Mikey Ting is a Melbourne based artist, designer and maker of things; his zest for life imbues his bespoke handmade furniture pieces and reconfigured found art.
In this conversation, originally published on In the Arts, Mikey Ting speaks on the risk of burn out when personal worth hinges on creative output, the linkage between mental health and his creative practice, Australiana nostalgia and the exhilarating process of putting on his first exhibition You Got This.
Tahney Fosdike: Outside what you make, what other art do you consume?
Mikey Ting: I’m pretty typical in my consumption. I listen to records, read books, support my mates, go to shows, and watch movies. I just read Wuthering Heights for the first time in two and a half days. I am a fast reader, but it also helps that I didn’t feel like I wanted to put it down. It was a cracking read, it was like watching reality television unfold. It was incredible. The characters are just so flawed and fantastic.
Tahney: I should give another crack. In high school, I wanted to read it but, growing up in the country, I didn’t have access to a bookshop. I downloaded and printed one chapter at a time and me and my classmates took turns reading it. It was such an effort, I don’t think we got past chapter three.
More of an abstract question- what does art do for you? Not as an artist but as someone who’s taking it in.
Mikey: I’ve felt, since I was a little kid, that I can look at something, see the pieces and cogs turning, dissect an intention, take it, store it away and use it later. That’s a whole other discussion about input equals output and re-appropriation of people’s art. For me, that was always the goal: I take bits of certain works that I adore and love because they’re going to give me something in the future. I can appreciate that fact, but, I guess it’s quite selfish.
Tahney: It’s a collective way of looking at creation. Instead of calling yourself a creative genius assuming you’re inventing everything, it’s acknowledging you’re taking stuff in from everywhere.
Mikey: It’s a pragmatic approach. It’s not a sense of thinking I have this incredible gift! It’s just, “I like this, I like this, and I like that. I don’t understand that, and it’s not my cup of tea, but that I do like.” They make me feel a certain way, or I know they might inform my work. I’ll take them and put them away. That process is the bit I love about looking at or experiencing other people’s art as well as within collaboration and working with friends. I get to see what informs their work and how our friendship informs my work. Everyone has that ability within their close friendships: whether it’s how you talk or how you communicate through making things.
Tahney: Moving into your background, do you remember your first connection with art?
Mikey: I had a pretty typical upbringing in relation to the arts. My dad is creative but he is not a typical champion of the arts (I’m not taking away from my dad, he’s the greatest human ever). I was exposed to playing music from a really young age. Basically, throughout my oldest brother’s schooling, it was clear he was a gifted kid. My mum was a teacher at the time but my parents got advice that instead of pushing him up, to push him out and broaden his horizons. Give him lots to sink his teeth into and chew on. You know it’s not typical – especially back then in a small town- to have multiple kids taking music lessons and doing sports. It was just such a different time.
I’m appreciative of being exposed to different things- not necessarily just the arts – which imbued me with a sense of creativity and expression through various facets of living all underpinned by being raised well. My parents are really good humans. I’m fortunate to have my upbringing. Even hearing myself talk about it now, I know I had a lucky childhood, and I’m in a position where now I get to use that every day. A lot of people don’t get that, especially where I come from [Hamilton, New Zealand].
Tahney: It sounds like there was this curiosity and sense of adventure with the world even when you were living in an isolated area. What was the first thing that you really creatively sunk your teeth into?
Mikey: I got music lessons as a kid. When you’re a younger brother, you just do whatever your older brothers are doing. They have music lessons, so do I! My oldest brother played the guitar and my other older brother played the violin. I don’t remember making a choice, but I started taking keyboard lessons in a class right after school. I would sit down with all these other little kids and we all had a small keyboard – it was super cute. I quickly moved on from that to getting one-on-one lessons and the keyboard turned into the organ. I’m super thankful that I played such an out-there instrument as a kid. Then from the organ, I graduated to the piano.
Tahney: Did your music ambitions develop past high school?
Mikey: Yes and no. I went through university after high school and played throughout. I moved cities for uni and when I was on the cusp of finishing I got asked by my brother to join a punk band. I had no experience of being in a band and no ambition to do it- I just thought it would be fun for a laugh. I initially said no, but I would help with the recording process if they needed someone to play. I didn’t know what that entailed, what a session musician was, what playing on a record meant, what touring looked like or what playing shows was like. My answer was very non-committal, but that was the start of a very long portion of my life where I identified as a musician. I took a lot of pride and took it seriously, and I enjoyed that time too.
Tahney: How did you develop from identifying as a musician and then going into a design vocation?
Mikey: That was tough. When the band split, I didn’t have an outlet. That was one of the most trying times of my personal life, not just my creative life. But I like talking about it because everyone should talk about low points in life.
After we moved from New Zealand to Melbourne, we gave it a good five years. It was incredible being a musician, and we released a record which had a worldwide release on a major label. We were a touring machine for a long time, and then all of a sudden I was no longer a musician. Or, in my brain, I thought I no longer was a musician. It tore me up for the longest time because I thought I had something to say in that medium. I took so much pride being able to tell people that I was a musician and being that person.
So much of my identity was wrapped up in that. When that got taken away, I thought I don’t know what I want to do. It laid bear all my insecurities around my shortcomings as a creative person. It was so crushing. I lost my way for a long time. If you’re an expressive, creative person then you lose steam and faith, it’s a slippery slope, and that was bleak.
Tahney: When did you start to feel like you were coming out of this period?
Mikey: That started with my solo show, which is interesting because I still feel like an outsider in the visual arts. I might always feel like that. When I started painting, and I was honing in on the central thesis of my current work, I started gathering confidence in the idea I could be productive again. For the preparation of my show, I had to be productive, and I formed habits of working a lot. Very naturally, I started believing in myself and my work and talking about mental health awareness and championing mateship and support and community.
It just came through, and all of a sudden the clouds lifted. All I wanted to do was tell everyone about this thing and shove it in people’s faces and go, ‘I’m making things again!’ I’m proud of what I’m making, and it’s the best feeling in the world coming from not having a thing. I don’t know if people have a similar attachment to the way that they make things or the way that wraps up their identity. I’m sure it does: there’s a well-documented history of artists feeling heavy or feeling good or feeling the whole spectrum of emotions relating to how they are creating at the time.
It’s so powerful that you can feel so isolated and low and disenchanted with the system and the support for the arts. Then, the coin can flip so quickly, and all of a sudden you are invincible. You’re untouchable. It’s not an ego thing, it’s more this total control and love and freedom that you can just be yourself and it’s just so okay. I get so emotional talking about it because it’s the most powerful tonic that I have.
Tahney: That’s so beautiful. For those who aren’t familiar with your work, can you describe what you make?
Mikey: I do a bit of everything. I am a maker and a painter. I still dabble with making music and writing, and I design a lot too – furniture making by trade. The biggest thing that I do is solve problems. The most recent thing I did was a painting exhibition and months before that I didn’t even know that I was a painter. I didn’t know that that was a thing, and I wonder what the next thing will be. I might not have even done it yet.
Tahney: It’s like that- you think you can’t do something until you start doing it then you’re like, “Oh.”
Mikey: Isn’t that humanity in a nutshell?! We’re convinced we can’t do a thing and then we give it a go, and it’s like, “Oh, I can do it, maybe, I can do other things? Can I do everything?”
Tahney: Then comes the ego crash, and you’re like, “Oh, I’m terrible.” There’s a meme about the daily life of an artist when you’re like, “Oh, I can’t do this, oh my god, I’m so I’m terrible, oh, this is okay, oh, I’m amazing.” You have this creative side with your paintings, and then you’ve got your design work. What does an average day look like for you? Did you ever think you’d be working creatively full time?
Mikey: This is something my therapist talks to me about all the time- take a minute to look at what you’re doing. Although there are great things ahead and there have been great things behind, what you’re doing right now is important. You can take stock and feel the moment.
What I do now is the ultimate mixed bag of slacking off and taking the piss but also doing the work. I have my main business which is design, steel fabrication and woodworking and general making with tools. But even that entails 3D modelling and design, running a retail business, the process of engaging in custom commissions and executing them. In itself, it’s a varied, fun job.
Painting started as a side hustle, but now I probably paint more than I make furniture. That changes every other week. Some days I’ll just smash out a book and other days I’ll play golf. It’s just so nice that I have that freedom to enjoy the mixed day. When something gets a bit heavy, or I lose my steam doing something, I can switch it up. I can curate my day and protect my mental health in the process. I’m under no illusion that the reason I’m so high right now and in control is because I have good habits looking after this thing I’m trying hard to prioritize.
Tahney: That’s so important in the gig economy we find ourselves in. It can be both a positive and negative thing. People are going to be more in control of their mental health, having more flexibility, but there’s also risk of burnout.
Mikey: The burnout’s real. That goes back to what we were saying about your worth as a creator and as a human being. If that’s tied up in your work, then you have to be careful about what you show and don’t show people, how much you work and rest, and how much you can step back and enjoy other things because that fuels your creativity. I’m conscious of overworking, probably a little too over conscious, and maybe I’m underworking. But the key for me is that flexibility to be able to switch it up and change. It is sort of a natural follow-on from my upbringing where I had so many different interests. I like to spread myself pretty thin but I know when it’s too thin. I know when I’m not doing a good job at something or need to learn how to do something better and invest a lot more time. Things will naturally fall by the wayside as I do that. But if I read Wuthering Heights for three days straight, I’m probably not going to do much work.
Tahney: But that’s okay! That’s just going to feed back into the quality of your work. Sometimes, I talk to creative people, and they say they don’t read because they’re too busy. I’m like, oh my god, how can your work be informed if you’re not taking time just to enjoy your life and feed your soul? It’s super important.
Mikey: For a period, you’ll probably be productive with rad work that a lot of people feel passionate about. Eventually, that ammunition is going to run out if you’re not feeding that part of your brain. Suppose you’re not nourishing yourself by listening to records, reading books, watching movies, supporting your friends, going to shows, and meeting new people. For me, if I’m not doing that, I don’t feel confident to put myself out there. All bets are off. I’m not making anything. That’s the slope to feeling despair for me.
Tahney: I’d like to talk more about your paintings. You take these found old Australiana landscape prints, and intercept them with painted graphic slogans. Why do you choose these paintings, and how do you decide what you put on them?
Mikey: I can’t remember the first thing that I painted that was in this shtick or remember the natural progression. I remember seeing my friend Callum do a piece for an exhibition. He had taken an old piece of found art- a vintage print of a seascape- and written a Seinfeld quote on it in his beautiful hand-painted style. It must have tweaked something in my brain. I remember looking at it and then forgetting about it for the longest time. In the process, I guess I picked up a paintbrush and started painting with enamels and getting stuck in. I honestly can’t remember when this light bulb moment came.
It must be subconscious as trying to explain feels a bit forced. Whenever I see those old paintings, I’m imbued with this sense of nostalgia. It’s a history that I didn’t get to experience because I grew up in another country. Others see an Australiana print and say, “Oh, they used to hang on my nana’s house.” For me, it’s like going to the NGV and seeing The Pioneer in person and not being privy to what it means historically. I appreciate that warm fuzzy feeling you get, and it reminds me of home life and family.
It’s naf, but I love the ubiquity of them. It’s so funny that you can get a print in so many different shapes and sizes and one will be crap, one will be sharp, one will have a terrible frame, and another will be in states of disrepair. That feeling, naturally for me, translates into this discussion about how it makes you feel.
Tahney: How do you choose the words that you put on them?
Mikey: Input equals output. If I see something, I typically write it down or think about what that means to me. I keep a little notepad on my phone of things I see or people say to me. You’ve probably got those eccentric friends that say something, and you’re like, ‘That came out of your brain!?’ I write those things down.
Tahney: They are usually quite positive and empowering phrases. Are you trying to uplift people? Are they directed toward yourself, or are you trying to make them for the audience?
Mikey: Optimism aside, they’re more a reflection of the type of support I would like to give people, or I’d like my art to give people when they see it. That instant gratification that goes, ‘Yes! That makes me feel amazing because I know someone else is feeling it too.’ I probably paint more optimistic words than I don’t, but it’s more about a celebration that people are going through a tough time, just like you are.
We all have those moments and periods in our lives where things just seem so beige or average, as well as moments and pockets of time where there are bigger things, or stuck in between where there are great things on the way. I want people to feel like they’re not by themselves. It’s a bit cliche, but whatever you’re going through, people are going through it as well. The more you talk about this stuff with people, the more you just talk about what’s going on. People are struggling. People are having a good time. But the common thread is that the more you talk about it, the better you feel.
It’s nice to know that people are going through similar things, so when they say they have your back, there’s meaning and motivation behind it. That is ultimately very freeing.
Tahney: You’re in between the art scene and the design industry. Can explain the differences and overlaps between visual art and design?
Mikey: That’s a meaty question for my line of work.
Tahney: It’s your bread and butter, but you’re also putting your creative energy into it. You’re balancing restraint, in a way, but also expressing yourself. How do you do that? I feel in the arts, some people feel shame to embark on a commercial aspect of their work that’s quite creative.
Mikey: This is probably what people want to hear who are embarking on this journey themselves. There are things that you can and can’t protect but you can ultimately ride the line between a trade and an expression. I learned the tough way by making mistakes and figuring out what I could and couldn’t protect. Now, I do that by trusting my gut and honouring that feeling where if something is going a way that I don’t appreciate or enjoy, I need to be transparent with people to protect my interests.
But, typically, the style of work that I have done and the way I curate the content on my social media attracts a sort of person or customer who appreciates what I do. It’s a very natural process. It would be different if I was cold calling people saying, “Do you want a custom commission for a painting? This is what I do, and do you like it?” It’s different when people come to the table knowing what they’re going to get. My job is to give them my most honest effort at expressing something. I might have a bit or a lot of input from them. The amount of input people give me is directly dictated by me.
I ask people exactly what they want- what colours, what style, what do you want it to say? From there, it’s a very natural discussion. Furniture by nature is utilitarian. It does a job. You can build a desk for someone, and at the end of the day, it’s a desk. I can imbue it with a sense of creativity and make it very sculptural, but you’re going to put a bloody cup on the thing. It solves a very black and white problem, “Where do I put my cup?” People can’t just have their cups floating next to them, right?
Tahney: Do you enjoy that pragmatism in your life?
Mikey: I have a mixed day- I can do something very pragmatic, but then I can do something that is very waffly and airy-fairy. I make it up as I go. Some days, I’m keen on building something utilitarian – I like that about furniture. It’s the reason I don’t build other things like houses. To this day, I’m not super keen on traditional carpentry. I’m more interested in the sculptural and design elements and having something to say through my work.
Furniture can be many things but ultimately it is a vessel and a way for people to make a room or a home seem designed. Furniture merely becomes the vessel for all the other things that they want to put on it and display. That’s how I use furniture, so that informs my work.
But the line between the two [design and creativity] some days is challenging. Other days, it’s a very natural, freeing, excellent feeling. It’s not an accident that I have these different areas that I can dabble in because too much of one thing is suffocating. Too much painting without structure or too much following a welding plan for a steel fabrication job, I’ll just go insane. I like a bit of both.
Tahney: It would be cool to talk about your first exhibition, You got this, which was at Kado Warehouse in Richmond, Melbourne in collaboration with Tell Your Friends You Love Them. Can you tell more about the partnership
Mikey: Tell Your Friends You Love Them is a social initiative run by my friend Matt O’Brien. Matt is very dear to me; he does great work and is a generous and warm spirit. Anything he is a part of, people are smiling, feeling great and having a candid discussion about how they feel. There’s no pretension, and there’s no assumptions. The initiative is a very loose approach to talking about real stuff. The events they run and the agendas they push are a natural extension of the quality of human that Matt is. As soon as I met him, I instantly thought we should do something.
Before the exhibition during the process of trying to find a not-for-profit to partner with, I was putting myself out there and feeling a bit disenchanted with the quality of feedback I was getting. Not-for-profits are overworked so it’s not likely that they’re going to read these cold call emails and go, “I’ll just drop everything I’m doing, and support your crazy idea.” In my brain, it got to the point where I was starting to feel like I was pestering people a bit. People around me were saying you shouldn’t feel that way about something you are passionate about and love. I understand where they were coming from, but I need someone to be hyped from day dot.
I was sitting there one day, and I thought man I’m not having any luck with finding a great way to tie this into a community effort. Why don’t I just go with Tell Your Friends You Love Them? It’s something that’s already there and existing, and they need finances to be able to put on more events and do great work.
Tahney: What about the delivery- were there responses to your work that stood out to you?
Mikey: When I started the exhibition, I bit off more than I could chew. I signed on for the show, and didn’t know what that meant apart from going to exhibitions and seeing them and understanding how the cogs worked. I started making the work, and I didn’t even have the idea that it would be about mental health. It was just a collection of my paintings. Very quickly, [mental health] became a real fundamental part of what I wanted to say, and it just kept picking up steam, and I knew in my gut that it was something I should double down on.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just creating for creating sake. There was something bigger at play. It quickly turned from an optimistic “I’ll make 15 to 20 pieces for this exhibition” and then once I grabbed hold of that idea I blinked and 40 paintings. It just kept on growing, and I just kept painting. Every night I would get home and paint. It didn’t feel like a chore- it was fun.
All of a sudden, I had all this work and a unifying theme. At no point did I feel stressed or overworked or like I wasn’t going to make the deadline. There was no anxiety once I eclipsed my initial target of having 15 pieces because I knew it wouldn’t look ridiculous. I kept making for fun. Then Callum mentioned to me that I should hang them like they were in a pool room. Throw convention out the door! It’s not highbrow work, it’s for everyone. Put it all up and see how it makes people feel.
Tahney: How do you think it made people feel?
Mikey: It made people feel like how I felt: happy (and a little bit confused about how one person can do all this work so quickly). It all happened within three months. I feel like it was for people out there like me. Although I look like I have all my shit together, it’s a struggle sometimes. That’s the nature of being human. It’s not all great. But even the not great bits, I wouldn’t trade. I would hope that’s what people thought when they walked in.
I had lots of people say very genuine great stuff. Although they were validating words, I loved the looks on people’s faces: the exchanges between lovers when they looked at a piece that caused a connecting moment for them and when friends took their kids to see it. Little things like that were the whole thing for me – I would do it again just for those moments.
Tahney: That’s a nice note to finish on. Just one more question, what can we see from you in the next 12 months?
Mikey: I’m just about to move into a bigger space. My friend Ella runs a fabulous gym space where she coaches strength and conditioning for everyone. She’s about smashing the conventions of the regular gym which are jaded and disgusting and not inclusive for all these great different humans that are out there. She is about to upgrade her space, and we thought since we have similar brains and we’re trying to do lots of cool stuff it’s way easier and more fun to do it as a collective. It’s going to be Melbourne’s first weightlifting gym and metal shop and woodworking design company. That’s something that’s going to happen at the start of 2020.
Recently, I got asked if I’m going to have another exhibition, but I don’t know when I’ll next have something meaningful to say. I wouldn’t do another one without something meaningful to say. What’s the point? That’s just clout for my name.
In the meantime, I’m painting, doing commissions and making furniture. I’ve been writing recently, and making music. I’m angling in on having something to say in that realm again, which is scary, but also exciting because I haven’t felt like that in ages regarding music. I love playing music that is a true representation of me. I am looking forward to the future. I’ll keep chipping away. I’m not putting pressure on myself – there’s still lots of great work being done every day. I’ll read a book, or I’ll just do nothing.
Ultimately, if you are in a position where you are honing in on an idea where you want to express how you feel and give it up for people, then I would do it and don’t put too much thought into what that means and what the usual ways of doing it are. You can get hung up on trying to do something that has been done before because that’s the way it’s supposed to be done but if you have something you want to say, say it in whatever way you want. There will be people that will gravitate towards it. I am proof because I’m drawing doodles on old canvases. If you have something to say, there are so many people out there that will love it. If it’s a representation of how you feel, double down on it.
