#87 A day in Miami with the artist Jaime Hayon
What happens when a calm journalist meets a fast-talking legend?
It was early December in Miami. Depending on who you were talking to, I was attending either “Basel” or “Design Miami.”
Getting around Miami during Basel by car is a trap. Google Maps promises ten minutes. Then 75 minutes later, you're still in the back of an overheating Altima while your driver invents new Spanish curse words and smacks the steering wheel.
I chose the more reliable hour-long walk from my hotel to Mindy Solomon Gallery instead. It was nice. Sometimes it’s good to go for a long walk by yourself. No phone. No headphones.
When I arrived at Mindy’s gallery I was surprised to find it empty. I equate Basel with crowds, lines, traffic, chaos. Stepping into a big, beautiful white gallery space that was quiet and calm was jarring.
Right away an assistant popped out, offered me a Coca-Cola and then introduced me to Jaime. We immediately got into it.
I am, generally, a relatively quiet person and a patient listener. In most cases this has helped me throughout my career as a journalist.
My demeanor seems to have one of two effects on people, especially in the context of a recorded interview. The first is the subject follows suit—they too become attentive, and we’re able to launch into a thorough and active discussion. I am almost always happy with the outcome of these types of conversations, regardless of who it is. Everyone is interesting if they try hard enough.
The second effect is my pace unhinges the interview subject. They overcorrect by talking at triple speed, frantically trying to fill every nanosecond with the aimless sound of their own voice. Most of the time, these types of conversations are frustrating and lead to one-sided, directionless and shallow thoughts.
On rare occasions I’ll interview someone who does both. They’re able to speak at a furious pace while keeping laser focus. Patricia Urquiola, who once (politely) grabbed my notebook and said, “here, I’ll just show you!,” comes to mind.
Within the first few moments of interviewing someone I can generally call what type of interview we’re going to have—and if I’m buckling in for a ride with a Tasmanian Devil I’ll attempt to caffeinate my personality, a skillset I’ve honed from both directing models on photoshoots and coaching freshman college students back when I was an art teacher.
The thing with Jaime was, I couldn’t immediately get a read on him.
He launched into explaining his new collection of paintings and sculptures. To a passerby the works likely seemed like an extension of his body of work filled with the bold colors, inventive animal characters, and playful flowers he is known for.
While listening to him speak about the work, I realized what a departure it was. A bold exit from his demanding, precision-focused style, his new work was an experimental foray into “letting go” and being looser.
The more he spoke the more excited he got. I could tell this was a new chapter for him, and that he was very in the moment of something new. His quick pace was actually hinting at a touch of nervousness, a feeling someone as accomplished as he has likely not felt about his work in decades.
It took about 40 minutes, but eventually I think I won him over and he relaxed. Once I was able to express I realized his energy for what it was, excitement (and a bit of caution) over this new direction, he let his guard down, almost to say, “ok, this guy gets it.”
We then launched into everything you might yap about it with a friend: what music he’s been into, what fashion is interesting and why, what video games his kids are obsessed with, how (a little more quietly now) Art Basel is kinda exhausting and boring and how Design Miami is actually the vibe right now. It was a nice talk.
We took some photos of each other and he agreed to draw a cover for the new issue of Sixtysix. You should see a copy in person. It’s beautiful.
