Interview with Austin Phillips
By Cole Phillips
(Photo of Austin in his studio, taken by Cole Phillips)
Fiction Editor Cole Phillips interviews Portland, ME-based artist Austin Phillips on the ideas of craft, community, living as a practicing artist, and the history of ventriloquisim. Check out Austin’s work in our August 2020 issue here.
Cole Phillips: How did you get started with making ventriloquist figures and other puppets?
Austin Phillips: When I was five, I saw a Charlie McCarthy doll for sale in the mall. Something about it was very exciting and fascinating to me, so I asked for the doll for Christmas that year. When I got him for Christmas, I started working on throwing my voice, developing little routines, and learning about the ventriloquist who used the original Charlie McCarthy. Edgar Bergen was one of the most famous ventriloquists of the early 20th century. From there, my want and need for a professional ventriloquist dummy grew as a I started to perform. Instead of buying, I taught myself how to make my own.
CP: What is the most challenging thing about figure-building, for you?
AP: The most challening thing is taking something that was once leisurely, hobbyistic, and turning it into something that’s core intent is to help you make a living. Now you’re faced with building things and taking on projects that you wouldn’t necessarily have before. Not very stimulating or exciting, perhaps. Sometimes, with a certain customer, their vision supercedes your own. That being said, I try to be optimisitc about it all—to see that there are likeminded people out there utilizing my services. For all of the “bad” projects coming through the door, there tend to be good projects—projects of enough quality that they are fulfilling in spite of the less-stimulating time.
CP: I know that you do this full-time—that it’s your job as well as your passion. Do those things conflict?
AP: It’s like anything in that, at the beginning your pay your dues and take the projects that come to you. But as you find your place in the scene, in the artistic world, you build your vision and, by extension, your brand. At that point you can be more selective about which projects you want to take on—what’s stimulating and what is not.
There’s something to be said, though, for taking on projects you may initially have doubts about, too. I’m not sure there has ever been a project I’ve not at least learned from, become a better artist and maker as result of.
CP: When and where do you work? Are there places you go to for inspiration, or is place, for you, more borne out of necessity, utilitarian?
AP: I work out of my studio in Portland, Maine. My studio is my favorite place to go to get inspiration because it houses my dummy collection. My antique dummies serve as examples of the best work from my favorite makers. I think it’s important to be surrounded by what you love.
CP: What compels you to continue figure-building, as art and/or as a professional medium?
AP: My passion and my love for the art make it hard for me to picture my life without figure-building. It’s an involved and complex thing I make, and it’s so inherently motivating for a person like me. To do this thing, you have to be a painter, you have to be a sculptor, you have to be a woodcarver, you have to be a mold-maker, you need to have a basic understanding of physics, math, in order to construct the mechanics. And then you take it all in order to create a functional tool for someone to use—something that won’t fall apart or fail. It’s kinetic sculpture that’s utilitarian! It never stops, figuratively or literally.
Anything like that is so exciting for me, because it’s challening, right? All of the aforementioned is true and is uniform, but—at once—every puppet is unique, too. That’s the fun of it, the challenge of it: the continual learning of it is my compelling, moving force.
CP: What about your work is specific to Austin Phillips, versus someone else’s?
AP: I think there are contemporaries of mine who, from my point of view, are doing it wrong. I mean, maybe there’s room for everything in the world, I don’t know. But I think that the thing I strive to do differently, is to approach this thing with respect for the history of both the craft itself, and my roots and why I started doing this in the first place.
My work is heavily-attentive to derivative detail and historical detail. Fifty percent of my work is historical restoration. But it’s important for me to add modernity to this medium, too, because that’s what’s keeping it alive. I want to make something that is modern in its being functional, but aesthetically timeless. And I think that some builders are so profit-minded, or so stuck in a singular direction, that they neglect technique and learning. I’m a firm believer in carrying on artistic tradition, taking it into the modern world of art, but you can’t do that without understanding its past—learning the history and understanding how we’ve grown and will continue to grow.
CP: I know that, from a writing standpoint, a lot of people are willing to concede that—sort of—all writing is writing, all art is art, etc., despite classical training or approach. And I think there are some people asking: Is this stuff, the less-learned stuff, art? Or is it existing on some sort of artistic periphery? This plane of almost-art?
AP: That’s tough, but I default, in this conversation, to saying that it all stems from intent. You know, some of the stuff I love the most is the definition of crude—it’s true folk-art. Made by amateurs to be something they could use. But their intent was there. They had to make something for a purpose, and so approached it with a weighty degree of thought.
On a basic level, for example, a vent puppet’s mouth needs to open and close, right? But to be performed with, this needs to be visible to the audience. So it takes a degree of understanding concerning painting palette. How do I make this big, sweeping, and beautiful?
But there’s a lot out there—I think this is true with any medium—that neglects all of that and stands only to, in some way, profit. Whether by way of money or ego. In ventriloquism this is really obvious, too. It’s clear when the intent isn’t there—when this thing didn’t need to be made. I think the best art is borne out of necessity.
All of that being said, it takes a special person person to give a shit in the right way. The majority of art critics are hacks, we know. Most critical people see something, say, ‘It’s bad,’ but don’t know why it’s bad. Maybe the product is a bit crude so they’ll say it’s bad comparatively to something more seemingly-polished. I think that’s the wrong way of looking at something. If you’re going to look with a critical eye, look at something by itself, on its own, with regard to its purpose.
So I’m not sure there is a valid criticism of art that’s universal, but there are some special people taking the time to evaluate art for the right reasons.
CP: Who are your biggest influences, and what about their work is inspiring for you?
AP: It’s a long list, but if I had to boil it down to three people I would cite: Len Insull, Ray Guyll, and Geoff Felix. Len Insull was the greatest and most prolific ventriloquist figure-maker that England had ever seen. His innovative ideas and designs for his figures set them apart from anything else that had been made before. Ray Guyll was my personal mentor, friend, and a person whom I believe to have been the best figure-builder and -restorer of my time. His attention to detail is super inspiring. He was such a perfectionist and always had to redo things until they were totally right. Geoff Felix is another contemporary maker and mentor of mine. His work is focused on the preservation of Len Insull’s work. I love that he builds in a traditional style while being a contemporary maker.
CP: Who are your favorite figure-builders currently working? Any of the same?
AP: Tyler Ellis is one of my closest friends and one of the best contemporary figure-makers out there. Although our styles are totally different, it’s awesome to have someone to relate to in the figure-making world. He has such a regard for the history of this craft, as I do. You can tell just by picking up and looking at his stuff who his influences are, how he trained himself, how much he loves it.
And, yes, Geoff too. I admire Geoff’s work so much because he has completely thrown out any and all methods of making his life and the process easier. By that I mean: He uses no power tools, and everything he makes is created using materials that are primitive by today’s standards. Yet he’s able to produce art that is timeless. He has immersed himself in this world—this golden era of figure-building—that we can only guess at, much of the time. He has dedicated his life to his craft and he wouldn’t change it in any way. It’s intentional, because he recognizes it may be more difficult, but that he will be judged differently when he’s finished with something. People will realize the beauty and intention of his work, knowing it’s been made the same way this stuff was being made 100 years ago.
Yeah, I respect both of those guys so much.
CP: Do you think it’s important to have artists like that in your circle? Or would you be doing this stuff alone in a cave if it came to it?
AP: I’d say it’s a bit of both. I’m a puppet geek, I learn a lot from history. I love my friends, and respect their work, but I learn less from them and more from history of craft. That being said, I learn most from my every day. I learn from the art around me, the landscape around me, the momentary inspirations around me. They are a part of that, my circle of friends and artists, but I don’t rely on them.
I think it’s so important—what you’re talking about, having this close circle—in life. Socially, they’re so important. They’re my family. But would I be doing this by myself in the dark, without them? I think the answer is probably yes.
CP: Words of advice?
AP: Do what makes you happy, even if it seems obscure.
Austin Phillips is a builder of new and restorer of antique ventriloquist figures, puppets, and puppet ephemera. His work has appeared on the Netflix Original Series The Crown, in music videos for artists such as Boogie, and many other places. His restoration work includes the original Archie Andrews figure. His work is in the collections of David Copperfield, Darcy-Lynne Farmer, Paul Zerden, and many others. He has lectured in different countries about the history of ventriloquial craft, and is one of the foremost experts in the world on the work of Len Insull. He lives in Portland, Maine with his dog Jane.
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