HF: Wow! Hey Scott. Really cool stuff! You probably get this a lot... but we totally want to eat your sculpture! They look so delicious, but then ... oh ho! we're going to get eaten ourselves! Do you get that a lot?

SH: Thanks. I do get that response quite a bit. Most of the reaction I get to the cakes involve disbelief,  followed by the usual questions of edibility. I love to watch people's reactions as they analyze the piece as though it were a menu item. But how do you eat something that has a bigger mouth than you? My earliest cake experiments were not as well received, as I figured out how to refine the illusion of the materials. This was before I integrated the teeth, horns, bones, knives, etc. Just decorating a box with realistic looking frosting does not equal a sculpture. There has to be a tension. The piece must contain clues to it's own identity, and these clues change the context of the seemingly happy cake.


HF: It seems like you have a very playful and juxtaposed relationship with your sculpture. The majority of the piece is very decorative, not to mention made of cake frosting, but then there is an nightmare hidden within that is in full attack! You talk about embracing difficulty to get reward, but is it also that we're not very good at knowing what's really going to make us happy?

SH: People seem to plan very hard for their future happiness. Plans go bad, relationships change, you get a cavity in your tooth. The hard facts of life are usually not defined by happiness. You  have to find happiness along the way, and you can only do that if you accept how fucked-up things can get. The nightmare aspects of the cake, or the anti-cake as I call it, is connected to a series of found-object vignettes that I am always working on that are very dark. By themselves these pieces tell an elaborate spooky narrative, which has an interesting but brief appeal. They have found a nice home in the cakes, which are essentially joyful.


HF: Your sculpture reminds us of Mexican cake shops in the Bay Area. Being a local, Is there any influence here?

SH: I have always been profoundly influenced by Mexican art of all kinds. The Mexicans seem to have come to terms with their apprehension of death, and the joy that arises from this makes for some good art. My white tribe could learn a lot from this attitude. I have to say, though, those Mexican cakes are a disappointment to eat.


HF: Do you ever make actual cake that one could eat?

SH: I get that question often. I decorated my cousin's wedding cake, and it turned out pretty nice. But all of that baking knowhow and paraphernalia I am happy to leave to the experts.


HF: After looking at your paintings and knot sculptures, the cake work seems like a combination of your paintings - with their decorative detailing, shearing geometric forms, and dramatic focus; and the knot sculptures, which are obviously very hands on technical craft work that play with scale and perception. Do you see it as something in-between, or something different altogether?

SH: The most obvious thing that unites the three bodies of work you are talking about is the craft aspect. The knots are all about refined traditional craft. The repetitive control required for the cake decor is similar to the rope in this way, and satisfies my hands in the same manner. Similarly, you could spend several lifetimes learning the craft of oil painting. Conceptually and emotionally, though, the painting and cakes are more closely related. People sometimes get confused by this variety of media, but I see each of the different bodies of work as responses to different issues that I have to deal with. New  situations require different responses. They all compliment one another, and the connecting parts are all available to those willing to contemplate the art.


HF: You talk about being primarily a self-taught artist, and also that the rope pieces you do being inspired by your experiences of working on a tugboat. So does the cake come from a similar place of direct personal experience?

SH: I went to art school with a lot of expectations. I thought I would be drilled with academic technical issues by real mentors that would make me as proficient and knowledgeable as my long-dead heroes. The real art school experience was nothing like this, so I left to figure it out on my own. Working on tugboats and becoming familiar with the traditions of Maritime culture from old life-long sailors was a  revelation. The materials and handed-down knowledge of knots and rigging I recognized as perfectly suited for sculpture. The cakes had a decidedly less sober genesis. The cake sprung from a weird fascination I have always had with fake food. I used to collect fake food, fake fires, ice cubes, etc. These objects have spectacularly absurd existence, are utterly fake, and people see them strictly for their illusion, not for what they are. I celebrate this absurd illusion with the cakes.


HF: While we've all (or at least we have) marveled at the wonders of the taxidermy supply catalogs and how they could be applied to art, your cakes are a really creative and wonderful twist on using animal bits. Do you consider the cakes to be more akin to collage pieces or just as pure sculpture?