F**k the Lollipops, Justin Beachler Hasn’t Got Time forSuckers
I profess a bias in my analysis of Beachler; he became a friend whose work I have been
following and discussing for several years, starting with Smut Compositions (loved it!) and
Srimary Ptructures (not so much.). Since then, a respectful relationship has emerged. I
began to care about what he was doing. He doesn’t simply choose images at random, he
and I share a thirst for historical referencing as it relates to pop culture. There is imagery on
his Instagram that runs the gamut of mainstream seriousness and absurdities. It is why I find
it easier than others to pick at the intricacies he projects in his work and also why I believe he
isn’t going at this willy-nilly; there is a long-running end goal that as the internet portrays, has
no end.
Justin Beachler’s new work at Haw Contemporary, Old & in the Way, is a pastiche of cultural
recognition synthesized for today’s mindset. Beachler has a social media presence that is a
bit like rummaging through a thrift store run by intellectual lunatics (Think Brad Pitt’s
character in 12 Monkeys). He is simultaneously mocking and tossing out the old formalist
ideas of how one might look at paintings and other media in favor of a heartier “huntergatherer
aesthetic.” The progression of his work embraces a strong personal philosophy that
examines how the ideas and objects found in cultural ephemera are affecting our psyche; the
way we think, feel and act.
Image by Tim Amundsen
This show in particular — part of the gallery’s Enable Program — was a departure for Haw’s
normal commercial focus. Instead, showcasing work of younger artists putting light on
experimentation. The one concession given to Old & In The Way was the burning of incense
that permeated the back part of the ground floor space and led you upstairs to Beachler’s
work like a Greek siren out of Euripdes, but once they burned out were never re-lit and that’s
a shame.
For Old & In The Way, I was expecting a continuation of his online menagerie of image
caching, but here he holds fast to one train of thought that delivered. He offers an idea based
almost entirely from Grateful Dead love, circa 1974, consisting of assorted media; including
painting, found material and sculpture. This group of new work is probably the happiest I’ve
ever seen from Beachler. There is less nihilism and a more focused tone that fulfills a
statement on the state of things in this societal moment.
Here, he lays bare all the things we think are semi-important; the business model of
capitalism, foodie culture, cannabis culture, and stock imagery aglow with radioactive pinks,
greens, yellows and blues. There was a lot of reminiscing; with wondering about the work’s
meaning rather than observing it and moving on, with some exceptions.
Not Fade Away is the best example of such an idea; the creases in the canvas appear to
have been screen printed, showing the concentration devoted to the celebration of an error
in original form becoming something exciting to new eyes. And it also shows how many
people, at the opening I attended, focused on this one example rather than standing back
and understanding the idea in full. But if one looked closely, dead center is a hibiscus flower.
It was so exciting to discover this beauty hidden in plain sight that I could not stop pointing it
out to people who appeared more interested in the nostalgic spin art and tie-dyed elements.
Beachler presents the rare Nudie in a closet of leisure suits, but few cared. There were
several conversations about other works in the space and I felt it became a case of not
seeing the forest for the trees. Do not think of only the surface element, but the intent that
can generate a conversation.
Not Fade Away | Image by Tim Amundson
The Haight presents a similar concept to augment this theory. Where t-shirts like this were
found everywhere (I had a few!), now they are nostalgic, recalling what it represented and
our longing for it; a period where getting high was an act of defiance in pursuit of personal
freedom from a losing war being fed its young. Skulls & Roses and Alligator, with their
recognizable context, play into feelings these harbingers are a constant. Slavery is Freedom.
The Haight | Image by Tim Amundson
Skull & Roses | Image by Tim Amundson
All of the materials for this show were either scanned from online sources or found/bought.
By spending a long time in the space, I observed people of all ages having many
interpretations. Several viewers wrongly mocked the DIY-ness of Scum Rigs, the multi-unit
bong/sculptural piece made from plastic 2-liter soft drink bottles that was altogether
serviceable. However, it is precisely the point of so much that Beachler observes. With this
he presents a “Duchampian” readymade that is — as he would put — a “middle finger emoji”
to the institutional machine itself. I am afraid we are headed towards weed culture elitism
similar to the foodie’s pedantic oration of “flavor profiles.” But here, Beachler heads it off at
the pass, rallying against such nonsense before it’s even begun.
Scum Rigs | Image by Tim Amundson
The Internet is either a vast wasteland of ideas or a looking glass. It has successfully
bridged the generation gap and from this are to be found an enormity of concepts and a new
way of thinking. Some web-based work that doesn’t necessarily propose a strong theory of
ideas can appear random and not useful, either as knowledge or information. It is important
this art making is considerate of the way we parse data online through Google Searches and
endless headlines on the Huffington Post. This recognition of form is I consider Justin
Beachler’s ongoing practice to be among the more serious artists; he presents a succinct
visual language, not random data. When you examine his imagery, rather than scroll past it,
he discusses the absurdities of the world from then and now. The things one takes seriously
is ridiculous, while the serious is sometimes glossed over.
There was a time when I thought Beachler ought to shy away from the Dan Colen/Joe
Bradley axis of low-culture ephemera. But after watching his theories develop and take root,
he is headed in the right direction. Beachler sees truisms masking deeper, more contentious
feelings as we confront a harsh reality and this may be the rationale one holds onto as they
skim image after image. It is grim, almost pointless, if you aren’t willing to pontificate on its
meaning. He isn’t trying to fool us; he shows us that we have already been fooled.
The hypocrisy is still there to be construed, differently orchestrated than before and Justin
Beachler is the right impresario for this moment.