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Spotlight: Mike Mandel

Read our Q&A with Mike Mandel, a public artist whose specialty is enhancing architecture with large mosaic images.

Sheila Kim-Jamet -- Interior Design, 8/24/2006 1:04:00 PM

For some, tiles are colored squares on a bathroom wall. For Mike Mandel, whose specialty is large mosaic images, tiles are a medium for artwork. Starting out in photography in the early 1970’s, Mandel switched to the public art realm because he was “more interested in communicating ideas than creating objects for sale.” Large-scale mosaic installations, some measuring almost 30-feet high, are his preference due to the way these images become abstract as the viewer approaches it, thereby making it a dynamic work no matter where the viewer stands. Mandel looks to each site’s history and needs for inspiration and ideas—his process involving speaking with local historians and much research on the locale. Drawing upon the basketball history of Charlotte, North Carolina, Mandel completed a project for the Charlotte Bobcats Arena last year—which won the grand prize at Coverings 2006 in April. We ask the artist to tell us more about his work, process, and shift from fine art to public commissions.

Why did you make the jump from fine to public art?

MM: I believed in working as an artist outside of the gallery/art commodity sphere. Larry Sultan and I collaborated on many artworks that we exhibited on billboards. The billboard company would donate the space as gesture of public service, and we’d make work that called into question the language of advertising. So public art for me was an opportunity to create imagery that would break out of the expected context of the advertisement, and therefore become a very powerful and compelling message and presence in the community.

What are the differences between the two?

MM: What I was speaking about earlier with the billboards, was public art in the best sense: nothing was for sale, and the artist had complete control of the creative process. Since the billboard would be covered over in a month's time, there was little at risk in the long term for anyone, and the artwork could be political, timely, and provocative. Public art in the sense of what I'm doing today is different. Now I am responding to opportunities to create permanent artworks that are commissioned by city or state agencies. Where the earlier example was artist-initiated, this new “public art industry” is usually driven by percent for art statutes that require a new public building to devote a small portion of its construction budget to art.

So is public art good or bad for an artist?

MM: From a positive standpoint, the artwork is going to become part of public space, possibly for generations, so the issues of what my role should be, what my message should be comes from that perspective. Conversely, these commissions also have become an opportunity for artists to make at least part of a living, so there’s a lot of pressure to self-censor and come up with a design that one believes the committee will want.

What does the process involve for commissions?

MM: Competing with hundreds of other artists by showing examples of past work and having a panel of community members, art professionals, architects, members of government agencies, etc., choose a group of finalists who then are asked to make a proposal.

How do city politics and other figures come into play when creating public art?

MM: When there’s public money at issue, there’s a lot of anxiety that the artwork should not cause concern from any corner. It might be common knowledge from listening to media that we're spending $100 million in tax money per day to fight the war in Iraq. Since this has been happening everyday for the past three years, it's no longer front-page material. But if a $100,000 commissioned artwork is characterized by anyone who gets the media’s attention as being frivolous, or problematic for one reason or another, it can call into question the entire program of the public art agency that commissioned the work. Public art, at least in this country, tends to be celebratory, and safe. It can be homage to the history of a place, or decorative and fun. It rarely can do what good art should do: call into question our expectations, what we take for granted, and make us more alive for doing so.

What are your ideas about how public work affects the people who pass these spaces every day?

MM: I'm always thinking about who my audience is and what I want them to experience. It’s a great challenge for an artist to work in a public space because the built public environment is increasingly being designed as controlled spaces where people come to buy things. We are spending most of our time living and working within corporate identity spaces. An artwork can’t compete with unending scale of all that, but if it’s conceived in a way so that it doesn’t fit into that dead world, then there’s a tiny opportunity for some honest communication to take place.

How much do those ideas compromise your own inspiration?

MM: Maybe the question should be: If you were given an opportunity to create an artwork without concern for
politics, competition, and the agenda of the committee, would the work be better? Yes, it would be. Public art would be closer to real art. Again, I think any good artist who works in the public sphere would recognize the responsibility that goes along with it. The work will be there for a long time, it should speak with this long perspective in mind. But it in some cases it might call into question issues that ought to be addressed. It would take more risks, be a little dangerous.

How have geographic locales and their history influenced your work being installed there?

MM: Histories, a project at University of Texas, San Antonio, completed in 2004, is a good example. I chose to connect the history of the university with San Antonio’s strong history of a military presence. A photograph of post-World War II army buddies is juxtaposed next to a contemporary female UTSA student also in military uniform. Thus, the 1950’s are mirrored with present-day imagery, but new opportunities for women are recognized. The design also includes imagery of a Japanese foreign exchange student from the ’70s; her parents flank her on either side, her mother in traditional dress. The design suggests that the university is a bridge between the soldiers who just a few years earlier would have been fighting the Second World War, and the parents of the young Japanese woman who would have been from that generation, as well. One generation has bridged the gap.

What fascinated you about creating pixilated images?

MM: I'm a photographer. When it became evident that the photograph was merging with the computer and that the image would be comprised of electronic pixels rather than grains of silver or colored dyes on film and paper, it also became clear to me that the photograph could become architectural, with each pixel represented by a porcelain or glass tile. I’m interested in the power of the photographic image to evoke feelings for history and lived experience. This can create that presence within an architectural space.

Describe your process.

MM: The first thing that’s important to know is the dimensions of the space that I have to work within. It defines the shape of the “canvas” of my design. Usually the architect or the public art committee identifies several locations within a building for a variety of different types of artwork. I identify the space that interests me and work from there. Using Photoshop, I create a canvas of that size. But long before I get on the computer, I’ve been traveling to the site, researching, reading, collecting images, and perhaps creating images that will comprise my library of material to draw from. Everything is digitized and all the designing is done on the screen.

How does the actual installation go?

MM: My murals are fabricated in sections at my studio and under my direct supervision. The tile sections are numbered, packed up in boxes, arranged, and shipped to the site for installation. The sections are held together on the front side with polyester tape in order to maintain the uniformity of the tile position and spaces for grout. Once the tile is installed on the wall and the mortar is set, the tape is peeled away. Then the tile is grouted, cleaned and sealed.

How much room for error is there in these types of installations?

MM: It all depends on how well coordinated the architect and the general contractor are in the building process. So, if I have to rely on architectural drawings, I always design the mural slightly bigger, as it’s a lot easier to cut away some tiles than to have to create new ones. There’s less chance for error when the building is already up. Then I can make my own measurements and be sure right down to the inch.

How do you select the photography?

MM: It really depends on the type of project. If I want to work with historical images, I’ll find libraries and historical societies that have photographic collections of the area. If there are books available that describe the history of a city, there are usually references to the original sources for the photographs. Since my background is in photography, I have a particular sensibility about the kinds of images that interest me. I believe in the power of the photograph. A snapshot, a portrait, a news photo, or commercial documentary image can symbolize so much, and become an evocative element in my work.

For the Bobcats Arena, where does the archival photography come from?

MM: After working on this project, I believe I probably have the most complete photographic library of Charlotte’s basketball history, all stored on many, many CD’s in a box in my basement. The images came from public and university libraries, individuals, newspapers, writers, historians, textile mills, a local YMCA, and some images that I myself made. And a recent book by historian Pamela Grundy was my entry point into the project.

What, from your research, influenced you?

MM: I didn’t realize how interesting the subject of basketball would turn out to be. Right from the beginning in the early 20th century, girls and women were playing on competitive teams in high schools, in colleges, in textile mills. Segregation kept whites and blacks in different worlds and on different teams. Three historical moments changed the cultural dynamic: “Progressive educational philosophy” in the 1950’s forced girls to stop playing competitive sports in school. Girls were limited to dance and cheerleading. The civil rights movement enabled whites and blacks to play together, but it also meant that as the segregated black schools closed, the black coaches had few places to continue their career. And then in 1972, Title IX banned discrimination in schools not only in academics, but in athletics, and so, girls and women could again compete on teams from which they’d been banned in the ’50s. I wanted the project to speak to these issues.

Were the walls completed simultaneously?

MM: There are two walls that comprise about 3,700 square feet of one inch tiles. They took three months to fabricate, and they were installed one right after the other within a three month period.

What kinds of obstacles were there in this project?

MM: Charlotte is experiencing economic growth and so every local tile installer was quoting me installation prices more than double the national average. I was only able to accomplish the project within my budget because I could bring in an installer from Knoxville that I worked with a couple years earlier at the Knoxville Convention Center. They had such good publicity from that project that they were willing to work for me in Charlotte at Knoxville prices. The architect was supportive, the general contractor appreciated the intent of the work, and the installer was committed to an excellent job. It’s not always like that.