Violent Times

Los Angeles, California.

They say happenings are back. Anyone that went to the last opening at ACE gallery can attest to the hoopla indirectly inspired by the resurgence of the long-lost art genre. Heck, any opening at either ACE location can usually claim title to something akin to a happening, where art imitates life, or vice-versa, or something indescribable “happens” that can only be explained away as art.

Fresh off of a performance event known as a resurrection of a happening (I took part in the MOCA show, “Allan Kaprow – Art as Life,” as a member of 18 Happenings in six Parts presented at LACE back in April), I charged into ACE on July 12th knowing full well what was, well, happening. My partner in crime, a former LA gallery professional visiting from out of town, had invited me, and after visiting two openings earlier in the day on the east side, much anticipation was brewing about the new ACE offering.

“Violent Times,” the new show by Melanie Pullen, awaited our arrival. With a name like that, in conjunction with the scene that can always be expected, this was going to be fun. My mate picked me up no sooner than asking me if she should change tops. I told her she was fine—she was—but by the time we got there and she viewed the crowd in the parking lot, she changed from a black jacket into a striped sweater as soon as we luckily got parked and out of the car. Bad move. We ascended the stairs, feeling the heat increase with every step. Mildly perspiring, we entered the cavernous space and took stock of the vibe. You can’t really believe that you will see much of an art show at an ACE opening as much as a fashion show thrown by a glut of party crashers primping among some impressive blobs of media strewn about the massive complex of huge galleries, airy parlors, intimate nooks, and ample hallways.

Now sweating full bore, we were greeted by a friend who also happens to be an artist represented by ACE. Over small talk and more salutations, the cashmere came off and we bobbed our faces around, wondering in which direction the drinks were. We got a quick gaze at a few pieces on the way and, after a visit to the bar, began looking in earnest at some of the pieces.

Pullen is known for in-depth studies of events and circumstances that interest her, and interpreting a newfangled discourse on them; she will spend years on a single subject, readying it for display with slick and innovative modes of transporting her conceptual takes on various intersections of popular culture and history. “Violent Times” is no exception. Pullen had employed major movie studios and various vendors of high production value, not the least of which were ridiculously tweaked and teased beautiful male fashion models. The subject is war and the focus is the individual soldiers and groups of men who fight and endure the bloodbath of battle.

The mega-format, golf ball graininess and glaringly visible fluorescent tubes notwithstanding, these manipulated photographs and light boxes are stunning, and you can not help but wonder how she does it. The images of the multiplied jumping soldier, the ghostly atmosphere surrounding the infantry casualties, but most of all the style in which the vignettes are cast, contribute to the almost palpable irony of the exhibit. Ultimately, the weight of war gives way to the detail of the stage. There are gems in the blurry blues of revolutionary garb blunted by starbursts of light, and mystery in the intimacy of anthrax in the abstract, but the intent seems to be absorbed by the focus on the minutiae. The deliberate bend of the light pole along the foggy street means more than it should for me to get what I think I should be getting; it’s compelling, but it lingers as a distraction. I don’t want to walk away from this show complementing some streetlight or the way some tank operator’s head is bandaged.

The “agents of war” section was a relief from the overall theme. Monochromatic close-ups of anthrax and other chemicals of death enshrined in pastel duratrans were a subtle and serene diversion, leaving the question whether it was the same artist. In the end, however, there was an overwhelming amount of work featuring a dire subject that was trampled and trumped by over-stylization. Once again, as do the glossy pages of Art in America and Artforum, the hip Happening gallery sells out to Hermes and Helmut Lang.

Top Images: The Jumping Soldiers (Soldier Series), 2008
Transparency in Lightbox
60″ (H) x 120″ (W) | Edition of 3