It was, even by his own storied elevation of weirdness, a peculiar position in which to find himself. There, sitting on a stool in the center of his Boston condo, was Alan Ilagan, dressed in an outfit of rose-gold sequins and surrounded by nine children, two of whom had scuttled onto each knee. Forget peculiar, this was shockingly unprecedented, and people suddenly whipped out their cel phones to capture a moment that would surely never come again anytime soon. By most previous indications, it should have been highly uncomfortable, yet contrary to history he looked, at quick glance, uncannily at home. A sparkling pied-piper with a crown of golden laurels atop his head and a string of ostrich feathers and gold beads dangling from his neck. How could the kids not be entranced by such a visage? How could we not have seen this before? It was at this exact moment, according to future folklore, that Alan decided to make his new project a family and kid-friendly affair.
A couple of seasons later, Ilagan recalls that holiday kids’ party with fondness and alacrity. “It wasn’t quite that nifty and neat,” he declares, imperiously commanding a sumptuous banquette in a quiet side-room off the Oak Bar at Boston’s Fairmont Hotel. A few months had passed since that Children’s Holiday Hour (his fourth, in case you’ve missed any of the online recaps). He’s in Boston for more children’s activities: in town are Alan’s niece Emi as well as Skip and Sherri’s kids Mia and Jack. He has just made the rounds and spent some time with all three of them, but has returned with his friend Kira for a rare splurge at the Fairmont. Decked out in a polka-dot blouse with pearls for buttons (“please note the pussy bow” he drawls) and a pair of slim black jeans with tuxedo stripes in black sequins – part clown, part club kid – he cuts a figure that would clearly appeal to those still wowed by wonder. In some ways it’s surprising that kids haven’t flocked to him all this time. Then again, maybe they have; it makes complete sense.
His first gift to most of the children in his life was a miniature disco ball. It fascinated them with its sparkle and motion, and was a surprise delight to a generation that would soon give themselves over to their social-zapping cel phones. And while his gifts to children were merely testament to his friendships with their parents, his over-the-top style became a source of fascination even when he wasn’t trying to impress. In some ways, we should have seen this child-friendly twist coming.
He’s always been a living disco ball, spinning and throwing off his own sparkle and light, content to shine even if no one is watching or dancing along. That surprisingly-introverted show-off has in recent years slowly but deliberately been removing his own image from his work. “After thirty years of non-stop documentation, I’m sick of posing for pictures!” he exclaims, and you won’t find him clamoring for a selfie anytime soon, and most definitely not in public. These days his focus has shifted. Whereas his early projects served to document his life in diary-like fashion, he’s gradually shifted the gaze elsewhere, using his blog as a personal journal and his projects as an artistic playground. It’s a healthier side-step from the role of tortured artist. It also means he is slightly removed from his creative output, which makes things much more fun.
Even as he was creating one of his darkest works, ‘PVRTD’ he managed to find time to have fun with his friends. “That was… necessary,” he says slowly, emphasizing the ‘necessary’ before adding, “to keep all the darkness at bay.” He follows up with a quick laugh at the drama of it all. In person, he is much lighter than his more serious projects would suggest, another step away from the emotionally-charged creator he’s embodied in the past. In some ways, it’s an extension of his blog, something that has largely taken the place of his projects as a creative outlet. That doesn’t mean he’s done with the more formal design of those projects: his latest, the whimsical rhyme and paint work ‘Once Upon A Watercolor’ is his second project in less than a year, spawned in the immediate aftermath of ‘PVRTD’. There are whispers of a companion piece in the works for the holidays, which would make this the most prolific stretch of artistic creation since he was at Brandeis in the 90’s. ‘Once Upon A Watercolor’ recalls the quick turnaround and relative simplicity of those early days of artistic expression.
Back then he would sometimes churn out a project a month, mailing them out the old-fashioned way when stamps were only thirty cents and the fanciest print job he could afford came courtesy of the library copy machines. While the production value has gone way up, the passion and drive to create and share – the main heartbeat and pulse of an artist, has remained as vibrant as ever.
As he winds down for the evening at the Fairmont (cutting things short with a polite “I never get to go upstairs to a room here so indulge me until next time!”) he and Kira make a hasty exit, escaping just before the stroke of midnight. Something of a fairytale has suddenly descended over the night – a magical stretch of the imagination or the very real whimsy of his new project? ~ it’s gleefully impossible to tell the difference…
