Interview with Artist Drew Michael

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Where did the idea of "Life Expressions" come from?

The idea for the name "Life Expressions" came from my desire to share and express how I see the world around me.

What is your favorite piece in the exhibit and why?

My favorite piece in this showing is "Tina's Little Cheeks." As I've matured as an artist, I've watched my style change and develop. This piece shows my current excitement with distorting style and form, both my own and traditional. On a personal level, "Tina's Little Cheeks" is important to me because it is about my boyfriend. I have a little love obsession going with his cheeks and I can imagine them in old age drooping into something that resembles little tusks. Of course, art is about interpretation of original inspiration, and I have exaggerated the movement, but I definitely share that story in the expression.

Can you describe your process for making masks? It seems your masks have stories—do the stories come first, or evolve as the mask takes shape?

Typically I draw out my designs months before I create the forms. I keep notebooks filled with designs I draw when I go to bed each night. Typically, I see faces and forms in that space of awareness right between wakefulness and sleep. Later, in the light of day, I take the notebooks and go through them and decide which drawings best capture the emotions I am feeling at the time. Then I use the chosen drawing as a template or blueprint.

How does your work differ from traditional Alaska Native mask carving? In what ways is it the same?

Traditional mask forms tell stories of the connection between the valued spirit of the animal and the human spirit. The forms are created in a way that helps the viewer find these animalistic qualities transient. So, in a way we are able to see a little of ourselves in the animal. Masks were traditionally made with materials that were available, such as wood found on the beaches and animal parts from harvest. They even used human parts, like hair.

I tell stories of my surroundings and world view. In this way, I draw from the ideas of traditional mask making; similarly, I use materials that are available to me. That's why I tend to use manmade materials, although my forms typically include at least one natural material in the decoration. My masks include wood from a specialty woodworking shop, sheet metal from a metal shop, beads from a bead store, repurposed second hand items, seaweed, paint, and yes, even human hair.

What type of reaction are you hoping to elicit in the viewer?

I hope this show allows people to see that masks are not a thing of the past. They are not made to decorate walls but to be used as instruments of expression and storytelling. They are alive.

How did you get into mask making?

I got into mask making in 1997 when my father took me to a mask making class at the University of Alaska in Anchorage taught by Joe Senungetuk and Bob Shaw. There, I learned basic mask design and how to take care of tools. Since then I have mostly learned by trial and error.

Who are your influences?

My influences are mask makers from all times. Mostly, I am interested in the stories and the process of creation. The artists who have spoken to me the most include John Hoover, Larry Avhakana, Joe Senungetuk and Kathleen Carlo. I connect with the organic and mastered the ability to express my ideas. These artists have helped me find my own expression and develop my craft. The person who has been a great influence in regards to seeing the mask come to life is Phillip Blanchett of Pamyua, the Native singing group. We partnered on several projects and he adds personality to my masks.

In your exhibit application letter, you talked about all the dichotomies in your life. Can you elaborate on the idea of dichotomy, and the role it plays in the exhibit?

Dichotomy in my life has been the prime influence on my world view and perspective. I have been living on both sides of life ever since I was born. Born Native and raise white; straight, then coming out; financially well off and poor; working on the oilfield and as an artist—even being a devout Christian at one point, and then, not.

That's all given me perspective. A couple of years ago I came to a place where I accepted myself as little parts of all of these things, and allowed myself to tell a story of acceptance. I don't want to fight to try to be one or the other. Rather, I am a combination of all my experiences and identities. My expression is my life, and my life is my expression. So, there you have it.