Hunted Projects: Can you tell me about yourself and your creative background?

Ben Weiner: I grew up in the NY area in a family of hippy-medical professionals who pursued unconventional and homeopathic approaches to healing. Having known for as long as I can remember that I wanted to be an artist, I made this my full focus in college. Being Puerto Rican on one side of my family, I decided to study abroad in a Spanish-speaking country, and so I first studied painting at La Universidad de las Americas in Mexico with the muralist Jose Lascarro, a protege of Rufino Tamayo’s. After returning to the US, I continued my studies with Tula Telfair, a fantastic painting teacher at Wesleyan University. Upon graduating I got my first job as a painter in Jeff Koons’ studio which rooted me in the New York Art World where I’ve been ever since.

HP: Can you tell me about your artistic process and how you incorporate daily routines into your artwork?

BW: I use products from my daily routines such as medications, body products, cosmetics, and paint as both my subject and my medium. I began this exploration with a series of large scale, highly detailed paintings of my own body products such as hair gels and deodorants, observed at close range, so that the material overtook the composition and they read as monumental abstractions. Then around 2012 I developed a process where I soaked ink-coated paper in leftover drugs that I had taken- including my prescriptions as well as illicit drugs such as MDMA and Marijuana. Using chromatography paper, which basically works like that strip of paper you see in a COVID test, the drugs break down the inks, separating them into spectrums of color.

HP: Can you elaborate on your inspiration behind using products from your daily routines as the medium for your artwork? How did you come up with this unique concept?

BW: Yes, I am fascinated by the possibility that through process I can present an intimate picture of myself as the sum of my habits. It probably comes from my family’s medical background, which led me to understand peoples’ physical vulnerability from a very early age. So when I began to study art, I was inspired by a connection that I saw between traditional Vanitas still life painting, and late-Modernist abstraction: whether a painting depicts someone’s possessions or their abstract gestures, it is a record of the things they leave behind; of their mortality. In contemporary life, people’s possessions often reflect a resistance to their mortality, even a denial of it. Ozempic; energy drinks; anti-depressants- these all reflect our lack of acceptance of physical limits and vulnerability- the desire to transcend. And in a way that’s the most poignant reminder of our limits, because despite all our efforts we all still end up the same way at the end of life.

HP: By incorporating your daily consumption habits into your art, you expose an intimate part of your life. How has this transparency impacted your sense of vulnerability and openness in discussing mental health?

BW: While I was growing up my grandfather, with whom I was very close, was addicted to prescription medication, specifically Codeine and Oxycontin. At the time I just thought of him as an old man who needed pain killers for his aches and pains. But as an adult, I can’t believe that the Sackler family and other pharmaceutical companies were distributing such highly addictive drugs.

When I was younger I experimented with many drugs, in particular psychedelics. These informed my desire to explore the nature of perception, something that I see as being is central to the project of Painting. But after my grandfather died I began to record my own intake of substances and to be very mindful of what I consumed. And I became passionate about the fact that laws surrounding drugs don’t protect us from what is dangerous and addictive. They mostly just serve commerce. Harmful legal prescription medications greatly outnumber harmful illegal drugs. So by recording my drug usage, I’m reclaiming my relationship with drugs and showing that drug usage is something very personal- the types and amounts of drugs people take are all personal choices, and mental health is about a mindful relationship with oneself, not obeying the law.

HP: The process of soaking ink-coated chromatography paper in drug solutions to create colourfield works is fascinating. Could you walk us through the technical aspects of this process and the challenges you have encountered?

BW: Chromatography is a process used in forensics labs to identify chemical substances using ink. While an ink might appear as a single color, it actually contains many colors. So I coat the chromatography paper in ink, and then soak it in a solution of water mixed with drugs. Each drug solution breaks down the inks into spectrums of their constituent colors- and the colors that come out are different depending on the drug in the solution. While this process is rooted in scientific principles, I’m not using it scientifically- when I make the drawings, I soak them based on what compels me emotionally as a painter. There’s no more chemistry here than in any painting, I’m just using non-traditional materials to explore a concept.

HP: Your unique technique of soaking paper in drug solutions seems to parallel the absorption of experiences in one's mind. How do you perceive the relationship between the external substances and your internal emotional landscape?

BW: I do see my drawing process as a material embodiment of altered perception. It evokes the mysterious relationship between what is in one’s head and what exists in the world. This parallels the painterly concept of “push-pull”. So ultimately when I’m choosing colors of ink and deciding to whether to leave certain artifacts or soak the drawings more, it’s an intuitive and emotionally-driven process, as you say an expression of my emotional landscape- I love that way of putting it.

HP: On a technical level, how do different drugs or substances affect the colours and marks you make on the paper? 

BW: Certain drugs, like alcohol, break the inks down very efficiently and make the colors spread out more, creating more hazy effects. But I am very un-technical in how I use these effects- I prefer to just let them happen and let my excitement at chance occurrences drive my decisions.

HP: Your artwork addresses contemporary culture's fascination with bodily enhancement through chemical products. How do you want viewers to engage with this theme when experiencing your works?

BW: I hope it’s not too far-fetched to want viewers to feel that we are all chemical beings whose bodies are always exploding with these reactions when they see my drawings.

HP: Your titles incorporate a mixture of Spanish and English, reflecting your mixed ethnic background. How does your heritage impact your creative process and your message to the audience?

BW: Having grown up with Spanish speakers on one side of my family, I’ve come to see translation as a form of altered perception; when you switch from one language to another, you suddenly see the world through a new set of signifiers that alert your brain to different things in a way that can be pretty trippy. The concept of altered perception, while associated with chemical drug use, can represent any paradigm shift. Cultural bias and privilege, when confronted, result in altered perception. Anything that makes people realize that their “reality” is not in fact reality, but actually a framework of coping mechanisms, is altered perception. I’ve been tapping into this with my bilingual titles.

HP: To discuss your titles further, can you elaborate on the dates that are connected to each of the works? For instance, Dia Nublado (December 27 2022).

BW: The date in each title is when I took the drug I used to make that drawing. I was inspired by Drug Diaries, used in clinical studies, in which patients record each time they take drugs, as a way to measure their effects. My drawings combine that idea with something more like a traditional diary: each drawing expresses my emotions, like a diary entry, but enhanced by substances. “Día Nublado” translates to “cloudy day” in English. That drawing was made with Paxlovid which I took when I had COVID during the holidays, so I was feeling sick, tired, sad, and in pain. In this way my drawings explore the complex nature of feelings as being simultaneously personal, physical, and chemical.

HP: Clement Greenberg's concept of an artwork telling the story of its own making is central to your approach. How do you feel your work manages to convey not only the process of creation but also your chemical consumption and state of mind?

BW: My daily rituals and substance use are inseparable from who I am and what I paint; I am the sum of my habits. Using drugs as my medium is a conceptual, performative, and formal way to state this. It is very compatible with Greenberg’s self-critical principles, which have always fascinated me. 

Speaking of painters whose work is defined by Greenbergian discourse, I don’t think Rothko would have arrived at his imagery without antidepressants or DeKooning and Pollock without alcohol. So I believe I’m tapping into a well that was already there.

HP: With the global impact of the COVID-19 pandemic, your art touches on anxieties related to health and mortality. How do you see your work contributing to the conversation surrounding mental health in a post-pandemic world?

BW: I believe we are all more aware of the ongoing relationship between drugs/vaccines and our mortality and mental health now. The mental health crisis, especially among children, is massive and ongoing after lockdowns and the pandemic. I have psychologist friends who say this will define a generation. So we need to develop a more nuanced view of our vulnerability and substance use. Laws need to delve more deeply into what is actually harmful and not just support commerce. Who knows if any of this will happen but at least more of it is out in public, and maybe my work can contribute to people thinking about their relationships to drugs and emotions and encourage more nuanced views on these subjects.

HP: Your art speaks to altered perceptions and the effects of different substances on the mind. Could you share how creating these works has influenced your personal relationship with altered states of consciousness?

BW: I think it has reinforced the value of psychedelics for me, and highlighted the dangers of alcohol and anti-depressants. I have carefully considered relationships with all substances and do drugs rarely- and i believe their profundity depends on limiting one’s exposure. But I think for myself and many people, using Marijuana and/or a psychedelic like mushrooms a few times a year is generally good for one’s outlook.

Working on this series has also reminded me that the deconstruction of my perception through psychedelic experimentation was pivotal to my understanding of image-making from early on. Some of my favorite books, including Aldous Huxley’s “The Doors of Perception” and Michael Pollan’s “This is Your Brain on Plants,” explore psychedelics in a way that is clearly informed by Painting and they elaborate on this connection.

HP: Your use of both psychedelic and mundane substances in your art highlights a spectrum of mental experiences. Could you discuss the significance of portraying this range and the stories you hope to tell through these works?

BW: I think this goes back to what I said about how I don’t judge drugs by their legality, because that mostly serves commerce. In his book “This is Your Brain on Plants” Michael Pollan argues that Capitalism might not have developed if not for Caffeine- the tea and Coffee houses of Europe being important intellectual hubs for the Enlightenment, as well as Caffeine supporting late-Capitalist 24 hr work schedules, etc. My drawings tell my own material history of drug use intertwined with art-making.

HP: Colour Field painters often focused on the emotional and spiritual impact of colour. How does your use of drug-infused solutions as a source of colour contribute to the emotional resonance of your work?

BW: Initially I only used one color per drawing because I wanted my drawings to be Monochromes viewed through the lens of a drug. But more recently I’ve been using more colors and making gestures with the ink, which I then enhance by soaking them in drugs. And so now this is coming from a more intuitive place. I often think back to the emotions I was feeling when I took the drugs and try to go there when I’m making a drawing.