Kevin Donegan
Kevin is a prolific young artist living and working in Vermont. His artistic process has evolved over the years, but in a non-linear fashion, such that it cycles back upon itself. He began creating in his teens when it was a compulsive way to make sense of a seemingly screwed up world. His first explorations were in acrylics and found-object assemblage. However, at the time, he never fully considered a career in the arts. It was a passion that had its own objective and offered its own reward. Nonetheless, he continued to explore and create independently into his mid-twenties.
In 2008, Kevin discovered stone carving, in his backyard. Literally. He’d been a mason, and knew how to work with stone; found some soft rock, sharpened some screwdrivers, and began carving. After a few trial runs, he sought out people to learn from, and wham! Consequently, his inspiration exploded, production accelerated, and his artistic career was launched. For six years, he worked almost exclusively in stone – networking in the regional community, receiving gallery representation, and refining his craft. But in 2014, after personal turmoil, and a momentous trip to Europe, something changed in him. Rather than the joy that he had formerly found in stone, instead he found the material constraining. Imagine! Spending almost two months in Italy, touring quarries, tasting wine, admiring the ancient masters (hip deep in marble); only to come home discouraged. How can that be? It sounds illogical.
To break out of this mental quagmire, Kevin tried a new material. Steel. Not welded, painted, pretty steel, mind you – but found steel, chain, and rusted hunks of metal. He created a series of sculpture in 2015, while in winter residency at the Carving Studio and Sculpture Center, that explored free expression, ironically using a universal symbol of restraint (chain). It was satisfying in its own way, but failed to gain traction; for him or for his audience. So, he kept searching.
In 2016, after the loss of a family member, Kevin inherited a partial wardrobe, most of which was ill-fitting. One day, something impulsive in him grabbed a pair of those jeans and dipped them, almost desperately, deep into a bucket of paint. Then, by that same impulsive force, he was compelled to hang, arrange, and dry them. This was done messily without forethought, but in so doing, an entirely new series was born. In the process, he was able to cleave back to a passion which had its own objective and offered its own reward.
Kevin has always followed a non-traditional trajectory. It is one driven by instinct, intention, restless dissatisfaction, and peer consultation. Despite all justification to the contrary, he is not interested in the formality of degrees, nor is he motivated by monetary reward (though he readily admits his stubbornness), and has preferred instead to stumble along in pursuit of something else, just out of sight.
His influences are both immediate and wide-ranging. Yet, for the most part, Kevin has learned best from direct experience: time alone in nature, working with his hands, and talking to people he trusts.
In 2008, Kevin discovered stone carving, in his backyard. Literally. He’d been a mason, and knew how to work with stone; found some soft rock, sharpened some screwdrivers, and began carving. After a few trial runs, he sought out people to learn from, and wham! Consequently, his inspiration exploded, production accelerated, and his artistic career was launched. For six years, he worked almost exclusively in stone – networking in the regional community, receiving gallery representation, and refining his craft. But in 2014, after personal turmoil, and a momentous trip to Europe, something changed in him. Rather than the joy that he had formerly found in stone, instead he found the material constraining. Imagine! Spending almost two months in Italy, touring quarries, tasting wine, admiring the ancient masters (hip deep in marble); only to come home discouraged. How can that be? It sounds illogical.
To break out of this mental quagmire, Kevin tried a new material. Steel. Not welded, painted, pretty steel, mind you – but found steel, chain, and rusted hunks of metal. He created a series of sculpture in 2015, while in winter residency at the Carving Studio and Sculpture Center, that explored free expression, ironically using a universal symbol of restraint (chain). It was satisfying in its own way, but failed to gain traction; for him or for his audience. So, he kept searching.
In 2016, after the loss of a family member, Kevin inherited a partial wardrobe, most of which was ill-fitting. One day, something impulsive in him grabbed a pair of those jeans and dipped them, almost desperately, deep into a bucket of paint. Then, by that same impulsive force, he was compelled to hang, arrange, and dry them. This was done messily without forethought, but in so doing, an entirely new series was born. In the process, he was able to cleave back to a passion which had its own objective and offered its own reward.
Kevin has always followed a non-traditional trajectory. It is one driven by instinct, intention, restless dissatisfaction, and peer consultation. Despite all justification to the contrary, he is not interested in the formality of degrees, nor is he motivated by monetary reward (though he readily admits his stubbornness), and has preferred instead to stumble along in pursuit of something else, just out of sight.
His influences are both immediate and wide-ranging. Yet, for the most part, Kevin has learned best from direct experience: time alone in nature, working with his hands, and talking to people he trusts.
Artist Statement
Photo courtesy of John Penoyar
Quite simply, I am called to create.
I have been a self-proclaimed artist since the age of 16. What began as a hobby grew into a passion and has now become a catalyst for growth, contemplation, and understanding. I consider “the artist” to be a fundamental aspect of the human condition, and a reflection of a universal creative spirit. Therefore, regardless of what medium in which I work, I will always consider the product of my labor, essentially, art.
I have a deep connection to material. It speaks to me both brazenly and intimately through form, sound, smell, and feel. I value objects for their integrity and character, and consider every sculpture a collaboration. The classification of some “stuff” as inanimate (or lifeless) seems to me unfair, if not a complete fallacy. I believe it is alive.
I have been a self-proclaimed artist since the age of 16. What began as a hobby grew into a passion and has now become a catalyst for growth, contemplation, and understanding. I consider “the artist” to be a fundamental aspect of the human condition, and a reflection of a universal creative spirit. Therefore, regardless of what medium in which I work, I will always consider the product of my labor, essentially, art.
I have a deep connection to material. It speaks to me both brazenly and intimately through form, sound, smell, and feel. I value objects for their integrity and character, and consider every sculpture a collaboration. The classification of some “stuff” as inanimate (or lifeless) seems to me unfair, if not a complete fallacy. I believe it is alive.
Photo courtesy of John Penoyar
