Rocco Alberico Deconstructs the American Politic, etc.
By Zhanna Veyts
Rocco Alberico constructs signature shelters equipped with stereoscopic lenses that promise experiences of the whimsy of childhood, the innocence of play and the menagerie of imagination. Instead, what they deliver is a view of the macabre of human existence, exploring themes of loss, isolation and anger, echoing with familiar imagery. His sculptures draw from various religious, political and commercial references, citing iconography for terse satirical intent. Alberico’s works are filled with his "mind snapshots," blending the artist’s personal vision with history and current events.
Born in 1955, Alberico grew up in Bellmore, NY and attended the Cooper Union School for the Advancement of Science and Art. After graduating in 1978, he began his career as a graphic designer. His portfolio contains work completed for an impressive array of New York clients including Workman Publishing, National Geographic, and AOL Time Warner. In 1999, he left his position as Creative Director for Sports Illustrated for Kids to dedicate himself full time to personal creative endeavors. This background informs his oeuvre, particularly his recent works which were unveiled at 473 Broadway on June 3.
This recent collection seems charged by a fiery personal politic, one that is highly aware and critical of current national policy. Take for example the work titled Church Missile. The work functions as an icon for American neo-imperialist tendencies. Framed inside the familiar, white southern ministry, Alberico personifies the internalized militant attitudes of Middle America into the gospel of toy soldiers housed within. The work is a formal reconstruction of the Christian church as the force that informs and empowers the American government in its foreign policy. Set against predictably blue skies, a red-hot, candy-striped missile revolves menacingly; it is charged with dogmatic pretenses and imbued with moralistic ideology. Can this be a comment on the Bible belt’s backing of Bush’s agenda in Israel? Or is it a cynical representation of the American ideology being fired into Iraq? Each toy soldier is armed with a different nationalistic riffle for the mission.
Another work, Why Pay Less? (For Seth Jaben), aestheticises American consumerism and its self-indulgent rhetoric. This fanciful sculpture houses a representation of conspicuous consumption. Images of fast food revolve on a perpetual Lazy Susan, as an open hand stands ready to grab. Similarly, the visual consumer readily ingests perversions of history (as represented by classicism of the token Roman bust), gender roles (see the suited mannequin and de-eroticized, castrated genitalia), and even religion (a candelabra stands in for superfluous traditionalism). The inundation of symbolism is pictured in the wave that the viewer can see through the stereoscopic lenses, as well as the illusory three-dimensionality of the checkered floor. The entire (consumer) structure stands on legs that seem too tall not to fall.
And if politics, religion, and consumerism are not sufficiently subversive in representation, Alberico takes on the human psyche. His subject is the notorious Ted Kaczynski and the piece The Kaczynski Doctrine is a miniature reconstruction of the alleged shed that he inhabited and used as his home base. Here the stereoscope gives insight into the dreary emptiness of a psyche preoccupied and emptied by the exploding bomb. But the blind eye’s view into the work betrays an interiority of bedrock and the unexplored terrain of the moon. This illustrates the unknowable nature of the dangerous mind at the same time that its palpable alienation evokes a difficult-to-stomach sympathy in the viewer.
Alberico’s miniatures give insight to terse opinions and objectify straining tensions. The viewer who comes to the work with hopes of fantasy leaves with new impressions of reality; the viewer who comes for new impressions of reality must in turn leave to question the constructions of his own fantasies.
