HWT—The world is constantly changing. I think you're right that the past 20 years have appeared to be radi- cally and rapidly evolving, asking each of us to reeval- uate who we are, what we are, what we do and how we do it. But I don't think that's limited to the creative field. From my experience, it's how we're experiencing gender, how we're experiencing race, how we're experiencing class, even how we’re experiencing nationality. Over the past 20 years, the way we look at things that have been relatively fixed has become much more complicated. I don't separate the way that I live and what I do into work and not work or art and not art. It's all my life. I'm an eclectic person who has a broad range of interests, and this is something that a lot of people of African descent negotiate. We negotiate being multifaceted, complex people and being expected to conform or live within a box already prescribed for us. I don't think that's just people of African descent, but I think that the pressure of the box feels more confining for many of us in this country. So, for me and I imagine many others, excelling outside of the place where we first gained ‘validity’ is a way of finding some form of liberation or emancipation.
EO—I really dig that answer. I want to delve into your recent exhibition, The New Black Aesthetic. We've talked a little bit about this before, but throughout your practice, you often return to images of sports players, examining the complex relationship between the sports industry and Black men. In some of my favorite works of yours, especially the older pieces, you made powerful critiques on the sports industry. Your Liberty sculpture almost presents a different perspective when you look at it—it's more of an uplifting or aspirational type of feeling that I get from looking at it. On one end, you're celebrating the upward mobility created through these athletes' ascent into superstardom. On the other end, we see a critique of the power structures that permeate them. Can you speak to this duality and the nuanced way you enjoy and participate in the spectacle of sports, or I guess any system, while also understanding some of the deeper implications?
HWT—This question makes me think of Guy Debord's book, The Society of Spectacle. In it, he describes the spectacle or what we would call the modern-day media machine as an instrument to distract and pacify the masses and basically keep the wheels of consumerism turning. This process alters our view of reality and turns everything into a commodity. It encourages us to focus on appearances and symbols rather than genu- ine human interaction. Carce says ‘the spectacle is not a collection of images rather, it is a social relation among people, mediated by images.’ [Debord’s] book is a multi- faceted and shifting gaze on the spectacle and spec- tator. It embodies some of my thoughts in a lifelong process of finding myself in relation to the spectacle of sports and the NBA and any other spectacle in which I might be participating. In my work, I'm engaging in this conversation, acknowledging the allure of the spectacle and breaking down these symbols and images to help the viewer and myself make sense of what you called ‘the deeper implications.’
EO—When I applied for a role in your studio years ago, I remember stating that I saw you as the ‘Black Rich- ard Prince’ in my cover letter. I'm not sure if you read the cover letters or if someone else read them...
HWT—No, I read the cover letters.
EO—I like to think that was part of the reason why you guys were like, ‘Okay, we'll give him a shot.’ Obviously, you and Richard Prince have entirely different practices. Still, I think I was speaking to the ability you just referenced to take images and symbols that are recognizable in our society, deconstructing them in a way that questions the way our world operates. I view you as a social psycholo- gist and even a cultural healer. In a hundred years, when we look back at your practice, what impact do you want it to have on people on a social and psychological level?
HWT—Isn't it enough to just be remembered? That's my answer to that question, but I can expand on it.
EO—I would absolutely love for you to expand on it!
HWT—One hundred years from now, will there even be a world as we know it, based on the catastrophic forecasts we are learning about? I want people to be alive, safe and healthy in a society where the work that I/we make is still relevant. If those circumstances exist, I would hope they are somewhat proud of who we are and what we have done. Think about it: this generation knows that the world is overpopulated and that our lifestyles are creat ing irreparable harm to all future societies. This gener ation has had more privilege than any other generation of human beings collectively, yet has not overcome the desire to kill and maim other human beings and has even eradicated other species. I just hope that people in a hundred years will have mercy for us because, yes, differ ent generations might have caused a lot of harm, but they did not know what we know. So, when I think about my work, which is my life, I would love for future genera tions to think that I cared about them... But it would also be enough just to be remembered.