Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari posit a model of the modern individual as a schizophrenic Jekyll-and-Hyde born of nation-state control through the manufacture of desire and the free-market anarchy of capitalism rampantly commodifying all aspects of being.
Not a pretty picture to be sure, so no wonder a continuous line of switched-on artists over the course of modern history would seek to deliver wake-up calls to the infantilized masses still locked into a delivered mode of perception.
Enter the good folks at Zero Station who, tucked away in a converted gas station, have resolved to maintain a vigilant commitment to social change through the arts. The current group show, entitled “Take Me to Your Leader,” is an aesthetically pleasing collection of photography, illustration, graphic design and “couch art” intended to raise questions concerning global politics and personal accountability.
Is this didactic mind-expansion something the viewer desires from a piece of art? And if there is a good market for politicized art (pardon the commodification), then what distinguishes the effectiveness of an approach?
Lucy White provides a series of firearm-themed images that provide an example of this variance. Two handsome pieces encased in black resin portray silhouettes of a handgun. Revealed in the positive space of one gun is the image of an American flag and, in the other, NASDAQ stock listings. Both pieces play into a simple tactic of juxtaposition. The signs of “handgun” and “flag” are hurled at one another by the artist, to solicit within the viewer questions and connections regarding their interwoven signification.
Whether this dualistic approach really works may depend on whether you’re talking to Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. After all, we are constantly bombarded with messages inciting action so that the AIDS crisis in Africa can be addressed, health care can be provided for all Americans, and conflict resolved in the Middle East. We must cope with the cognitive dissonance of these problems within the parameters of our daily life. The result is, pessimistically, schizophrenic grumbling over the price of gas while filling up for the commute home in time to catch the evening news.
White exemplifies another method with “GUN PILE,” formulated by painted images of the gun silhouette haphazardly piled on top of one another in a somewhat fractal manner. Rather than juxtaposing two intellectual concepts, White deterritorializes the signifiers and constructs an entirely new piece as an ordered cosmos with its own beautiful validity.
Greta Bank approaches the issue of politicized art with similar variance in poignancy. Several pieces of pre-industrial furniture are thematically linked by upholstery styled with Rococo flourishes and figures. Bank jams assumptions of status by upholstering in cheap, diner-style vinyl and renders images of colonial atrocities within the familiar floral context.
Here again is a politicized one-two sucker punch, but “Garden Teaparty” specifically provides an example of a further fold to achieve a more effective political statement. A Sheraton-style mirror featuring an upholstered scene covers the top fourth of the object. Therein is a Gory-esque vision of a black-hooded figure surrounded by Victorian news reporters speaking into modern cameras and schmoozing over fizzing martinis. By featuring this mournful image on a mirror, the artist folds the viewer into the work such that the piece ceases to be an art-object and becomes a tool for a meditation on vanity and the participant’s role in society.
