Interview with Roberto Lugo

In this interview, artist Roberto Lugo discusses the deep cultural influences and personal experiences that shape his ceramic vessels, including two new works, Tupac in Living Color and Biggie in Living Color. Inspired by iconic figures like Biggie and Tupac, and the rich tapestry of his upbringing in Philadelphia, Lugo’s work intertwines Hip Hop culture, historical art forms, and personal memories. He explains how his portraits and sculptural elements, such as chains and graffiti tags, serve as symbols of overcoming adversity and preserving cultural heritage. 

—Can you talk about the influence of Biggie and Tupac on your work and the  decision to incorporate stylized surface design into your ceramics?

Lugo: Biggie and Tupac are two of the most influential figures in Hip Hop history. There’s always been a debate about who was the greatest rapper, and it’s intriguing that both are linked in their untimely deaths. Their images are iconic. Growing up in Philly, I saw many “rest in peace” murals for people who were shot or passed away suddenly. These murals were often temporary and got covered up by the city, but by painting these iconic portraits on ceramics, I give longevity and memory to the people I’m commemorating.

Thinking about what makes up the patterns in Hip Hop culture, these vessels are adorned with visual elements like the patterned sweater Biggie wore on an album cover. I did the same with Tupac, even though he isn’t directly connected to that design. I wanted to show the synthesis of both their stories being forever linked.

—There’s a strong parallel between the ephemeral monuments in your neighborhoods and Greek funerary urns. Can you elaborate?

Lugo: These vessel forms were used for multiple purposes, including funerary urns. What’s crucial in art is that what’s relevant today might not be in 100 or 200 years. Tupac and Biggie are still famous, but their legacies will change over time. By using ceramics, I act as an archivist, preserving and commemorating my culture and influences.

—Can you talk about the inclusion of the sculptural elements you added to the vessels, such as the chains circling their necks?

Lugo: Chains are symbolic of many things. In the ’80s and ’90s hip-hop scene, big chains were a way to show off wealth and status, but they also remind us of shackles and enslavement. The transition from shackles to gold chains symbolizes overcoming adversity. I incorporated these elements into the vessels, inspired by historical Greek forms, to make that connection for people.

—Can you explain the juxtaposition of contemporary patterns derived from Hip Hop culture and your lived experience and archaic patterns in your work?

Lugo: The modern patterns, inspired by the sweater Biggie wore, are unique. I use visual elements from ceramic history to connect with a broad audience, including those unfamiliar with art movements like Bauhaus. By combining recognizable patterns from my culture with traditional forms of decoration, I show that my culture holds up to others and deserves respect.

—Can you talk about honoring people who have passed away versus those who are still living?

Lugo: My work is functional in that it keeps conversations going. Timing is crucial. If something is already popular in the news, adding to it doesn’t contribute much. Art can blur lines, reach people’s empathy and emotions, and help us understand each other better. In Hip Hop culture, every rapper compares themselves to Tupac and Biggie. It’s the only art form where boasting about greatness is acceptable and expected, often stemming from overcoming insecurities and a lack of resources.

—Can you discuss the role of portraiture in your work and how you discovered its importance?

Lugo: Growing up in Philly, I was influenced by graffiti and mural arts. I didn’t know it was the Mural Arts Philadelphia Program; I just saw paintings on walls, mostly portraits. My earliest art influences were these portraits. When I went to art school, I instinctively painted portraits of people who paved the way for me. This aspect has remained relevant in my pottery practice.

—Do you remember any specific murals or portraits that were influential to you?

Lugo: Yes, there’s a mural on 5th Street with figures from Puerto Rico. It’s colorful and tall, with many patterns. No one ever graffitied over it; it was a community icon. That mural probably had the biggest influence on me, and I think it still exists today.

—When people see recognizable figures in your work, they feel a sense of pride and empowerment. Are these values foundational to why you do this?

Lugo: Yes. I used to be a security guard at a museum, and I didn’t see anything there that represented me. Now, teachers and curators tell me students feel pride when they see my work in museums. It’s a moment when lived experiences become research, and my art’s relatability allows people to see themselves in a museum context for the first time.

—Can you talk about The Chase vessels and their significance?

Lugo: Growing up in the ghetto is complex. People often have misconceptions, but there were sweet moments, like playing in a fire hydrant or playing double dutch. I wanted to depict both the stereotypical and the real, everyday experiences. The imagery of cops chasing robbers contrasts with kids simply running around, sometimes with a dog. It’s about presenting a fuller picture of life in the inner city.

—The Chase has a multi-layered historical context. Can you discuss this further?

Lugo: My work references Josiah Wedgwood’s basalt series, which mimicked ancient Greek and Egyptian vessel forms. By using basalt, a black igneous rock, as a visual reference I create the look of a hybridized ceramic that pays homage to these traditions. This connects my contemporary work to historical pieces, showing a timeless quality.

—This highlights how multifaceted your work is. Do you feel this marks another series in your practice?

Lugo: Yes, I plan to continue experimenting with Wedgwood-inspired vessels and relief carving, as well as the idea of incorporating sprig molds, which involves pressing an embossed relief onto clay. I’m looking forward to expanding my practice to be more three-dimensional.