Barbara Kruger, Untitled (It’s our pleasure to disgust you), 1991, courtesy of The Museum of Contemporary Art, Angeles, photo by Brian Forrest
By 1990 Los Angeles had become internationally known for its glitzy affiliation with beach culture, the movie and porn industries and of course West Coast hip-hop. But in the following years, stories of a different nature made headlines across the world, including mass homicides, rioting, and the AIDS crisis. These events might have sobered the idea of LA in the public conscience but they have also inspired myriad artists who in turn contributed with powerful art that would transform the city into a contemporary art centre in its own right.
One of the turning points happened in 1991, when African American taxi driver Rodney King was brutally beaten up by the LAPD while being caught on tape. The case came to highlight nationwide the unfair treatment of minorities and when some of the guilty policemen were acquitted of use of excessive force it caused a public outcry which lead to the 1992 LA riots. The unrest that included these riots—as well as looting and arson—were broadcast across the world painting the rioters as rebels without a cause. Renée Green was one of the first artists to explore this pre-internet form of entropy with “Import/Export Funk Office” (1992-93). The installation—which is currently on view at The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA in Los Angeles—consists of a room replete with books by renowned black theorists, newspapers with coverage of the riots, hip-hop records and magazines, and a catalogue with black lexicon. But it’s the videos showing interviews with white German rap enthusiasts that give away the superficial transfer of black American culture the artist wants to highlight.
Renée Green, Import/Export Funk Office (1992-93), courtesy of The Museum of Contemporary Art, Angeles, photo by Brian Forrest
The installation is part of the group exhibition “Don’t Look Back: The 1990s at MOCA”, which featured works from MOCA’s permanent collection that reflected that decade’s burning concerns. Split between the sections: Installation; The Outmoded; Noir America; Place and Identity; Touch, Intimacy, and Queerness; and Space, Place, and Scale; the exhibition revealed how the City of Angels worked as a backdrop for artists including Sarah Sze and Paul McCarthy.
Paul McCarthy’s Tokyo Santa, Santa’s Trees (1996/98), courtesy of The Museum of Contemporary Art, Angeles, photo by Brian Forrest
Paul McCarthy’s Tokyo Santa, Santa’s Trees (1996/98), courtesy of The Museum of Contemporary Art, Angeles, photo by Brian Forrest
Paul McCarthy’s Tokyo Santa, Santa’s Trees (1996/98), courtesy of The Museum of Contemporary Art, Angeles, photo by Brian Forrest
Taking its name from D. A. Pennebaker’s documentary that surveys Bob Dylan’s creative struggles within a spectacle industry, “Don’t Look Back” frames the subversive artworks in the context of an increasingly market-driven art world. Paul McCarthy’s “Tokyo Santa, Santa’s Trees” (1996/98) addresses that, while crossing over two themes, touching upon the dark side of America in the form of a large-scale installation. The work comprises of crooked pre-decorated plastic Christmas trees and photos of the artist dressed as Santa. Initially part of a performance in Tokyo, remnants of it are present here as drawings. The whole scene is nightmarish with ketchup, paint, and other bodily fluids on view with a messed-up, and at times naked, Father Christmas in the background. The harrowing piece also likens an artist’s studio with a Santa’s workshop, commenting on the nature of consumerism and capitalism in society and among artists.
The early 1990s were troubled times in many parts of the world and many of the artists presented here responded by creating works imbued with criticism and defiance. Sue Williams’ “The Art World Can Suck My Proverbial Dick” (1992) takes a stand against sexism head on for instance. This painting is raw and it bites with scenes that comment on art world hypocrisy: “Why don’t we just move on?” she asks in the work, “It’ll be better for everybody”. The artist borrows from comics to illustrate her frustration and anger, with sharp feminist criticism and humour to boot, nodding to the “riot grrrl” movement that shaped the decade.
Sue Williams, The Art World Can Suck My Proverbial Dick, 1992
Another test of bravery for the residents and artists of LA was the AIDS epidemic, whose devastation was not left unaddressed. In 1991 Queer Nation raised awareness to queer issues and civil rights by protesting with a kiss-in outside the Academy Awards, while artists started infusing intimacy, touch and the body into their works. Jack Pierson’s “You Are Allowed to Touch Things” (1991) is a work that puts a bold yet considered statement in three-dimensional mismatched lettering. Maximizing the impact of the visual language, in the years prior to rocketing popularity of the internet, the sculpture makes reference to a community that was still being ostracized, especially by a government that refused to acknowledge its suffering.
Left: Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (A corner of Baci), 1990. Centre: Jack Pierson, You Are Allowed to Touch Things, 1991. Right: Nayland Blake, Untitled, 1990, courtesy of The Museum of Contemporary Art, Angeles, photo by Brian Forrest
Sarah Sze, courtesy of The Museum of Contemporary Art, Angeles, photo by Brian Forrest
The 1990s have been referred to as the “golden age of LA”, an expression which was also in the title of lecture examining these years, organized by Zócalo Public Square and MOCA. In this decade’s social issues galvanized people and artists to express discontent in a way that is yet to be seen again. However, recent developments might indicate that best years are yet to come.
A couple of miles south of the Geffen lies the Skid Row, a neighborhood, home to as many as 6,000 of America’s homeless. The scenes on the street are straight out of a film with dozens of people living in camping tents, a few blocks away from the APC and Aesop shops. It’s hard to ignore and yet there’s a sense of neglect around it. But an art project to open in six months is set draw more attention to it with a new nine-hole golf course scheduled. This collaboration between local artist Rosten Woo and the Los Angeles Poverty Department (LAPD), a performance art and activist group based in the area is only one aspect of the change.
Los Angeles today is also a magnet for established artists and art graduates, and galleries. In the last months multiple blue-chip galleries have moved here where art is finally being produced, exhibited and sold like never before. However, none of this would have happened so soon had the ’90s not been so memorable, for the good and also bad.