David Buckingham is an artist hailing from California who sources the metal for his work from forgotten detritus in the Californian desert; tractors, combine harvesters and road signs. His work focuses on language and is littered with references to pop culture or everyday conversation. We caught up with him to talk about Americana, machinery and replacing one addiction with another.

Thomas Gorton: How did the exhibition Telling Tales come about? Had you worked with any of those artists before? There was an enjoyable cohesion that ran through the show.
David Buckingham: I can’t tell you how the Telling Tales exhibition came about, but I can tell you I met Melissa Digby-Bell, the creative director from Scream in New York City last year and I was quite impressed with her and what she had to say. Plus, I was already a fan of Greg Lamarche’s work from seeing it at various art fairs here in the USA. So it seemed like a natural fit. I haven’t met any of the other artists yet.

Thomas Gorton: Your two pieces The End and Wham Bam Thank You Mam seem to suggest a finality or a closure, possibly a victory. Is there something personal attributed to these two works?
David Buckingham: Finality? Closure? Au contraire, mon frère! I feel like I’m just getting started… I came to making sculpture late in life – at the advanced age of mid-40s – after a tumultuous career in the advertising game. And yeah, pretty much everything I make comes from some personal connection. I’ve listened to Bowie’s Suffragette City about a million times, and never tire of it. And I heard somewhere that ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ was how English women described the lovemaking skills of American servicemen in England during WWII, – which I find both hilarious and a terrible indictment of my fellow Americans. In fact, I plan on making violent yet tender love to every woman in the UK while I’m there to put an end to this slanderous and incorrect misconception.

I love old black and white movies, and I thought doing The End in something other than black and white would be interesting and unexpected.

Thomas Gorton: All the materials that you use for your work are found, mostly in the Californian desert, taken from disused vehicles or old road signs. Do you take pride in regenerating these things, giving discarded metal a new life? What inspired you to do this?
David Buckingham: You’re right, all of my material comes from not only the CA desert but also from scrapyards and tractor graveyards from here to Barstow, Bakersfield and all the way up into the San Joaquin Valley in Central California. I don’t really use many car parts anymore, I’ve graduated to larger agricultural machinery – cotton pickers, hay balers, combines, tractors, etc – because there’s so much more of it and the metal has been weathered after so many decades outdoors. You can’t fake that kind of patina; there’s an authenticity to it that can’t be replicated. One of the great things about my practice is getting out of LA into the hinterlands in search of old metal; the contrast between crowded and polluted Los Angeles and the wide-open spaces just a few hours north is pretty cool. And some of the folks you meet deep in the desert make the people in Deliverance look like Rhodes Scholars. Total freak scene.

And yeah, giving these battered old relics another life as artwork is very satisfying. Maybe that’s because I’m also a battered old relic and I’ve found new life as a sculptor. Also, it gives me a kick to think that the scrap metal I pick up may one day end up in a mansion in the Hamptons. As far as inspiration, well, on my first trips to the desert, 10 years ago, I didn’t know what I’d find, and I wasn’t looking for colourful old metal – I didn’t even know it was out there at the time. I was simply looking for rusty old farm implements, and to discover a world of colour in the otherwise very drab desert was eye-opening. I was like “hey, I can work with this stuff!” Ten years ago there was old metal laying all over the desert floor, free for the taking because it had been dumped illegally. Since then scrap metal prices have risen dramatically (thanks, China!) and I have to go farther and farther afield to find my raw materials.

Thomas Gorton: Not only do you recycle metal but by turning signs into messages of your own you recycle words and symbols. To me your message seems playfully shocking, doused in Americana, indebted to a period of freedom and revelry, indebted to the desert. What do you want to make people feel when they look at your work?
David Buckingham: I spent 20 years writing TV commercials, first on an IBM Selectric typewriter (which I still miss), then on an Apple computer, and I’m still writing, except now I use a plasma cutter and metal. And now I’m not doing it for clients anymore, I’m doing it for myself, and I’m harder on myself than any client has ever been. I’ve always been fascinated with the written word, spoken language, slang, and the vernacular. Words are important. Words should mean something. Like the metal I find, words can be beaten, twisted and shaped into something else, which gives them an entirely different meaning, but they’re still words. And in my work, words become physical objects, something that can be handled. I guess there is a small element of shock – if you’re easily shocked. I love salty language, true. ”Strong medicine doesn’t always taste good.” And of course it’s doused in Americana, I’m a freekin American!

Speaking of provocative language, I’m a huge Lenny Bruce fan, and look what happened to him – crucified for the things he said. Hard to believe that someone could be arrested and prosecuted for saying ‘cocksucker’ on stage. He was even denied entry into England once or twice simply because of the things he was saying. Lenny is buried here in Los Angeles and every August 3^rd (the anniversary of his death) I go visit his grave.

When people look at the work, I’d like them to have a reaction. Like it, hate it, I don’t care, just have some kind of reaction. There are already enough banal objects in this world, I don’t care to add to that list. When people come into my studio, look at a piece in progress and say ‘you can’t do that!’ I know I’m on the right path. What is my message? You tell me, Dr Freud. I’m not the most introspective guy in the world, and I’m so utterly obsessed with making the work – seven days a week – that I have scant time to give much thought to what exactly my message is. My message is me, I guess.

Thomas Gorton: As you stick rigidly to metal as your medium it ensures that your work has a clearly defined aesthetic. Do you find that this limitation serves to intensify your vision?
David Buckingham: Absolutely. When I’m at work I’m so hyper-focused birds couldn’t fly between me and the work. Plants die because I use up all the oxygen in the room. I forget to eat. I piss in a bottle because I don’t want to waste 30 seconds walking to the bathroom. I turn my phone off. I miss major news events (they put a man on the moon??? WOW!)

Thomas Gorton: Language and words are obviously inherent to the success of your work. When I look at it I feel as though you’re paying respect to communication and memory, whether it be a half-remembered phrase or a line from a song. Passing on sayings or singing songs together is something that’s inherent to society’s unity – is this something that you’re trying to capture?
David Buckingham: Language and words are obviously very important to me. Much of it is memory-based. I can remember the first dirty joke I ever heard in 3^rd grade, but I can barely recall any of my philosophy classes at university. That’s the kind of brain I’m afflicted with. A snarky offhand comment in a hallway at the office will burn its way into my brain, never to be forgotten, but reborn in metal many years later.

I wouldn’t wish my brain on anyone else, but it works for me.

Thomas Gorton: Tell me about your relationship with guns and what place you believe they should hold in modern culture…
David Buckingham: I grew up in the South, and guns are prevalent there. Everyone owns a shotgun or two and I still go duck hunting with my cousins every year. But I don’t have a relationship with guns and don’t own one now. I just find them to be American icons, and they’re always a challenge to make. Plus, they get a reaction. All the guns are historically accurate; eg. Phil Spector used a .38 Colt Cobra. I’ve had people say I’m a gun nut and I’ve had people say the guns are a profoundly anti-gun statement. All readings are valid.

That said, I find the level of gun violence in the USA to be sickening. But I also think it’s too late for gun control, there are more guns in this country than people.

Thomas Gorton: Your upcoming exhibition Under The Influence is called so in reference to a previous battle with substance abuse. Was your work a pathway out of addiction? Do you find the process of creation cathartic?
David Buckingham: “Under the Influence” is intended to be a double-edged sword, a sly reference to my years of addiction as well as an acknowledgement that I’m addicted again…to working with metal. (At least metal-working is legal).  It’s too simplistic to say that working with metal was a pathway out of my addiction, because if you’ve ever met a junkie you know they’re too strung out to even button their pants, much less work in a welding studio all day. Some folks have suggested that I’ve simply replaced one addiction with another… they may be right.

And YES, cathartic doesn’t even begin to describe it. There are two parts to my work: 1. getting a good idea – it always starts with an idea, and 2. bringing that idea to physical realization. Finishing a terrific new piece, especially one with a great degree of difficulty, gives me a thrill that drugs never did. Word.

Thomas Gorton: Given that you have used a lot of found metals for your work, how would you feel about your artworks being recycled to make new ones?
David Buckingham: I am a peace-loving, non-violent guy (except when I play hockey), but if anyone were to change any of my work I would rise from the dead, chase the bastard down like a rat across the tundra, tear them limb from limb with my bare hands, and slowly, deliberately, and with great malice aforethought choke the life out of them. Does that answer your question?

Thomas Gorton: After Under The Influence what’s next for you? How do you see your work developing or is that something you find hard to predict?
David Buckingham: I know I’ll be spending lots of time in the studio, pushing that rock uphill. I’m like a shark in that regard: I need to be in constant forward motion in order to remain alive. Stay tuned.

The Telling Tales group exhibition runs at Scream Gallery until 8^th February
Buckingham’s solo show, Under The Influence, exhibits at Scream 20^th February–29^th March