Young Artists Get Personal with Politics in Group Show
By Andrew LaVallee
Twenty-somethings are apathetic, cynical and get all their news from Jon Stewart. You’ve heard it before–lamenting youth apathy is a clich� of talk show hosts and political pundits. Less common but just as troubling, art criticism sometimes falsely labels works by younger artists as apolitical, or simply ignores artists’ roots in communities, identities, or histories. "Majority Whip," a group show organized by Kathy Grayson and Laura Tepper and hosted by not-for-profit White Box, goes up against these notions and provides an alternative that’s more nuanced than you might expect. "Majority Whip" challenges the condescension that younger artists often face when they express their political sensibilities in their work. Amid (literally) fiery conflicts between political ideologies in the world, one might reasonably suspect a political group art show to be heavy on the anti-Bush stuff. While some of the works sharply critique the U.S. administration, "Majority Whip" doesn’t, thankfully, hit you over the head with rhetoric.
More than forty artists–some in their first exhibition, others (Assume Vivid Astro Focus, Devendra Banhart) reasonably famous already–created original work for this show. The space itself has been transformed into a "ramshackle U.S. Senate interior" complete with speaker’s podium, pews and stenciled carpeting. Grayson and Tepper sought out work by young artists primarily working in drawing and installation. "We didn’t want to curate them into a corner," Grayson says, more interested in what the artists came up with than fleshing out a statement of their own. It paid off–the works vary widely in terms of their political sensibilities, and many whisper instead of shout. The emphasis on handmade work is refreshing for a few reasons: there is sometimes an expectation that young artists must be working solely in cutting edge media, and also a sense that film, video, and other newer formats are the ones suited to political work. "There are a lot of artists working with traditional media that overtly deal with politics," Grayson says, but reviewers don’t always get it. Chris Johanson’s works (People-Politicians, a mixed media collage done by him and Jo Jackson, is on display here) are one example of work that has been labeled as naïve or childlike; while they deal in comic book imagery and conflict, the subject matter renders those labels incomplete at best. "There’s still outdated critical models, and … a lot of high theory out there," she continues, and this way of looking at art can prevent them from understanding artists’ mature, sincere thought. "There’s a sense that anyone putting that much emotion out there has to be a little bit crazy–it can’t be real," she says, which makes me think–lots of us are grown-ups now, and we still read comic books. So if you keep calling the work "childlike," you’re missing a crucial layer of meaning.
Misaki Kawai’s Untitled is a mixed media monster that hangs in a corner, commandingly hot pink. Between the color and the ten foot stature, it dares you to not notice it. It’s reflected in orange in her other work on display, a tape and paper work on the wall behind it. The two works, seen together, are full of suggestive questions: once we step out of this gallery, are we missing other things in plain view, too? Are we accepting the dilution or changing meaning of things once they’ve been represented or analyzed by someone else? Are we missing the right analysis–because it’s being suppressed or discredited–altogether?
Scott Hug’s K48 publications specialize in collaboration and collage, from the contributor-heavy zine to his own group show, Kult 48 Klubhouse, to k48rules.com’s background change every time you mouse over another menu item. His contribution here, however, keeps it simple: four permanent ink marker drawings from the "Boys gone Wild" series. Largely black with some red ink highlighting, they’re the comic book panels that you’re now old enough to appreciate. In Grant Worth, the guy’s right hand clutches The Agony and the Ecstasy; his left holds a travel-size bottle of Eros (the lubricant of choice for serious bottoms), and a U.S. missile shoots blithely overhead. Just another day in a superpower.
Chris Lindig’s Mentor of Reality and Taylor McKimens’ Untitled (leaks) are eerily prescient given the current state of affairs in the U.S. In the former, a dictatorial type sits in a chair that rests on the backs of two naked women; a hooded executioner and guard armed with semi-automatics flank them. At the beginning of May, British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s human rights envoy to Iraq revealed that U.S. soldiers detained an elderly Iraqi woman last year, placed a harness on her, made her crawl on all fours and rode her like a donkey. It’s too close to be comfortable looking at this, which is why you should. In contrast, McKimens creates an installation in which everything from the dripping from the ceiling pipes to the bucket to the splash of water are carefully constructed from paper. Majority Whip’s attention to context, from the title to the congressional setting, helps work like this be its most articulate self despite its subtlety. "We wanted the context to pull out or highlight some of the more subtle political tendencies," Grayson explained. "People are so hesitant to read any sort of political message in art. But it’s there, and it’s in a lot of new work." You can’t look at Untitled (leaks) without thinking about Defense Secretary Rumsfeld and his frantic struggle to keep "abuses"–his word choice, instead of "torture"–of Iraqi detainees under wraps.
Michael Magnan’s deceptively effective contribution is all over the walls: small paper cutouts of a priest looking sternly down from the pulpit. Seen from a distance you might think it’s just a pattern on the wall, but up closer you can see that the pulpit tapers into a dagger. Some of them plunge right down to the molding, and there’s a visual similarity to Magritte’s bowler-hatted men raining down, but the harmlessness isn’t present here.
Matt Leines’ drawings include some of his familiar subjects: lightning bolts, disembodied eyes and those hyperaware animals. Flag of the Men with Lightning Fists hangs right behind the congressional podium in the space, and you can just imagine Bill Frist standing there like Zeus with storm clouds overhead (maybe while he’s raising funds for the Republican challenger to his Senate nemesis, Tom Daschle). On the podium itself is Assume Vivid Astro Focus’s Seal, a decal that among other things, tellingly repeats "share," "assume," "contaminate." In Untitled (snake drawing), the snake is writhing through the structures while the eyes look outward. In Grayson’s words, it’s "poetically political," and it seems to convey not just invasion, but the idea that as perceptive as you may be, you don’t always know what’s inside you. In a similar tentacly vein, Devendra Banhart, better known as an indie folk singer with a growing following, shows not only some of the ink drawing that grace his album covers, but also Grandpa Curtis Mayfield (releases the knowledge throughout his vessels of wisdom…, a watercolor applied directly to White Box’s window.
Ry Fyan’s This Miniature Man is Not Fortunes Deed shows deft painting technique and a rendering of such seemingly disparate objects as Q-Tips, a cell phone and a skeleton. They’re huddled together under an orange roof; trees loom overhead and gray lines connect the objects to more household goods and a mushroom cloud. It’s more subtle than it sounds and, as you look at it, makes an undulating comment on how quietly consumption and explosion can connect.
In addition to the artists previously mentioned, "Majority Whip" includes work by Brian Bellott, Carl Bennett, Hisham Bharoocha, Sarah Braman, Aisha Burnes, Randy Colosky, Rosson Crow, Katie A. Davis, Dearraindrop, Jim Drain, Brendan Fowler, Andrew Guenther, Scott Hewicker, Jo Jackson, Xylor Jane, Daniel Joseph, William Lemon, Ashley Macomber, Michael Mahalchick, Keegan McHargue, Tracy Nakayama, Shay Nowick, Shaun O’Dell, Eamon Ore-Giron, Erik Parker, Ben Peterson, PFFR, Justin Samson, Sarah Shapiro, Koji Shimizu, Simone Shubuck, Leif Ritchey, Sara Thustra, Jeremy Yoder, and Dylan Walker.
While some struggle to label this community, it’s too early to delineate their work and where their political sensibilities may take them. It’s clear in this show, however, that young artists are making art that’s more than just young. "It’s not a naïve thing," says Grayson. "It’s an informed thing, an informed sincerity."
"Majority Whip" opened May 1, 2004, and runs to May 29 at White Box, located in Chelsea at 525 West 26th Street. Sales from the exhibition benefit Project Democracy, a Florida voter registration nonprofit. The exhibition catalogue is designed by Scott Hug and doubles as the fourth incarnation of K48. For more information, visit www.whiteboxny.org or call (212) 714-2347.
