• Disgust in LA: Asco Returns

    Date posted: October 28, 2011 Author: jolanta

    Like a long-forgotten punk band from the 1970s—perhaps the art world’s equivalent to the New York Dolls—Asco makes a vibrant return to public consciousness with an elegant, formal retrospective at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

    As is often the case when talent has been long unrecognized, the exhibition is a bittersweet and somewhat ironic twist in the history of the group. Legend has it that, in an attempt to ingratiate themselves with a curator in the early 70s, this group of artists made a visit to LACMA to present some of their work. The curator dismissed the work, and more importantly, dismissed the culture that had created it. “Chicanos aren’t artists. They’re gang members.”

     

    “The curator dismissed Asco’s work: ‘Chicanos aren’t artists.
    They’re gang members.’”

    05-Scissors_1

    Asco, Scissors, 1974. Collage on paper, 8.5 x 11 in. Courtesy of the Department of Special Collections, Stanford University Library.

    Disgust in LA: Asco Returns
    Roberto Bentivegna

    Like a long-forgotten punk band from the 1970s—perhaps the art world’s equivalent to the New York Dolls—Asco makes a vibrant return to public consciousness with an elegant, formal retrospective at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

    As is often the case when talent has been long unrecognized, the exhibition is a bittersweet and somewhat ironic twist in the history of the group. Legend has it that, in an attempt to ingratiate themselves with a curator in the early 70s, this group of artists made a visit to LACMA to present some of their work. The curator dismissed the work, and more importantly, dismissed the culture that had created it. “Chicanos aren’t artists. They’re gang members.” If this were a Hollywood narrative, that meeting would be the inciting incident that propels the story forward. And so it did.

    Asco, which means “disgust” or “nausea” in Spanish, was formed in 1971 in the rough neighborhood of East Los Angeles by Gronk (Glugio Nicandro), Willie F. Herron III, Harry Gamboa Jr., and Patssi Valdez. The group’s art pieces ranged from graffiti to performance art to photography.

    Inevitably, Los Angeles culture plays a large part in the group’s work. One of their central projects, “No Movies,” is a witty and biting critique of fame, equality, and materialism in Hollywood. It chronicles the filmmaking process, down to the awards ceremony, by presenting … no film at all. The focus is placed on appearance, on pretense. It is perhaps the most symbolic of Asco’s projects, and illustrates the overriding theme throughout their work: Los Angeles as a city of narcissism, of cultural elitism, and of hopeless hopefulness.

    NY ARTS MAGAZINE

    Asco, Instant Mural, 1974. Photograph, 16 x 20 in. Courtesy of Harry Gamboa Jr.

    One of the most striking photographs on display is Decoy Gang War Victim. Asco members went at night to neighborhoods marred by gang violence and created fake crime scenes in which Gronk would play a young corpse on the pavement, surrounded by police flares. The scene would be photographed and the pictures would be sent to newspapers and television stations, as a way to sow confusion both in the news media—which Asco saw as perpetuating gang violence—and even among the gangs themselves, to prevent more violence. The shot, with its metallic blue tint, symmetrical flares and shallow depth of field, is inherently cinematic. It could be taken from a Michael Mann film, but this is art imitating reality and throwing it back in reality’s face—a jab at sensationalist news reports and crime photography.

    A particularly telling display takes us through the relationship between Gronk and Jerry Dreva, a fellow artist he met at a gay bar in Silverlake. A letter from Dreva gives us some insight into the hardships, both practical and emotional, that came with the lifestyle. He writes that he is “often very happy (…) often very sad” and that he has to focus on “day by day survival.” He sends Gronk a series of photo booth shots of himself, framed by Gilette razor blades. “Careful when you open the package. It’s razor art.”

    Just like 70s punk music, the achievements of Asco work primarily on a visceral level. This is not art for the elite, nor is it the product of a specific school. It is a violent reaction by a group of young, unbridled artists with nothing to lose and a reputation to gain. One of the baffling contradictions of Los Angeles is the cultural suppression that Chicanos have endured. Unlike, say, Miami, where Cubans are a pillar of society and the recognized force behind industry, Chicanos have had to overcome a wall of ignorance in California. For some, it was easier to try and assimilate, to somehow leave the past behind and move forward.

    To Asco, the issue of identity was the fire that fuelled their creativity. But it also led to some powerful and unexpected foresight. We live at a time in which people create impressions of themselves on social networking websites, parading achievements as though they were Hollywood stars. And a time in which fame is as attainable as a stolen sex video. To be sure, much has changed since the Asco days, but then again much has not, which explains the group’s continuing relevance nearly four decades later. Everyone is a star in his or her very own “No Movie,” but few are as relevant today as Asco themselves.

    *** This article was published by NY Arts Magazine, 2011. NY Arts Magazine is published by Abraham Lubelski. Sponsored by Broadway Gallery, NYC and World Art Media.

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