interview
hedges publications
interview february 2022
details + words written september 2022
Thomas Stokes
Thomas Stokes
To Stokes, the mob accumulating in the background took the form of bedroom walls, and his group of faces staring back at him when he woke every morning. Laughing, Thomas explained “When I was back at the old house, I would paint and sleep in the same room. I used to be able to wake up and look over and see the art that I was working on right there.”
In time, the growing audience of people that would come to know him and of him, not including the figures borne from his imagining, would diverge in a growing community of artists that were identifying with one another on Twitter. “I’m kind of a hermit. It’s funny how little experience I get out of San Antonio because I’ve lived here my whole life. Those [inspirations] that you’re talking about, I mostly find from the internet.”
Thomas and a handful of others forged from this community would come to find themselves at the forefront of a converging boom in tech and art. Specifically, Thomas was heard loud and clear – his voice on the platform had grown louder. It was always convenient to imagine a makeshift gallery that was cast through Twitter dealings with which I could stand before these portraits. I felt among them, and the community of people watching Thomas Stokes grow, and everybody there seemed to be talking about it.
Thomas Stokes III always spoke. He was always having a conversation. The dialogue of his family of “characters” has been filling spaces both digital and physical. If the paintings could talk, they would have lots to say, and I could hear the voices of the womanly figure in Mirror/With You, the man in Kaleidoscope and a counterpart in the central panel of Triptych bouncing off the walls of my mind. Even from the seat in front of a screen, the paintings ensure a piercing gaze – almost forcing you to respond to them.
The paintings don’t actually talk. In fairness, Stokes himself doesn’t lead on much: he is a reserved individual, conscious of tone, at times even asking me whether or not he was “doing okay,” throughout our conversation. Oddly enough, despite this, Thomas and I spoke on numerous occasions, for some time, almost as if our fleeting moments of online passing-by were reality, and we had known each other for some time. I had first come across Thomas in 2018, with his at times wordless posts communicating solely through piercing glances vis-a-vis the figures he created.
“I think I had quit those two part time jobs around the time that I had created and minted Catalyst.” The completely immersive piece marked an important step for Stokes. And from a distance, it was evident there was a movement that resembled wading into unchartered waters for the artist. At the epicenter of the world of the digital piece Catalyst – which originated as a sketch – was a character who seeped from the peripheries of himself. The emanating figure could be viewed digitally through AR applications if pointed with a phone camera at the physical painting.
“Part of that [change] was because I got really good feedback from doing the painting, animating it, and incorporating virtual reality into it. It was really exciting because it was something new for me, and it was something I had not felt for a while in my own art. I had friends telling me that it was next-level stuff, and I should keep going with it. I always had a burning passion for creating art, and shortly after making that piece, well, when I was working [my part-time jobs] I always had the thought like, ‘why am I doing this, when I should be doing my art, potentially making even more during it?’”
The explorative move into creating digital art and surfacing on platforms with which Stokes’ work could be consumed further than just Twitter or Instagram ironically made his impact more experiential. Leaving the stat, which was a rarity for him, Stokes found himself in Miami, stood in front of the SuperRare Monolith. The satire of the occasion was rooted in the fact that Stokes, who transitioned from making pieces a few square feet at a time to digital works, found himself stood in front of this 23 foot obelisk in the middle of Miami. On the second last day that the monolith stood, Thomas stood as the darkness fell, waiting for Hedgehog’s Dilemma to stare him back in the eyes several times. It was indeed digital, but it felt more real than it had before.
“It felt different. One word to describe it would be more alive. [There were] other exhibitions that I had shown in… [but] it was the first time I had a community experience from showing, so that meant a lot to me.”
And it was indeed a community showing. For what felt like the first time – the community of those who were making conversation with his characters – were surrounding Thomas in Miami. I distinctly remember one photo of Fewocious and Stokes at an event in Miami and felt a sense of vindication as a fan and observer of both of their works. For as much as digital platforms such as Twitter bridge its users in whatever community, it is simultaneously a fissure of connection, one that Thomas mentions was missing in past exhibitions and experiences. These minute instances: the connection of long-time, distant friends or the actualization in grand form of a figment of an artist’s imagination, flesh out and elucidate the year and change that Thomas is reflecting on.
The venture into digital art and NFTs for a traditional artist feels like a tall order, but it is something that Thomas executed seamlessly. At the time of our conversation, the landscape for NFTs and the discourse of its ethics and use was at a turbulent high. Being vehemently against the industry as a broad stroke is to minimize the multi-faceted dimensions that has come with it and the artists who represent it. It would be foolish to minimize it simply to these reductions, to these arguments, but the digital art market and its impact is indeed an issue that requires revision. For its process in mining the currency, for the inaccessibility for some and preference for others, and multitudes of other contentious issues are symptoms of a recent revolution in an art mode that (already) again needs revolution in order for its persistence.
Regarding the backlash surrounding the NFT community, Thomas takes a rather removed approach. That isn’t to say that he sees himself outside of the community or is disavowing of any harm that it might cause. In our conversation, he offered perspective on the impact of digital art and NFTs on a micro level, which without, I might still have left this conversation viewing with reproach. He primarily referenced finding a community that had blossomed as a result of his participation, stating he “met a lot of artist friends through this space.”
“It felt different. One word to describe it would be more alive.”
Perhaps more importantly, the social and financial mobility afforded to young artists in tense living conditions is something that deserves a greater consideration. Whilst the attention to the transgressions of a trade must be brought to attention, as an onlooker whose preference tends toward traditional art modalities, it is impossible to ignore the impact that it has had on artists like Thomas, or his peers, like the aforementioned Fewocious. A quick look through Fewocious’ contributions to digital art, at a quick glance of his SuperRare profile, shows an astonishing return for a deserving talent. For any avid or long-time follower of him, his mobility and interaction with other proficient artists offers a sense of pride in the progress made in his work. Although the accessibility issues surrounding digital art and the participation of whom in what spaces can be brought to question, it can ultimately be deceptive to imply that many of these artists are not from humble beginnings. It has in fact recourse for many deserving artists who might not have had their work as accessible as it is on this current platform.
Thomas offered perspective on this, saying that “Fewocious and I were not the only ones that were able to change our lives that inhabit this space. This is something that cannot be pushed to the side or ignored. With any space, even compared to traditional artwork, there are issues – those aren’t things that I necessarily have control over, so that is something I try not to worry about so much. I can only speak for myself.” In our dealings, I often drew back to a particular photo shared of a rather crowded bedroom, filled with glances from his various onlooking characters of his own creation. Thomas’ reference of his two part-time jobs is indicative of a suppression of his own free time, of his thoughts and ideas, and ultimately of his ability to seriously consider himself an “artist”.
I think it was a personal crime to not know much of San Antonio before approaching a conversation with Thomas. I seldom get time to myself, but I often spend it walking – wherever I may be. I think it is a rare skill to know any city like the back of your hand, and I can confidently meander mapless in about 3 or 4 cities. It’s one of my own greatest accomplishments. I think that the environment of an artist is integral to the assembly of their personal lore or story fabricated through their work. Speaking with Thomas, my curiosity probed where he could have frequented to birth such pieces.
“I was thinking about external inspiration. Is there any place that perhaps you go to for solace or for inspiration that might play a role in your art, or even as a general influence?”
“You mean around San Antonio?” Thomas lets out a rare laugh: “not really, I’m kind of a hermit,” he reiterates. “It’s funny how little I know San Antonio because I’ve lived there my whole life. Those things that you’re talking about, I mostly find on the internet.”
I should have known.
Thomas would fleetingly refer to San Antonio. As it stands, Thomas is fully moved in to his new place, a place he holds dearly to himself both for being his own space, and additionally for having a “studio” – a second bedroom in the unit – which eliminates any drive necessitated by an external studio space. This exchange told me all I needed to know about my question.
“I’m kind of a hermit. It’s funny how little I know San Antonio because I’ve lived there my whole life. Those things that you’re talking about, I mostly find on the internet.”
-Thomas, on finding inspiration using his surroundings
Space is not simply limited to environment or confined to by the notion that it is simply a plein with which we trot as my previous question to Thomas may suppose. Of consequence in this formula of “inspiration” are people that are adjacent to Thomas. He spoke fondly of San Antonio artists, who themselves kept mostly to San Antonio; they found their niche, they stuck to it, and it reflected in the local art scene, from what Thomas led me to believe. Thomas’ work is not drawn from this, but instead form the vibrant internet culture incubating general arts.
With the ascent of digital arts culture, comes a plethora of opportunity, but an imminent prospect of encroachment on others’ artistic enterprises, styles, or even unwitting plagiarism, in the most innocent of cases. Stokes was unphased, and nor should he be, of the potential for such admonishment. The stress of the potential of foreign ideas to seep into his practice was not an enticing enough fear to sway the stoic artist. Despite his “increase in consumption of digital art” since entering the NFT space, Stokes “would say vibrancy is a result of me looking at more digital art and incorporating the things that I like from it in my own work.” At a glance, differences in his work overtime are quite evident. Yes, the imagery is more refined, and Stokes has indeed made his own impression of his Bacon influence, but the colours have certainly dropped their original, warm feel for a more vibrant, direct feel. And what it has done is add to the story of the character, which is fitting for the transition he has made into more detailed portraits of individuals.
A commonality in a lot of Thomas Stokes pieces is the use of shape. While the colour has changed, and so have the stories, the shapes have been relatively consistent in the work, a landmark feature in Thomas Stokes pieces. “I really like biomorphic shapes, not just in art, but in furniture, so that is something that I try to maintain in my work.”
This represented a foray into other art forms that frequent Thomas’ orbit in this digital spaces and communities. When good art is easy to come by, there will almost always be a fittingly paired taste in furniture, which Thomas has a keen eye for. The shapes in his works are simply an homage to this.
It was hearing the culmination of Thomas’ experiences and inspirations that drew me to ask a parting question of his “figures” or “characters” that we so often come to meet as viewers of his work.
“I would consider them all to be a self-portrait of me in a way, but I wouldn’t largely attribute them as self-portraits,” Thomas responded when asked if the works were a figment of him. “In Rebirth, that whole piece reflected my life experiences within those past few months. A lot of my other works were based off negative life experiences in the past.”
The collections ooze sentiment, even from the backlight of a screen, which Thomas’ works are so used to communicating through. To hear the connection he claims to his characters felt like a blow to the back, an airless claw at breathing that only leaves you in a shame. Shame for having borne witness to the figures, shame for viewing them at such periods of intimacy, a period of vulnerability, without helping them but leaving feeling pity. It would only be truthful for those who have indulged in his work to concede connection with the pieces at times too, whether it be the manic laugh of Disorder (2019), the pain of Egg (2020) or the consternation of Quiet (2020). I pointed to the lack of hair and no clear defining features in the characters that facilitates some sense of identification in them, as an individual, style choices that other artists often deploy to accomplish this same pursuit. Whether the likeness in intention to other artists is intentional on Thomas’ part is irrelevant: his collections strike feeling in a way that not many other artists can do.
At the time of writing, Thomas is cooped up in a renovated church – the loft of a friend of his – returning to his form of traditional, physical works. He is again away from San Antonio, in a sort of semi-recluse to recoup his affinity for his old means. In February, Stokes spoke on his move to his new space, saying “I haven’t done a physical painting in a while because I have just been so busy,” a true testament to both his refinement of his newest craft in digital works and his transition in his personal life.
In a way, it truly is indicative of his progress as a professional. The intention or origin may indeed be traditional, but the means by which he arrived at this moment are inversely alternative to say the least, and he is not apologetic about it.
We exchange from time to time in a digital manner, neither of us having ever crossed paths being on opposite ends of two borders (he referenced Toronto’s CN Tower as “that tall building” which contains veracity and comedy rolled into a few words). His recluse might seem inevitable to
prospective fans, but Thomas Stokes is at heart a citizen of the digital art age which raised him: “if anyone has a question in the replies, I usually respond. I try to let the work speak for itself, usually.”
Thomas Stokes wears his work on his sleeve. His inspirations, experience and self are all there to see, almost casually speaking for itself through his characters and online persona. The forged sense of intimacy afforded by social media has dawned a new surge of artists, an age which encourages a new element of networking and interaction enveloped in the semblance of “work”. Thomas’ “removed” persona isn’t just a persona; a self-proclaimed “hermit,” it is truly him, and he has managed to navigate this new era and participate gracefully. Nonetheless, Thomas Stokes III is always a few clicks away.
Reach Thomas Stokes on Instagram here
Find his collections on his website here
