INDUSTREEHOUSE- West Asheville studio- built by Paul Olszewski
Paul Olszewski bio
Born in the suburbs of Detroit, I had always been creating art. My father would bring home large x-ray envelopes that I would draw on for hours on end. As a child I was very athletic but not a jock, more a skater. I also felt very psychic as a child. At times my family observed me speaking fluently in an unknown language after falling asleep in front of the tv. I did not know another language, so this subject became a common theme in my early 20’s when I first started painting. The schools I attended usually ended making up a class for me such as portfolio class, since I had already taken all the other art classes. In high school i enjoyed the colorful and new punk era of the late 80’s in Detroits industrial club scene. At the age of 20 I headed to NYC where I attended the School of Visual Arts with aspirations of becoming a special effects artist. The school had nothing to do with FX, so I started painting. After being there a year I wondered why other students had full scholarships. I realized I wanted to have a large studio rather than pay an enormous tuition. So I told my teachers I needed a scholarship-. At one point in the beginning of my second year all my teachers (Hanna Wilke. Juan Gonzalez.Lucio Potze) stood in the chairman of the boards office telling her I deserved a scholarship. It was against school policy to grant a scholarship to a transfer student, so I did not receive funds.
For the next year and a half I acted as if I did receive the scholarship and attended classes as usual. Not being registered I was not on the list of students. When asked why, I would tell my teachers that my scholarship money had not come through yet. After the first month of this my teachers saw the energy and work I was putting out and did not care if I was on their list. I did this for 3 semesters, until the chairman of the board approached me and asked why she hadn’t reviewed my work. I avoided the ? but later was threatened with legal action so I left, saving roughly $80k in tuition. I did return several years later though, to use the sculpture facilities to build a big steel box( see reels”somewhere along the line” video).
Throughout the early 90’s I was engulfed in NYC’s club scene, usually traveling to several clubs a night, passing out invites for such places as The World, The Tunnel and the Red Zone. I barely saw daylight in those years, accept for the sunrise. At the time I had my first studio at 111 1st st., in Jersey city, NJ. It used to be the “Old Gold “ cigarette factory, but was now a dark abandoned warehouse district. I was the first occupant to move into the building, and roamed the halls, corridors and courtyards, searching out materials to make art with. Because I was not supposed to be living there, I created large framed boxes around my large painting, in which I would store my clothes and sleeping gear. It was just a block from the Hudson river. I could see the World Trade center from my window, and often found myself crossing a strangely dune filled apocalyptic landscape occupied by a pack of wild city dogs, to get to the end of an old broken down pier, in order to watch the sun rise from behind their silvery towers. It felt like you could reach out and touch them. When I wasn’t staying there, I would wander NYC for days , sometimes weeks without returning, crashing here and there. I wanted to experience the true street scene. During that time I made some of my best art. I aquired many hundreds of laser prints of my work from a project, “skin”( see image portfolio) I was making and was on a Guerilla campaing for the next 5 years. During this time I made some of my closest friends, we were a raw, wild, hard core scene. Eventually I got a apartment in the city, and would rent out rooms monthly to passers by. I believe I lived with over 40 different people in three years. Most of the time was great, but some times weren’t. Of course it all ended with being robbed and having my paintings slashed by that one bad brew of psycho addict roommates as we all live in hell. After some help from a few friendly witch friends, and some happy figure candles, they all left. One day I will write in the details.
All total I lived in the city for 13 years, always working some sort of art position. Art conservation, Faux finishing, running a painting studio that copied master works, just to name a few. I always lived in a large studio ,usually in a warehouse, where I would add extra rooms in order to keep my rent down.
At one point a friend and I started making bags out of leather. Just a few months after our first bags we had a lucky break, met Anna Sui ,a well known designer, and our products were being worn by models like Naomi Campbell at Bryant Parks fashion week. We worked out of my meat packing district studio(which I will detail later). We did this for her next three collections. At times we would stay awake for three days straight, finishing the pieces and rushing them down to the backstage of the fashion shows just in time for the shows start. Several years had passed and many famous rock stars, actors , and models passed through my doorway. As with many stories of fame and success, came greed and deceit. My partner and I separated the studio, once he received his family trust fund, allowing him to get his own studio. Since he was the business side of the company and I was the creative, most of our contact numbers were hidden away with him. I was crushed at the fact that such a close friend could do this to me. I packed my belongings, left the city and went to the woods of Michigan to build a studio.
Throughout my time in New York I was befriended by many great artists, always finding myself in some sort amazing situation. But that was all a reflection. I stayed in those woods, clearing the land, making paths and sleeping on the earth for several months, alone. There is a strange thing that happens to you when you don’t see other people for days on end. There’s an energy within a white cedar swamp that takes you to another place. Maybe it’s the moss starting to grow in your skin or the freezing cold stream that numbs your scalp, but there I was, with all my stuff, ready to build something.
