My Interview Process

I’ve been asked, if I arrive with a list of prepared questions. The answer is no.

Every interview for HonGoArt – On the Road Journal begins with a conversation, not an interrogation. I want the discussion to unfold naturally, allowing the artist to guide the direction rather than feeling as though they are responding to a questionnaire. The most interesting stories rarely come from asking the "right" question. They emerge unexpectedly, often after the recorder has been running for a while and both of us have forgotten it is there.

The recorder has one job: preserve the artist's voice. It captures the exact words, pauses, laughter, and moments of reflection that would otherwise disappear. It provides an accurate record that allows me to quote the artist faithfully later. But the recorder cannot tell the whole story.

That is where my notebook comes in.

Throughout every interview I keep handwritten observational notes. These are not transcripts. They are ethnographic field notes—small observations that document the environment, body language, interactions, and countless details that audio recordings simply cannot capture. The way sunlight falls across a workbench. The smell of linseed oil in a painter's studio. The family dog sleeping beneath a table. Hands stained with grease, clay, or paint. The pause before answering a difficult question. The glance toward a favorite piece hanging on the wall.

These observations become just as important as the spoken words because they provide context. They remind me what it felt like to be there.

My goal is not simply to document what an artist says but to understand how they live, work, and think. That approach comes from ethnographic practice—observing people within their own environments rather than removing them from the places where their stories naturally exist. Every studio, garage, workshop, rehearsal space, kitchen table, or barn reveals something about the person who occupies it.

There is no script. No checklist. Sometimes we spend twenty minutes talking about coffee before art ever comes up. Other times the conversation immediately turns to childhood, family, failure, or success. I follow where the discussion leads because every artist's journey is different. The interview belongs as much to them as it does to me.

When I later sit down to write, I combine the transcript with my field notes, documentary photographs, and memory of the experience. Together they create something richer than a simple question-and-answer interview. My hope is that readers feel as though they were sitting in the room with us, listening to a genuine conversation unfold.

That is the heart of HonGoArt – On the Road Journal. It is less about conducting interviews and more about spending time with people who care deeply about what they create. Every conversation is unique, and every visit adds another small piece to the growing story of the artists, craftspeople, musicians, and makers who shape our communities.