Hackett views the term 'Golden Age' as a construct

Name: Chris Hackett (also known as “Hackett”)
Age: 38
Hometown: Bronx, NY
Job description: Director and founder of Madagascar Institute, art
star jack of all trades, member of Ars Subterranea
Bio: Star of Stuck with Hackett, a new reality show on the
Discovery Channel (“I try to keep that separate from
the art part. Also, one in ten people I know have a TV, if that. A TV with cable?”), builder of terrifying carnival rides and other dangerous contraptions - like jet-powered ponies
Upcoming projects: Building carnival rides during the winter, like a calliope (a steam organ that plays circus music – either manually, or automatically through a punch card)
Select links: "At World Maker Faire, Engineering Meets Burning Man" (NY Times); "Up Close with the Madagascar Institute's Pulse Jet-Powered Ponies-NYC Maker Faire 2010" (Popular Mechanics); "Welcome to the Academy of Mechanical Arts and Ballistic Sciences" (Popular Mechanics); "Homebrewed Rocket Science for the Street" (Motherboard); "A Bomb Grows in Brooklyn" (NY Observer); "This Bomb is Not A Bomb" (NY Observer)

Tell me about how Madagascar came to be.

Once upon a time, growing up, I heard things and saw really decayed, VHS videos of art on a bad-ass scale.

Then in 1996, I went to Burning Man and saw all of these things: [people] blowing shit up; shooting guns; death; destruction. And I thought, “This is fantastic.”

So I came back to New York, looking for these kinds of people. Couldn’t find them. So I decided: Fuck it. If we couldn’t find those people, let’s be those people.

That’s how Madagascar was started.

What does the world need more of? What do we want to do? From the beginning, it started with two different paths. One being spectacle. I like things happening in the street, the high production value. All of a sudden a whole lot of stuff is going on: things spinning; things burning; people doing dance maneuvers.

We also wanted to do technology, to build things: machines; carnival rides; things that shot fire; jet engines; et cetera. So we started doing performances with a few cases of fireworks and a few people in costumes. We couldn’t find anyone who knew how to build any of those things, how to weld, how to machine. It was all [foreign] as it is to a lot of people. Like you.

Does welding seem like an arcane art?

Not as much as it would have, had I not known about Madagascar.

Okay, thank you. That’s part of the point.

We looked into it and were like, wait a second, this isn’t arcane, mystical stuff. In a lot of cases, it’s done by people who are barely literate. So we started teaching ourselves everything. There’s no good information online. A lot of people who build things are super squirrely and proprietary about the things that they make.  At least this was the case in the late ‘90s. The people you would talk to would have flame effects and things like that.

It’s like, “How did you make that?” And they wouldn’t tell you. Or in some cases they would give you information that was wrong to extent that we could have hurt ourselves terribly.  Maybe they were proprietary and squirrely about it because it wasn’t that hard.

It’s like going up to someone who’s drawing and saying, How do you draw? And them giving you a line of bullshit. It’s not like if I teach you how to draw, I give up the secrets of my art.

Madagascar wanted to have a place where we could do these big events, but also where we could get people up to speed. So they would know how to do these things and we would have someone to call when we do our next project.

Also, about the space as it exists today, if you walk in from off the street with your million-dollar idea (it’s burning a hole inside; it’s got people; it’s got machines), great!

One of the reasons that Madagascar exists is because the only difference between your
brilliant idea and it becoming a reality is your own lazy ass, in between all the skills that you learn here.  You can either learn them through classes or through helping other people. Some of the props and the raw materials that you’ll need is here; everything is here. So it takes away the excuse that I had for years of just saying, Where are the people doing these things? You can’t ask that question.

How would you describe how Madagascar operates as an organization?

Madagascar is a combine, not a collective.

Collectives are when you sit around and talk about feelings, and you care about what people think. Every decision is a consensus. It’s a reason why we can't get anything done in this
country.

We are a combine in the sense [that] everyone has the right to be heard, even if their ideas are shit. There’s a Soviet sense of combine where  it'll just be these artists shoved together under some horrible party functionary who just told them what to do. And if they didn't do what they were told to do, then [they’d be sentenced to] Siberia or death.

But they probably got a lot of stuff done. You know, those statues of Stalin? They had to come from somewhere. That's probably where they came from. I just like that idea of unstoppable force, leaning towards a conclusion.

At Madagascar, everyone has their input. But when it comes down to a project, someone is the Art Star, the person in charge. They can handle that however they want. It's a rolling dictatorship.

How did the jet-powered ponies come about?

I was interested in making jet engines because jet engines are awesome. And once I figured out how to build jet engines, I realized that anything you strap them onto is cool.

There’s a back-story on ponies. Imagine, for the future, two career options [for horses:] that
the bad news is that they’d become [attractions] at children's birthday parties. The good news is that (and this is pretty grim) they can undergo all of this surgery, have a jet engine
strapped to them, and be part of a carnival ride. And they would choose that because it's better than a children's party.

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

A confetti gun exploded and blew my face off. I was accused of being a terrorist.

Again, a very big deal, one of those [events that seemed] like it never happened.

[It was] a big enough explosion where a woman was standing, and the explosion lifted her up off of her feet and threw her about 10 feet. She landed on her head and went to the hospital
with a concussion.

And that was something that I was holding in my hand.

So blah blah blah, “terrorist attack” in Brooklyn. Friends found out about it from watching CNN. They thought I was going to die; I hurt myself very badly.

I don’t remember this, but I got copies of the police reports.

Because they thought I was going to die, they wanted to get a statement. Apparently, all I would say to them is my name, my date of birth, and “Fuck you! Call my lawyer.”

I would repeat that. That's all it is in the transcript. I was accused of being a terrorist.

Turns out I wasn't. But, in searching my apartment, [they found] a bunch of things that I wasn't supposed to have. So the terms “cash of weapons” and “arsenal” are bandied about. I ended up fighting it in court for a couple of years...

Did they have a right to search your apartment?

God, no. It didn't matter. Cops can lie and people believe it.

I had to get my jaw wired shut without anesthetics, which was  interesting.

They didn’t give you anesthetics?

I refused. I purposely don't drink or take drugs to make myself feel better. My two caveats are nicotine and caffeine.  I don't even eat meat. So I figured an anesthetic is a way of making
myself feel better. I’m not going to take that.

If I had full invasive surgery, I doubt that they would let me do it without putting me under.

When I told them that I didn’t want to take any painkillers, they said, “Okay.”

They have a chair that they strap you into for oral surgery without an anesthetic. And they have one of the orderlies [put a] strap around your forehead. It felt like they were putting an aircraft cable through my jaw.

Afterward, the doctor said, “Oh, you took the pain better than anyone else.”

So later I was thinking, “It’s funny that they have a chair for this. And I bet that any big hospital in New York, they have people who - for religious, moral, allergic reasons - do shit like that three times a week. Of course they have equipment for that.

I asked the doctor, “When you said that, you were bullshitting me, right? You were blowing smoke up my ass?”

He said, “Yeah, I was. I say that to everyone who gets their jaw wired shut without an anesthetic. It costs me nothing for them to feel great about themselves.”

So I said, “How did I react?”

“Oh, you were normal. You twisted a bunch and then you passed out.”

If you didn’t live in New York, where would you live?

I sincerely think that New York is the best place in the world. That’s why I live here. If I thought somewhere else was better I’d be living there. I don’t see any other reason to go through life.

With that said, I’ve lived some other places and thought, Okay, I could live here. I saw a lot of interesting stuff around the fringes of London. It’s extremely expensive. When you’re there, you see the prices of things and you’re like, Oh, that’s like New York prices. It’s fine. And then you’re like, My God, these are in pounds. Everything is twice as expensive as it is in New York]. It’s brutal there.

Other places are interesting.

I was in Berlin for a little while in 2002. I recently bought a house in Detroit.
Detroit’s interesting. There’s opportunity there but what New York has, that other places don’t, is a critical mass.  There are nearly 9 million people here.

San Francisco is one-tenth the size of New York. You could drop San Francisco into Williamsburg and not even realize that it was there (“That’s funny, I didn’t go up a hill before”), except you’d see a lot of well-dressed people [and] the burritos are bigger. That’s about it.

How much time have you spent in San Francisco?

I lived there during the summer of 1999 and I avoided the city for ten plus years. I moved back [in early 2010] for the first time, and I realized all the people that left San Francisco moved to Oakland.

What’s Oakland like?

It’s spread out and kind of depressing. People complain about the crime but don’t seem to do anything about it. I’m surprised that the artists that I know aren’t walking around armed at all times, if there is such a problem.

I don’t think there is. It’s just the perception of crime.

A lot of things anger me. I get through life furiously, constantly. Which I think is a good way
to do this. It’s a good source of creative energy.

What kind of things infuriate you?

The advantages on the West Coast. People always complain about things but in that passive-aggressive, West Coast kind of way. Even if they’ve only been there for six weeks, from Iowa, Brooklyn, or L.A. But they have all of these insane advantages. They have huge, ginormous spaces. Living is easy out there. And for the most part they’re just all focused on doing stuff for Burning Man.

I think Burning Man is an absurd waste of time, now.

You mean the Burning Man today versus Burning Man when you first discovered it?

Yes, to back up a little, one thing that I always call bullshit on is when people say, “When things were way better before.” That is the ultimate fallacy of New York living. It always comes up in conversation and I'm sure you've heard this a few people say, “Oh, well, you should have been here in certain year.” And I always hear them out. I hear their stories of like, “Oh yeah, when was a go-go dancer at the Palladium, hanging out with Andy Warhol,” or whatever.

Everyone's got that story. And I always say, “Wow! That’s amazing! You were so lucky that New York was interesting and vibrant when you were younger and good-looking, and had just gotten here. It worked out so well for you. I’m glad you got to enjoy it.”

And they never realize that I’m calling bullshit on them. Because of course it was wonderful when you were younger, good-looking and vibrant. The 22-year-olds that are coming to the city now, they think it's the best place in the world. Because everything's fresh and new. It wasn't that before. It still is awesome now. To look back upon the Golden Age is a horrible way to go through life. Because it means that the best days are behind me.

Once you realize that that is a construct, then all you're left with is: “Well, fuck it. If I want a Golden Age, I should make one.” And I think the  majority of people that I know - and probably a bunch of people that you've been interviewing - have been making a Golden Age.

It just needs to be encapsulated and written down as one. Which is rough because it probably
won't be. Because for things to really become history, they need to be written down in books. And no one's writing books.

Do you mean actual books or some kind of documentation?

Mostly, if not completely, books. Have you ever heard of the Fluxus art movement? Yoko Ono was a part of it. They are in the books. They are something that happened in history that people [refer] back to.

When you read up about groups like that, their happenings had like seven people at them. I'm not joking. But four of those people went on to write books about it, or to become big curators, or what have you. What was a significant experience for them became a part of the art, historical canon because they wrote books about it.

Digital online stuff is not [matter] in the same way, at all. Part of the reason why is because if you do a Google search for someone’s rantings and ravings from 10 years ago, it'll be way down on the list. Because no one links to it any more. And if you go through archives, it’s stored on someone's hard drive somewhere. But no one's ever going to look at it. Whereas if something's in a book, it gets referenced by other people. It is real. It has a physical thickness to it.

The content also goes through an editor.

An editor and a vetting process. People actually have to physically get up, or click through Amazon. You have to make an effort to have a copy of it. That's why people have marketing departments  to get people to do that. So you have more force behind it.

I’ve been personally involved in a lot of things that involve thousands of people. And it's like they never happened, because they're not documented.

If you ask the people who were involved in it, it's something that they dimly remember.

Last weekend I worked at the door of a party and this guy was there. His name’s Bill. He’s one of the TIME'S UP! people. He reintroduced himself to me. He said that he was running Critical Mass in 2001 when Madagascar was doing a re-enactment of the Hindenberg disaster, in Union Square Park.

All of the Madagascar events have this whole back-story behind them that the people working on it know, that the people seeing it might not know. This was the anniversary of the Hindenberg disaster and we wanted to bring back the age of lighter-than-air transport.

We were bringing together the helium partisans and the hydrogen partisans.

We made these two, big dirigibles, 10-12 feet long, and four feet in diameter.

There were the Helium [and Hydrogen] People.

The helium in one corner shouted, “Helium! Helium!” [The other side:] “Hydrogen! Hydrogen!”

And we brought these two big blimps, and a docking tower, brought them together in a beautiful symbolic [union] of the two sides.

As so happens at Madagascar events, things went horribly wrong. The two things came together. Like, “Yay!” Then: “Oh, the horror, the humanity.” They both burst into flames and collapsed. And the crowd went crazy and the cops didn't know what to do.

The reason that I’m talking about this is because until this guy reminded me of it, I had forgotten it. And if me, the guy who ran it, forgot that it happened, it's almost like it didn't happen. I've never seen a video of it. I've seen like two photos. Do you think it'll ever make
into a book? Probably not.  In five years, ten years, 20 years, will anyone remember it? No.

But there were a 1,000 people there, you know? So some of the things that Madagascar does fritters away.

Do you think it’s necessary to document everything?

I, personally, don't give a rat's ass about documentation, except in the abstract sense.[Madagascar is] very bad at that, and historically has been.

John Law agrees with me on the whole book thing. So he's been trying to cultivate writers. He's been trying this for years: get people who are good writers, feed them stuff, and take them along on events. But he said the big problem is when you find a writer and you start
cultivating them. If they're smart, they're like, “Hey, I can start doing these things.” And they start doing their own events and they stop writing them down.

An example that he had given is that he had tried to cultivate Jeff Stark, who was a writer for SF Weekly, along these lines.  [John Law] came to New York  and he said, “Great! I found a writer.” But Jeff's a smart guy and creative. So he started doing events and doing things, instead of passively writing about them.

So the world has more great events that Jeff has made but less, in terms of a writer.

That’s the thing. There's an allure. There’s a glamour, in all senses of the word “glamour” of doing an event or participating, rather than documenting.

How would you describe your threshold for safety?

We [at Madagascar] love to give off the impression that we're a bunch of barely trained carnies who really don't give a shit about your health and well-being. And that we are trying to kill you. That amuses all of us because it's fun. Sometimes it's close to true. That said, with a few exceptions, the only people who get hurt, at any of our events, is us. And for whatever reason by us, it usually falls to me to be the person [who is] hurt, severely. So you learn by hurting yourself terribly and bleeding all over the place.

What’s your idea of happiness?

I don't have a good answer for that. Sorry.

What’s the most difficult thing that you’ve ever had to do?

You know how you make decisions that come down to a big stack of "ifs"? You’re hoping and hoping that everything will turn out. And then at the end of the process you realize that, Nope, everything is going to turn to shit. And at the core, it's all my fault.

That’s when you desperately wish for a time  machine to exist.

How do you bounce back from something like that?

Don’t do it again. Do something better the next time.

Do you ever dwell on it, afterward?

I'm very good at compartmentalizing my life. I can put things away and get it later.

Did that come over time?

No, I've been great at denial my whole life.

What would be more for you?

I want it all. I want to totally and completely take over the world.

What qualities do you admire most and least in people?

The two best things that someone at Madagascar could say about you is that you are smart and hard-working. You’ll hear someone talking about some new person, “Hey, they're are a
hard-worker.” And the room will nod.

It's the warmest compliment.

[Saying that someone is] “stylish” [or] “good-looking”, who cares?

I think “smart” is the best possible thing. If you're smart, everything is within your grasp.

The worst are people who are lazy and people who are take-y. They just take and take, and they think everyone owes them something. And they try to get one over on you. They don't realize that there's a give-and-take in interpersonal relations. They think they're smarter than you.

They're not smarter than me. And I see right through it. You're disgusting and you're a moron, too, because you think I'm not seeing what you're doing.

By nature, are you tightwad or a spender?

I'm a generous person. When I have it, I tend to share.

With that said, my expenses are very low.

The idea of consumerism, of having more fancy, shiny things, is inherently disgusting. People, who are otherwise interesting, edgy, but [are] obsessive about the sneakers that [others] are wearing. How can you be into things because they are shiny things? Not because they have a [unique] quality to them, just because they are hip.

It's as ridiculous as wearing a logo of a company on your clothing. That’s insane. I can't wrap my head around why a reasonably intelligent person would do such a thing.

With that said,  I've got tons of crap. But at least I look at it as future art supplies.

Is it actually future art supplies? Or, am I going to be one of those people who they'll discover me when my cat is eating me? I'm surrounded by canyons of crap that I’ve accumulated. I don’t which is the case.

Are you spontaneous or a planner?

By nature, I’m the type of person who would do it last minute; I realize that this is a flaw in me. To make stuff look easy, you have to really work at it. And it's really hard to make things look easy. It has been a struggle for me to plan ahead and not just throw it all together at the end.

What was it like growing up in the Bronx?

Another thing that people always get nostalgic for in New York are the good ‘ol days, like the late '70s or the early '80s. Talk to anyone that was actually here, and they will tell you that it
sucked.

If you think a lot of those people living free and loose were junkies, if you had junkies around all the time your shit gets stolen all of the time.

Another thing is that, now, occasionally you hear about someone getting pushed in front of a subway train and getting run over. And it's always a big deal.

That used to happen so much that it never got reported. You would just vaguely hear about it if the person was rich or had a little twist to their  story, like if they were on their way to a wedding.

I remember the Blackout of 1977. The neighborhood where I grew up wasn't hardcore South Bronx. It was Northern Bronx, what I consider a middle class neighborhood. My parents were teachers in the public school system, cops, firemen, the people who keep the place going - the type of people who used to live in New York City. Now, I don't know what they're going to do.

The Blackout of '77: A nice summer day. I remember all the families were out on the street in lawn chairs and  barbecues, looking down towards the south and seeing these big pillars of smoke from the South Bronx, Queens, and Brooklyn, that were burning, and thinking, “Wow, this is nice, only kind of realizing later: “It’s funny. Why did my father and all of these other adults have these blankets next to the lawn chair?”

Everyone had their guns out, just in case.

And I remember hearing stories from my uncle, who just died. Skell, as I called him. You know, one of those dudes on your corner, who are up to no good, but you don't know what
kind of no good? But he would always carry a pistol.

Everyone,  in certain neighborhoods in New York, had to be armed. Even people who are my age, or younger, who are from the outer-boroughs. It’s just ingrained in me.

I remember a conversation with him: “Whenever you walk down the street, and you see a group of guys/kids across the street (and you know they're going to take you down), what you do is take out your pistol and open it up. Spin the chain down and close it, just to make sure. In that way they know you mean business. And they'll never bother you.”

What used to happen is if you got popped on the corner (if the cops come by and they frisk you). If they find the gun, they'd just keep it. They didn't want to do the paperwork. They wouldn’t want to throw it out, in case [the gun] accidentally shoots someone. That’s the way that it worked. I guess he had gotten popped one too many times.

Over a period we were saying, “Okay, let’s say you could no longer have a gun?”

[He said:] “What you do is in your painter pants, in your belt loop, you
keep your claw hammer.”

And he pulled out a claw hammer.

And he said: “Make sure to leave some blood and hair on it. Leave that there so people can see it.”

And hanging from the hammer was a chunk of scalp and a whole bunch of hair hanging down, of some guy who fucked with him.

New York used to be like that.

My father was born and raised in Manhattan, and he would say, “Oh, now we can to see the Bowery Bums.” You’d go along the Bowery and you'd see people. They weren't homeless because [they were living in] the flophouses. Some of them were probably crazy. They were bums. They were drunks. Every square of the Bowery would have a square of cardboard with some dude lounging on it, who’d be drunk all day, verbally assaulting everyone who went by.

You just would not walk down the street; it would be a fresh hell every four feet. It wouldn't be worth it.

When people say, “Well, CBGB's closed blah blah blah,” [I say:] “Where the fuck were you in 1985?”

Or, it just so happens that the people, who are nostalgic for that, were young and good-looking. And New York was fresh.