Sensacional! Mexican Street Graphics
Yerba Buena Center for the Arts
701 Mission St.
San Francisco, CA
18 November 2006 – 4 March 2007


Review by Tonya Warner

Upon walking into the Yerba Buena galleries, you are greeted by a statue of a giant luchador admiring a cup of coffee, a testament to the intersection of commerce and pop culture celebrated in Sensacional!: Mexican Street Graphics. This is an exhibition not of graffiti, but of the usually untrained and underappreciated folk art found on mundane streets of Mexico. Included in the show are advertisements painted on independent shops, printed ad posters and covers of raunchy pulp magazines, alongside various packaging and informational posters. This is a traveling show organized by the independent Mexican publishers Trilce Ediciones, beginning in 2001 with an exhibition at the Museo de la Cuidad de Mexico, the show has since been to Los Angeles, Spain, and New York. In addition to a catalogue for the exhibition (which seems to be the best format for viewing this work), they have designed a website specifically for the show (as of now only available in Spanish) where people around Mexico are encouraged to contribute their own photographs of this home-brewed art form.

Overall, the appeal is to the viewer’s appreciation of kitsch and the sense that “bad” design is sometimes more interesting than “good.” There is also an element of (somewhat condescending) humor when an untrained artist tries to copy well-known cartoon characters – you end up with a sickly green Bart Simpson or Gizmo looking like he’s just ingested too much peyote – figures that, in their very wrongness, seem that much more endearing. However, what one comes away with is a sense that the technical accuracy or realism of the image does not matter so much as its visual potency. As a form of communication, these images are able to transcend barriers of language or culture while remaining indicative of the community in which they are created.

In the literature for Sensacional!, there is much talk of the merits of man-made, imperfect and unique design work in the face of both corporate monopolies and an ever-encroaching technology-driven society. This postulating about computers taking over our lives is nothing new – hell, Baudrillard suggested that we are symbiotically connected to our technologies back in the 90s. David Byrne (yes, that David Byrne), in the book accompanying the exhibition, even goes so far as to paint a hellish picture of perfectly mechanized beings as the endpoint of a mechanized world. He even adds to the “no duh!” annuals by stating that our imperfections are what make us human. All this to justify the importance of the work in this exhibition, work by anonymous and underappreciated artists who serve to remind us that we are not robots. Yes, how come we are not robots yet? It seems to be the logical conclusion of Byrne’s argument. Somehow we, as a creative species, prevail as individuals despite our self-induced demise. The problem with the anti-tech argument is that most people, unlike Byrne, do not necessarily need reminding of what is “human” or “real” – I would believe that the famous musician turned hopeful artist does not live in the “real” world, therefore, does he really need to be our spokesperson?

The issue of design versus anti-design – especially in terms of hand-painted graphics – is of particular note in the techsploited Bay Area, where rich programmers live alongside poor immigrant families, with young crafty artists somewhere in between. A lot of the novelty of some of these graphics is taken away by the fact that their equivalents exist here in as very real a form. If I were to mention to a friend “that taqueria with the dancing tacos,” there would be no question of where I meant. This sort of hand-designed advertising is so ingrained in Mexican culture it too has been imported to California.

Although they can be argued as countering mass-produced corporate branding, these images exist in a visual and cultural realm of their own. The beauty of these images, from an advertising stand-point, is that they are not competing for your attention against other posters and billboards – their uniqueness and quirky imperfections catch one’s eye and hold in the memory; the insidious corporate advertising technique of saturation and repetition has backfired.

An interesting point those heralds of the cult of “realness” have glossed over is the use of copyrighted figures – characters pillaged from various Disney and Warner Brothers cartoons and other pop culture references, appropriated to sell ice cream or auto parts. For instance, one image that appears in Sensacional! Is a rather disturbing picture of a dissected rabbit with the head of Bugs Bunny, designed to sell meat. That is the point – yes they are taking matters into their own hands, but these artists and storeowners employ such already recognizable characters to sell their wares. There is some thought put into these designs, they are not just painted out of personal expression, they are geared to grab the attention of their target audience – that of the local community. It is the definition of a grassroots art form. What to me seems the most notable is the attention paid to the audience, mixed with personal quirks and humor rather than to rules of design, market research, or generally any manner of formulae.

Which brings us to the exhibition at Yerba Buena; whereas in the exhibition in Mexico artists were invited to paint huge signs directly on the walls, for the displays elsewhere sign painters were commissioned to recreate paintings from photographs on large hanging fabric or wooden boards. The original images, as 4x6 snapshots, line up across the floor in overwhelming procession. It is a bit of a shame to compare the photos to their copies as the originals are undoubtedly better. There are also three-dimensional light boxes covered by pulp magazine covers copied onto transparencies. With a mixing of these reproductions, real “artefacts” and photos of the originals, all in a variety of scale and material, the display method is definitely gutsy. It effectively undermines the preciousness of the art object while attempting to capture their original spectacle. Sensacional!, as an exhibition, makes an effort to transcend mere documentation but at the same time seems to further distance the visitor from the “anonymous” artists and context. Perhaps this is why the book format seems more suited to this material. Nevertheless, these images, when presented within an art gallery setting – and therefore denied their original function – still stand up as beautiful cultural barometers.


http://www.ybca.org/tickets/production.aspx?performanceNumber=2116
http://www.sensacional.com.mx/
http://www.fecalface.com/SF/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=407&Itemid=90

Douglas Gordon: Superhumanatural
Royal Scottish Academy and Royal Botanic Gardens (various venues)
Edinburgh, UK
2 Nov-14 Jan 2007


Review by Rea Cris

Superhumanatural is Glasgow-born Douglas Gordon’s first Scottish retrospective, and the latest in a line of Gordon events, including the recent release of his movie Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait (made with Philippe Parreno) and another retrospective at the MoMA in New York. Once finished in Scotland, Superhumanatural will travel to Kunstmusuem, Wolfsburg and venues to be confirmed in Amsterdam and Prague.

Internationally acclaimed and the winner of major awards, including the Turner Prize, Gordon is an art celebrity and even more so in the Scottish art scene. Everything about this blockbuster exhibition, which is being shared between the Royal Scottish Academy and the Royal Botanic Gardens, oozes money and fame. For the press view, Gordon requested that a group of school children and their teachers, all dressed in paper devil costumes complete with pitchforks (it was Halloween), roam around the gallery for no apparent reason other than to be quirky. The exhibition catalogue boasts a contribution from another Scottish celebrity, Ian Rankin (best known for his detective novels featuring Inspector Rebus). Inspired by a chat with the artist himself, Rankin wrote a short story. The after-party featured Chicks on Speed (which Gordon collaborated with on a music single). The whole ensemble shouts sensational, but does the content?

The RSA accommodates the main (and more famous) works. These include 24-Hour Psycho (first shown at the Tramway in 1993) in which the Hitchcock movie has been slowed to be viewed over twenty-four hours, 30 Second Text (1996) a room installation of a bulb illuminating a text describing an experiment timing a man’s consciousness after having his head guillotined and 100 Blind Stars (2005) where the eyes of Hollywood actor and actresses have been cut out from their photographic portraits (the Rita Hayworth version is the face of the exhibit). Also displayed is a space-saving mini survey of Gordon’s film and video work shown on fifty monitors and entitled Pretty Much Every Film and Video Work from About 1992. The RSA itself has been transformed for the occasion; the walls have been painted black and some rooms boast a lush carpet, also black. Huge screens fill these otherwise empty rooms. The admission fee is six pounds. As a whole the exhibit is impressive, but when one wants to concentrate on individual works the layout is disadvantageous. The works compete against each other as their soundtracks echo around the gallery. 24 Hour Psycho has no seating and therefore little chance of attracting anyone’s endured attention.

There is no admission fee for the works shown over the three venues at the RBG, the reason probably being because there people are less likely to travel out to see them, and because the gardens have a reputation of offering free arts exhibitions. Also with hardly any supervision, the venues have fixed viewing times making it harder.

The Caledonian Hall shows Between Darkness and Light (After William Blake) where one screen simultaneously projects The Exorcist and The Song of Bernadette. This has ample, but empty seating. Inverleith House shows one of the new works entitled Pretty Much every word written, spoken heard and overheard from 1989 until now… The walls of Inverleith House are filled with phrases of varying size and colour proclaiming deep thought such as: ‘I have not forgotten because I cannot forget’ or ‘I know what you want’. If these phrases are all that Gordon has heard since 1989 than he must live in trashy airport novel. The second floor is slightly more promising. We find a list of fears, the most bizarre being fear of swollen membrane, teeth and urination and a telephone placed overlooking the gardens which when picked up has a man confessing he’s sorry that its not going to work but not to blame yourself because its about him and not you. Listening to the cliché break-up monologue by the window on a melancholy autumn day makes you feel like the heroine of a movie. The information sheet explains that Inverleith is Gordon’s ‘long-held wish to turn a house into a book’. It feels rather than Gordon couldn’t think of anything else better to fill the space with and knew he could get away with murder.

Plato’s Cave is the other new work. Housed at the Wash House it’s more sincere. It’s based on Plato’s ideas about reality where we live in a cave and perfect forms are transmitted to us distorted as shadows, our backs to the fire. I had to ask someone to open the venue for me. I was told to wait outside while she ‘turned it on’. I assumed all she was going to do was flick-a-switch but it turned out that ‘turning on’ Plato’s Cave consisted of lighting creosol in a little hole in the ground. Alone with live fire in an empty house felt more real an experience than any other of Gordon’s work. Plato’s Cave felt so raw and undisturbed. I felt for the first time I was really seeing Gordon’s work rather than his glamorous reputation. While the rest of the exhibition seems saturated in news-creating gimmicks and celebrity checklists, there was nothing in this venue telling me how great Gordon was. Plato’s Cave is the perfect form while the rest are mere shadows.


www.nationalgalleries.org/douglasgordon
http://www.rbge.org.uk/rbge/web/news/FriNov03134331GMT00002006.jsp

Life Aquatic @ Varnish Fine Art
77 Natoma St, San Francisco, CA 94105
7 November – 9 December 2006
works by: Aron Ives, Beth Bojarski, Dylan Sisson, Jason D’Aquino, Michael Page, Reuben Rude, Skot Olsen


Review by Klaus Menziel


I let you call me Stevesy. It sounds better.


Life Aquatic, the show currently up at Varnish in San Francisco, brings together a collection of dark, ambiguous figures living in or around the sea. Rather than a cheery and curious exploration of the deep, the artists included here choose to show a vision of the sea and its creatures in a somewhat malicious light – albeit one tinged with whimsy. They remind us that things that spend too much time in the water become distorted, bloated, discoloured. However, all of this is presented not as scientific reality but played out in a fantasy realm where even fish skeletons have the most endearing character.

It is of note that the palettes and styles are quite similar amidst the seven artists on display. In an interesting curatorial move, the people at Varnish decided to mix the artists up – rather than designated sections, the works are dispersed throughout the gallery. Although this is not the worst idea, or all that uncommon, it does not seem entirely justified, either. The effect that this jumbling has is to further point out the almost mimicking similarities between some of the artists. The impression I got – and this is just my opinion – was that there was a lot of borrowing from the Michael Page school of art.

Page, the standout artist of this show (seconded by a very similar Beth Bojarski) characteristically creates figures with discoloured faces (if they are not skeletons) and flat, distorted features that appear almost collage-like. To counteract, or perhaps undermine, the two-dimensionality of these figures, Page provides an ultrafine attention to detail – showing miniscule leaves falling from backdrop trees, slight irregularities of surface, or almost imperceptible spikes coming off a skull. His works invite a very close and long examination – like an intricately woven tapestry, they reveal some new detail with every viewing.

It is a pity, then, that because many of the other artists on display in Life Aquatic look superficially similar to Page’s paintings, they are inevitably judged in comparison – something that is compounded by how they are hung. The show has an overall feel of being nicely tied together, however, it is hard to separate each artist out – you get the sense of the lumpen group, but without the necessary individual peculiarities.


http://www.varnishfineart.com/

Utopia @ 111 Minna Gallery
San Francisco, CA
2 Nov – 2 Dec 2006
work by Helen Garber, Suzanne Husky, Eric Joyner, Josh Keyes, Alexis Mackenzie, Chris Pew, Stephen Powers, John Sheridan, Casey Jex Smith, & Winston Smith


Review by Tonya Warner

Utopia. Because of its unfortunate futuristic leanings, it is destined to remain the recurrent zombie of art show themes. You think it has been done and dusted, discussed, done to death and long buried. But lo, there it is again. It has gotten to the point where the exhibition is evaluated more for how it relates to previous utopian displays than the artworks at hand. For the show at 111 Minna, the bar-cum-club-cum-gallery, the theme of utopia can be culled out from the mixed bag of works, however, this could just as easily be called anything else. And probably to the artists’ benefit.

The unfortunate effect of having such a strongly worded title (especially one which draws upon a concept so loaded down with a history of interpretations) is that it creates a singular reading of the various works that was possibly not intentioned by the artists.

(insert zombies eating brains joke here).

That said, I must also note that this show was much hyped due to a roster of familiar names on the local scene – including Eric Joyner, Chris Pew, Stephen Powers, and Casey Jex Smith (whose single work included in the show was quite good). The overall effect, however, was a bit lacklustre.

A shining gem of the show, however, was Alexis Mackenzie, whose collages are comprised of Victorian ladies, houses, and aquatic life. Her grand pseudo-mermaids float demurely in front of monstrously complex manses that have come free of their earthly moorings. These images are undeniably otherworldly, set, as they are, amidst the stars or upon an alien landscape. The interplay between these “mermaids” and their floating palaces evokes a sense of simultaneous distance and connexion between women, and the home and all the discourse that this brings forth, within a very stylized medium. Collage is a hard thing to get right and Mackenzie manages to strike a balance between craft and a beautiful combination of images and colours in uncluttered and varied compositions.

Another notable addition to the exhibition was Josh Keyes, who makes extremely detailed and provocatively intense vignette paintings. Each scene, which appears to be a violent intersection of the urban environment and nature, is acted out on a small patch of ground, cut out of any context and floating on a white plane. I found it was hard to say whether I liked this work initially because of its sheer stark intensity. Office workers in violent fits, a sickly wolf growling at Mickey Mouse gloves while looking as if he has been run through with a traffic sign – its hard to know how to process these images on more than a visceral level. And I find that I appreciate them for that.

Do these images have anything to do with (a critique of) utopia? They could, but why limit it to that?

http://www.111minnagallery.com/
http://www.alexisanne.com/
http://www.joshkeyes.net/

Introduction:

Percolator Magazine was founded by a slightly frustrated former art theory student as a partial reaction to the bleak realization that the completion of a masters degree did not markedly improve her job prospects. This magazine was almost called “Mustache Comb Quarterly” in a moment of absurdity. You see, its as if all this education and knowledge were tickets in an arcade and the best you can trade them in for is a mustache comb.

But, on a more positive note, Percolator is also a passionate response to the San Francisco art scene and its lack of dialogue. There are more small galleries and weekly art openings here than anywhere else I’ve lived and yet the level of critical inquiry and discussion is basically nil. It seems to me almost pointless to have an art scene without thinking or talking about the art itself. So I have committed myself to writing reviews of the various art shows I attend. I do not offer many photos, because fecalface and artbusiness seem to already do such a good job of that. This is not a place for looking for pictures of yourself or your friends at the openings.

This is also not meant to be a one-sided publication either. In addition to my reviews and reviews from friends around the world, I welcome your comments and reviews – if you disagree with something I have written or want to comment on something that hasn’t been discussed, please email me at percolatormag@gmail.com. I also welcome competing reviews in order to provide a plurality of perspectives.

Percolator will eventually have a proper web site, once I finish building it. In the mean time, please check back at this blog spot for periodic updates and new reviews.

Thanks,
tonya