Representation, arousal, violence, theatricality—all are called into question by the artist’s works, created by choosing to always feel more.
Beatrix Ruf: Jordan, I was wondering if we could start with Infinite Melancholy (2003). When I first saw Colored sculpture (2016), I was reminded of all the works you have done with melancholy, sadness and anger, but also of the tools you used for creating a space where you deal with melancholic content.
Jordan Wolfson: I never set out to make melancholic, sad or violent artwork. I just found that there was a kind of euphoric physical expression one could have when looking at things that carried a certain kind of movement, a certain type of spectacle. For example, with Colored sculpture, the violence isn't simulated violence. It's real violence, and I think that has the potential to have a euphoric effect on the viewer. And in works like Infinite Melancholy, there's a similar type of dropping sensation, and also a formal or visual expansiveness that's happening, which also makes a kind of encounter with the viewer's body. I won't say the works aren't melancholic or sad, but I never think of them that way. I’ve never tried for that.
So melancholy not as a goal, but as part of a movement, almost as a theatrical element?
It's just the shape the work took as it came out of me. Maybe it's the shape of my paintbrush, or even myself at the time—and that shape changes; it becomes different because I'm different too. I think the emotional texture of my work now that I'm 36 is different than it was when I was 24.