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Gerald Nordland
.... Claes Oldenburg is holding a very considerable exhibition in the spacious Dwan Gallery in Westwood. His 42 pieces are executed either in plaster or sailcloth and often feature a coating of dripping enamel in a sloppy, vulgar proclamation of kitsch as in pieces of pie, tennis shoes and ice cream sundaes. In other cases Oldenburg works with stuffed sailcloth, making an 8 foot ice cream cone, wall mounted pay telephones, giant ice cream bars on sticks, and bacon and tomato sandwiches. One tour de force is a millinery table with corsets, hose, gloves, bras, complete with mirror and fluorescent light, paint bespattered in a parody of the way in which women's clothing is displayed and sold.
There can be no question that Oldenburg has looked at the impedimenta of American commerce and has found some appalling things to comment upon. He forces the esthete to recognize and remember his vulgar subject matter. One may wonder whether the maker produces these things because he finds them amusing, because they are startlingly similar to the "Mile High Cones," orange juice and hot dog stands of this world, or because this is simply an alley into which he has wandered and now finds himself against the closed end with a reputation for "doing" these things. The only comment one can find in the work is critical. He doesn't tell us that these edibles are good or that these clothes are wearable. He doesn't tell us that they are art objects or that they are intrinsically beautiful or valuable. He criticizes the taste of his time, the valueless, meaningless "kitsch" that sometimes fascinates and always results in revulsion. He seems to enjoy knowing and disliking the subject in equal measure.
Oldenburg's individual pieces have a kind of impressive authority that is undeniable. A prime example of this authority is a "motel modern" chair which occupies a central position in the exhibition. This work has rectangular slab sides which serve as arm rests and a similarly shaped back. Upholstered in an imitation animal skin and absolutely uncushioned, the work is a kind of epic ersatz, conforming to one's worst feelings about mass produced objects of taste. The work goes further however, for it is closely related to the drawing style used in advertisements for furniture stores - it is executed in perspective so that it cannot be photographed except in a kind of three-quarter view. The whole work is thus carpentered at an angle to deceive the camera and fit into this complete Kitsch exposition, which it does very well. Indeed, Claes Oldenburg bows to slob culture with a knowing wit. Unfortunately the comment is so reserved that the work stands only as a record and never as polemic. He too has donned Duchamp's Dadaist disinterest.
Here again the record of Duchamp's researches has proved useful. The anti-art technique, the sanctification of the unthinkable content in a distinguished art gallery, the elevation of the common to a position of importance is the counterpart of the clothing dummies in the Nine Malic Moulds. It is another illustration of the way out of a Dada dilemma - self expression in a field where one can maintain the illusion of toughness, criticism and fearless reading of the society's own vulgarity without committment. Apparently the chic find this "fun, " entertaining and mildly titilating. I wonder if this doesn't explain Duchamp's retirement from art. Perhaps he found himself tempted to work with materials that were neither ambiguous nor tinged with irony. Perhaps recognizing that he could only succumb to esthetic bankruptcy by such a move he elected to stop working. An ironic compliment to the master.
The formality, idealism and dignity of the best of post-war American art has been challenged as effete, and overly refined, uninvolved with the spectacle of life. Perhaps the edge of lyricism and anguish which we found in American painting during the last twenty years has been blunted by familiarity and use by "later generations" of imitators. Even blunted, however, it shows a steel of commitment that reveals emotional content. It was never a safe art and never anonymous. Its banner proclaimed commitment and never ironic withdrawal or even elegant disinterest.
Excerpt, Art International, February 1964: 30-32
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