The Misuse of Kitsch: Michael Arcieri's Cold War Paintings

Robert Boyd

Michael Arcieri's new show at Avis Frank Gallery features a bunch of paintings of cold-war era imagery in canvases where three distinct images are arranged vertically.


Michael Arcieri, Bonneville Blast, 2012, oil on canvas, 48" x 45"



Michael Arcieri, New for Spring, 2012, oil on canvas, 48" x 45"

You will be forgiven if when you look at these paintings you are reminded of James Rosenquist--particularly I Love You in my Ford.

James Rosenquist, I Love You in my Ford, 1961, oil on canvas, 6'10¾" x 7'9½"

Michael Arcieri, Chaser, 2012, oil on canvas, 44" x 42"

Arcieri's Chaser will remind you of Rosenquist's F-111.

James Rosenquist, F-111, 1964-65, Oil on canvas and aluminum, 10' x 86'


James Rosenquist, F-111 (detail), 1964-65, Oil on canvas and aluminum, 10' x 86'

Michael Arcieri doesn't come off well in these comparisons. I Love You in My Ford related the all-American automobile to both sex and death, and in doing so spoke to its era of burgeoning highway expansion and the freedom promised by universal car ownership. Arcieri's images, by contrast, are a nostalgia trip. Their easy ironies might have been shocking if painted in 1961, but even then the juxtapositions would have seemed obvious and heavy-handed. Now, they are pointless. The Cold War ended--decisively--in 1989. Since then, the U.S. (and the world) have not faced an existential threat of war. This isn't to say we might not in the future. But as a subject of art, the Cold War has lost its urgency. Whereas, when Rosenquist painted F-111, every American above the age of 9 or so knew that nuclear war could erupt at any time, and if that happened, the nation, if not the world, would be obliterated.

In short, Arcieri's cold war paintings are trite and unoriginal. Arcieri is a skilled painter, but he employs those skills in this exhibit to make modestly clever works that have no urgency to them, no personal feeling. Comparing him to James Rosenquist, an artist captured the zeitgeist in a powerful and unexpected way, is unfair perhaps--but Arcieri brings the comparison on himself by blatantly copying the style that Rosenquist invented. It's a weird thing to say about an artist like Rosenquist who cultivated a distancing, mock-commercial-art style, but his work exudes authenticity; Arcieri's paintings are well-wrought but empty pastiches.


Michael Arcieri, Joe From the Bar, 1949, 2011, oil on canvas, 30" x 24"

In a separate gallery, Arcieri has a group of paintings, including Joe from the Bar, 1949, which look  paintings of freeze-frames from old movies shown on an old black-and-white television. But again, the strongest sensation one gets looking at these is of their profound unoriginality.


Gerhard Richter, Onkel Rudi (Uncle Rudi), 1965, oil on canvas, 87 cm x 50 cm

Again Arcieri is channeling another painter from the 60s--Gerhard Richter. And again, Arcieri falls far short. Joe From the Bar, 1949 is a banal film image. Onkel Rudi is, however, Richter's actual uncle. Rudi (Rudolf Schönfelder) was a Wermacht soldier and died in combat in World War II. Aside from the personal meaning of the image for Richter, it reflects the anguish that people of his generation felt acutely--that their parents and older relatives had all been Nazis. Like James Rosenquist's 60s paintings, Richter's employ a startlingly original idiom to tap into the spirit of his generation of Germans. Arcieri copies that idiom to make a banal but well-executed painting.

It's unreasonable to expect Arcieri to be as brilliant as Rosenquist and Richter, but he shouldn't paint like them if he doesn't want to be compared to them.  He can paint very well--he now needs to find his own direction and his own subject.

Pan Video Parade (NSFW)

by Robert Boyd

The title above is false advertising. I only have two videos to show--not quite enough for a parade. But I ran across them and thought you might like to see them, too.



Pretty self-explanatory. You have to be a tad suspicious of an art documentary that so nakedly takes the "great master" stance. It's unfair to judge from the trailer, but the tone of the film feels rather different from, say, the more detached and poetic Over Your Cities, Grass Will Grow, Sophie Fiennes' documentary about Anselm Kiefer. That said, I am quite eager to see Gerhard Richter Painting, primarily because it looks like a lot of it is exactly what the title says--film of Richter in the act of painting. I like to see what artists do in the act of creating artwork.

Update: Commenter J.V. pointed to the following video, which is a news report about the movie. It gives quite a bit of behind-the-scenes info. I can't wait to see the film.



Then there's this...

Her New Religion from Anna Halldin-Maule on Vimeo. (via Pas Un Autre)

This is also a video about painting--specifically about Anna Hauldin Maule's painting of Her New Religion. The painting is a satire of art world money worship, featuring a sexy woman wearing nothing but panties, designer jewelry, and a necklace that includes credit cards belonging to Eli Broad and Larry Gagosian.


Anna Halldin Maule,Her New Religion, Oil on Canvas, 56″ x 38″, 2011


Anna Halldin Maule and her husband, photographer Tom Maule, collaborate on these paintings and videos. They often are satires on consumerism, but to me they try to have it both ways. By having as their subject super-sexy nude and semi-nude models (painted photo-realistically, so the expressiveness of the artist is utterly removed), the Maules create slick desirable objects. The models are themselves desirable, and the fact that these are paintings (i.e, unique objects of value) as opposed to just photos (reproducible objects of less value) also plays into the high-end consumerism that is their subject. Maybe this is intentional irony on their part. And given that her work was shown at the Palm Beach Art Fair, I am assuming that they are for sale, and presumably for a pretty penny.

(I will freely admit that I posted this video because I enjoy sexy naked ladies, especially when by virtue of their being "art" I can remove any stigma of "pornography" from this post. I like having it both ways, too.)

Gerhard Richter Painting My Links

by Robert Boyd


Gerhard Richter Painting on Nowness.com. Wow.

 Gerhard Richter's prices are too damn high. At least Gerhard Richter thinks so.

Gerhard Richter is one of the world's most prized living artists, and one of his famous "Candle" series is expected to fetch 6-9 million pounds ($9-14 million) at auction in London next week.

That is the highest price expected for a single work at the upcoming series of contemporary art sales, yet the man behind the image said he found such figures bewildering.

"It's just as absurd as the banking crisis," said the 79-year-old German, speaking to reporters on Tuesday at the press launch of a major retrospective of his work opening at London's Tate Modern.

"It's impossible to understand and it's daft," he added, speaking through an interpreter.

[Prized painter Richter calls art market "daft", Felix Salmon]

I like eating and I like art, but I don't get this: Clandestino Dining & Private Events hosts dinners called "Whole Artist" where the chef collaborates with an artist or two. They are doing a pair of these dinners here in Houston--one with Carole Smith and Sean Flournoy, and one with Sharon Engelstein and Aaron Parazette. Clandestino describes it as "This dinner series is a Social Practice of exchange and response in various layered collaborations, between Visual Artist, Writing Responder and Chefs, via a menu for an experiential meal. These intimate events are held in the privacy of the artist’s home and or studio." If these are successful, may I suggest that future dinners feature Jim Pirtle, Mark Flood and/or Paul Horn? [CultureMap]



On the other hand, alcohol and art are a perfect match. Which is why artists doing beer and wine labels feels so right. The latest artist/booze mash-up is Cara Barer and Chateau Ste. Michelle. You can taste this wine at Gravitas on October 18 at a Chateau Ste. Michelle wine release party.

Note on Gerhard Richter: A Life in Painting

Gerhard Richter: A Life in Painting by Dietmar Elger

This book has been faulted for not delving too deep into Richter. But I don't see that as a big fault. It's part of the life-cycle of biography. First we have an official biography--and that is what this is. Elger is the director of the Gerhard Richter Archive and was Richter's secretary for a time. He had Richter's participation. Given this, the book could have been a complete whitewash, but it doesn't seem that way. What it does focus on, not surprisingly, is the work. Richter's personal life is outlined but not delved into. Now the next stage of biography for Richter will be an unofficial biography, probably after Richter's death, and it will be much more personal. That's the way it goes.

So should you wait for this next biography? Richter is 78 years old, so it might be many years before a "definitive" biography is written. But more important is that Elger's book is really good. It is substantial and beautifully illustrated. He does a good job of explaining Richter's various approaches to painting (and changes in style) over his career. He is good at describing the artistic scene in Germany, especially in the 1960s. And while he doesn't delve too deeply into Richter's personal life, he does deal with the way that Richter has a series of artistic interlocutors who important influences him--Sigmar Polke (who he met at Staatliche Kunstakademie Düsseldorf in the early '60s), Blinky Palermo, and his second wife Isa Genzken.

I've always liked Richter's paintings, and I feel I have a better understanding of them after reading this book. The book is beautiful and full of information about one of Germany's greatest artists.

Seth Alverson's Mistakes at Art Palace

Robert Boyd

It is a probably a mistake to compare Seth Alverson to Gerhardt Richter. Like Richter, most of his paintings are "realist" paintings. Like Richter, many of Alverson's paintings are based on photographs. Also like Richter, he is willing to paint an abstract painting occasionally. And both painters have strange, intriguing painting surfaces. So I guess there is a basis for comparison, after all.



Seth Alverson, Chair, oil on canvas, 2009

Alverson does really good fabric. You can almost feel the texture of this chair's upholstery.



Seth Alverson, Dress, oil on canvas, 2010

This weird clingy blue dress (on a body that should avoid clingy dresses) pops with hyperrealism from its faded, soft-focus background. But Alverson wants us to know that getting this effect isn't easy.



Seth Alverson, Mistake #1, oil on canvas, 2009

So what's the mistake? Was it that he was going to paint her face but messed up? Or was the mistake the decision to include her face? But what is truly bizarre here is that he displays the "mistake" canvas. Really, that makes you wonder if it was really a mistake in the first place. Is this what he intended?

The same can be said about this painting:



Seth Alverson, The Best of a Bad Painting, oil on canvas, 2009

Was there really anything else there? Or is this intentionally a picture of a hand emerging from the gloom. If this is the case, Alverson is playing a little conceptual joke on us. But if it's a painting where he really did paint out everything but the hand because it was "bad," well, displaying it is a really eccentric move.

That eccentricity is a real possibility.



Seth Alverson, Hole for Bad Ideas (ongoing), oil on canvas

This painting suggests that Alverson is filled with doubts about his own work. Starting over or blotting out most of a canvas would make sense for such a painter. If you look closely into the black area, you will see that it has been painted over and over. By describing it as ongoing, Alverson is implying that he continues to put bad ideas into the hole--literally painting them there. Maybe they will be exorcised from his life if someone buys the painting. (This painting made me think of Jackson Pollock's The Deep. A realistic version of The Deep maybe. But I don't think it was bad ideas that Pollock was putting into the hole.)



Seth Alverson, Self Portrait, oil on linen, 2010

If he isn't having us on, this painting suggests that Alverson's doubts about his art may be the least of his problems. The self-loathing here, the abjectness, is weirdly at odds with the bravura painting technique. Alverson is no clumsy paint-slinger.



Seth Alverson, Mop, oil on canvas, 2010

But he paints as if he were. The smeared substance here (paint? blood?) contrasts with the beautifully shaded walls. That white on white suggests a way out.



Seth Alverson, Grey, oil on canvas, 2009

Maybe this is another mistake, but maybe it's an approach that creates a peaceful image for the viewer (and painter), without highly contrasting values, without fabric, without bravura technique. Or maybe it's both. Maybe Alverson started painting something then decided--into the hole of bad ideas! And substituted this abstract cloudscape.

Of course, I am probably reading a bunch of things into the paintings that aren't there. They encourage that, though, so no apologies here. These paintings are on view at Art Palace until August 21.