"In the Land of Retinal Delights: The Juxtapoz Factor" at the Laguna Art Museum

After seeing the show twice at the Laguna Art Museum, but as a non-reader of Juxtapoz, I must say: I get it. The question remains: do I care?

See, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think about a show that has over 150 artists in it, and yet still refuses to say anything terribly new, for fear of seeming to engage in the mainstream art conversation; that, it seems, would be selling out to the idea of being lowbrow. As a whole, it says a lot about what we as consumers covet: easily recognizable figures, marketable object images, surreal landscapes in which we can loosen ourselves from the adult body and return to the non-existent utopia of our collective childhood. Scat and scars and Godzilla and pop-eyed girls reign.

The statement for the show asserts that “there has been a huge, but unacknowledged art movement taking place in this country for the last 40 years” and the artists represented in the show are supposedly a collection of the shirked set. I’m baffled by the “unacknowledged” part, because even though I don’t read Juxtapoz, I am very familiar with most of the names on the show’s lineup.

I’m going to pose a factor: the reason I know a lot of these names might be because I have seen the artists show in a number of prominent galleries, but it more likely the fact that so many of them have a commercial element to their work. Take Gary Baseman for example. He collaborates with Harvey’s Seatbelt Bags to create an Artist Series of purses that ratchets the price tag up twofold for a sack with his images sewn or, recently, printed onto it.

But, when standing in front of his painting in the show, I couldn’t help but feel cheated. Canting my eyes slightly to the left, I compared his thinly painted canvas of bobble-headed figures with the superealistic painting of an ass-view of a cow with human in the distance. It wasn’t the photorealistic nature of the other painting that made it so much more interesting to me, but the skill with which it was executed.

But when I looked in the giftshop at LAM, I found not one reproduction of the ass-end-cow on a t-shirt or coffee cup. I DID find, however, a huge number of tchotchkes and doodads with other characters stripped from the paintings in the show. There’s a theme here: if you need a coaster with a low-brow image, you’ve got it. If you need a change purse with a funky figure floating on its surface, you’ve got it. If you need an action figure of your fave huge-eyed borg, you’ve got it. What you don’t have, however, is art.

And as I fingered through the mounds of commercial offerings, I chuckled at the dichotomy: do you want art, or do you want stuff? It seems that there is no room for the big questions that Mark Ryden, Seonna Hong, Date Farmers, The Clayton Brothers, Jim Houser and others were exploring. Their works seemed the least “lowbrow”, whatever that means.

But, it seems, there is plenty of room for the ubiquitous female borg with the balloon head and outsized eyes. This image is repeated to the point of absurdity across a number of artists’ canvases. Who is she; what does she represent? Is she the modern us, looking hugely full of information and commercial plastic junk, and yet still somehow perpetually surprised that she’s supremely unhappy? Is she that missing innocent childhood we’re supposedly nostalgic for? If so, tell her this for me: it never existed.

This is a show of dazzle and wow, of eye-popping images (often with popping eyes of their own), of impressive works representing a genre that is struggling to be dangerous and different. The viewer senses that struggle. And while they grapple with the images swirling before them, they might also consider saving up for that Baseman Seatbelt Bag which will set them back three hundred bones. Because if you can’t own a real piece of art, I guess you might as well settle for a piece of the lowbrow pie.
--The 925

Ground Us -- Huntington Beach Art Center

The pamphlet for this show says "Three large scale site-specific installations will amuse, engage and imagine a new and improved world." I will begin my critique here buy suggesting that these works were not "large" and they were by no means site-specific. Okay, they were pretty bigish, but, but by no stretch large--Serra is large!

I say not site-specific because all three of these works could be re-installed
elsewhere pretty much exactly like they were presented in these spaces so
that removes all aspects of site-specificity. And what is the direct object of amuse, engage, and imagine? Is the author of this statement saying that these three works will amuse, engage, and imagine a new and improved new world? Sorry, I don't get it.

That is where my negative critique of this exhibit ends. The performance of
P. Williams' "The Finishing Touch" is thought provoking and contemporary to
the minute. Yes, the work itself performs; in fact, it self-destructs. When the airplanes first start flying over this city made of garbage and cardboard one feels a sense of foreboding (a 9-11 type of nostalgia).

But then when the large building itself starts to move and subsequently begins to demolish the city, one is suddenly aware that the fear is not from above (from the other), but rather from within (from the self). Point taken, we have nothing to fear but ourselves. Great job P.

Lucrecia Troncoso's "Tree of Life..." is visually intriguing, technically sound, and large enough within this gallery space to captivate its viewers. I am afraid that it has been too long since I saw this show to speak overly intelligent about this work. And I don't want to simply try to respond to her statement in the brochure. However, I do remember enjoying the metaphor and environmental sensibility that this piece was trying to communicate. It engaged me so it must have been a successful piece.

Kiel Johnson's insanely intricate drawing "Survival Mode" is captivating in
a Schiele way. Again big enough for the space and the work definitely draws one in to his comical depictions of urbanity. Not really my style but still, amazing work.

So overall, other than the pamphlet author's poor introductory paragraph, this exhibit is worth a visit--especially now that P.'s piece is "finally finished" as the artist proclaimed at the conclusion of his work's performance.

--ART

Peter Saul, OCMA

Peter Saul, OCMA

Peter Saul currently has some large paintings very nicely arranged on some well-lit walls in Orange County. Who is this guy, and how did he manage to get a museum retrospective? These are questions that didn’t exactly plague me, but that I could by no means answer as I walked through the space. Large and beautifully colored, the paintings run the gamut of depiction from old popish cartoons to grotesque twisted forms vivisecting, chopping, conquering and converting each other. It’s difficult not to like a guy who paints heads being chopped off and liberally uses fluorescent paint, but his subject and color choices are far more sophisticated than merely testing the limits of the visible light spectrum. In the newer paintings he has traded the surface intrigue of his earlier works in oil for rhythmically daubed acrylic, building stylized, freakish humanoid forms in rich colors that seem to provide better than the usual color yield acrylic has to offer. He has weighed in on a variety of subjects, his illustrative approach creating a feel for the paintings that rests somewhere between editorial and satirical, whether it be cops fighting punks on a subway, or conquistadors doing their genocide thing.

Most telling for me perhaps is a quote on one of the placards from Saul himself: “It’s the intellectual dignity of modern art that upsets me, excites me to paint like I do.” There must be some sort of dignity someplace in a man to motivate him to invest so many years into so many large-scale works. With his fantastic proclamation, Saul seemingly attempts to separate himself from the rest of the art world at large, and indeed it’s easy to imagine that for a great many years his stylized, representational works were likely at odds with what everyone else was doing. But here he is, hanging in a museum, with the likes of Baldesarri and Burden across the hall, so he must not have been all that removed. In fact, he is at his best lampooning the established, accepted art stars, his “Francis Bacon Descending a Staircase” and not one of the larger works in the show, is possibly the best and most poignant piece that Saul has brought out of storage. At once a reference and an acknowledgement of Duchamp’s destruction of objective painting, which Saul is still sore about, and Francis Bacon who Saul apparently looked at a time or two. Pretty much says it all.

I also revisited the “Art since the 1960’s” show across the hall, While the first time I walked through the show a couple months ago, the show served mostly as a back drop to the Disorderly Conduct show, something to fill the space, and definitely not a destination in and of itself. It sat quietly and confidently in the corner, smug as it knew something that Disorderly Conduct didn’t. Seeing it again, reminded me how truly progressive art can be, and makes one long for the humor, insight, and challenge of other times. Sure, some of the work is almost 50 years old but it still feels as engaging as anything new. Ok, so it’s also pretty much just stuff from OCMA’s permanent collection and most of the works are second string, oddly arranged, and dusty at best, yet put together it adds up to create a representation of a community of individuals, however loosely linked, attempting to understand, document and affect their time. Which lets face it, is pretty cool.
--Snowflake

OCMA "Disorderly Conduct" Art Review

Photo: Glenn Kaino's "Learn to Win or You Will Take Losing for Granted"

If we’re living in interesting times as it is said, then by extension creations of that time must be equally interesting. With that in mind, perhaps the present is not so interesting after all.

The Exhibition “Disorderly Conduct” at OCMA is paired against OCMA’s collection show “Art Since the 60’s, California Experiments”. The collection show documents the radical end of Modernism as it twisted and turned its way out of formalism and pushed conceptual concerns to the fore.

The era was challenging. One had to find footing as an artist and as a citizen. Nothing was taken for granted. The test was rigorous.

The “Disorderly” exhibition by contrast knows what art is and knows its era. It’s loud, it’s about lifestyle, and its not so much concerned about ideas. It just wants to assert itself. The viewer is more consumer than beholder. That’s not to say that there aren’t some interesting objects and some good ideas. But, even the best works just add to the din, the scream that pulls on us to look, to buy, and to pay ... attention. Where is the engagement for the viewer beyond the spectacle?

These two exhibitions side by side are like an evening of television, “Entertainment Tonight” followed by “Masterpiece Theater”. I think we are living in a Mannerist era and the “Disorderly” show typifies that style. It is studied, manicured and mannered for an effect. The organic response of Late Modernism was difficult but engaging. The “Disorderly” show leaves me passive, unengaged.

So, what’s so bad about the mannered? Nothing really, as long as you’re just looking for entertainment. Pearl Hsiung’s paintings are fun, bright spray paint and stenciled, large enough to capture you for a moment. Glenn Kaino’s stop-action montaged photos of a confrontation between color-coded individuals is the best work in the show. It’s inventive and more metaphoric than all the other works combined. It gets my vote as the keeper in the show.

The pairing of these two exhibits is actually quite brilliant. The more historical show is still difficult. It still challenges you and makes you active with the ideas and forms. The contemporary exhibit is entertaining but eventually empty of deep issues, save the Kaino piece. Give it a walk through but then cross the hall to spend your time in the permanent collection exhibit.

--A Wonderful Chap

"Disorderly Conduct" at OCMA Appears to be Disorganized at OCMA

I suppose I shouldn’t get worked up over minor annoyances… it’s a little like focusing on the water spot on my wineglass when I should be sipping the happy grapes instead. But I can’t. It’s not my style. I find metaphors in vignettes, and this review shows why art is increasingly so inaccessible for the under-40 crowd.

I managed to enter the doors of OCMA’s show, Disorderly Conduct, just as thirty OCC college students rolled off a yellow bus and into the main gallery. While they milled about looking embarrassed and lost, I took a quick loop though the 60’s show. Great stuff there. First class work. Of course, every museum or gallery seems to have a simultaneous 60’s-70’s show up right now (LACMA, MOCA, OCMA… doesn’t anyone compare notes before posting a show?) and the overload of era images was numbing. If you’ve been through OCMA at all in the last 10 years, you’ve seen all this slick before.

I took one quick pass thorugh the Disorderly Show, noting the painted house and giant chessboard. I wanted to get back to the stop-action video before that gaggle of students descended on the space.

I needn’t have worried, as it wasn’t the students that created the problem, but one of the docents assigned to give the group a tour. I overheard him (how could I not, he was speaking at decibel 170) telling one of the OCC profs that he thought he was giving a tour of the 60’s show, and not Disorderly. It should have been a sign. The poor prof grimacing behind his mod moustache should have thanked the guy, turned, and run. But he was either too sweet or too trusting or both.

What lay ahead was not a “tour” or guided study of the works, but a scattered, misinformed melee of ill thought out banter. I made the mistake of entering one gallery room and sidling up behind some aggrieved-looking students as the docent started in on Daniel Joseph Martinez’s piece, “The House That America Built”

He started by pointing out that the cabin was modeled after “William David Thoreau’s” Walden Pond. The literary snob in me cringed. It was bad enough that he got the writer’s name wrong; it’s HENRY DAVID, you dork! He then remarked that Thoreau was interested in the idea of civil disorder (um, don’t you mean disobedience?) and made a dismal attempt to describe what Thoreau was looking for by writing in his tiny cabin out on that pond. Never once did he mention the idea of utopia.

What he docent did manage to master was the fact that the cabin was painted using Martha Stewart colors in lavender and yellow squares, with uneven teal plywood slabs hung at skewed angles covering most of the portals. He then went into a rant about Martha’s insider trading debacle, and listed some the people involved.

As the poor prof tried to reign in the wandering docent with a gentle nudge towards metaphoric inquiry “Hmm, do you think the misshapen plywood hung oddly reflects the skewed mentality of Kaczynski?” The docent blinked. Blankly. Then, ducking the gentle lob of sanity’s grenade, he bumbled on with the group into the next room.

I couldn’t take it anymore, and felt bad for the students shifting uncomfortably in their UGG boots, flip-flops, and vegan-approved flats. The few that were contributing to the “conversation” seemed determined to make the most of what appeared to be a joke. Was this a joke? The museum sent out a docent that didn’t know most of the works’ titles and knew even less about actual verifiable history? What message does that send to “the kids” when they’re treated like holes to shovel bunk into?

------
As for the art, a few pieces stood out:

Pilar Albarracin’s large-scale photograph “La Noche” of a woman strapped to the top of her car along the luggage. Woman as object, foreign women as strange and objectified, the ocean as journey and subconscious, scenes of domestic disorder and absurdity all sprung up in my mind when this piece caught my eye. Good work.

Glenn Kaind’s “Learning to Win or You Will Take Losing for Granted” was a brilliant piece made up of fruit crates and ammo boxes cut down and assembled into a chessboard. The Kings and Queens and Pawns et al we all replaced with bronze hands in suggestive poses (Fuck You, Come Here, Power to the People) and I wanted badly to touch it. I know I REALY like a piece of art if I want to touch it. There was so much layered under here. Violence, sex, gesture (all important to an artist, but even more important in this volatile world) and the futility of “winning” something that seems lost before the game begins.

Martin Kersels “Lover” five photographs of a fat, old, and unfortunately-dressed man doing what appeared to be calisthenics in nature. The awkwardness and uncomfortable emotion in these photos were intriguing to me. There was a fragility of human emotion implied that was palpable in his sad poses.

Most interesting of all: Robin Rhode’s “Color Chart” a stop-action video where men in uniforms (Industrial=Painter’s Coveralls and Mask; Urban=Hoodie and Baggy Jeans; etc.) brutalized each other. The ground on which they “stood” was a broken row of bricks that they often used to pick up and throw at each other. The effect was heightened by a totally different piece set on the opposite wall: Rodney McMillian’s singing “The Way We Were” in the background was a sappy, wrought counterpoint to the faceless, random violence in front of the viewer. The brilliant part was this: by slowing down the action, by stopping time and letting the viewer anticipate the next blow, the effect of anger and frustration at being UNABLE to stop the inevitable was spiked. It’s a choice literary device that was amplified by film. Truly thought provoking.

The rest of the work: Disorderly, both in layout in the gallery and in lack of impact.

--The 925

Disorderly Conduct at OCMA

I am going to be honest and risk sounding narrow-minded.
The show on balance was a dud. It was so boring I had to walk through it about five times praying that something would really grab me. Well I felt pinched more than grabbed. The show is very small and while that helped me focus on the few artists involved and I could therefore give them all time, it felt like an incomplete idea.

Peaal C. Hsiung painting intrigued me but she has big paintings and small ideas. Glenn Kaino's chess piece was beautiful to look at. Nice metaphores as hand signs. Gestures as Passive or aggressive, the peace and love next to the fuck you. The accompanying limited palette portraits had subdued emotion the way the subjects contemplated their next moves.

The Condolizza Rice inspired work made me curious as to why the artist has become obsessed with this woman. ( an interesting note, the artist has directly copied Bridget Burns who has been drawing on paint chip samples from home depot for a decade). The eyes falling like bombs from the fighter jet? Huuuum. It seemed lame at first but I would admit it did have some impact.

OCMA is a great museum space with very high ceilings and great lighting. They hang the work with lots of empty wall space to make each work stand out. Basically anything you hang in that environment should look good! I could hang my dirty boxer shorts on the wall and it would look profound. How is it most of this stuff still manages such a weak visual response? Is it because artists have been taking away so much that nothing is left? Less is not always more, sometimes it's just less.
Much of the text I read was far more interesting than the artwork and I see that a lot with shows these days.
Mike Kelleys "Gospel Rocket" was an abysmal failure.

A black man signing "The Way We Were" in clown makeup? Wow, there is a real profound idea! He admits in the text that he watched too many music videos growing up and that is how he came up with the idea. He was interested in how the performers would lose themselves in the songs and he wanted to do that. My daughter sings her favorite songs around the house to her I Pod and has makeup and dress far more interesting than this guy.
OCMA used real insight and some of their very limited funds to buy this piece!

We have all seen the Fred Astaire film with the turning room. This guys work is trying to be funny and serious at the same time. Huuuuum...NOT! I'll go with silly and useless.

I have talked to a few other T.E.A. Party members about the attendance at this show. When I saw the show I was the only person in the building who didn't work there and the same for the other members I talked to. Maybe they should show work that truly has value instead of trying so hard to be arcane and clever with the shows they curate.

OCMA hired a friend of mine to promote the exhibits and try to get people to see the work. He's so persuasive he could get the Pope to invest in a new Mormon Temple but he admits that getting folks to see these shows may be beyond even his considerable powers.

Perhaps there is just not that much good work being made right now that is conceptual in nature. Art is not like science, it does not always advance or get better with time.

--The Fish

Disorderly Conduct at OCMA

Overall, very good. Of course I am a sucker for conceptual and politicized work. But I thought they had a reasonable global mix of artists and a fair cross-section of ages.

Hmm, my favorites? Karen Finley's Condoleezza Rice eyes were terrific, I might have enjoyed that the best. I felt like I could be drawn in by the allure of the eyes and then pleasantly slapped in the face once I was informed who it was I was looking at. My only reservations is that I don't think the piece would communicate its message without thestatements. However it did get across its seductive charm which I think was the tantalizing point.

Glenn Kaino's chessboard was also terrific, maybe because I related to the hands. But it was very effective at getting across the idea of how life is a game and we make gestures, sometimes unpleasant, towards those on the other side of our beliefs (or what we think we know).

Of course I am always captivated by the intellectual depth of the work by Daniel Joseph Martinez. And this house has so many layers of meaning to be mined and the physical size of it forces the viewer to find out more and understand! Gee, Kaczynski's house painted by Martha!

Marin Kersel's Pink Constellation was fun and technically fascinating (and of course funny), but I am sorry, I wanted to get more of a point out of it--just me.

I guess I need to mention Mike Kelley: large scale, complex, expensive, richly conceptual, but leaves me a little empty--feeling like I am being visually teased in a contrived sort of way. I guess a little too theatrical for me.

Anyway, that is about it. I enjoyed the show.

--ART