Mike Weber | Bridging Worlds

By Gussie Fauntleroy

This story was featured in the March/April 2019 issue of Southwest Art magazine. Get the Southwest Art March/April 2019 print issue or digital download now–then subscribe to Southwest Art and never miss another story.

FOR MIKE WEBER, the “mixed” part of mixed media applies equally to his art and to his lifestyle. In his widely collected artwork, it means combining a range of materials and processes, including those he happens upon in his continuous explorations. It means mixing imagery and associations from the pop-art world and the natural world. It involves controlled precision and intuitive spontaneity, as well as facility with both technology and hands-on craftsmanship.

In life, Weber refers to his happy hybrid as “one foot in, one foot out.” His artistic playground is an urban studio—until recently in Los Angeles and soon to be in Palm Desert—while his natural playground is the wilderness that’s easily accessible from his mountain cabin in Southern California’s San Bernardino National Forest. Both sides of each equation feed the 44-year-old artist’s creative spirit and bring balance to his psyche and soul.

The urban-rural split has been central to Weber’s life since boyhood. Growing up outside of St. Louis, MO, he loved exploring the forests and farmlands around his home, while attending school in the city and socializing with city friends. Summers were spent at a cabin his father built at Lake of the Ozarks a few hours away. A tool salesman and later a custom-home builder, Weber’s father had a woodworking shop full of tools and passed on to his son a love of working with his hands.

Weber’s mother was a skilled oil painter in a photo-realistic style. When Mike was young, she would draw the outlines of pictures on small pieces of glass, then flip them over and let him fill in the images with acrylic or oil paint. Soon he wanted to make drawings of his own, so he swiped a drawing pad from his mother’s art-supply cabinet and started drawing houses. “My parents didn’t believe they were my drawings,” he remembers. “So to prove it, I went across the street and drew the neighbors’ house. I even made edits for how I’d like it better.” His parents were convinced. For Christmas they gave him a drafting table, paints, markers, and other art tools. “That was really the start of my creative life,” he says.

Meanwhile he was subconsciously storing away visual inspiration from abandoned German and Dutch homesteads nearby. He was drawn to the feeling of age in rusted farm implements and weathered wood, the structures standing like skeletons of once-proud houses and barns. On the family’s drive to and from the lake, he always wanted to stop at thrift shops and junkyards, fascinated by the colors and textures of faded, hand-painted signs and other assorted old things. He didn’t take them home, but years later their decaying, timeworn aesthetic returned in his art.

When he was in high school, Weber became involved in DECA Inc., the Distributive Education Clubs of America, a business and marketing organization for teens. There he created a visual merchandising project that took first place in regional and national competitions. The prize was a full scholarship to The Art Institutes at any of its locations. He chose Dallas, graduating with degrees in visual communications and multimedia computer animation. His first job offer came from George Lucas’ video-game company, to create movie trailers that would run before the games. Although Weber knew it was an exceptional opportunity, he turned it down. “I wanted to follow my heart into broadcast media,” he says. “I wanted to see my animations on TV.”

And he did. He was hired by the Dallas-based start-up Hothaus Creative to produce graphics, animation, and film for major networks including the History Channel and Comedy Central. Weber spent six years with the firm, working in New York, NY; Washington, DC; and other metropolitan areas. On the side he began exploring his own art, experimenting with various painting mediums and styles. At one point a friend who owned a Dallas furniture store saw his work, requested a dozen pieces, and sold them all within a few months.

Weber decided to leave Hothaus in 2001. Once again, he knew he was stepping away from an enviable job, but he also realized it wasn’t his ideal career. “I didn’t want to stay in a dark editing room working on something for three or four weeks that lived on air for 10 seconds,” he says. “I had a burning desire for a career that allowed more time to be outside and to use my hands, instead of computers, to create.”

Before he could shift full time into fine art, however, he ended up taking a several-month detour to Italy. He had been living in New York City and was walking down Seventh Avenue one day when he literally bumped into a fashion photographer. While he helped the man pick up his film canisters, the photographer told him he was looking for a tall, blond, blue-eyed male model for the upcoming fashion season in Milan. The next day Weber went in for a test shoot, and two weeks later he was in Milan. He worked the runway and did some modeling for magazines, but he wasn’t interested in a long-term immersion in the fashion world.

When he returned to the United States he moved to DC, a city that appealed to him for its architecture and for the slower pace of life compared to New York City. There he continued developing his art and also spent almost 10 years as an art consultant representing other creatives. Then it was really time to focus on his own work. He moved to Venice Beach, CA, then to Los Angeles, and finally to a circa 1923 mountain cabin, which he renovated into a four-season home. Reflecting on settling there, he says, “Animals serve as a strong example of how we can live in harmony. I wanted to replicate their lives and get out of the rat race of cities and be in a quieter, calmer environment.”

THESE DAYS animals—both wild and domesticated—are central to Weber’s art. Much of the wildlife photography in his works is from his backcountry hiking, camping, and kayaking trips, while other photographs are taken at wildlife sanctuaries. His photos of cows, pigs, and other domestic animals are sometimes taken at shelters where rescued factory farm animals—discarded because they’re ill or almost dead—are transported and rehabilitated. Incorporating these images into his work provides an opportunity to educate viewers about such sanctuaries and about the need for protecting wildlife habitats.

Weber employs computer technology to remove the backgrounds from his photographs and to determine the photo’s placement in a piece. Working on archival panels, he tunes in to his intuitive side to apply and then partially remove multiple layers of acrylic paint, creating the weathered patinas and textures that first attracted him as a boy. He then uses a special large-format photo-transfer process to archivally transfer the image onto the painting. In many cases he adds bright colors and graphic elements, which reference the contemporary world. A final layer of clear, high-gloss resin adds beauty and depth. A National Endowment for the Arts “Spotlight” film on Weber, created in 2010, captured this quality of his work with its title, “Dipped in Glass.”

A feeling of depth is especially strong in the artist’s Black series. In these pieces he transfers the photograph onto gold or silver leaf over a background of rich black. The striking result is an illusion of pronounced dimension, as if the image is pushed forward and lit from within. The series developed out of a “happy accident,” he says. “I’m always playing with materials, and some of my biggest mistakes become new processes.”

Often Weber incorporates words, phrases, or snippets of song lyrics into his work. The latter may have been part of the attraction for singer-songwriter John Legend, who purchased one of the artist’s earliest photo-transfer pieces. When Architectural Digest magazine did an article on the Manhattan apartment of Legend and his wife, model Chrissy Teigen, a photo of the couple standing by Weber’s piece ended up on the cover.

Other works present lighthearted visions of his subjects, such as CLASS CLOWN: A bear named Brutus, which Weber photographed at a grizzly sanctuary in Montana, sticks out his tongue amidst a flurry of colorful polka dots. Removing wild animals from their natural context allows the viewer to appreciate them in a different way, he says. Plus, “It lets people stand in front of the animal, up close, and see details you would not be able to see in the wild.”

Lately Weber is considering a new series based on landscapes he’s been photographing. Along with mountains, he finds himself drawn to desert colors and geology these days. The effect will be softer, a departure from the more iconic, immediate-impact style he carried over from designing for television and film. “Soft and subtle is not always easy to create. I’m looking forward to exploring that,” he says. He adds that, whatever future direction he may take, nature themes will always be an essential part of his work. “There’s so much out there yet to discover. Who knows what I’ll be making in five or 10 years,” he says. “There’s something that feels very complete in just following your intuition and taking it day by day.”

representationAnn Korologos Gallery, Basalt, CO; The La Jolla Gallery, La Jolla, CA; www.mike-weber.com.

This story was featured in the March/April 2019 issue of Southwest Art magazine. Get the Southwest Art March/April 2019 print issue or digital download now–then subscribe to Southwest Art and never miss another story.

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