“Democracy” depicts several humanoid figures, each heightened by Loven’s delirious palette of blues and reds, huddled together close and engaged in some kind of orgiastic ritual of excess. When seen from a certain angle, the painting almost resembles an image of a protest. Is a protest not, at root, a ritualistic expulsion of mass-energy? Remove the signs, the catchphrases, and the ideologies, and what you have is an anarchic ancient rite. In “Embraced by Demons,” a Christ-like figure receives fellatio from a monstrous apparition; he’s blinded by ecstasy in the abyss. The unreality of the sequence is heightened by the transparency Loven applies to its figurations. Loven derives some inspiration from the compositions and themes of medieval manuscript art, but the resultant paintings are totally original. Thus, the reference images function less as “source material” in Loven’s paintings than as commentary on the violent and sexualized images of pre-Modernist art acting as creative stimuli. An excess of oblivion becomes a creative spigot. These paintings, quite unlike Loven’s earlier work, feature figurations that are utterly unrecognizable from their sources. They are projections of the artist’s mind’s eye.
Of a Rablesian grotesque, these paintings are not satire. In “Democracy,” Loven isn’t trying to reveal “the truth of” a protest (as a criticism) so that the protest can be dismissed, but celebrates it for the thing that it actually is: a ritual of catharsis. This painting is ebullient because it unleashes the shadow dimensions of its figures — their repressed libido, rage, violence, sexuality — and evokes transcendence by embracing and depicting both the positive and negative qualities of its behavioural excess without judgement. In “German Intellectual in Hell,” a figure resembling an academic appears to be violently laughing and crying all at once, unleashing a lifetime of suppressed libidinal energy. But we do not laugh at him. On the contrary, Loven demands we bask in the academic’s purgation. We feel it with him. There is no shame in Loven’s scenes. These paintings offer their subjects nothing short of spiritual renewal through the grotesque exaggeration of their repressed negative and positive excess. And it feels good.
“Grotesque”. It’s generically applied to forms and images that often skew disembodied, tangled, malformed, or exaggerated to the point of satire. Mikhail Bahktin, however, theorized a more specific and liberatory understanding of “the grotesque.” The grotesque isn’t just satire and therefore, implicitly negative –Bahktin in his text on Renaissance writer Francois Rabelais– it is an exaggeration of both the positive and negative attributes of a scene; Bahktin viewed the grotesque exaggeration as nothing less than a profound, spiritual renewal of the subject. It is this specific notion of the grotesque that is employed by Sven Loven. In his new exhibition, “Hell is Hot and the World is Cold,” the artist’s first solo exhibition with No Gallery, Loven has made several small to mid-scale paintings that purposefully elide the tropes of modernism to look towards the expressions of early Western pictorial painting: angels, demons, good, evil, totems, symbols, and universal emotions. In their many contradictions — malignancy and benevolence, tragedy and beauty — Loven’s figurations are free. His figures are given space to emancipate the energy they repress to integrate themselves into society with all its social codes and mores.
Punk rock subculture and black collages: Jesse Draxler, American mixed media and multidisciplinary artist in conversation with Maria Abramenko.
With rock ‘n’ roll rough-going soul and gothic flourishes, Jesse Draxler’s current exhibition, being made during the era of Covid, speaks to the memory of the dashed hopes from the Before Time, the struggle to figure out what the hell is going on in the everlasting limbo of the present, and the first blush of promise that things might, somehow, someday, be alright. The visual language of the works and the evocative installation vignettes encompass imagery of fragility, luxury, ritual, grief, destruction, amnesia, violence and dark magic.
In The Weird and The Eerie, Mark Fisher challenges the English translation of Freud’s unheimlich. Understood as the genesis of the uncanny, Fisher instead states that the literal translation (the unhomely) is a more fitting descriptor for situations to which “uncanny” is often applied, gesturing at the discomfort the term describes.
When considering the new works by American visual artist Jesse Draxler, collected for his most recent solo exhibition with no gallery in LA titled Table of Losses, the idea of something being unsettled by its proximity to home, or normality, seems all the more fitting.
Originally slated for a June opening, the exhibition was postponed until October. During the lockdown and ensuing psychosocial confusion, many artists lost themselves in finding solutions – attempting to answer impossible questions or focusing on the preservation of wellness in uncharted circumstances. Conversely, Draxler welcomed that sense of uncertainty and the cracking of normality into his work. He continued to produce new pieces in the months between the postponement and rescheduled date, ending with a body of work addressing a bleak reality and the power humour has in escaping it.
Through an assemblage of obliterated Xerox machines and fragmented typewriters, spray paint, resin and humming hued light, Phil Wagner introduces Obsolescence to the NO Gallery, a nihilistic dystopian reality amidst a mechanical purgatory.
Fueled by the visual rhetoric of Dada and Suprematism, Obsolescence articulates a dialogue of how technology that is viewed as archaic, mundane, and obsolete has become the catalyst of our demise as a society. As a result, sculptures, paintings, and installations create visceral shadows of shantytowns, monuments marred by riots, and laboratories hexed with confusion and absence. By implementing popular wood, anaesthetic architectural addition of the gallery, and site-specific sculpture, the NO Gallery transcends into a chapel of reflection; a memorial pieced together by survivors amongst the rubble.
To the degree that art expresses the zeitgeist, and that right now everything everywhere is a terrible, stupid dumpster fire of fear, loathing, and depression, then NO Gallery has a show for the times. Don’t Just Do Something, Sit There presents divergent works by three artists -- Jesse Draxler, Jordan Weber, and Mark Mulroney -- which achieve common ground in the mucky terrain of mental breakdown, demon-hunting, and gallows humour. It’s perfect, really.
Exhibiting together for the first time, the nine LA artists in No Gallery's inaugural show each have distinctive practices that take unpredictable detours. In dialogue with one another, they exhibit the instinctive, restless drive of the city's most compelling culture-makers. Tapped into what is making us tick while holding fast to quixotic visions, they cut a clear path for the gallery to follow as it makes its place in LA.