As anyone who's been anywhere in North America over the past two decades knows, subtlety isn't Shepard Fairey's strong suit. (Neither was it Andre the Giant's, Fairey's most famous subject. But given the wrestler's genetics, he had less choice in the matter.) The street-art entrepreneur, best known for his Obey Giant sticker campaign, is currently showing new work with blatant political overtones at San Francisco's White Walls gallery. Called "The Duality of Humanity," the show offers a series of imposing graphics rendered in Fairey's usual style, an ironic, Big-Brotherly aesthetic that recalls the propaganda art of Soviet constructivists like Rodchenko, only without all the messy Stalinist overtones. The show's title illustration is a rearview depiction of a soldier whose machine-gun stock is adorned with a peace sign; Fairey based it on a photograph taken by Al Rockoff, the American photojournalist who captured the Khmer Rouge's takeover of Phnom Penh and was played by John Malkovich in Roland Joffé's The Killing Fields. The idea, of course, is to highlight the disparity between living at peace and governments' methods of achieving it.
"I've been critcized for being too heavy-handed, but it all comes down to intent. The longer you stay in the art world, the smaller and more rarified your audience becomes. I'm not interested in speaking to a small group; I've always thought it was the duty of intelligence to make art for the people. I want to use my art to say something. Decorative art has its place, but it's not the stuff that's going to be referenced in art history. Most art is informed by politics, whether that's actual politics, stylistic politics, or even just art-world politics. Look, people don't make important work just so it matches the couch."
In other words, Fairey's not shy about his politics. The Obama campaign learned that earlier this year, when the L.A.-based artist created his iconic image of the Illinois senator. The print, which has appeared everywhere from stickers to bus shelters, isn't officially endorsed by the party because it's illegally disseminated, but that hasn't stopped it from becoming ubiquitous.
"I believe in the guy and I wanted to help. I wanted Obama to look dignified, compelling, you know, like a leader. It needed to convey confidence and wisdom. Those are two things that most people lack, and they're also two things that people respond to most. I understand that the way my work is packaged references propaganda art, McCarthyism, and that there's a sinister history to that aesthetic. But don't those people question what they're looking at? It's amazing to me that even with the 20th-century behind us, people still don't know that if a government is trying to do something really evil to its citizens, it's not going to try to sell them it in a really evil-looking package."
SHEPARD FAIREY RESPECTS
BANKSY: He
makes provocative work with a sense of humor. It's very witty, but at
the same time there's just enough technical effort that you have to
respect him as a craftsman.
BARRY MCGEE: His pieces are so
dense and textured that you can stand 50-feet back and get one idea,
then stand right in front of them and get another entirely. He killed it
on the streets, and brought it to the gallery.
ARTEMIO
RODRIGUEZ: He's a Mexican artist living in L.A. who does very
powerful, politically-charged stuff; it's got a traditional form, but
deals with issues about immigration.
WK: He's never stopped
being street, but he's refined his style while also remaining
recognizable. Also, he's a lot of fun to go bombing
with.
BLU:I came across him recently -- he does the most
amazing stuff. I've never seen anything like it.
The Duality of Humanity, Sept. 13-Oct. 4, at White Walls, 835 Larkin St., San Francisco, (415) 931-1500, www.whitewallssf.com
[From top to bottom] Shepard Fairey: courtesy of Studio Number One. Blu: courtesy of the artist. WK: "Bring Me Back," courtesy of the artist. Artemio Rodriguez: "Feel Free Buy a Gun," 2004, courtesy of Davidson Galleries. Barry McGee: "Untitled," Courtesy of the artist and Gallery Paule Anglim, San Francisco. Photo by Jay Jones.
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