Sam PulitzerКризис БезобразияNovemberNov 13th, 2021 - JanuaryJan 15th, 2022Gaga Mexico City
Gaga is pleased to present Кризис Безобразия, Sam Pulitzer’s third show at the gallery.
This exhibition consists of 13 graphic works presented under the Russian-language title, Кризис Безобразия. When translated into the English language, the phrase means “Crisis of Ugliness.” It is taken from a set of essays written by Soviet aesthetic philosopher Mikhail Lifshitz, a colleague of György Lukács, in the eventful year of 1968. Lifshitz develops Georgy Plekhanov’s critique of 1912’s salon d’automne as a “crise de la laideur,” a judgement which borrows critic Camille Mauclair’s earlier negative assessment of the Fauves’ artistic achievement, into a philippic against the historical fortunes of Cubism and Pop Art. The benefit of keeping the title in Russian is the richness of Безобразия which bears greater nuance than the mere unsightliness that both ‘ugliness’ or ‘laideur’ convey. Broken down into Без and образия, it suggests an “image-lessness” of ethical dimensions in a sense closer to the German theological term, Bildlosigkeit. (Note: I am paraphrasing translator David Riff’s discussion of Lifshitz’s text.)
In the essay, “Myth and Reality: The Legend of Cubism,” Lifshitz’s claims that, while it constitutes “a protest [that reflects] the presence of a huge stratum of people hungry to see a new heaven and a new earth,” Cubism is tempered by a social deficit in which, “instead of fighting to change the real forms of life’s ongoing process, [the cubist] breaks the forms in which it is perceived.” In favor of a theory of realism of which he was a partisan, Lifshitz further opines—
The entire lineage of depicting reality in its visible forms, and especially in forms of life as the basis of the beautiful, is unacceptable to those who worship the kingdom of the dead. […] The question of truth is cast aside entirely. ‘We all know’, said Picasso himself, ‘that Art is not truth.’ Cubism consciously creates unprecedented combinations of form without guaranteeing that they will resemble anything at all in our ordinary, sinful world or even in the otherworldly realm of pure form. ‘Art is a lie’. ‘Those lies are necessary for our mental selves’.
Naturally, such a “crisis”—one would be hard-pressed to claim that Lifshitz’s dismissal of North Atlantic aesthetic modernity as anything other than polemic—has fallen not only out of fashion but out of historical favor. The war of position between one constellation of, give or take, aesthetic modernity and political tradition against that of another has been unceremoniously settled in a social program of shock therapy far more unsightly than the Campbell soup cans that came to serve as the one-dimensional emblems of a universal dream realized. But, that, too, was many booms and busts ago; so much so, that such a memory itself seems a pathological distraction for a contemporary society that is as pious in its embrace of novelty as it is novel in its embrace of piety.
The graphic works gathered under such a weighty title were produced in the afterlife of such an antiquated state of affairs as they are delivered into a present ostensibly free of any practical obligation to the historical beyond revision. As images, they depict, in a standard poster format and against a monotone red background, discrete objects that have been modified in one way or another so that they might communicate to a disinterested observer that they represent much more than what they are—even though, in truth, they are only just so. If the kingdom of the dead were located somewhere between a relative’s attic and an auction house, ignoring for a moment the charnel houses that punctuate history, this visual detritus would be found laying in wait for redemption as aureoles of broken fate.