Being Scott Seekins

In love with the notion, he painted himself into pop culture commentaries, including one in which he weds Britney Spears; classical images, placing himself in The Last Supper; historical narratives, being the last white man at Little Bighorn; and many more. He continued to dabble in a variety of visual genres—black velvet paintings, anime, Lichtenstein dots—but his paintings mostly featured him, idiosyncratic and unmistakable. He had turned himself into a decorative icon and by doing so introduced a layer of humor that's not always found in contemporary art.

Some formalists criticized him for being self-absorbed, which he doesn’t deny. “I suppose it is, but my thing is irony and passion. I don’t go for art that is cold and detached,” he says.

Turnquist is one who appreciates Seekins’s Zelig approach. “When he puts himself into an established image, it’s just that little change, but often that makes a world of difference because suddenly the familiar is unfamiliar, and that’s what art is about, opening your eyes,” he says. “If you’re looking at Adam and Eve in the garden, you say to yourself, ‘Damn, I never knew that Adam looked so much like Scott.’ [Laughs.] The whole thing goes rolling off and at once it’s a pun and it’s play and it has all the ways that it lightens us up, but there’s also a profundity there.”

Seekins has also turned himself into a distinctly Minnesota artist, producing several pieces of himself fly-fishing, which he loves and does in full season-appropriate suit regalia, in area rivers and lakes. Mary Abbe, an art critic at the Star Tribune for the past twenty-three years, thinks his legacy will resemble that of another local personality. “He’s a kind of Garrison Keillor figure, extremely amusing and droll,” she says. “And he maintains a stubborn consistency, which I find charming. He is living performance art on the hoof.”

Today, Seekins is in the middle of a photo project that features—who else—himself. He started it two years ago when he decided it would be interesting to be photographed standing on Hennepin Avenue with a sign that reads “Art4Food.” He liked how it came out and decided to do twenty-four more, holding such cryptic messages as “Pay Attention,” “Remain Calm,” “The Smell of Plastic Is In The Air,” and “Aren’t You Glad Your Life Is Almost Over?”

It’s classic Seekins, provocative and cheeky. But there’s a darkness as well. As his friend Aldo Moroni, the sculptor, points out, “The series of signs is hilarious, but hidden in that is an irony. The sign says ‘Art4Food’. Well, Scott really is starving to death, so it’s a joke, but it’s not a joke.”

The truth is, Seekins’s lifestyle is starting to get to him. He has carpal tunnel syndrome and has endured four hernia operations, which forces him to lean certain ways when he paints (the most comfortable position is to hunch over a canvas placed on the floor). To avoid doctor visits he can’t afford, Seekins takes Nexium for stomach pain, daily vitamins, and does some light weightlifting. Although he won’t give his age—“In our society, young is everything, and I don’t believe in that”—he’s probably not far away from qualifying for social security, not that there’s much in his fund to tap. “I got my statement the other day, and I think my total is $2,000, so there is no retirement.” On top of everything, he recently learned that his building may be sold, in which case he will have to vacate his studio. It’s never easy.

Still, look closely and try to detect bitterness or regret on his face. You won’t. He decided long ago to trust that it’s possible to survive in Minneapolis as human art. “Every morning when I wake up, I think, ‘Wow, I’m glad I’m alive. I want to do things,’ ” he says.

So he gets up. He puts on his blacks or his whites. He walks, observes, paints. And he does his best to stay healthy. All so he can get up and do it again tomorrow. 

Adam Wahlberg is the executive editor of Minnesota Law & Politics.