Levi De Jong: Landscapes in Flux
Levi De Jong’s artistic journey is one shaped by movement. From a childhood in the rural Midwest to five formative years in Florence, Italy—where he first trained as a shoemaker before turning to sculpture—and later to London’s Royal College of Art, De Jong has continuously sought to expand his understanding of art and materiality. His practice deeply engages with themes of transformation, identity, and resilience, using salvaged builder’s materials to construct works that speak to personal and collective histories. Currently, two of his pieces are on view at Half Gallery as part of the group show Not a Figure in Sight. In this interview, De Jong shares his intercontinental journey and how the sense of place and the contextual understanding of cultures and societies informed his practice. He also discusses his material-driven process and the underlying optimism that fuels his work, even in uncertain times.
Xuezhu Jenny Wang: You mentioned you moved to Florence, Italy, to become a shoemaker. What inspired this, and what ultimately led you to pursue fine art instead?
Levi De Jong: I had a dream when I was fourteen that I moved to Florence to become a shoemaker. I told my parents that I would go there to study and work as an apprentice. I’m not so sure they believed me at the time, but that dream did come true.
Once I arrived in Florence to attend the Florence University of the Arts, I shortly thereafter met a family of shoemakers, and they quickly took me under their wing. I spent nearly five years working with them and learning the trade.
Shortly after my arrival, I also met a handful of classical painters and sculptors. Their obsession with the painter John Singer Sargent fascinated me—talking about how he could render a person’s defining features with a single brushstroke.
This then led me to my own preoccupations, of course. The idea that I could not only learn about art history but actually participate in it was truly incredible. I soon became a draftsman and began to learn how to draw and paint.
But it wasn’t until I made a trip to Pietrasanta to see a Polish marble sculptor that my life changed forever. From there, I decided I would dedicate mylife to sculpture and expanding the language of art.
XJW: After five years in Florence, you moved to New York City. How was that transition, and how did it impact your practice?
LDJ: I got my classical training in Florence and then a very hard-knock schooling in New York—at least for the first year or so. New York is tough, but eight million people make it happen every day. It is the perfect place to be for an artist, and the most impossible one.
But New York is my home now. Most of my best friends and contemporaries live here or frequent the city. I met the love of my life—and now wife—here. Coming back to America after five years in Italy and landing in New York was critical. I went from an epicenter of classical art-making to the city where contemporary culture and art are happening. This is also, naturally, where I began to further understand my practice. I think one must leave their home and what is familiar in order to return and rediscover the curiosities in what was once so familiar and mundane.
Here, I rediscovered the blue-collar builder’s materials that I grew up with in the Midwest and began focusing my practice around that rationale.
XJW: In your correspondence, you mentioned this element of hope and optimism. A lot of us feel pessimistic about the global and domestic status quo when it comes to politics and international relations. Can you elaborate on this theme a little more, especially how you channel them through your work? Are there specific motifs or visual references that tie to this idea?
LDJ: We live in really uncertain times, and it even feels like we are nearing the end. But I look at history, and all the empires, rulers, and systems that become oppressive eventually fall, and in turn, something new arises. This change comes from communities of people who seek the truth and the light. I believe that all things that are good and true will ultimately prevail, and that is what I hope to see reflected in the work.
For example, the sculpture I just presented at The Brant Foundation depicts the lamb as an image of purity, birth, and love—the image of Christ. Draped over the lamb’s back is a ram’s horn, which is often culturally associated with ideas of corruption, death, and destruction. But through this sculptural intervention, the horn sits on the lamb’s back almost as a sword lays on the back of a trained soldier. This shows me that strength, power, and all that is unjust must be faced and transformed into something that is good and true.
Great sculpture is never just about the aesthetics or conceptual rigor; it is about the viewer and how the work can transform them. It is about their own personal transformation.
XJW: You just finished your master’s at the Royal College of Art. How was London? You spoke about this idea of becoming an American artist—how has your artistic identity changed? What is your connection to home like?
LDJ: London was incredible for my practice, but I didn’t love the city itself. I don’t want to get too much into that—but studying at the Royal College of Art was invaluable for my development as an artist. Being overseas this time made me long for home, and in that longing, I began to reflect on the rural Midwest. For the longest time, I tried to situate myself as a European artist, but my upbringing couldn’t have been further from that.
I grew up in a very conservative, Republican, Christian town in Iowa with a population of around five thousand. I’d say there are just as many churches and American flags in that town as there are people. I was immersed in the heartland of true Americana. My earliest memories are filled with these archetypal symbols, stories, and, I suppose, deeply ingrained nationalistic tendencies.
Maybe these beliefs were just too overwhelming at times. I wanted to run away from it all—especially with everything happening in our country. But as I’ve matured and gone out into the world, I’ve felt this deep responsibility to engage with American ideals.
At the Royal College, I began making these flag paintings—a symbol that I once thought stood for freedom and liberty for all but that now represents division and hate to many. Through these paintings, I’ve found joy and created an image that, for me, better represents the everyday American—someone I can only hope finds their true American dream.
XJW: Your work employs a lot of textures and materials that evoke a sense of “brutality.” Can you speak more about your process, how you ideate your pieces, and this interplay between materiality and assemblage?
LDJ: I work with recycled builder’s materials, namely bitumen, rubber, and silicon. My process involves going out and living my life. During my daily life, I often come across large amounts of these materials—typically at construction sites or in bins. When I make a discovery, I stop whatever I’m doing, gather the materials (sometimes hundreds of pounds), and bring them back to my studio.
From there, I lay out the composition I want to achieve on the ground. Once I’ve finalized the design, I build a frame that I can, in a sense, “stretch the materials over,” much like a painter stretches a canvas. I’m drawn to the idea of resurrecting these discarded materials and giving them new life.
XJW: What’s next?
LDJ: I currently have two works on display with Half Gallery until February 5th, and I have a solo show coming up in May in London, so stay tuned.
Also, my wife and I are moving back to New York very soon, and we’re incredibly excited about that.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
The work of Levi De Jong is currently part of Half Gallery’s group show, Not a Figure in Sight, on view through Feb 5th, 2025.