Frederick Haddox
Frederick Haddox ia an American Expressionist based in Budapest, Hungary. Haddox experienced an early education in art from his father. The two would have regular drawing sessions. Despite his constant frustration, Frederick developed enough to have his career as an artist predicted at six years old. Throughout school he was noted for his art. By the time he entered University, Frederick was also skilled at comic art and animation. While in University in the Washington D.C area, Frederick worked as a veterinary technician. Having experience working with many kinds of animals, he learned more about their anatomy and natural movements. Haddox's focus in science and English was redirected to Art after enrolling in a German Expressionism course. Through exploring artists such as Franz Marc, Wassily Kandinski, Frederick found an instant kinship with works coming from Southern Germany and Austria. He then felt the need to paint my life and how he emotionally connected with it. In his art, I paint animals and people together in order to harmonize their spiritual energies.
Frederick, your paintings evoke a symphonic interplay of line and color, where the “wavy” brushstrokes seem to vibrate with life itself, simultaneously recalling the frenetic dynamism of Kandinsky and the spiritual resonance of Franz Marc. Could you expand on how your use of energy through line transcends mere aesthetic device to become an ontological language, one that speaks to the interconnected emotional and metaphysical currents between animals, humans, and the environments they inhabit?
My purpose to create art that is “felt” motivates my use of line as an ontological language. Energy, being something that resonates in all living objects seemed to me like the most logical way to communicate to the interconnected nature of all things.
Your biography charts a journey through continents, America, Europe, the Middle East, and through disciplines, science, language, and art. In what ways have these geographic and intellectual migrations manifested within your visual vocabulary? Do you see your color choices, your linework, or your subject pairings (animal and human) as cartographic expressions of a transcultural identity or even as acts of quiet resistance against fixed artistic or societal categories?
The manifestation of my visual vocabulary is more the product of the experiences from my travels. My style was first created upon reflection of the various circumstances, as they occurred, then followed by the intellectual intricacies. I would have to say expression and resistance are imbibed in my lifework. The more I experienced different cultures, the more I felt a resistance to a “single” defining standard. Art is a reflection of society therefore they cannot be separated in my mind. Expressionism started as a resistance against a “fixed” art. I’m just carrying on that tradition.
Your choice to paint in cafés rather than traditional studios recalls the legacy of artists like Keith Haring, who also blurred the line between public space and personal practice. How do you conceptualize the role of public energy, spontaneous interaction, and communal witness in your artistic process, and what do you think is lost or gained when the artist relinquishes solitude for social immersion?
People are the most prolific carriers of energy in the fact they they're constantly in motion and further compound their energy after every interaction. To create a private practice within this public sphere was first conceived as a personal exercise to overcome my fear of judgement and self-criticism. I conceptualize the roles of public energy, spontaneous interaction and communal witness as Collaboratory elements in my artistic process. There is always a spontaneous element to my artistic practice. The fact I’m creating this in public invites further possibility of spontaneity. When people witness, they act and then become a part of the process. This often takes form in a conversation, taking photos, smiles, stares or intuitive glances. There’s a “cyclic nature” to painting in public. I also paint in these places in order to transfer energetic atmospheres to my canvas, paint that energy and the send the result back out to that atmosphere. Thus, creating a more communal artistic experience.
I think what is most lost is the ability to protect oneself emotionally when painting in public. For every person who looks at my work in public, far more ignore it. Without fully focusing on my work, it’s easy to feel that my art doesn’t matter or has little importance in society. Of course, I have to consider that people may suffer from distractions, other concerns, ignorance or indifference to art. All of which can hinder the public's inability to accept the validity of the artist. I can only combat these attitudes with my resilience and purpose.
You’ve written that your goal is for your art to connect with viewers “on a conscious and subconscious level.” This duality of intellectual versus instinctual reception echoes a deeply Expressionist concern. What strategies do you employ to activate these dual registers in your audience? And how do you navigate the challenge of making work that is both viscerally immediate and symbolically layered, without tipping into obscurity or sentimentality?
Yes this is definitely a challenge because no expressionist would choose to sacrifice the “emotional content” of a work in order to reveal its intellectual merit. There is also a desire for my images to include enough academic technique to be taken seriously. I tend to walk such a “tightrope” by always being mindful of how the viewer sees the image. By using my animal subjects as “containers”, I can draw the viewer's attention to the obvious first. By also including various abstractions in my work, the possibility is greater for a connect with the subconscious mind. Therefore, upon further inspection, they can extrapolate more layers within the overall work.
Animals in your work are not merely representational but seem to serve as energetic proxies, vessels through which you explore themes of vulnerability, intimacy, and collective strength. Can you discuss the specific symbolic or emotional functions animals serve in your visual lexicon, and how their depiction enables you to speak to aspects of the human condition that might otherwise remain inaccessible or censored?
Animals foremost represent a connection between my past and present. From my childhood ventures into nature to working as veterinary technician, I’ve used animals to express how I view myself in the World. There exists a “universal love” for animals that translates into purity on a spiritual level. When I first made paintings of nude couples in public, the interest could definitely be felt by onlookers. For me, this love was translated into impurity on a primitive level. I chose to depict nude couples inside of animals as a way for human sexuality to be seen through the same lens as animals. As a result, I would like human sexuality to be accepted as a symbol of “universal love” and spirituality.
Since People tend to have the same basic needs in a slightly different order of importance, people are capable of holding different views while moving in harmony with each other’s values.
As a Black American artist engaging with the European legacy of German Expressionism, your practice inherently enters a critical dialogue with both Western art history and contemporary identity politics. How do you negotiate this tension between homage and intervention, between aligning yourself with a lineage and reimagining it through the lens of cultural multiplicity, displacement, and self-determination?
German Expressionism emerged from the need of a new national identity and an artistic direction that could bring German art on a par with contemporary European art. In their attempt to do so, they adopted African tribal art into their styles, while holding on to traditional techniques such as woodcuts. These artists freed themselves from the constraints of their national identity by incorporating art by Africans. As a Black American artist, I aligned myself with German Expressionism to free myself from the constraints associated with identity politics.
Your philosophy around lines as liberating rather than constricting challenges canonical Western notions of geometry as order, boundary, and hierarchy. How do you see the “line” evolving in your practice over time? Has it shifted from a formal concern to a conceptual metaphor, or do you see it operating simultaneously on multiple planes—spatial, emotional, societal?
Once considered a tool for enhancing movement, “the line” is continuously evolving in my everyday practice. It’s definitely shifted from a formal concern to operating simultaneously on multiple planes -spatial, emotional and societal. I believe my ability to navigate my philosophy on lines while not completely abandoning Canonical Western notions lies in the fact that my lines aren’t “perfectly straight.” At first glance, my lines appear straight, but with further inspection flaws can be detected. Conceptually this can be seen as a metaphor for the imperfections we humans possess regardless of our best efforts to rid them. Emotionally, the curvature of my lines creates an energy that can resonate with viewers. Often my art is considered psychedelic to some degree. I don’t believe society needs to move in a strict, geometrical direction to maintain any sense of “order.” People tend to have the similar basic needs in a slightly different order of importance. People are capable of holding different views while moving in harmony with each other’s values. My “imperfect” lines allow for some freedom of movement, thought and viewpoint.
In your background as a veterinary technician and educator, there's a notable ethic of care toward animals, knowledge, and human development. How does this ethic translate into your studio (or café) practice? Are there moments when your scientific training in anatomy collides or converges with your artistic desire for abstraction and expressive distortion?
The “grand paradox “ of what I do is that I make rules for myself while I create an open energetic consciousness on canvas. Perhaps, from my years as a teacher, I’ve made education a priority in everything I do. Knowledge and human development are synonymous to me and therefore easy to incorporate in my painting space. Painting live probably has an equal effect in my care for my subject matter. The intricacies in my composition are often unseen in my paintings during their creation. When I paint, the human figures in my paintings are easiest to see during the beginning. It doesn’t take long for those figures to disappear. For me the animal is the more important part because it represents the “container” whereas the humans are secondary. The most challenging part of applying my anatomical knowledge of animals and humans is deciding how much of the human form I will paint. Since I want my painting to “feel” more natural, I refuse to “force” human figures completely into the animal forms. Nowadays, I find myself inserting enough of the body for it to be recognised as human. My contrasting, vibrating lines alone create enough abstraction and expressive distortion to satisfy me.
You often explore the “aligned needs” of love, life, and happiness through your compositions. Do you see your work as proposing a visual theory of emotional ecology, one where individual beings (human or animal) exist in interdependence, vibrating within shared energetic systems? If so, how does this philosophy inform your use of symmetry, palette modulation, and spatial rhythm across a series or body of work?
My exploration is fueled by the belief that people are capable of holding different views while moving in harmony with each other’s values. I do see more of a visual theory of emotional ecology centered on interdependence of individual beings. My effort to propose this theory on vibrating within a shared energetic system encompasses how I use symmetry, palette modulation and spatial rhythm.
Symmetry is a naturally occurring phenomenon and I visualize that in my paintings as an energetic balance. This often takes the form of bilateral symmetry. Ever since the painting Moonbeam, there has been a shift in my paintings from bilateral to lateral symmetry. Though both can represent interdependent vibration, some sense of balance must be maintained. Otherwise, these artworks could take on a direction of anarchy rather than harmony.
Palette modulation and spatial rhythm are very often overlooked in my paintings but is of great importance. In every painting, I tend to separate my palette in order to highlight four primary areas; the human couple, the animal and the space around them. This allows the viewer to discern the subtle changes in my palette which can possibly lead to their detection of these images within the animal form. I use Spatial rhythm for a similar effect whereas the slight differences in vibrating colors can determine where object end and begin. On my more recent works, the lateral vibrating lines in the background change when they come in contact with the animal form. I illustrate this by breaking the pattern of lines as they travel around, along and through the animal forms.
In a time when contemporary art often prioritizes irony, cynicism, or conceptual detachment, your work seems unapologetically earnest, rooted in feeling, connection, and the longing for harmony. Do you consider this emotional transparency a radical gesture in itself? And how do you maintain artistic authenticity in an art world that can be ambivalent, even dismissive, toward sentiment as a primary aesthetic driver?
I wouldn’t fully consider my emotional transparency completely radical. An artist painting lines in public in order to promote spiritual freedom and harmony can appear cynical. Painting live in public sets me apart from many other painters because it eliminates the option to be concealed and emotionally opaque. I feel unable to be authentic to my art without being authentic to those I paint around. That would feel too contradictory to my mission to unite through my art.
Painting live in public sets me apart from many other painters because it eliminates the option to be concealed and emotionally opaque. Their studios and homes are a place for comfort. The creative process has often been associated with “self-isolation.” Such a coping mechanism would certainly emphasis irony, cynicism or conceptual detachment. My emotional transparency could easily by seen as a radical gesture. With the hyper dynamic society we live in, it’s so easy for most to stay within their “comfort zone.” I simply choose to constantly improve myself. Perhaps the need to harmonise stems from growing up in a society that endorsed self-segregation and separation based on race, religion, sex, creed and orientation. Artistic authenticity isn’t an easy hurdle to jump. I’ve been fortunate to have stumbled unto an artistic style that is grounded historically and academically enough to be accepted. Besides that, I feel unable to be authentic to my art without being authentic to those I paint around.