Currin's Apparent Normality - L. Lee Byars - NY Arts MagazineNY Arts Magazine

Currin’s Apparent Normality

L. Lee Byars

John
Currin’s art exhibits are meaningless. This is true. Ask anyone. But to quote Woody Allen, “as meaningless experiences go, its pretty damn good”. This quote constantly runs through my mind as I browse through Currin’s works in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. This is Currin’s genius or lack of it depending on the critic. The ability to make one see his work and want to condemn the paintings as vapid or even simplistic to the eye, and yet at the same time make you wish more artists completed their work with the same sense of enjoyment and gaiety.

John Currin, Dogwood, 1997

This is
not to suggest that all of Currin’s work is superficial. In fact, many of his
paintings on display are quite haunting. The ambiguity of Currin’s work often
lies in the reaction of the crowd rather than in the paintings. Some viewers
seem offended by the nudes that Currin is so fond of. His nudes often exhibit
Botticelli bodies intertwined with elongated necks, a quality one might find of
the calendars of Marilyn Monroe or Rita Hayworth. The effect often creates an
alien appearance to the woman’s body. Feminists have condemned these portraits
as an offensive, male attitude toward the female body. The female imagery in
Currin’s work, in this reviewer’s opinion, suggests the artist’s self-awareness
on the mysteries of women. Yet, a woman I dragged to the exhibit (in
retrospect, my apologies to said woman) was offended by the cartoon-like
depiction. So which is it? Is Currin misogynistic or open to exhibiting his
confusion to females? You got me. This is what I love about Currin’s art and
most art in general. To me it strikes to the core of what all great art is
about. We see different images and conflicting messages in the same pieces. The
paintings have a quality one might imagine appeals to the art community and car
mechanics alike. As we all know, this is quite rare.

To tell
you a bit about the man, John Currin was born in Boulder, Colorado in 1962. In
interviews discussing his work, Currin is evasive and often frustrating in
defining his work. This is the artist inside of him. Despite the lack of tangible
answers regarding his work, Currin is quite open about discussing his
day-to-day life. John Currin is not an “artist’s artist”. His attitude is as
open and natural as his art.

Speaking
of the pieces, I was getting to that wasn’t I? One stands out as an example of
the artist. Dogwood is a simple portrait of two women enjoying a day in the great wide
open. The difference lies in these two women are endowed with absurdly large
breasts. The already mentioned woman who accompanied myself to the exhibit viewed
the piece entirely as a male desire of large breasts, a simple, immature dream.
She may have a point, but the work appears so self-mocking. Currin is simply
showing his own weaknesses or the weaknesses of most if not all men. Yes, this
is what we want. Yes, it is stupid. Yes, we are simple creatures at our basest
form. But we also know this. Currin enlightens a small acknowledgment that most
artists don’t bother to broach.

Currin,
himself, seems unworried about his reputation as a misogynist by some. In fact,
Currin appears very childlike in some respects; playing video games and
watching movies and television seem to be his major hobbies. At other times the
artist seems like a typical grownup, Currin is very average by his own
admission. He worries about finances and living his life in a way that suits
him. Then, Currin can easily switch to the artist he is. He worries about his
reputation, his place in history after death. Again, the ambiguity is what
Currin’s personality is at times: frustrating and at others’ appeal. One can
never nail down Currin, not in the usual “artistic ambiguity” we see in so many
contemporary artists, but instead see his apparent normality. A person might
get the impression that Currin’s kitchen contains fine wine, Budweiser, and
Pepsi all in the same cupboard.

Since the
actual exhibit is entitled "John Currin Selects", I feel I must
comment on his choices of other painter’s works to show. The choices are as
off-the-wall as one might imagine of a distinct painter such as Currin. Manet’s
portrait of Victorine Meurent, an unusual painting of a Cockatoo (this one
being only attributed to an unidentified American artist), and portraits of a
man by Diego Velazquez, Matisse, and Degas line the walls. The connections to
Currin’s work are beyond this reviewer’s comprehension, but the apparent
incongruities highlight Currin’s enigmatic talent. He, like his choices, have
no real connections, only questions. There is one truth regarding Currin and
his work: he is not likely to either change or explain.

Currin’s Apparent Normality – L. Lee Byars

Currin’s Apparent Normality