“Where is the authenticity in today’s cultural society? These systems that we have now for communication and information sharing, We must take this with a grain of salt.”
Sandberg has a lot in her toolbox. He has worked with acrylic and oil painting, etching and photographic engraving. He often plays characters who blur the lines between humans and monsters. Their body shape is similar to ours. Their clothes are like ours, but they are covered with hair. Sometimes, they take on the appearance of a werewolf, with animal-like fur. Other times, hair spirals down their faces and bodies like skeins of brightly colored yarn or long rolls of Play-Doh.
“I don’t usually take reference photos or anything like that,” he said. “Usually, a lot of it comes from an expression in my head. Occasionally, I’ll use some photographic reference with a very specific light source.”
In “Girl at Sunset,” pink hair covers nearly the entire head—only the character’s eyes and mouth are hairless—and is swept back to the sides, as if blown by the wind. In Rapala (2016), a man and woman cruise around in a BMW. Black hair was knotted around their faces. The characters are similar enough to humans to be relatable creatures.
Previously, Sandberg focused on photography and film. At the time, he was living in a large warehouse in Atwater Village, near the Los Angeles River. It’s mostly an industrial area, so he can work late and make noise on these complex projects. He would create “large, elaborate” costumes for the shoots and invite friends to serve as models. He would provide some guidance for the models, but Sandberg said he was interested in screen-testing Andy Warhol’s players, and he also wanted to see what the models could bring to the images. “It was a very interesting experience,” he said.
In “Beach Day,” as waves roll on the sand, model Leah Raquel sits on a swing and sips the thick black concoction from a long, thick straw. The model flirtatiously twirls her long yellow tendrils, which in close-up look like rolled-up sheets of plastic. The model looked more like a creature from the black lagoon waste. The model gulped.
After drinking alcohol, excess alcohol will settle on your hair. The seductive pose satisfies the ugly impact humans have on the environment. “Wash” is a less obvious comment that maintains the creepy, slimy monster vibe.
“With photography, there’s a authenticity to them. There’s a realism to it. It’s able to be manipulated so much through pixels, but it has this inherent authenticity to it,” Sandberg said. “You can see the components of it through the ad. That’s because it’s believable. When you see that manufactured home in a mall catalog, you believe it, even though we know they’re all actors. It feels like the scene is somewhat believable.”
The inherent believability of photography and film creates further problems for artists, especially in an age where technology has made image manipulation much easier. “Where is the authenticity in today’s cultural society?” he asked. “These systems that we have now for communicating and sharing information, they have to be taken with a grain of salt. Obviously, if you’re in the visual arts world, you’re a little more savvy…For the average person who doesn’t have that kind of visual sophistication, how do they know what’s completely believable or real? Does it matter?”
At the time of the interview, Sandberg was participating in a group show called “Image Futures” at 101/Exhibit in West Hollywood. One of the works he contributed to the exhibition is “Botanical Garden,” an ink and acrylic work from 2016 that depicts a thin woman with dark hair that appears to be drying after a day in the pool. Her hair cascaded down her neck and shoulders, hidden beneath the straps of a tailored black flag vest. The cord of her earbud fell towards the gadget in her hand. Behind her is a wallpaper-like scene of plant leaves.
Sandberg’s current influences include flowers and plants, which ties in with his digital interests. He recalled a condolence email he received after his mother passed away a few years ago, and how it included a .gif of a wreath. “I like the fact that it doesn’t keep the normal, cyclical aspect of receiving something,” he said. “The fact that it’s still popping up in inboxes and emails, I find it somewhat fascinating, both formally and culturally.”*
This article originally appeared in High Fructose Issue 45, which is now sold out. Support our work and get our latest issue by subscribing to High Fructose here.
