Whether he’s working on paintings, sculptures, books or skate art editions, there is always a common thread which connects the various mediums. The moment you step into the world of Jon BURGERMAN, you recognize it immediately. It’s in the colors, the playful characters and the vulnerabile emotions they often display. That, and also the prevailing feeling that each piece was incredibly fun to make.
We chat together about the joys and surprises of the creative process, as well as ambient art, spray paint, Keith Haring and New York City, the city that Jon documented with a disposable camera to illustrate this interview. Read on to get inspired.
You’ve been described as a leading figure in the doodle art movement. When did you realize that the playful doodles you were making were, in fact, art?
I think the term ‘doodle’ began around 2000-2001 when I graduated from my fine art degree. It was always used a bit tongue-in-cheek. People would ask me about my work and, being self-deprecating, I would say: “Oh, it’s just doodles. Let’s not worry about giving them a label.”
For some reason that word stuck. I quite liked it at the time because it took away a lot of pretentiousness that’s often around art. It symbolized a fun way of creating. I’m not sure if I ever took it that seriously as a label. I just didn’t know how else to articulate the kind of work that I was making. It fit at that point.
What about now?
Not especially. I see a lot of kids nowadays who doodle, in this very Keith Haring style. I don’t think my work is like that. It’s very informed by post-war art. It’s pop. It references animation, graphics and images we see in the media. It’s bright, colorful, playful and very symbol-based. There’s a visual vernacular that transcends language barriers. There are a lot of very expressive faces. They can articulate emotion in a very simple, immediate way.
This emotional aspect is huge in your work, whether it’s tackling mental health awareness or body positivity. How much of this work is personal and therapeutic to you?
I think all art is some sort of therapy for the creator. You’re trying to articulate things that you can’t articulate in any other way. Whether it’s music, performance, painting or sculpture.
How do you strike that balance between playfulness, humor and deeply vulnerable topics?
I don’t know if I really consider the balance. I just try to make the thing and whatever it becomes is what it is. Some works are more successful than others and, actually, when I’m less worried about the outcome and more involved in what I’m feeling in the process, that’s when they seem to be more successful. It sounds a bit trite but you’re just trying to be truthful in what you make and somehow that connects to someone else, instead of just existing as a surface-level experience.
Some of your projects have been aimed at younger audiences. Is the aspect of educating important to you?
I’ve made picture books for children, and I’ve given lectures and workshops in schools and festivals. I don’t particularly aim my art for any one group. I just have a philosophy that it’s good to be creative. It’s an innately human activity. It shouldn’t just be within the realm of people who call themselves artists.
Within my work, I’m always trying to push anyone to have a go at expressing themselves using simple materials. I try to make my process very open. You can look at my work and see how it’s made. It demystifies the creation. Not trying to hide anything but rather putting it all out on the surface. I think that’s an overall philosophy I carry into whatever project I’m doing. It should leave you feeling like you want to make something yourself.
You have a YouTube channel from back in the day in which you often use the slogan: “It’s great to create”. The videos really illustrate how the creative process can be just as enriching and enjoyable as the final product.
Yes, the process is the fun bit. Of course it’s satisfying to look back like: ‘Oh, I made this thing’. But, for me, it’s not great if you’ve spent twenty hours crying, sweating and hating what you’re making. I’m all about enjoying the process, being surprised by it and being spontaneous within it.
It’s kind of like playing a piece of music.The joy is in creating it in real time. It’s in the moment of playing the keys or strumming the strings, that’s really fulfilling for me. I think it’s the same with art. When I’m making those marks, when I’m putting down a new color on top of another color, seeing how they react and play off each other - that’s super exciting for me. It’s addicting. I want to go back and do that again and again.
Is there a particular process that you remember being surprised by?
I think when I started playing around with spray paint. It was unfamiliar material. Every painting was like a little discovery. You learn what happens when you let it dry, or when one color reacts weirdly with another color… I always say to people – if you feel stuck or bored, pick a material you’ve never worked with before. Then you’ll be free to experiment because you’ll have no expectation of what it can do. For me, that really pushed me through an exciting few years of experiments.
Your creativity is your job and you also work on various commercial projects. Is it ever difficult to retain that pure passion and excitement?
For me, it’s always art first. That’s where my ambition lies. Then there’s the commercial stuff which has quite often been a practical decision. That’s not to say that it hasn’t been rewarding, and that it isn’t exciting to be able to make work and have it accessible to a lot more people. Going into a bookstore or record shop, and seeing your own little rectangle of an artwork on those shelves, in that environment, as someone who loves and collects those things – it’s really exciting.
I think art can exist across the board. It doesn’t have to only be in a gallery. It can be a part of people’s lives in different ways. They can feel connected to a book cover, a record cover or even a skateboard. It becomes a part of their everyday existence.
I’m curious about your influences. Nowadays a lot of people look up to you and draw inspiration from your art. Is there something or someone that’s been a particular inspiration to you?
Initially, when I was at college, I was really taken by the paintings of Basquiat. I had quite a traditional Western art education, focused on the same sort of painters. So it was really powerful to see someone who was doing stuff only a decade earlier, and it was very contemporary, raw and related to stuff I’ve seen in the streets. I think it’s good to look at old masters but it’s so much more impactful when it’s someone that’s almost on your timeline. I was lucky enough to be a student in the UK when all the young British artists were coming to prominence and becoming more well-known in the art world.
Through the years, since I got older, I’ve also become far more appreciative of Keith Haring’s work. Not so much just the aesthetics of it, but really what he was trying to do with his practice and how he was very open to making it accessible. Things like his pop shop and paintings with kids, doing murals, fostering collaborations… I find it really great.
Why do you think you needed that time to appreciate Keith Haring’s work?
It’s quite amazing that his work has remained popular for all this time, perhaps now even more than ever. You see it everywhere. When I was younger, I just thought the graphics were deceptively simple. I didn’t think they were that special and I didn’t appreciate them enough. I’ve read up a lot more about him since, and I really recommend his diaries which were published. It’s a really fascinating insight into what his life was like. Becoming an artist, being an artist, having ups and downs, trying to cut through the noise of collectors and galleries and the business side of things… I found that really fascinating. I think he was a really interesting person.
Both Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat were major New York City figures. Is that fascination with the local art scene what led you to move there yourself?
Maybe. When I was growing up, America represented everything that was exciting and intoxicating. Pop culture, movies, music… Everything seemed bigger there. I never visited the US as a child. When I became a student and had a little bit of grant money, the first thing I did was buy a ticket to New York. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going, but the moment I got there I thought: “Wow, I’d love to live here one day”.
The shine of the US has definitely dimmed over the years, unfortunately. Now, the shift has moved to the East. Western people seem more excited about what’s happening in Asia. But there’s still something about New York, the people it attracts and the diversity of culture there. I find it really invigorating and inspiring. It’s a great city. Does one have to live there? I don’t know anymore. Maybe visit for a month or two. And then get out before it turns you into a withered old husk of a person.
Do you feel like a withered old husk of a person now?
I do.
Luckily, you’re in Berlin right now. You even posted a few Berliner characters which you drew. Where does the inspiration for your distinctive characters come from?
Their form has developed over the years. They’ve become more and more simplified. I looked at what I actually need from them. Do they need limbs? Not really. Do they need noses? Not especially. I’m all about minimum effort, maximum yield. How can I express something as simply as possible, but get a lot out of it. I think that kind of mindset helped evolve those characters into very distinctive shapes and forms, over a long period of time.
People ask me, what are they? Are they animals? I don’t really know. I think they’re representative of people. They’re stand-ins for us. But they could be fluid across gender, age and even species. I like that they’re a little ambiguous in that way. A lot of people feel connected to them, I guess. So that’s very positive.
The style in which you draw them has visibly changed in recent years. Before, they used to be very defined, whereas now they seem to be mainly facial expressions, blurred together in this wall of color.
When I started playing around with spray paint, it lent itself to being softer, more diffused and less graphic. Using that soft edge allowed me to add a deeper resonance of emotion to the characters that I wouldn’t have been able to achieve if they’d just been solid black outlines. Now there’s more pictorial depth. I simplified them so much that they’re almost vanishing in some instances. I really like that and think it allows a wider space for people to come into the work and project their emotion into it. I call them my ambient works. Again, to use a music analogy, the graphic stuff is more like a pop song. Two, three minutes long. Catchy. You get it immediately. But maybe in line with my change in musical taste, these things are slower and longer.
Indeed they really invite the viewer into the world, bringing to mind another tagline from your YouTube channel. Do you remember The Burgerverse?
I think I said that before all that Marvel stuff. Yeah, I feel like all my work is connected. Sometimes it can be commercial and graphic and bold, but then you can go to another part of that world, and it can be weirder and looser. And I’m still exploring. The constant is me, right? I’m always the one making the work. But the materials and the scale and all those things can change. It’s interesting to see what an artist does with different materials. It’s fun to see how they play with different stuff, so that’s what I’m trying to do as well.
Speaking of different materials, is this your first time creating skate art?
I painted a skate deck for my degree show in university a long time ago. But this is my first time making a proper collection.
So skateboarding has been a recurring theme in your life?
I was a kid of the 80’s when the skateboard boom came to the UK. I had various skateboards at the time. It was, again, an American thing, I suppose. I’d seen it on TV. Me and my friends used to go out and skate around and fall off the curb. I used to be into that, for sure.
Could you tell us a bit about the collection we created together?
It shows two sides of my practice. One edition is a hot dog. I made it with oil sticks and a little bit of spray paint. For me, that’s playing with the form of the deck itself. It perfectly fits the hot dog shape. It’s kind of playful, fun and immediate. I really like how that came out.
Then, for the triptych I thought I’d do a 180 and maybe lean a little bit more on my fine art painting, treating it like how I would treat a painting on a canvas. It’s much more of a mood piece. The colors and emotions depicted are going through a spectrum. It’s open for interpretation.
Now that this collection is out, what else can we look forward to from you?
I’ve been making some works here in Berlin that will be on show during Berlin Arts Week which starts September 11th. I’ve also just come back from Taipei where I had a solo show.
I also recently launched a more commercial project in mainland China which is a spin on the Olympics. It’s a little collection of sculptures inspired by classical Greek sculpture depicting athletic endeavors. For that, the idea was to overlap art and sport. There are a lot of similarities in being creative and playful, and trying to improve yourself. There’s a challenge and dedication to art that connects with sporting practice. I tried to show that in a very playful, friendly way.
