Mr. Card, several years ago you were asked to describe your practice but you were reluctant to call yourself an artist. Has that changed at all in the time since?
I’m confident enough to now say I’m an artist! You’re right that I was very resistant — I think I was scared of it. I started my career as a set designer for runway shows and retail stores, and there’s something about that which is very down the line. It’s a very honest craft, in a way. You’re working with a client; how do we make this commercial thing as exciting as possible? How do we engage an audience? How do you make them feel? But for me, even though I always loved painting and making sculptures, it felt like the theory behind art was something that I was always scared about, that I wasn’t going to be able to crack and get beyond it.
You were worried about answering, “What does the work mean? What does this represent?”
Right, that was the thing I was always scared about. Is it legitimate? Can I make something that’s not just beautiful, but that actually says something? But now I’m older, I make work that responds to me, and I don’t worry about the theory. I’m less caught up in, “What does it mean?” That doesn’t interest me anymore.
“Now I’m figuring out what appeals to me, what am I interested in? And what I’m interested in isn’t always going to engage everybody.”
What does interest you these days then?
Well, I’ve been trying to get to the core of that over the past five years or so. What do I respond to? What do I love? What am I? What compels me to make beyond selling a product, quite honestly, because so much of my set design career has been making stuff for clients to sell products: I’ve worked with Nike, Adidas, Nintendo, TopShop, Stella McCartney, Uniqlo… It’s always been about trying to appeal to people. But now I’m figuring out what appeals to me, what am I interested in? And what I’m interested in isn’t always going to engage everybody. So yeah, it’s a journey I’m still on… What do I want to make? What do I want to say?
Has it been a scary or intimidating confronting your own unique vision as an artist?
Sometimes! Sometimes there are too many ideas and I can’t stop them. I get very excited about the brand new thing, and I want to jump ship from the thing that I’m doing now and do a new thing. And then eventually, I start thinking about something else. So it can be a curse, but also can work in my favor, because it means I’m constantly engaged and I’m constantly thinking, there’s no lack of inspiration. But that can be a problem because sometimes I like too many things and I’m excited about too much stuff. I paint, I sculpt, I make installations, I’m working on an immersive experience for the first time, made in 3D software. Next week I’ll be excited about making hats for Comme des Garçons.
Apparently all your art pieces start in the same way: by crafting a base using masking tape. Does that help to keep you grounded despite your many ideas and inspirations?
Masking tape is my medium of choice in terms of making art, yeah. For whatever reason I’ve cultivated and nurtured a way of sculpting out of tape since I was about 14. I’m 44 now, so that’s a good 30 years of making things. And I’ve got a very unique making technique that is very particular to me. Sculpture always starts with that, and sometimes my commercial projects start that way too, Lady Gaga has worn my masking tape stuff on her head with all of her dancers! Comme des Garçons always starts in masking tape. It’s funny, I used to try and hide the way the masking tape looked by pouring or crafting something over it. But the last few years of finding my own voice as an artist, I’ve been honing in on the very particular look of what the masking tape does, and bringing that to the forefront in a lot of my work, rather than trying to hide it.
It sounds like in finding your voice, you’re also liberating yourself in a way.
Yeah, definitely. The more I worked with this masking tape method, the more I’ve discovered that it really is unique, and it really doesn’t look like anything else. I’ve been able to celebrate it. And it has been really liberating being confident enough to know that what you’re making truly is quite unique, and actually lean into it.
How does it feel seeing those sculptures come to life in your large scale art installations like Hysterical or People Mountain People Sea?
Oh, I still get excited by it. I’ve been making things now for 20 odd years and you’d think that maybe the novelty may have worn off by now, but it never does. I’m always so excited when we finally see the final installation. People Mountain People Sea, the show I did in Hong Kong, the pieces were designed by me and then sculpted by a fabricator in Dongguan, which was different to my unow I’m figuring out what appeals to me, what am I interested in? And what I’m interested in isn’t always going to engage everybody.sual process of making things by myself. They had to build everything and when I went to see everything for the first time, blown up to five meters tall… It was just electrifying. It’s an incredible feeling. That show was the most ambitious thing we had ever done, it had painting, sculpture, installation, immersive experience… There was so much involved, and seeing it in person was a big moment of achievement for me.
How does it compare to seeing a runway show you’ve designed come together? Is that a thrill as well?
They are two different things, but the thrill is similar. I’m equally invested and excited about all of the things. The difference with art is that I’m doing it on my own terms. There’s a totally new thrill in the autonomy, in finding my own audience, my own energy without the safety net of Gucci or Balenciaga or any of my other clients that I’ve been lucky enough to work with. And that feels very gratifying in a totally different way.
You started your career working with big name clients like Rei Kawakubo and Nicola Formichetti. It sounds like it could have been overwhelming for you at such a young age?
I did manage to take it in my stride, but at the same time, I was constantly stressed. Every job felt like it was the most important job, everything was on the line all the time, because you never knew where next opportunity might come from. But I look back now and I’m amazed that I was so capable. Because in those early days, I had a day job as well, I was a graphic designer, and then I’d go home at night and I’d make all this stuff for editorials, shoot them on the weekend. Now I’m like, “How the fuck did I do that? When did I sleep?” (Laughs)
Does it still feel like your work when you’re making props or sets for a client?
No, it’s very much still my work! The thing about being a set designer is you’re constantly shifting and changing, and you’re doing whatever the project needs, whatever the designer needs. I love that. It’s super gratifying. But my ambition now is, I guess, to try and bring my set design career and my art practice into one practice, basically. Is there a way for my clients to be excited about not me just working for them as part of their team, but would they be interested in working with me on a larger project that speaks to more of my own sensibilities? These days I’m taking on a lot more because my partner Jason Zhang has a great business brain, he’s very practical, so together we’re able to do even more. So with that in mind, I would love to expand even further.
Jason’s practical approach must also be helpful in terms of taming the many feverish ideas you mentioned grappling with earlier?
Yes. Absolutely, because you can go too far! Jason’s very good at reigning me in, he’s the voice of reason. But for me, I’m also a lot better now, with age I’ve got a bit better with that stuff, even if I’ve still often got my head in the clouds!