Brian Strout, 42, lives in a condo he rents from a lady named
Liz, with a y, on the East Side of Austin, Texas. He is not from
here; he is new here. Named after his father’s now-estranged
best friend and saddled with a meaningless middle name, he is a
New Englander who likes his coffee sweetened , tiki drinks, and
the companionship of dogs. He covets Halloween and should not be
trusted around tobacco.
Brian creates art—mostly sculpturesque pieces—built of mixed
media, resembling desolate landscapes that blend into more
familiar concepts and tend to draw on personal experience. He
writes small poems and thoughts, sometimes left around. He makes
original music, and he has recently curated a group art show in
Lisbon, Portugal.
Brian has always had a complicated relationship with art as a
vehicle for capitalism, and instead prefers to seek community
and understanding.
A self-portrait made from pallet wood, resin, clay, a small root (that you can’t even see), an antique candle holder, candles, and a live plant inside of a mounted wooden pot. It is an easy to follow metaphor designed to show the impacts of loneliness. Sometimes I think it’s easy for other people to look at loneliness as the lack of company, whereas here I was nodding to the concept of the effects of feeling a lack of connection, authentic intimacy, and a reliable support group; and how that will be damaging to ourselves, impeding our self-esteem, and willingness to connect with others in the future.
This is one of the two pieces that I presented at the recent @hiivelisbon show Lisboa and Lonely. It is a multimedia sculpture, representing how loneliness can be not only infectious, but contagious. It is directly inspired by my childhood friend, Dante, who took his life 14 years ago, and I still think about him.