Interview by Andrea Blanch

Andrea Blanch: Did you ever think about doing a film?

Slater Bradley: Yes.

AB: Is that coming?

SB: No. I never found a script. I've tried, it's definitely been a goal of mine. I know a lot of people in the film industry, and the sacrifices that you have to make, and the egos you have to balance. It's not something I really try to aspire to. Although someone like Steve McQueen is a perfect example of an artist who has actually made the transition.

AB: Do you feel that you need to have your own script?

SB: I've always been waiting for someone to put the script in my lap and say, “Slater, here's what you need to do.” And nobody ever has.

AB: You use gold a lot in your work. Gold leaf, gold marker, gold this, gold that. What's the attraction?

SB: I use some silver too. But it's funny, nobody's really ever asked me that, and I sort of knew you were going to ask me that, and, well, growing up I did go to an Episcopalian school. A cathedral school in San Francisco, and the cathedral had a certain kind of imagery. I had that Catholic light. I use gold as a signifier of value. Gold and silver markers are permanent. Silver is more easily identifiable with the silver screen in cinema. Gold more of a sort of antiquated Visantium type of past era thing. Because it could border on being really vulgar.

AB: Tell me about the show that’s about to open at Sean Kelly Gallery.

SB: It’s the culmination of a body of work about Alina. It’s also the girl in The Last Goodbye picture.

AB: When did you say goodbye to her?

SB: I’ve been trying not to get so personal about the whole thing. The way I think about reality, there’s many different levels – Alina was always in my consciousness because the work is so pure in that way. It’s really difficult for me to say. It was this intense, crazy, whirlwind, hurricane that came into my life, blew through everything and brought about a lot of these deep subconscious feelings and trajectories that had been present for a long time, and which I had ignored. The piece originally was a structured photography project based on Charlie Ray’s most beautiful woman in the world. He was my teacher and I was very obsessed with this piece that he did for Parkett magazine in 1993 where he took Tatjana Patitz’s portraits. He had this supermodel, and he was depicting her as the “girl next door.” I think this piece is very genius, because this is essentially what Twitter and social media has done. But in 1993, this idea was extraordinary. I saw Alina one day at a party in Williamsburg, I thought, “This is the girl I can remake this piece with.” And I was thinking a lot about Antonioni’s films and Monica Vitti. I’m very attracted to women with these sort of Capricorn-rising faces. These sort of tragic, lost women. When I met her she was very young, and lost. I met her, and said, “Let’s do this project,” and in the process my heart cracked open, and it was like: “I’m totally in love with you, and I’ll do whatever it takes.” You know, at a certain point you make art for so long, you’re constantly giving and giving, and this was the first time I could make something happen. And then it was the difficult process of maintaining a long-distance relationship. It got to be too grueling, and it dissolved. But I learned a lot about unconditional love during the process. No matter what somebody says, no matter how hardcore it is, you continue to love them and support them and do whatever you can. That was the big lesson for me. I try and practice it every day. She’s been the catalyst of this huge transformation in me from New York to Berlin.