Crude Awakening

Pop-culture provocateur Peter Saul calls 'em like he sees 'em.

by A.D. Amorosi

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Published: Oct 28, 2008

San Francisco-born painter/illustrator Peter Saul has been ruffling feathers that could've tarred him since his art career's start in 1958. Not only because much of his early work predated the Pop Art movement for better and worse. Or that he painted hilarious piss-takes of the art world's most legendary lions. The man who nearly had a career going with MAD magazine for his highly satirical brand of brutal skewering took on a ferocious anti-war stance to the Vietnam conflict (remember — it was "conflict" before it was a "war") before it was popular. Saul's comic shock and awe — viewed as gory and rude to some critics — continues today with its anti-Iraq/Iran war stance as well as addressing pop-ular topics from O.J. to Joe the Plumber as well as his own aging. For his transgressive innovation, rather than being given art-world acclaim and massive retrospectives at MoMA, Saul has found himself often overlooked. But not by the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, which has made him the centerpiece of its autumn exhibitions.

BEAT AROUND THE BUSH: Saul depicts our outgoing president next to a giant blob, dichotomizing realism and make-believe. But which is which?

City Paper: What is left to be vulgar about in art that hasn't already been made vulgar by its own devices?

Peter Saul: I see the purpose of painting a picture as trying to make something interesting to look at. The word "vulgar" implies a middle-class judgment on housing decoration, which I never consider. I mean, it would be vulgar to have a gilt coffee table because it would be showing off money.

CP: I'm asking because, at times, your work has been considered vulgar by critics that aren't me. PS: The answer to this is yes, I agree that a lot of times my work hasn't been well-understood, and this is a great deal my own fault for not being more careful in the words I use to explain it, because in our culture at the present time, people get their explanation from the words that accompany the image, not the image. For some silly reason, I decided in advance that I was just going to show the pictures and not concentrate on the verbal explanation.

CP: You crafted homages to Thomas Hart Benton, yet you seem to tear down many of art's other holy cows. Why is Benton spared when so many others are rammed through with barbed wires?

PS: I didn't realize I was sparing Thomas Hart Benton. I thought I was using his picture the same way I use any of the others, such as de Kooning or Francis Bacon as a piece of subject that would help my picture to be familiar to the viewer.

CP: I guess part of what I see in regard to THB is something more loving rather than skewering. Do you know why you ripped into those artists?

PS: I was using these artists as subjects of my art, not as targets for attack. My versions of de Kooning, for instance, like "Double de Kooning Ducks," is meant to cast a new light on the artist and to just make him more interesting.

CP: It's been said that you've taken the stuffing out of the American man's existential crisis. What up, Paul? Are you not the aging American male? Are you not having more than a few crises yourself?

PS: No, I don't think I'm taking the existential stuffing out of anyone, though I am just as helpless and weak as anyone is. I don't make any effort to be truthful because I'm struggling to be interesting, but I'm sure the pictures are riddled with a lot of truth about me, which I just haven't considered.

CP: You're traveling with 50-plus paintings and drawings. How did y'all pick what you needed to represent your body of work? Do you think ex-New Museum curator Dan Cameron nailed your 360 degrees of diversity?

PS: I had no control over the pictures that are actually there. It all depends on which collectors are willing to loan which pictures. I just quit thinking about it and decided to be surprised at the opening.

CP: What political cartoonists, painters, illustrators seriously informed you at the start? I like to think Grosz most explosively, but ...

PS: I was very impressed by the singular painting of Paul Cadmus when I was 7 years old. After that there's such a long list, but I'm not sure the list has anything to do with adding anything to my work, but rather reflects my interest in viewing pictures. For instance, important artists like Otto Dix I simply wasn't aware of because he was left out of the art history book I had in college. I was aware of major artists while I was in art school back in the early '50s, such as Max Beckmann and Picasso, and gave them a lot of thought.

CP: You've said, "Putting crime, war, sex, distortion and low-class stuff into the picture is a way to take the decoration out of the picture — literally remove it from the dining room because no one is going to drink orange juice in the same room with it." Get out of town. What the hell is that about?

PS: I did say it a number of years ago in print back in the '60s — also the '70s, '80s and '90s. I've kind of worn it out and promised not to say it again.

CP: I was examining one of your more recent works, Bush at Abu Ghraib (pictured), and wondering, do you think even now you could've reflected something even more disgusting than what you portray there?

PS: Artistically, I wanted to have something fairly realistic right next to something that was completely made up. I wasn't thinking of how disgusting the picture was.

CP: Do you feel as if some of your work either goes too far or doesn't go far enough?

PS: When I painted each picture, I thought I was going as far as I could. But now, looking back, I see that many of them could have gone further. But that's just the way it is.

CP: How did the Vietnam War change your outlook, your color palette, the way you shaped your figures?

PS: I regard it as a wonderful piece of subject matter that for some reason no one else wanted to use in 1966. At the same time, I discovered acrylic paint, which increased my ability to use a large number of bright colors that weren't available in oil paint.

CP: Have further wars or the manner in which we embrace war changed your painting?

PS: I keep thinking of myself as an artist and war as a piece of subject matter for me to use, and that's about the extent of it. I don't worry about politics and war any differently from anyone else.

CP: How do you see satirical/political art now in the wake of Obama? I personally think it's too reverent — he's portrayed as this holy man.

PS: I haven't had any artistic thoughts about Obama yet. In general, I prefer to paint the bad guys and I'm planning a large war picture of Stalin and Mao fighting their enemies.

CP: Does the idea that your works are sick jokes appeal to you or insult you?

PS: Well, I don't mind the phrase "sick jokes," especially if it appears in a learned journal, but whether or not I'm insulted is not something I would think about.

CP: You've got this brilliant O.J. Simpson painting where an angel is saying something about having to die for the crime of murder. What say you regarding the fact that he'll rot in prison because of stealing back sporting goods?

PS: His actual fate was a surprise to me at the time of trial, and it is now, too. I thought it was a good subject to paint at the time.

CP: Are there American ironies, foibles, blunders happening right now that you're anxiously looking to capture?

PS: Here's the only one I can think of offhand. I picture a naked person wallowing in money, like rolling around in a giant salad bowl. In fact, there's a drawing I just made: Joe the Plumber figures out the purpose of tax dollars, but it's just a modest drawing with a little color. I really enjoyed reading Huckleberry Finn recently, especially the chapters on the Duke and Dauphin, which seemed to me the essence of free enterprise, and really made me laugh. I especially approve of the way they got tarred and feathered at the end. Severe justice.

CP: Why are museums like the Met, the New Museum and the Whitney unwilling to take you on? Have you developed a thicker skin because of it?

PS: Yes, it hurts my feelings, but I've decided to continue my life as if they had accepted this show.

CP: What do you expect from Philadelphia audiences? Do we have a good history of understanding radical art and zealots?

PS: I don't know what to expect, and I don't know anyone in Philadelphia other than [PAFA curator] Bob Cozzolino. I was very pleased with the opening and enjoyed looking at my own pictures.

CP: I've often heard you called a bad boy. You're over 65 now. Don't you think it's time you grew up?

PS: Yes, I've had this complaint about growing up for over 50 years. I kind of enjoy it. But I never think in terms of being a bad boy.

CP: Do you think audiences finally get what it is you do? And do you have at least one more trick up your sleeve?

PS: I don't know. I have various subjects that I still want to paint that I find intriguing. As long as I think I can make more individually interesting pictures, I'm going to keep going. I think the word "trick" means to me that I have an idea for a picture, and I hope I have many of these.

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)

On the Limits and Possibilities of Politics in Art (symposium and panel discussion), Sat. Nov. 1, 9 a.m.-5 p.m., $35; Peter Saul: A Retrospective, through Jan. 4, 2009, Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, 118-128 N. Broad St., 215-972-0522, pafa.org.

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