| Not
always a pretty picture
Political art doesn’t sell in SLO County, but nevertheless several
local artists continue to choose message over profit
By Patrick S. Pemberton
The Tribune
ppemberton@thetribunenews.com
When Cold War tensions threatened to erupt in the
1960s, Mark Bryan’s mother instructed him on what to do if the Soviets
dropped The Bomb nearby:
Take cover immediately after the flash, she said,
then come straight home.
"I worried about getting blown up all the
time," Bryan remembered.
As a paranoid 12-year-old, Bryan feared an encounter
with atomic warfare. More than 40 years later, violence is still on his
mind. But now he’s able to express his feelings about it through
art that lampoons politicians and the military industrial complex.
"I’m not a good writer, I don’t
like to throw Molotov cocktails and I don’t have a bunch of money
to put into a cause. So it’s like: What can you do?" said Bryan,
of Arroyo Grande. "Well ... I can paint."
Artists who make a political statement hope to
leave a lasting impression.
In the early 1800s, Francisco Goya’s graphic
"The Disasters of War" series portrayed the murder, torture
and terror that accompanied Napoleon’s invasion of Spain. And in
the 1960s, Corita Kent — whose work is currenlty on display at the
San Luis Obipso Art Center — designed Serigraphs that protested
the Vietnam War. In 1937, Pablo Picasso — not known for his political
art — created "Guernica," an abstract mural portraying
a massacre unleashed by fascists in Spain.
Despite those inspirational examples, not many
local artists delve into overtly political art. For one thing, political
art usually alienates some people. And it rarely sells.
"I don’t think people are going to have
dead babies hanging in their living room," said David Settino Scott,
explaining why no one will ever buy his most charged work, "The Practice
of Art."
The piece appears on a series of altar-style wooden
panels that open up to different scenes. In one panel, soldiers gun down
civilians in a modern subdivision. Another depicts a ghastly scene in
hell, with an angel of death regurgitating bodies, a woman eating babies
and arms dealers toting deadly weapons.
"I got to put everybody in hell that I hate,"
Scott said at his San Miguel studio. "What I really hate is arms
dealers and people who profit from war."
Scott has sold considerable
work (his clients include celebrities Anthony Hopkins
and Whoopi Goldberg), but what he sells are paintings of flowers and nude
models.
Still, he creates political art, he said, because
he’s socially conscious and feels compelled to express his feelings
about society.
"We live in an insane world," he said.
"There’s no getting around it."
While Scott’s political art never features
recognizable faces, both Mark Bryan and San Luis Obispo painter Steven
deLuque paint well-known political figures.
Bryan’s magnum opus is a 7-foot-long oil
painting depicting the Mad Tea Party. Stealing attention from the "Alice
in Wonderland" characters are members of the current administration,
hawkishly joyous as Vice President Dick Cheney encourages a diminutive
and goofy-looking President Bush to carve up a cake of the world.
"Political art is like political cartoons,"
Bryan said. "You push things. You exaggerate to make a point."
DeLuque’s painting of Condoleezza Rice ("Condi-Kali")
is more graphic, portraying a naked secretary of state stepping on corpses
while holding a military rifle and a speared eagle. Her skin is dark blue,
a devilish long tongue protrudes from her mouth and a necklace of decapitated
heads adorns her neck.
"It started out not being quite so vehemently
graphic," he said. "But the more and more I got into it, it
wasn’t saying what I wanted to communicate."
Some of deLuque’s work is so disturbing,
he actually posted a warning during a recent Open Studios Tour, advising
viewer discretion.
While the response political artists get is generally
favorable, not everyone appreciates the statements they make.
In a guest book for one of Scott’s shows,
a visitor wrote: "You are a very depressing, lonely, sick person,
and I feel for you."
DeLuque’s work has garnered a few anti-American
accusations. And one man, upon reading his Open Studios warning, said,
"Oh, so you’re one of those damned liberals."
"I said, ‘Actually, I consider myself
fairly centrist. It’s just that the Republicans have swung so far
right, they’re fascists,’" deLuque said.
Another thing about political artists: They’re
overwhelmingly liberal.
There are conservative artists out there, but they
seldom paint political art.
Joy Ramirez, an Atascadero artist, has been a Republican
since the 1950s. While she has done a couple of social commentary pieces,
she hasn’t been inspired to do political art — even when President
Clinton provided easy fodder with his Lewinsky affair.
"I did feel very strongly about what he did,"
she said. "But I didn’t express it in my clay. I just worked
it out by banging my clay around."
For her, not doing political art is just a preference.
Others don’t want to face the potential backlash.
A sexually suggestive sculpture of Clinton and
Lewinsky was pulled from the California State Fair in 2001. And last summer,
California’s attorney general — a Democrat — ordered
a painting critical of Bush out of the department’s independently
owned cafe. More locally, a Santa Maria ceramist’s "No War"
signs from a 2003 exhibit stirred emotions at the San Luis Artists Gallery,
causing a deep divide among the co-op that ultimately contributed to its
demise.
Ramirez, who now says she is having second thoughts
about Bush, said she supports political expression, even if she disagrees
with it.
"I just want to see artists make their statement,"
she said. "Whatever it is — stand up and be counted and don’t
be afraid."
Some artists might not even have a chance to encounter
backlash since there are few venues locally to exhibit controversial material.
Gallery owners, after all, have to make a profit. And since it’s
already difficult to keep a gallery afloat, many owners choose not to
offend potential buyers.
Local artists say the Steynberg Gallery in San
Luis Obispo is the only gallery that will show overt political art.
"If we can’t make a statement, God help
us," said Peter Steynberg, owner of the gallery.
Steynberg’s gallery isn’t limited to
political art — African art has always sold there -— but he’s
proven that you can sell it. (A recent Bryan exhibit sold several pieces.)
And thus far, he said, the reaction to the political art has been good,
even though a majority of the county’s residents are conservative.
Good political art has to balance making a statement
with creating visually appealing images — not always easy if you
need blood and gore to make your point.
"I think it’s got to be beautiful,"
Scott said. "It reaches the sublime if you can pull it off."
Scott’s dark and moody paintings recall the
painters of the Renaissance, while his detailed sculptures (including
a series on immolated monks) offer subtle yet equally dramatic messages.
DeLuque’s brightly colored and adeptly mixed acrylics provide an
ironic contrast to the dark images they depict. And Bryan’s cartoonish
approach brings levity to even the most serious topics, though he can
also handle more serious images, like a portrait of Bush made up of skulls.
While their styles are different, the intensity
of the message is the same. In fact, Scott and Bryan both recalled recent
paintings they started but just couldn’t finish.
Bryan’s was a Cheney painting that depicted
the vice president with a mechanical heart fueled by gasoline and rats.
Scott’s was a couple of panels depicting execution walls and buried
bones.
"I destroyed them," Scott said. "I
said, ‘I want to listen to Mozart. This is a bad place to go.’"
Eventually, he gathered his paints and fell back
on a more uplifting subject:
Flowers.
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