Kings of Power 4 Billion %

Watch this and be amazed. Two parts. Or download it in a higher res here. Total, utter, senselessly violent, animated mayhem.

Part 1



Part 2

Moms in the Gallery

I'm going to share with you a treat I discovered this morning. Say hello to Roberta Fallon and Libby Rosof. Not only do these two ladies have a blog covering the Philly art scene, they have a video series where they talk about the work in the gallery! And it's not mall-style landscape painting! They cover the work of contemporary artists young and old (admittedly some better than others). But they're adorable! Like, if your mom was really into contemporary art adorable.

I found their blog via Modern Art Notes, while looking for Philly coverage. The video-blogging, however, was a totally unexpected surprise. Someone should be doing this in Austin.

Bringing the Pain

I've been meaning to thank my friend, Baseera for recommending Susan Sontag's Regarding the Pain of Others to me. She thought it was relevant to some of my current work and she hit the nail on the head. 

For background, one thing I often bring up when asked about depictions of violence in my work is the contemporary status of violence in all things media. More and more often, images of extreme violence are used not only for dramatic, but even comedic effect (think Tarantino or Shaun of the Dead). The rationale is fairly obvious: in a cultural economy built on spectacle, the bigger/brasher the spectacle the better chance it will be noticed and therefore profitable. When I use violence it's in a way that is meant to be read as both an ironic reference and historically indebted. Ironic, because it exists in a cartoon environment historically inhospitable to blood and guts, but that is increasingly populated by the gruesome (think Itchy and Scratchy or Frank Miller). When I say "historically indebted," I'll give you a passage from the essay itself in which Sontag is talking about Titian's The Flaying of Marsyas (but which is equally appropriate to, say, one of Seth Alverson's pieces):

In each instance, the gruesome invites us to be either spectators or cowards, unable to look. Those with the stomach to look are playing a role authorized by many glorious depictions of suffering. Torment, a cannonical subject in art, is often represented in painting as a spectacle, something being watched (or ignored) by other people. The implication is: no, it cannot be stopped-and the mingling of inattentive with attentive onlookers underscores this.

-Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others, p. 42

So, our fascination with the spectacle of violence is nothing new. It has existed throughout our Western cultural history. We enjoy watching people get hacked up, blown up, mutilated and eviscerated – either because it informs us about the nature of suffering and it's seeming inevitability, or entertains us because we've been conditioned by economic motives to enjoy the spectacle. But what about our moral responsibility in the face of representations of horror? Sontag addresses that question in regards to photography, but I think it's applicable to other visual mediums:

  It is felt that there is something morally wrong with the abstract reality of photography; that one has no right to experience the suffering of others at a distance, denuded of its raw power; that we pay too high a human (or moral) price for those hitherto admired qualities of vision–the standing back from the aggressiveness of the world which frees us for observation and for elective attention. But this is only to describe the function of the mind itself.

  There's nothing wrong with standing back and thinking. To paraphrase several sages: 'Nobody can think and hit someone at the same time.'

-Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others, p. 118

Sontag's ultimate point being, in a culture inured to the aestheticization of violent acts, perhaps the better representation of violence is the one that makes you empathize with the suffering, or, at the very least, makes you think about what it means to endure violence. I worry about this every time I choose to depict violence in my work, and I think it's an essential consideration. I can't help but wonder if, when hacking someone's arm off or spilling someone's guts, a director like Tarantino does the same.

Seth Alverson, Word has it that everything has been permitted for quite some time now. Oil on canvas,  90" x 144" 2007. (Image courtesy of Seth Alverson)

Lazer Harpoon

Speaking of whaling harpoons to the head, a friend in San Francisco alerted me to the fact that a DJ duo named Lazer Sword are using one of my paintings on their MySpace page in promotion of their new EP. So not cool. Not cool, because:

1. They didn't ask me if they could.
2. That painting belongs to somebody who actually paid me for it.
3. They're using my work for their own commercial gain which violates fair use doctrine. I own the copyright. And I don't even have to register the work with the Feds to claim that.

Ivan Lozano addressed the issue of copyright sanctity in the digital age on his blog, but that really only concerned images used for press/personal/blogging use and not images used to the economic benefit of someone other than the copyright holding artist. I don't mind if people want to use my images for blogs, reviews, or the like, but I do mind if somebody wants to make a buck off my back.

I had to think about it for a bit (internal debate about censorship), but I asked them to take the image down. I should be flattered, I guess, but I don't really like their tracks, so I'm not.


Sinistral *Select One*, Oil Enamel on Canvas, 27 x 24 in. 2005. (Image courtesy of ME, the artist)

Reppin' Hard

In case you're interested, I'm officially represented by Project 4 in the mid-Atlantic states now. If you're not familiar with them, you should acquaint yourself. Unlike so many galleries out there, it isn't run by people who are certifiably insane/ megalomanic/ psychotic. They're nice people. They are also smart and pleasant to talk with. They have good shows that are helping to loosen up the stodgy DC scene.

If you're in New York next week, check them out at the Scope NY fair.

Also, if you're in DC between April 19th and May 24th, check out my friend Christine Gray's solo with Project 4. Her work will blow your brain apart like it was hit by a whaling harpoon it's so awesome. I'm not responsible for the blowing apart of your brain, though. I warned you it might happen. You should learn to protect yourself better from whaling harpoons.

Christine Gray, Rabbit Terrine, oil on panel, 42" x 46," 2007. (Image courtesy of Project 4)

I Like to Be Thorough

Here's a good podcast discussion with James Elkins on the subject of globalism/multiculturalism/imperialism in contemporary art. A nice footnote to my post below.

Scientists are Saying...

I just received my copy of Southland Tales! I plan to watch this on endless repeat in between episodes of Twin Peaks (my new favorite show).

I Refute You Thusly!

I don't usually respond to reviews critical of shows I'm participating in as it's generally a bad policy decision. However, I noticed an article this weekend for which I can make an exception because it brings up a broader issue worth discussion. (Also, I'm not mentioned directly by the offending party which excuses me from being accused of blatant, self-interested whining)

Collector and UT Ph.d. candidate, Till Richter believes Austin is suffering "from an acceptance of art that is whimsical, comic inspired, not well-made or well thought out, nonsensical but so wryly and superficially funny that it must be either brilliant or bad." He continues by insinuating through the example of Matthew Rodriguez that this work, is in fact, bad.

I'll acknowledge Richter's dismissal is probably applicable to many artists working in the language of comics and cartoons, but not all. As one who makes art that could be described as "whimsical" and "comic inspired," I feel the need to chime in and address his glib remark. In my experience, the only people "suffering" from this type of work are reactionary academics still invested in the modernist/post-modernist project - those who champion biennial-friendly internationalist work as the new avant-garde, and are befuddled by the popularity of the Okay Mountain set. I believe there is something to be said for an artistic production that addresses our specific cultural landscape in a way that internationalist works (often directly tethered to the aesthetics of 60s and 70s avant-garde conceptualism), do not. This is not to deride those artists in 20 to Watch and elsewhere working in a mode similar to that which Richter supports. Without this "international style" we wouldn't have the work of our Olafur Eliassons, Anish Kapoors, or Janet Cardiffs. It's also important to point out that the international art market Richter not so subliminally champions as the measure of what is Good or Valuable is an artificial, economic construction. It functions to fulfill an enormous demand in emerging markets for the New, and should not necessarily be used as a gauge of what is ultimately culturally valuable to us. Nor should we be led to believe that the work catering to this market is evidence of a continuing avant-garde (the impression I get from Richter's positioning). Avant-gardism is over. It died with Modernism.

This is at the heart of what bother's me about Richter's comment. It smacks of the restrictive and elitist Modernist rigidity most of us have no desire to revisit. Those of us who may appreciate and create cartoon/comic inspired work do so because, when done well (and, yes, much is not), it's immediately personally identifiable and resonant with our own American cultural experiences. This idea is especially important to me in the face of a globalized art market that celebrates the outdated philosophy of universalism (Coming from a believer in the relative and the subjective). It's important to recognize that not all artists who should be acknowledged are interested in competing in this homogenized, globalized marketplace. I know that, personally speaking, I'm making work to have a conversation with my peers who are artists, writers, scientists, musicians and filmmakers here, not in India, China, Belarus or Kazakhstan. Although my work may be recognized as an object of art in these places, it may equally have zero relevance with audiences in those countries. That's just fine with me - I'm certainly not pretending to create work that speaks in some kind of artistic esperanto. It's easy to pejoratively label this attitude as narrowly regionalist, but not when the trend Richter attacks extends through a generation and across a continent. This may be a case where if you did not grow up in this culture you just don't get it, and, to me, that's perfectly acceptable too. Hooray for pluralism!

 

(Image courtesy of Kavi Gupta Gallery: Adam Scott, Wait For It, 2005, acrylic on canvas, 70 in. x 76 in.)

Spring Break 1985!

Some people got out of town this week. Some people are finishing their homework. I'll be out gettin' messy with my lady at SXSW. See you next week.

Yacht. Photo courtesy of Eric Uhlir. ©

Walter, what is the point...what the fuck are you talking about?

A comment in my post below about the acrimonious state of blog commenting got me to thinking more about the issue. One of the comment participants took my entry to be an attack on Ivan Lozano and his criticism of Brad Tucker's show at the Palace of Art. It wasn't. I actually supported the critical stance Ivan took towards the show, and the point I was trying to make was about the etiquette of blog commenting and the shrill tone added comments on art blogs often take. One of the ipso facto participants to Ivan's post goes so far as to attack his sexual orientation which I think is way beyond the realm of good taste, and as Ivan pointed out was a blatant ad hominem distraction. So, despite the irritation and resistance of polite blog participants everywhere, it seems virtually impossible to keep the dialogue following some posts to a civil tone - short of censoring ones own comment boards. There's always a few bitter apples who show up and ruin the spirit of dialogue for everyone. How do you keep things productive and amicable in an online discussion? I think this is an important issue to address considering how much art writing is now published online (and with the opportunity for everyone to share their two cents).

But beyond this question of manners, another good topic that came to mind concerns the appropriatness of critique in relationship to an artist's career. In the case of most emerging, underrepresented artists a public (published), rancorous rebuke is counterproductive to everyone. Small fish are easy catches and quicker to fry. There's no point in wailing on an artist who's never really been seen and therefore probably has no stature within the art community. It also makes the reviewer look like an ass. However, I'm not saying this is the approach Ivan took. In Tucker's case his CV is well established and as such, I think, opens his exhibition up to critical examiation for its shortcomings. Despite some opinions, I thought Lozano's take was pretty even for the format. Now, not everyone may agree with Ivan's assessment and that's the beauty of being able to post your own thoughts on the matter right below the article. But unless all participants remain polite and respectful of opinions, everyone is done a disservice.

I guess in the end the answer is that we all should meet in person more often, and maybe hit the bar where we can act like human beings again.