The American painter smothers her canvases in heavy layers of gooey paint. Her inaugural London exhibition is a messy, exuberant tribute of her medium, but significant themes are smuggled through if you can scratch your way towards them.
Her method – which has seen her lauded as a leading painters of her era – is all about texture, application, colour and materiality. It’s painting for painters, truly advanced art-nerd stuff. If you get your kicks immersing yourself in layers of pigment and shadow, there’s plenty to engage you for a while. But it’s her bizarre, surreal, cartoony, metaphorical imagery that really makes the paintings tick.
The works in the initial room are populated by giant-headed cyclopses and roaring mobs. In one depicts a collection of forms stomps senselessly towards something off canvas, waving hands and creating a path of trash in their wake. A different work presents a figure receiving a huge mask in an odd ceremony in front of a crowd of ugly supporters. It’s easy to read any of this as political, as commentary on the state of the US, on societal splits and angry, and crowd psychology is turning everything to waste.
The Kiss by the artist.
In the second exhibition area, the artist appears to redirect attention to the leaders and elites, rather than the crowds that support them. Shadowy figures fill their faces with grapes and steak in a gloomy eating space; a cardinal and a green-clad man recline in gilded seats – while in additional pieces a pair comfort one another in a landscape strewn with corpses, and a female figure, maybe Schutz herself, lies naked, forlorn and helpless in a bed.
This is ultradense, thickly layered stuff, covered in references. You’ll find the ethereal dream-like signs of a symbolist master, the fleshy pink cartoonishness of an American painter, the carnival grotesqueries of a Belgian artist, the large-headed oddities of Paul McCarthy. She includes nods on the history of painting, countless nods to pop culture (I am almost 100% sure that one painting is a portrait of a cartoon character from an animated series). You could spend hours identifying all the bits of Cézanne and David with which she’s littered the artworks.
The Example by Dana Schutz.
Painting this dense, complex and allegorical invites to analysis. It seems like I’m being quizzed on the symbolism of a Renaissance masterpiece but, in my view, there are a couple of distinct narratives: the people in power, and the public that they bait.
And the artist understands about that. Back in 2017, her artwork a titled piece – a partly abstract representation of the corpse of a historical figure, a black teenager who was lynched by two white men in Mississippi in 1955 – caused untold controversy when it was shown at the Whitney Biennial. She was accused of profiting from tragedy for her own gain. A protester demonstrated against the work each day, and some demanded it to be destroyed. A white artist depicting – arguably with great sympathy – a scene of African-American suffering was the major headline of the event. It was the peak of the late 2010s social conflicts, a time that saw people turning on each other even if they were on the same side. Looking back now, in a world increasingly polarized, less nuanced and more hostile than ever, it seems almost charming that individuals found moments to get upset at this emotional, mournful artwork.
It could have ruined her professional life, and the artist likely aims to move on. But all her subsequent work since exists in its influence. She inevitably emerged of that ordeal a transformed creator. But what hasn’t changed is her exceptional skill, how she still engages in masterful, unsettling, thick and highly topical art at the top tier.
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Brian Hernandez
Brian Hernandez
Brian Hernandez
Brian Hernandez