How Long Have I Been Dead?
John Casey gave me this book for my birthday a few months ago and it is all fucked up. It contains page after page of artwork from Andrew James Jones. It is small in size (5.5" x 4.25") but portly in content (156 color pages) and has a squishy hardcover.
Now, I'm not the type to get freaked out by dirty or violent drawings. In fact, I'm one of those people that feels that images of genitals, blood, and fecal matter are generally overused now as an unintelligent attempt to shock and make art "cutting edge". I classify this stuff as "Boner Art" (feel free to use this term yourself): not shocking but very gratuitous and rarely thought provoking. Maybe it is a comment on our society that these images have lost there ability to horrify or invoke any genuine reaction at all. What I'm saying is, in the case of most Boner Art, it is not my morals or sensibility that is offended, it is my intelligence.
But this book has somehow gone beyond the stupid and heavy-handed imagery into genuinely frightening territory. The drawings are simple in both medium (ink and white-out with a few highlight colors on brown paper bags) and in content, yet twisted and unnerving. It is not necessarily the violence of the images or the
monsterousness of the characters, but the subtle details that get my bile going.
It is the joyous or indifferent expressions on these tortured creatures that makes me uncomfortable. It is the interaction and often interconnectedness of deformity that makes me look away. It is the nonsensical but often provocative text. It is the white on black and serpentine dialogue balloons. It is the discarded quality of the creased brown paper canvases... This art feels authentically twisted and evil. The work involving elements of photo-collage into the drawings is even more fucked-up.
And then we have the sheer creativity expressed within this diabolical framework. Each page seems to delight in pushing the edges of taste. Each creature from this book seems to come from the same horrifying universe, but the interactions (and violations) are always new.
My emphasis here is one the feeling of this artwork being authentically fucked-up. It doesn't feel contrived or forced, which makes it all the more disturbing. John Casey told me that a split show between himself and Andrew James Jones has been met with nothing but rejection by local galleries and that doesn't surprise me. This vision is too twisted and real. I don't like it, but I'm very, very impressed with it.
Now, I'm not the type to get freaked out by dirty or violent drawings. In fact, I'm one of those people that feels that images of genitals, blood, and fecal matter are generally overused now as an unintelligent attempt to shock and make art "cutting edge". I classify this stuff as "Boner Art" (feel free to use this term yourself): not shocking but very gratuitous and rarely thought provoking. Maybe it is a comment on our society that these images have lost there ability to horrify or invoke any genuine reaction at all. What I'm saying is, in the case of most Boner Art, it is not my morals or sensibility that is offended, it is my intelligence.But this book has somehow gone beyond the stupid and heavy-handed imagery into genuinely frightening territory. The drawings are simple in both medium (ink and white-out with a few highlight colors on brown paper bags) and in content, yet twisted and unnerving. It is not necessarily the violence of the images or the
monsterousness of the characters, but the subtle details that get my bile going.It is the joyous or indifferent expressions on these tortured creatures that makes me uncomfortable. It is the interaction and often interconnectedness of deformity that makes me look away. It is the nonsensical but often provocative text. It is the white on black and serpentine dialogue balloons. It is the discarded quality of the creased brown paper canvases... This art feels authentically twisted and evil. The work involving elements of photo-collage into the drawings is even more fucked-up.
And then we have the sheer creativity expressed within this diabolical framework. Each page seems to delight in pushing the edges of taste. Each creature from this book seems to come from the same horrifying universe, but the interactions (and violations) are always new.
My emphasis here is one the feeling of this artwork being authentically fucked-up. It doesn't feel contrived or forced, which makes it all the more disturbing. John Casey told me that a split show between himself and Andrew James Jones has been met with nothing but rejection by local galleries and that doesn't surprise me. This vision is too twisted and real. I don't like it, but I'm very, very impressed with it.
posted by Rowan Morrison at
5:10 PM
5 Comments:
Andrew James Jones is an incredible artist. There is viable data in his aesthetic (mickey ears..), and conceptually, he is drawing a nice replica of actual life. My friends (artists in NYC) are big fans of his work.
I saw an andrew james exhibition at a bar in leeds and thought it was both hilarious and beautiful! I think that to really appreciate his work though you probably need a good grasp of english culture.
I love John Case, and Andrew James Jones...a split show would be amazing!
*Casey
lol this is fucking weird!! this isnt english culture is just sketchs from a twisted minded person....you people arentrying to find a brighter side to this...there is none!!!!
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