Clif Dopson: Dr. Dopson’s Cabinet of Possibly Artistic Curiosities
Left: Chrononaut
Right: Peach Blossom Island
Clif Dopson is the artist behind Dr. Dopson’s Cabinet of Possibly Artistic Curiosities, fueled by his inherent “Obsessive Curiosity Trait.” His journey extends from the landscapes of rural Louisiana to a distinguished career in psychiatry. Spanning from childhood fascination with figure models to prestigious accolades including recognition in Fine Scale Modeler and the receiving the esteemed Wonderfest’s “Best of Show,” Dopson’s creations exemplify an unwavering dedication to the pursuit of creativity.
Can you elaborate on the connection between your self-described “Obsessive Curiosity Trait” and its influence on your art path over the past 30 years?
In Tim Burton’s movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Jack Skellington emerges into Santaland and is entranced by whatever he sees. He scampers around in amazement singing, “What’s this? What’s THIS?!” Well, that’s much like me. I’m attracted to new data, a different vision or view. When reading, I’m aware of a phrase turn, and have to look up new words. I’m a link clicker. I read footnotes and notes at the ends of books. I MAKE notes in books. Neal Stephenson wrote a 3,000-page trilogy. After the first thousand, I knew I had to do some historical and biographical research to find out how much was history, and how much fiction. I read another 10,000 pages before satisfying myself.
Art, especially models, leads to problems with how to create miniature reality. That exploration may give me answers or give me solutions to problems I didn’t know I had. All these endeavors lead to mounds of new data to use, save for later, or stick somewhere for rediscovery later.
You mention in your artist statement first discovering figure models in elementary school. How did this early encounter influence your artistic journey, and how do you see it reflected in the mass of figure models exhibited here?
Europeans had been casting lead soldiers for 200+ years before WWII. Boys pinned new arms and legs on them, trading and showing off their creations. Paper models of airplanes, tanks, and ships were made by German artillery to train gunners on targets. After WWII, building styrene war machines became a hobby for veterans and their sons. The military figure kit boomed in Europe, but not here. In the mid 50s (my beginnings) other kits evolved. I built civil war cannons, flintlock and wheellock pistols, old cars, and old planes, while my brother did modern ones. It was a 1st clue that history would pull me so much.
Then figure kits began timidly emerging. I built Roman Centurions, Spanish Conquistadors , and Glencoe’s Neanderthal Man. Then Aurora manufactured lads and lassies of the world, knights, and gladiators, Vikings, and finally the jackpot, the monsters. I discovered these figures along with the other boys of America and took off with them. So, thousands of boys were introduced to humanity through plastic. But they weren’t for most boys. Most still wanted war machines. But we young humanists were content. We had a model of JFK in his rocking chair, Johnny Unitas, and Dracula! Dracula was my last model purchase when in 6-7th grade.
My first modeling epoch was ending, while my interests in humans increased. Especially, with humans with names like Mary Anne, Tanya, and Cathy. I had a second model phase come and go consisting of every color of 1956 and 1957 Thunderbird. Still old cars, but the only machines I’ve built. The figures in this show are just the humans and humanoids I’m still attracted to.
Your background includes a career as a psychiatrist, but your passion for art has been consistent. How do you perceive the intersection between your medical profession and your artistic endeavors, and how has each influenced the other over the years?
Hmmm,.... A really good question. To get into medical illustration, I needed good grades in art and science and a good portfolio. The pre-med and art departments at La Tech worked together to create joint courses that led to a good portfolio. The 3 Musketeers illustration in the exhibition is a product of that. That meticulous effort took time. Also in the exhibit are two carbon dust drawings. They took lots of time. When I began medical school, I thought I could have careers in both, being like the famous physician artist, Frank Netter. But, Netter died and was replaced with a lessor talent while they still had an unused 10 years of Netter’s work.
Meanwhile, medicine and my curiosity were having a good time. When it was time for a residency, I was informed by the doctor’s lives I witnessed. The docs who devoted 99% to medicine made the most money, had little family life, and seldom knew anything beyond medicine. I was a latecomer, had already developed interests and passions. I already loved the humanity and philosophy inherent in psychiatry, but it also allowed free time. I intentionally left time in my life for my enjoyment. So, I continued with art, music, reading, building, and kidplay. I set up a studio in a back office at work where I carved, did airbrushing, worked metal, and did computer art and photo editing. In the front office, I was helping people edit and improve the creation of their lives.
Chrononaut, your most awarded model, and Peach Blossom Island, your prized creation, have received notable recognition. Could you share your artistic vision behind these specific models and the creative process involved in bringing them to life?
Chrononaut is a Victorian time traveling wealthy dinosaur hunter. His gear is both retro and steampunk. He wears armor and is decked out in multi-component high-tech time-travel gear. He has a fancy pistol and a complicated rifle. He has a haughty air, and a magnificent trophy under his feet. By this time, I was in possession of a deceased watch repairman’s shop and was making steampunk jewelry and punking up models. The tiny resin parts for Chrononaut were fragile, easily warped and broken. I began replacing them with real metal watch and jewelry parts. The small time-travel devices on his wrist, chest, and back were gutted and replaced with watch parts. With tweezers and readers, I created tiny theme parks there. I created Victorian embellishment with scrapbook stickers. I replaced all generic hooks and buckles with horse modeling hardware. Watch jewels became rifle sights and spectacles. Dollhouse linens became lace collars. I had a major resculpt to do on the Dino’s cut neck. It looked like a bowl of mashed potatoes. I made it anatomically correct with muscle spaces, respiration and GI spaces, vascular and connective tissue spaces. Tiny Victorian brass clock kits were shaped into pistol inlay. I studied how to fake burled wood grain for his rifle and made straps out of real leather. Everywhere I looked, I saw possibilities, although the paths leading to them were not often straight lines. It took over a year for all these modular improvements to gel. I did attack with vigor and confidence. It usually got multiple awards at shows and was in Fine Scale Modeler magazine as one of the best 200 models of the year.
By contrast, I approached Peach Blossom Island with fear! I first saw her on Pinterest as a sculpture. Later, I learned she was a limited-edition kit from China, but had sold out a year before. So, I began to pursue her in the aftermarket. I took another year to find one...in Grapevine, Texas! Her price had tripled, but she became mine. Yuan Laing’s sculpture is so beautiful, my initial thoughts were not how to improve it, but how to avoid ruining it! I looked at it for 6 months before beginning. Like any model, there will be subassemblies. I ranked them in increasingly intimidating order, with peach trees least, and skin the most. So, I began researching the bark and flowers of peach trees. I did hair, flowers, jewelry, the other world inside her head, and the pavilions above the water. Gradually she emerged, skin done, eyelashes placed, and then in a surprising twist, creating a clear, transparent and convincing pool of water in her head ground things to a temporary halt. But the problem got solved.
Asking about these two works was good. One was the eager pursuit of improvement with a clear vision. The other was a timid, careful approach to an intimidating project at the edge of my competence.
Your exhibition highlights the extensive branching, rabbit holes, dead ends, and sidebars in your art path. Can you share an example of a particularly challenging or unexpected turn in your creative journey and how you navigated it?
When trying to make a vision , I allow my mind to drift wherever it wants. Since I have lots of tools and substrate laying around, I just jump in. In the long run, it may be a poor solution for one product, but an interesting solution for an unknown problem. I hardly ever throw a “bad” outcome away. I don’t bother to regret them, I just welcome them into existence, label, and store them, reassuring them that their time will come. I am apparently unbothered by an “unexpected challenge”. It’s all just part of the Journey. I find it delightful to bring out a box of failures and surprises to show to fellow maker/builder/ creators. Life’s interesting!
Dr. Dopson’s Cabinet is on display at the Meadows Museum from January 16 - February 9, 2024.