. As well as his own art practice, he’s also a talented curator. At the end of March he’s putting together a group show in LA, featuring friends and artists like Julian Pace, Karin Campbell and Zack Rosebrugh.

“I've never really been motivated by money,” says Hoover, which is something a lot of artists say, but feels genuine in the context. “I've never had a lot, and I don't imagine I ever will, so art is something that I enjoy sharing and I don't like a high barrier for entry.”

Some of his experiments with different forms of distribution have included $30 portraits sold via Instagram, and a large canvas of his being included in a show where every work was priced at 99 cents. His studio is scattered with gifts and exchanges. A painting swapped for a sculpture or a piece of pottery, made by friends and contemporaries. He opens up the cool box and passes around some beers.

“I wanted to do something giant for it that was worth way more than 99 cents,” he says. “I liked the idea of having a conversation about what the value of art is, who gives a shit? It’s funny, the owner of the gallery bought it. Some people were a bit upset about that, but it was out of my hands!”

Hoover is also trying out some new approaches with his own work. Most of the canvases on his walls are drained of colour, a gut punch of black and white paint. “I’m trying to treat the paintbrush like a pencil,” he says, “and it's just easier with black and white. Maybe at some point we'll get some more colour in there, I’m sure people would appreciate it. The colour things I make tend to sell, so we’ll see.”

“Currently I’m interested in parsing, editing, getting to the point. Whether that’s something silly like an email, or with my paintings. I really just want you to feel something, and I want that to happen as quickly as possible.”