5 Questions for Artist and Designer Daniel Arsham

'There is no reason that a white T-shirt can't be transformed by art, in the same way as a canvas,' Arsham said ahead of dual solo shows marking 20 years of collaboration with Perrotin.

Daniel Arsham was just 22 years old when he met gallerist Emmanuel Perrotin. Perrotin says he was drawn to the kid from Ohio's 'incredible talent and distinct vision'. In the two decades since, Arsham's oeuvre has snowballed from stage design into contemporary art, architecture, luxury brand collaborations, and over a million followers on Instagram.

Perrotin has shown Arsham's work many times over the years, a relationship marked by the dual exhibitions 20 Years / 20 Ans, which open in New York on 6 September and in Paris on 2 September.

The shows include a sampling of Arsham's centuries-collapsing works, including a renaissance bust in oxymoronic combinations of patinated bronze and polished steel, a calcified R2D2 whose eroded exterior reveals crystal innards, and a concept sketch for a fossilised Snorlax drawn on hotel stationary.

We asked Arsham about his futuristic relics, memorialising the still-living Jay-Z, and our relationships to the objects (and the products) with which we surround ourselves.

1. Your most famous works collapse time, making eroded, crystal-sprouting fossils of sculptures, cars, consumer electronics, and so on. What appeals to you about this strategy?

The use of crystals makes us question the timeframe of the object. Are the crystals growing to completion or decaying in a state of erosion? This allows the viewer to see each object through their own unique perspective.

I have always been fascinated with objects and what they say about the world they exist in, from Greek antiquity to a CD player. Usually, the erosion and formations that I am creating would take thousands of years to appear, but through form and sculpture we can be projected into the future, and question what these pieces say about our world and the lives we live.

2. In an interview with Ocula Magazine in 2015, you said your works featuring hands and arms were inspired in part by Pompeii, an eruption that essentially 'cast' human beings as it killed them. We don't remember the individuals—just the event. What do you see as the significance of casting Jay-Z's hands forming a diamond shape for the Brooklyn Library exhibition The Book of HOV?

Casting Jay-Z's hands was about capturing the role he has played in shaping the history of hip-hop, music and culture on a global stage—while his music is so closely connected to Brooklyn, its reach has gone far beyond. It's about showcasing how the 'roc' symbol has transcended into an icon, but largely because it denotes his story and legacy.

As time passes and these events become part of world history, these works become archaeological objects that present a period that is now inaccessible to us in our lived experiences. It's not the form itself that is interesting, but rather the story it can impart.

3. You've collaborated with brands such as Dior, Porsche, Tiffany & Co., Hublot, Adidas, and now you're working with Disney's Star Wars IP. (In hindsight, Hans Solo in carbonite could be a Daniel Arsham work). Setting aside the money and production that brands bring to projects, what is most interesting about these sorts of collaborations?

For me it's about exploring passions, both my own and those of my collaborators. I've long been interested in cars, for example, and so joining forces with Porsche to intersect aspects of my practice and theirs is exciting. I bring my interest in archaeology and time to each of the collaborations I work on, and so in some ways it's questioning what these brands will mean in the future or the origins of the designs that have become synonymous with them.

4. Some in the art world might dismiss your practice because it so openly reflects the dominance of products and brands in shaping our worlds, both physically, in the items that surround us, and figuratively, in the stories they tell us about who we are and to what we should aspire. Is it your role as an artist to critique consumer culture or capitalism more broadly?

My work has always melded art, design, architecture, fashion, archaeology, and consumerism, and so exploring the boundaries of art in contemporary culture seems a natural extension of what I do. The objects we choose to surround ourselves with every day have a level of gravitas because we become so closely attached to them.

Rather than a critique of any kind, I'm attempting to explore the role of an object—from how it defines our contemporary culture, to the point in which it begins to mean more than its function on a surface level. Take vinyl records or a camera for example—both have been superseded by new technologies, yet now they are so closely associated with feelings of nostalgia and signify different meanings to what perhaps was initially intended.

There's also the notion of our expectations of art, like where it should be seen, who it should be accessible to, etcetera—that is present here. We live in a very different world to that of the past, where art was predominantly contained to traditional forms. I believe art can be found in the everyday and there is no reason that a white T-shirt can't be transformed by art, in the same way as a canvas.

5. You have 1.4 million followers on Instagram. What are the benefits and downsides of being so influential on social media? (Looking at comments, it sure seems like people are eager to reduce an artist's success to their money, or their looks, or their connections.)

I get to share an insight into my everyday life, so my followers can see the space in which I create, my inspirations, and new projects I'm working on. I enjoy seeing the same from the creatives I follow. —[O]