Oura Sananikone is a mad scientist. Forget lightning, biodiesel, and solar panels—his imagination could propel the world on its axis.
I was lucky enough to spend a lazy Monday morning sipping PBR with Oura in his makeshift factory of a home. Surrounded by technicolor creatures, I began to feel like I’d somehow stumbled onto the set of Darby O’Gill and the Little People. In his magical world, rubber chickens become robots, rabbits have temper tantrums, and everything in between is modified and hybridized with love, like the Island of Misfit Toys.
Oura is a man who can sew, and if he loves you like he does Christine, he will sew you a five-fingered, 20-eyed bug for your birthday. I was jealous and felt like I should be paying admission.
So began the photo/interrogation:
Frost: What have you been up to artistically?
Oura: I’ve been selling at the Bizarre Market. I do pretty well, but not as well as Nick Kuszyk. I’ve been working on a comic titled Ninja Force. Patrick of Odd God Publishing at Velocity Comics is going to promote it. It will be perfect-bound and in comic stores nationally. The comics I’ve done previously were hand-stapled Xeroxes.
Frost: Why ninjas? Do you know kung fu?
Oura: Brien White introduced me to kung fu at VCU. Class was taught by some 18-year-old kid who had been doing it since he was 4. I loved being able to do all that cool shit. I miss it. My friend Cornell has been doing traditional Thai kickboxing, and that’s pretty intriguing. He’s about to start fighting.
Frost: Yikes! I don’t think I’d like to get kicked.
Oura: That’s why you gotta be good!
Frost: Again, why ninjas?
Oura: I’ve been collecting ninja stuff since I was a kid. They are always mysterious and stealthy. Plus, everyone else is doing bunny rabbits and robots. Everyone loves a monkey.
Frost: But you do those things too. Is considering what people like important to you?
Oura: No, I like those things too. If you do anything, do it because you want to. It’s not about when can I cash in.
Frost: Given the number of comics that already exist, how is this one going to be different? How do you even begin to approach working on a comic?
Oura: I don’t know how many times I’ve started it. The first time, I started with a bunch of ninjas—a team—hence Ninja Force. But now it’s becoming more spiritual, as if “ninja force” is something inside you. Right now, I don’t know where it’s going, and I don’t want to know. I’ve been working on it when I’m kinda drunk because it helps me out—loosens me up, makes me less calculating. Not that I’m a calculating person. But it’s getting really silly. Originally, I wanted it to be an all-ages comic, but I didn’t want to limit my language. I really like silly comics. It’s more fun to draw silly comics.
Frost: Do you have any heroes?
Oura: James Kolchaka. He’s BIG for his sketchbook. He worked on it every day for 5 years of his life. He did Peanutbutter and Jeremy’s Best Book Ever. It’s about a cat and a bird that work in an office. Peanutbutter the cat wears hats and neckties, and Jeremy tries to steal her hats. It’s dumb, but it’s great.
Frost: Where does your inspiration come from—reality-bound or imagination?
Oura: Imagination. Cartoons, comics, toys, graffiti. It’s hard to list everything. Gary Baseman is one of my favorites. He does weird bunnies holding their lucky rabbit’s foot. It’s cute and disturbing, like my work.
Frost: In what other ways is your art evolving?
Oura: I haven’t been doing many comics, which is sad because it’s my main love. I’ve been doing more products—t-shirts, dolls, cheap paintings. I haven’t done any huge canvases since graduation, but I’d really like to get away from products. But then, cheap stuff is good because my friends don’t have any money. Dolls are my best seller, but the market varies. Little kids like the dolls, and adults like my paintings. It’s all over the board.
Frost: Why did you start making dolls?
Oura: I was lonely and bored in the fashion department. I was depressed and failing because I never went to class.
Frost: But you graduated? Do you think art school is worth the investment?
Oura: I graduated in the summer of 2000 with a degree in painting and printmaking. And yeah, it’s worth it. I never would have been exposed to silk-screening or a sewing machine. I wouldn’t know how to make dolls or t-shirts.
Frost: How long have you been here? Do you think this city has anything to offer?
Oura: I’ve been here for 11 years. I came here for VCU. In Richmond, there are only 1 or 2 degrees of separation. It’s easy to know everyone. Small communities make it easy to network, and Tony of RVA has made me realize there is an art scene in Richmond. It’s given me a sense of pride—being here, being a part of it. I’m impressed by his passion. It’s inspiring. It’s motivating to know there is a market for art here.
Frost: So what else have you been doing? Are you still playing music?
Oura: I’m in a new band called Stars Collide. I write songs and sing. We only have 5 or 6 songs. I’d describe it as indie emo pop rock. We’ve played Nanci Raygun and Canal Club. The Canal Club is pretty ridiculous—they charge 4 bucks for a Bud. And I’m part of a record label, Popfaction. I’m not on the business end; Michael does all that, but I’m the one they ask whenever they need weird art shit like fliers, album covers, t-shirts.
Frost: So where would you like to see yourself in 5 years?
Oura: I’d like to be published in Giant Robot magazine and Juxtapoz. I’d like to have a line of toys and… no day job!
With our beers no longer runneth over, the interview came to a halt. I left with a slew of brilliant underpriced art beneath my wing. Rarely do I ever get so much more than what I’ve paid for that I feel like the criminal.
Interview and photos by Kimberly Frost
