September 9-15, 2004

art

English Language

KISS OFF: Ron English uses pop culture imagery to skewer contemporary advertising and corporate domination. Photo By: Pedro Carvajal

Painter Ron English gets supersized attention from his satirical makeovers.

by Andrew Parks

"They were a little more hardcore than hippies because they actually shot methamphetamine. But the great thing about that is if you needed a guy to jump through glass, they'd fucking do it."

You could say Ron English — whose paintings are now on view at Northern Liberties' Tin Man Alley — rolled with the cool crowd in the late '70s. He'd often cast them in 8 mm films and stage impromptu screenings on the weekend, kind of like a Rocky Horror Picture Show for art-damaged hippies. As the gatherings grew, so did the scene, a supportive network of artists much like Andy Warhol's Factory. The comparison is no coincidence.

"Andy Warhol changed my whole idea of what an artist can be," English says. "I was riding on this bus with some cute girl and she goes, "I want to go to New York and be a Warhol groupie.' And I'm thinking, "Rock stars have groupies, not artists."'

Hence why the uber-cool, multi-medium spirit of Warhol has paralleled English's career path, from his guerrilla beginnings in Texas to the recent mainstreaming of his demonic Ronald McDonald paintings in the film Super Size Me. In the intermittent two decades, he's done more than most artists will do in their entire career.

On one end, he's a culture-jamming revolutionary: plastering scathing, faux ads over the billboards of massive corporations such as Apple ("Think Different," with Charles Manson in place of Mohandas Gandhi), McDonald's (his MCSUPERSIZED painting was posted down the street from the Super Size Me director, possibly indirectly inspiring the idea) and Camel (some argue his "Hook any kids today?" series is responsible for the elimination of Joe Camel). Director Pedro Carvajal found his story compelling enough for a documentary; POPaganda: The Art & Subversion of Ron English trails English on his billboard-appropriation excursions.

On the more conventional art side, he's been both a noted photographer (Photoshop-free prints that boggle the eyes) and renowned painter. English's oil paintings are where the allusions to Warhol truly come to light. There are the literal references, such as a four-paneled portrait that portrays Warhol morphing into English. And then there is the shared appreciation and appropriation of popular culture, culminating in English's most recognized recurring image: Marilyn Monroe with Mickey Mouse heads for breasts.

"I've been to a thousand concerts, and when women pull their shirts off, men are always like, "Holy shit!"' English says. "They react like Pavlov's dog, whether they've seen it 10 times or 1,000. Well, your first interest in life is a breast and the first things you respond to culturally are cartoons."

"Ron's work is more like pop conceptualism, or realism," says Tin Man Alley curator Jonathan LeVine. "A lot of other artists simply aren't commenting on greater issues the way Ron does."

These include Warhol, who was more obsessed with fame than challenging the corporate infrastructure. English's work is much more subversive and politicized, placing treasured childhood icons in dire situations: whether it's crucifying Mickey on a mousetrap or putting cigarettes in the hands of 8-year-old clowns. His highly developed skills allow him to re-create a painting such as the Mona Lisa down to every last detail, and then add in something like Kiss kabuki paint with ease.

"The majority of his work sets off a number of sparks in your little ape brain," says Courtney Taylor-Taylor, singer for the Dandy Warhols. "It's like multiple orgasms. Smart little monkeys really like it."

Monkeys like Taylor, who commissioned English to create the cover of the album Welcome to the Monkey House (a Velvet Underground banana, right down to a zipper). Eccentric recluse Daniel Johnston is another musician who's worked exclusively with English.English was so impressed with Johnston's surrealistic drawings that he asked to reinterpret them in oil paintings, adding in touches like Captain America and his trademark Marilyn Mickey.

"His paintings look like Salvador Dal' or something out of a science-fiction magazine," Johnston says. "When he branches out into music more, he'll be a force to be reckoned with."

That's the thing about English, though. He almost does too much. But it's all part of an ultimate goal of eliminating the passive/aggressive artist attitude.

"What drives me is proving to the whole fucking world that I'm the real deal," English says. "I'd also like people to feel empowered, that they don't have to be a victim of everything. I want them to feel liberation, freedom. Even Warhol said, "You know what I like about my paintings? Anyone can do them.' People always tell me, "Man, you should paint this billboard.' And I'm like, "Go to Kinko's, blow it up and figure it out."'

"Pretty Ain't Pretty: Ron English & Van Arno," through Sept. 26, Tin Man Alley, 608 N. Second St., 215-923-1418, www.tinmanalley.net.