When entering the Paul McCarthy exhibition “Brain Brox Dream Box” in the Van Abbe Museum, faint distant noises offer a promise of what is to come. McCarthy is an artist who uses many different mediums in his work, from paintings and sculptures, to elaborate multi-media video setups. Because of the noises that the installations make there is some “spillover” in the eight rooms that the exhibition comprises of. While the exhibition is decribed as “one over-arching continuum” it is really not clear whether this exposition should be considered as a single entity, or rather as an overview of McCarthy’s work[3]. The exhibition in the Van Abbe Museum comprises “two extensive video installations from 1996 and 2003 and four large-scale sculptural ensembles, but also around 200 drawings ranging from 1967 to the present day”[4]. The exhibit is also accompanied several films showcasing Mccarthy as a performance artist and where you witness the artist spitting on his penis.
McCarthy is an artist who questions preconceived notions of gender and sexuality. References to transsexuality and an apparent loathing of a contempary culture dominated by masculinity are all over the place. This loathing of masculinity seems to relate as much to his own person as well as a general critique of western masculinity. One of the first works the visitor encounters, Europe Raw, is exemplary of this. Against the wall there are three full-size pin-up photographws. The left and the right pictures feature two women dressed in erotic lingerie. In the middle picture is a man with a blonde wig and satin panties. From the very first minute it is clear that McCarthy wants to challenge the status quo of contemporary American society. Gender assumptions are exemplary of what kinds of issues are at stake for McCarthy.
Moving on we stumble upon the Yellow Table. The Yellow Table is a huge yellow table, that presents a huge version of an ordinary item as a work of art. Because of its size it loses its function and only remains as an aesthetic object.
Then the visitor is confronted with the “Sushi Drawings” a large series of drawings on paper place-mats from a Sushi restaurant displayed on four long rectangular tables. The artist was a frequent guest of the ‘Yamaha’, the aforementioned sushi restaurant, and the drawings were made during the many visits McCarthy made to the restaurant[5]. The place-mats are smeared and scribbled with crude drawings and words, many of whom are taken from McCarthy’s idiom of phallic shapes, scatalogical references, cowboys, pirates and silly word jokes like “Moaning Lisa”. The pictures often seem as they were drawn by a child, but this seems contradicted by the subject matter of the drawings.
Moving on, the visitor is engulfed in a grotesque landscape filled with various Christmas trees. In the exhibitions first of two large mixed media installations we are confronted with McCarthy’s vision of Christmas as an exponent of western mass culture. The installation Tokyo Santa – Santa’s Trees presents the remnants of the performance Tokyo Santa. This performance took place in 1996 in an unused Tokyo restaurant where McCarthy dressed up as an Asian version of Santa Claus is engaged in making works of art with “crayons, ketchup, and liquid chocolate”[6]. The installation consists of, “fifteen large-format photographs [that] document and represent the moments of seeing and being seen in the performance”, combined with a plethora of decorated christmas trees[7].” These photographs feature the artist smearing himself with ketchup and blood, and eventually suggesting self-mutilation. The next room projects footage of the performance that inspired the installation. The installation evokes an uneasiness associated with guilt at first, but what remains is a feeling of disgust. As a review in ‘De Witte Raaf’already suggested, this is merely a variation of McCarthy’s idiom on a more monumental scale[8]. Bigger is not always better and McCarthy’s crititcisms come across as monolithic and dogmatic.
The Pirate Project sees McCarthy use the familiar pirate imagery as a critique of contemporary society. The Pirate Project has its roots in “Damon McCarthy’s suggestion of the Disney ride Pirates of the Carribbean as the visual impetus for a project”[9]. The pirate themed collection of works is a critique of the banality of Disney-culture. Unfortunately, McCarthy’s works suffers from the same banality it ostensibly criticizes. In several large and small drawings as wel as accompanying sculptures McCarthy shows us cannons shaped like phallusses, feces, and a pirate indulging in sexual acts with pigs. While this is mildly entertaining, at this point of the exhibition it becomes a bit too much. It is obvious that McCarthy wants to shock and break taboos, but his art seems merely reactionary and symtomatic of current times rather than offering sophisticated insights on mass culture. Other examples of this are Spoon and Paenis, both from 2001, Mccarthy uses porn magazines to be incorporated in a collage as another exponent of shallow mass culture.
The other big installation of the exhibition is Picadilly Circus, again are the remnants of a performance with the same same name. Piccadilly Circus (2003). In the video of this performance you see large masked grotesque figures play George Bush, the Queen Mum, and Osama Bin laden. It is a dramatic performance with lots of defacing, mutilation and destruction[10].The featured installation then, evokes the atmosphere of a cluttered attic that stores the remaining artifacts that were featured in the performance. Again these remnants are accompanied by video projections of the original performance. The musty attic becomes a surreal landscape that incorporates political caricature, elements of mass consumption and consumerism (“Award Winning Mortgages!”), and even more Ketchup. The result is an incoherent, confusing, but nonetheless interesting experience.
Paul McCarthy frequently appropriates elements of pop/mass culture, from porn magazines to Ketchup, but in “Michael Jackson Whites” he appropriates a work of art that takes its inspiration from popular culture. The work is is a parody of Jeff Koon’s sculpture, Michael Jackson and Bubbles. Jeff Koon’s sculpture is a mostly white Michael Jackson with golden clothes and hair, “in the style of a populist, pseudo-baroque centerpiece”[11]. McCarthy does away with the various colors, and his sculpture employs a single white color, apparently stripping the iconic status of the king of pop to its bare essentials, while at the the same time exagerating and manipulating some of his features. As Meyer-Hermann notes, “A shoe is elongated like a phallus, the pop star’s face manipulated into bored perfection becomes an unnaturally oversized hydrocephalic head, an obvious parallel to the inflated chimpanzee’s head”[12]. While the work draws upon the same themes as other works in the exhibition aesthetically there is a stark contrast with many other works in the exhibition. It is not messy or cluttered, but instead is a more unified whole.
The question remains whether Paul McCarthy is really able to shock or affect an audience with his banalities, especially in the 21st century. While McCarthy himself claims that "I can't say my pieces were ever directed at trying to shock an audience", instead he claims that:
“At the time that I was making [those early works], I felt I was trying to deal with certain issues and that it was somehow a kind of language to discuss something. It was never a desire to shock in the sense of shock as entertainment. If anything, I was trying to make pieces that were potent rather than shocking, or trying to make pieces that would cause a reaction or do something real”[13].
If as the artist suggests he was trying to “make pieces that would cause a rection or do something real”, one wonders whether his upfront and reactionary visual rhetoric is really all that effective. McCarthy attacks the banality of American mass culture dominated by media companies such as Disney, consumerism, and pop icons like Michael Jackson. However, most of the times McCarthy’s attempts do not more than expose this supposed shallowness of American culture, but they offer little or no insights in how American culture functions. Moreover, McCarthy has to resort to banalities himself to get his point across.McCarthy might have been able to get away with this in the eighties, but right now his work does not come across as fresh or or original. Rather, the remaining sentiments after visiting the exhibition are those of a tired repetition of moves. That being said, McCarthy does succeed in getting a reaction from his audience even if it is perhaps not a wholly positive reaction. At moments when McCarthy is sucessful, as for instance in the topical and relevant Piccadilly Circus or the uncharacteristic Michael Jackson Whites, he strike a balance that is able to impress. Unfortunately, those moments are sporadic.
McCarthy’s vison of America and mass consumption seems decidedly pessimistic and does not seem very hopeful. McCarthy’s art is not a very hopeful one, and while there are moments of (attempts at) humor they certainly do not lighten the mood much. McCarthy’s art is useful in that it signals the problems, but stays too much on the surface to make for a really profound experience. Brain Box Dream Box, is definitely worth visiting, because McCarthy’s vision is interesting. For the casual visitor, eight rooms filled with McCarthy might just be a little too much. When adding the various films, that are showed in two screening rooms, to the menu “Brain Box Dream Box” becomes an experience that is perhaps too overwhelming. In the end, McCarthy might just have taken things a phallus too far.
[1] http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/paulmccarthy/
[2] Erik Troncy, “Het Pinokkio Effect. Recent werk van Paul McCarty, Metropolis M, nummer 6, 1994 p. 31
[3] http://www.vanabbemuseum.nl/chroot/htdocs/archief/2004/paulmccarthy_e.htm
[4] http://www.vanabbemuseum.nl/chroot/htdocs/archief/2004/paulmccarthy_e.htm
[5] Meyer - Hermann, Brain Box Dream Box, Richter Verlag 2004. p122
[6] Meyer - Hermann, Brain Box Dream Box, Richter Verlag 2004. p156
[7] Meyer – Hermann, Brain Box Dream Box, Richter Verlag 2004. p156
[8] De Witte Raaf, Nummer 11.
[9] Meyer-Hermann, Brain Box Dream Box, Richter Verlag 2004. p86
[10] http://www.garfunkel.nl/article.php?id=290&page=2
[11] Meyer Hermann, Brain Box Dream Box, Richter Verlag 2004. p. 236
[12] Meyer Hermann, Brain Box Dream Box, Richter Verlag 2004. p. 236
[13] http://www.papermag.com/paperdaily/paperclips/01paperclips/paul_mccarthy/p2.html