Joe Sorren: Night-swimming in a canvas sea

When singer-songwriter Martha Berner saw my interview with artist Paul Moschell, she told me I should to check out the work of Joe Sorrren. The minute I clicked on his website, I immediately sent off a note to Martha, thanking her for the introduction.

The work of Joe Sorren tells quiet stories of wonder with melancholic grace. I found myself studying each of his paintings, wondering about the dreamlike characters that filled the snapshots of the canvas. At turns, they made me smile and filled my eyes with tears. It's my favorite kind of storytelling--the kind that takes me by surprise with its complicated emotions--and I was incredibly grateful when Joe agreed to answer a few simple questions.

In reading more about you, I keep coming across the word "lowbrow" to describe your paintings which, frankly, struck me as an offensive description for any kind of art. What is your definition of this word and how do you feel about it being used to describe your work?
My take on it is, it's best to focus on the work and not the categories. They can be a distraction.

I read a fantastic interview with you from several years ago and I wanted to ask about something you mentioned. You compared the feeling that you strive for in your work to night-swimming. Can you say a bit more about that?
There is a quiet force that i feel when I swim at night, it is sort of like an excitement of stillness. Maybe it is all the potential energy, I am not sure. But it is similar to the feeling of painting. Does that explain it? Kinda? 

What made you decide to include the Painting in Progress on your website? It seems a risky move to invite "the world" in to your creative process and inviting critiques, criticisms and questions while you're trying to figure it out for yourself.
When I paint I feel like I have no secrets. It is just a strand of discovery and wrong turns. This way of working takes me longer, but I feel more engaged with the piece than if I were to plan it all out beforehand. More like being an archaeologist on a tightrope or something.

Is there any one of the characters from your work that you would most like to meet as a real person? Whose story do you think might be most fascinating to hear?
Hmm... that is a cool question. Hmmmm. I guess, in a way, I feel like I have met the people in my work.

It's been said in several interviews that music is a reoccurring theme in your work. What are you listening to these days? And how do you think music most influences your style?
Lately I have been listening to loads of Django Reinhardt.  The thing about music, at least the thing I most gravitate to, is the rhythm. I see it mirrored all over everything. In nature and roads, in painting, in randomness. It's like people-watching in an airport or something, the non-scripted flow, like a slinky of conversations all ebbing and crashing. Music is like that too, it's just caged, and I enjoy the steady cagedness of it. Does that make sense?

Another word that comes up a lot in reference to your work is "childlike." Which, to me, stings a bit with a condescending curl of the lip. How do you interpret this description?
Ah, fuck em.

From what I've read, you're a curious soul with an unquenchable thirst for new things, ideas, understandings. What random subject are you currently obsessing about?
How to grill vegetables.

What's the best question you've ever been asked?
"What the hell is that?" 

And whose answer to that question would you most like to hear?
How about Filippo Brunelleschi? That would have been fun to witness. Have you read, "Lives of the Artists," by Giorgio Vasari? It is about artists (obviously). The thing I love about it is that it was written in the 16th century, and is colored by 16th century sensibilities. It helps to put things in perspective. 

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www.joesorren.com