Erik Sommer
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Mar 14
- 6 min read
Erik Sommer’s approach is based on controlled chaos. His raw canvas paintings, made with layers of soaked spray paint, capture the unpredictability of creation. By letting the paint flow freely, he balances chance with control. His work explores where destruction turns into transformation, reflecting on time, space, and randomness. Both the process and the result reveal something fleeting and real.
Q: Your process relies on layering canvases and letting paint seep through naturally. What first drew you to this technique, and how has it evolved over time?
A: I've always been interested in working with chance, and trying to remove my painterly hand from my work. This particular method came together 2 or 3 years ago when I first started working with spray paint. I had this whole other idea in my head, but the paint was not cooperating. Basically, I got really frustrated and emptied a whole can onto a canvas in an attempt to ruin the piece. But then I noticed that I really liked how it looked on the backside of the canvas. It had leaked through in this really interesting way. From there I kept experimenting with how best to apply the spray paint, and came up with soaking it through an outer canvas onto the back of a second canvas. This completely removes any semblance of a brush stroke, and the results are always a surprise. I really want the work to appear natural or accidental and contain compositional elements that I did not purposefully create or foresee.
Q: There’s an interesting tension in your work between chance and control. How do you navigate that balance in your creative process?
A: I've sort of settled on a controlled chance, meaning that I let the work appear without interference, but at the same time, I reserve the right to re-work or add to an area if I am unhappy with it. I'm also learning that less is definitely more. Some of my favorite pieces contain very few marks on a very large canvas. Each piece tells a story, and I love trying to make them as challenging as possible.
Q: Your paintings often have a weathered, timeworn quality. What role does the passage of time play in your work, both in concept and execution?
A: I have always been drawn to weathered and aged industrial or urban spaces.
I love the stories that they tell, and how their natural effects of time create an overlooked or unassuming beauty. In my earliest work, I would add gravel to my gesso to give the surface a faux stucco look. In time I started using actual cement, and learned how to manipulate it to create pieces that broke and peeled off of the surface. Another influence has been the posters that are pasted up around cities, and that inevitably either get ripped down or faded by the weather. I like how new posters are just added on top of old posters, and the stories that are created when these layers are revealed. Instead of just ripping them down myself and presenting them as art, though, I actually age posters in my studio. I like the idea that I sped up their decomposition, and also that I created the piece instead of just using found objects.
Q: The idea of destruction is integral to your process—you often discard the top canvas layer after painting. How do you see this act of removal as part of the final artwork?
A: I realized that I have finally arrived at a place in my practice where I am not afraid to discard an idea that is not working. If a piece has any sort of sparkle, I might hang on to it and make use of it somehow someday, but I've found that I can work faster and with more confidence if I am not being held down by ideas or pieces that have stalled. Maybe it is a quality over quantity thing, but I'm fine with walking away from an idea if it is not happening. Honestly, sometimes a photograph of a piece is enough. By discarding it I just help encourage its decay.
Q: Your studio is currently in Catskill, NY, after years of working in East Harlem. Has this shift in environment influenced your approach in any way?
A: I've been thinking about this a lot recently. When I was primarily working in the city, my work was very heavy and dense. I was using a lot of industrial material, like cement and drywall spackle, because I wanted to not only mimic but actually create heavy weathered objects. A lot of the work was on wood, and sort of toed the line between painting and sculpture. This newer work that I have been making primarily upstate is a lot more airy and light, both figuratively and literally. I started using spray paint because I like the immediacy of it and also how it looks. My hand is even further removed with it.
I use raw canvas, unprimed, because I really like how the marks soak into it. I also realized that I needed to make work that is easier to ship, and with this I can roll it up and send it unstretched. It's win-win-win.
Q: In addition to your own practice, you run Mott Projects, showcasing artists from around the world. How does your curatorial work inform your artistic practice?
A: Mott Projects started as a way for me to help support my friends. It started with interviews, and Instagram posts and promotions. I always knew that it would turn into a proper curatorial and exhibition space, and I was lucky enough to find a space upstate that had the right rustic old feel to it. I was even more lucky when artists responded to the space and wanted to be included in the exhibitions. I started with a few group exhibitions, but mostly now focus on solo shows. I have ended up showing a lot of painters from Europe. Basically, I exhibit art that I like and believe in.
It has been a great way to meet new artists and continue building relationships. I think that it informs my own practice in that I am constantly inspired by these artists. Installing their shows gives me energy, and I love secretly borrowing ideas from certain pieces.
The response to the space has been incredible. I've been extremely fortunate to do projects with David Zwirner's PLATFORM, Shit Art Club in Los Angeles, and Constant Dschungel in Germany, among other places.
Q: Your technique is rooted in material experimentation—what discoveries have you made recently that have shifted how you work?
A: That's sort of the challenge, isn't it? Finding new ways to stay interested. Personally, I'm not the type of person that can do the same thing over and over and over for 50 years.
It would feel really restricting if I was asked to keep recreating the same piece or type of work.
I like having various avenues that I can continue to explore. Looking back at how I began by trying to imitate cement, then using actual cement, then using street posters, and now with the way I apply spray paint— it all makes sense to me. One discovery has led to the next, and I am sure that the work I am currently making will somehow dictate what I decide to do next.
Q: Looking ahead, are there any new directions or projects you’re excited to explore?
A: I would like to revisit my cement installations. Over the years, I have created everything from a dentist office, a Volvo 240, a furnished apartment, and a room being painted. It feels like it might be time again to start thinking about the next one.
The actual subject for these is determined by the space itself, so hopefully I can find or someone will offer me an old storefront or other interesting space with a unique history. It is important to me to create an installation that relates to the space's original use or purpose. These installations are created on-site, and the result is a silent yet extremely heavy and thick air. The cemented silence is overwhelming.