In an increasingly digital world, where all we touch are screens and electronic devices, Spencer Hansen’s work defies convention. “I love technology but also hate it. We could make many of the things we do faster with CNC or by machine, but for me, that takes the fun out of it. We do everything as analogue as possible,” he tells us in this interview. With wood, metal, wax, and clay, he breathes life into imaginary creatures and builds entire universes that somehow remind us of childhood memories. “I want to inspire play and fun. Life can be so serious — let’s play, enjoy life, and never grow up, ok?”
Born and raised in rural Idaho, Spencer was drawn to nature from an early age. The vast landscapes that surrounded him allowed him to explore wilderness, which sparked his creativity. In 2006 though, he visited Bali for the first time and fell head over heels: “It felt like the island gave me a big hug and wouldn’t let go,” he says. Hence, he moved to the island and has been living there since, going back to the US from time to time. In his oeuvre, where his inner child is happy and can be as playful and imaginative as he wants, we find lovely creatures that we want to hug, pet, and even adopt. Today we speak with Spencer about crafting that unique universe, the importance of manual labour, and spirituality.
Hi Spencer, it’s a pleasure to speak with you. To introduce yourself to our readers, could you pick a book, an album/song, and a movie that have ‘made’ you?
I love books about art, travel or sci-fi. I’d recommend In Praise of Shadows by Jun’ichirō Tanizaki, The Old Ways by Robert Macfarlane, Dune by Frank Herbert, and The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu. In terms of cinema, visually stunning films that tell a story through imagery are what get me going. I’d say Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams or Ran, Alejandro Jodorowsky’s El Topo and Holy Mountain, and Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris.
I listen to music constantly — sometimes to create, other times to escape the noise in Bali. Noise-cancelling headphones are a must here. Music drives my creativity and helps me keep focussed on the task at hand for longer periods of time. SoundCloud long mixes are a go-to for work like Multi Cultu, Kasheme living room sessions, Pingipung, and Martha Van Straaten. Also, any mixes by my friends Aleph Geddis or Malakai Hom on Spotify. Often go down esoteric paths like recently travelling in India like I am a Bad Girl by Alisha Chinai, Shailendra Singh, or old Kawali songs. Or harder stuff for when I am doing movement like Off the Meter by Ho99o9, or older, pretty much anything Fugazi.
I listen to music constantly — sometimes to create, other times to escape the noise in Bali. Noise-cancelling headphones are a must here. Music drives my creativity and helps me keep focussed on the task at hand for longer periods of time. SoundCloud long mixes are a go-to for work like Multi Cultu, Kasheme living room sessions, Pingipung, and Martha Van Straaten. Also, any mixes by my friends Aleph Geddis or Malakai Hom on Spotify. Often go down esoteric paths like recently travelling in India like I am a Bad Girl by Alisha Chinai, Shailendra Singh, or old Kawali songs. Or harder stuff for when I am doing movement like Off the Meter by Ho99o9, or older, pretty much anything Fugazi.
Born and raised in rural Idaho, you later moved to Bali — I imagine it was such a contrast! What do you take from each of these places into your artwork?
Every place I’ve lived is a part of me. Moving between places helps me keep fresh eyes. Idaho gave me a deep love for nature — mountains, snow, wide-open landscapes. I grew up as the last of eight kids, with the freedom to explore and be wild. Growing up in a devout Mormon family also gave me a sense of rebellion, a drive to create outside of rules or dogma.
When I first visited Bali in 2006, it felt like the island gave me a big hug and wouldn’t let go. I love how creativity is woven into the culture, and being around so many talented makers is inspiring. It aligns with my approach to work as analogue as possible, using natural materials. I’ve also been lucky to learn wood carving on Orcas Island, Washington, with my friend Aleph Geddis and his father, Walter. They’re master carvers and taught me a lot about carving and making my own tools. Bali is a fast-changing, ever-evolving place; I love being around so many different languages and people, and although it’s ever-changing, it continues to be the place I want to spend the most time.
When I first visited Bali in 2006, it felt like the island gave me a big hug and wouldn’t let go. I love how creativity is woven into the culture, and being around so many talented makers is inspiring. It aligns with my approach to work as analogue as possible, using natural materials. I’ve also been lucky to learn wood carving on Orcas Island, Washington, with my friend Aleph Geddis and his father, Walter. They’re master carvers and taught me a lot about carving and making my own tools. Bali is a fast-changing, ever-evolving place; I love being around so many different languages and people, and although it’s ever-changing, it continues to be the place I want to spend the most time.
Manual labour is a pillar in the way you approach your art. Have you always been a handy guy?
Yes, I love making things. My father and I built a darkroom in our garage when I was a kid. He had me taking apart machines and fixing cars at a young age. He never hired anyone to fix things around the house: he was always repairing washers, lawnmowers, cars — anything that was broken. He taught me to be curious, to understand how things work, and to be self-reliant.
Indonesians also amaze me; they can fix anything, and nothing goes to waste. I’ve pulled my motorcycle into tiny mechanic shops where, with minimal tools, manage to fix anything. It’s inspiring and a reminder to stay humble.
Indonesians also amaze me; they can fix anything, and nothing goes to waste. I’ve pulled my motorcycle into tiny mechanic shops where, with minimal tools, manage to fix anything. It’s inspiring and a reminder to stay humble.
You’ve said in the past that you’re always experimenting with new processes and techniques. I guess trial and error is important in that. Could you give us some insight into how you’re constantly expanding your working methods?
What keeps me inspired is trying new materials and processes with a beginner’s mind. Approaching something as if I know nothing allows me to play and helps me break out of familiar patterns. And being ok with things not working out and to keep exploring. It’s a journey and there are many times when it feels like a dead end but comes up as a part of a process for a future piece.
I was just in India for the first time and got to know some marble carvers. They let me learn to carve marble alongside them, sitting on the floor with marble dust flying around. These experiences and playing with new media help me to keep me excited for making.
I was just in India for the first time and got to know some marble carvers. They let me learn to carve marble alongside them, sitting on the floor with marble dust flying around. These experiences and playing with new media help me to keep me excited for making.
You’ve been working for almost two decades in woodwork, sculpture, sketching, etc. They say practice makes perfect. Now that you’re an experienced, seasoned artist, would you agree with that phrase?
It’s funny, I still feel like I’m just doodling like when I was a child. But things stack up over time. I’m thankful for the journey and try to live in an artful way. I don’t feel I have any special talent but I keep showing up and do my best to stay curious.
I love the particular universe that you’ve crafted over the years. Your sculptures are a mix of real-life animals, mythological and folklore creatures, as well as sci-fi species. They somehow combine past, present, and future. Do you remember the first creature you ever made and what it looked like?
Growing up in southern Idaho, I loved collecting bones and other bits I found in the desert. Finding roadkill, skulls, and bones as well as pheasant feathers from hunting. I made creatures out of wire, bone, found wood, and whatever else I could find. My favourite was called Frank. I think Rice Baby was my first Blamo-like creature, made from leather, wood, and filled with rice, which later became one of the first toys we produced for Blamo Toys.
What is the creative process behind this universe? From an outside point of view, it feels God-like to be able to create whatever comes up in your imagination.
I daydream a lot. I’ll sit in my hammock, swinging and staring into space. I live in my own world, much to the chagrin of my friends. I try to write or doodle ideas as they come — on napkins, receipts or whatever is nearby. I want to catch those seeds from the ether before they vanish. It’s about being open to ideas and acting even if it is as simple as writing them down or creating quick doodles.
Speaking of God-like, I feel like there’s something spiritual in your work. Am I right to say that?
Having escaped Mormonism, I tend to have an allergic reaction to the words ‘God-like’ as it makes me think of organised religion. That said, I do have a quiet, personal spirituality.
It’s when everything slows, a kind of frisson that catches me in moments of deep focus or awe. A late, quiet night working alone, when nothing else exists, or the glide in fresh powder snowboarding — the tingling on the back of my neck. Lying in the snow under birch trees heavy with blowing, spiraling snow. When arm hairs rise and awe fills my body as I witness something rare and fleeting. It’s a small reminder that life is both strange and precious. The shapes of mushrooms, the texture of moss, the silhouettes of leaves. The colours and tiny creatures in tide pools — everyday beauty noticed. Those shivers and raised hairs — that’s my spirituality, the mysterious wonder of being alive. Experiencing life and then transmuting it into my work or deep focus.
It’s when everything slows, a kind of frisson that catches me in moments of deep focus or awe. A late, quiet night working alone, when nothing else exists, or the glide in fresh powder snowboarding — the tingling on the back of my neck. Lying in the snow under birch trees heavy with blowing, spiraling snow. When arm hairs rise and awe fills my body as I witness something rare and fleeting. It’s a small reminder that life is both strange and precious. The shapes of mushrooms, the texture of moss, the silhouettes of leaves. The colours and tiny creatures in tide pools — everyday beauty noticed. Those shivers and raised hairs — that’s my spirituality, the mysterious wonder of being alive. Experiencing life and then transmuting it into my work or deep focus.
Your creatures are divided into series like Anima, Tethered Worlds, or New Friends. What criteria do you follow to classify them in one or the other? Also, are they ever-expansive series, or when one is finished you start a new one?
Those are titles from past shows. I don’t make in a linear way. When I get into something, I get absorbed — it’s what you’d call a special interest. But I’m lucky to have my best friend and business partner, Shayne Maratea, who helps make sense of it all. Also Skye Gallery have been integral to getting shows and work into the world. I have so much support, and none of these shows would happen without an incredible team.
Some of your creations remind me of other artworks I’ve loved growing up, from Studio Ghibli’s movies to the illustration book Where the Wild Things Are. I guess there’s a naive or child-friendly quality in these creatures. Would you say your own childhood (or inner child) influences your work today?
Completely, and thanks for seeing that in the work. I want to inspire play and fun. Life can be so serious — let’s play, enjoy life, and never grow up, ok?
In an increasingly digital world where all we touch are smooth, cold screens, your work defies convention through its incredibly varied textures. Do you view your sculptures as pieces of resistance somehow?
Yes, that’s a great question. I love technology but also hate it. We could make many of the things we do faster with CNC or by machine, but for me, that takes the fun out of it. We do everything as analogue as possible. From making our own tools to using a foot-pump torch to anneal the metal, to experimenting with old methods for working with ceramics, wood, wax, and metal. I also love the contrast of using some high-tech methods but mixing them with as much handwork as possible.
As a curiosity, is there a favourite material or texture that you like to work with? Why?
I feel happiest working with ceramic clay and my hands. I love that it’s a tactile, visceral experience, starting with something so earthy and just my hands. It starts rough and messy, and as the clay hardens, I use handmade bent knives to carve it in its leathery state, then burnish certain areas with round tools. The whole process gives me joy. I want to keep looking for what brings me joy and keep riding that edge of learning and growth with the people I work with. It’s all about teaching each other and finding new ways to solve problems.
This year, you’ve had gallery shows both in Bali and in the US (Idaho and NYC). Do you feel people receive your work differently depending on where they are?
I thought it might be different, but I was pleasantly surprised by how many people got excited and asked meaningful questions. My favourite part is putting pieces in people’s hands and letting them experience them in a tactile way. I find a common thread that makes me happy to hear is when people talk about how the work feels foreign but familiar, like a new friend.
