. . . the cartoon is ugly, cheap and
degrading. Its purpose—to stimulate erotic responses, and does
not, as claimed, deal with basic realities of life. It is
grossly shocking—demeaning the sexual experience by perverting
it . . . it is part of the underworld [sic] press—the growing
world of deceit in sex, and it is not reality or honesty, as
they often claim it to be. It represents an emotional incapacity
to view sex as a basic part of the human condition.
Excerpt from New York Judge Joel Tyler’s
written ruling in the 1970 criminal case against Zap
Comix
Judge Tyler is the same judge who made Deep Throat famous by ruling it
to be obscene. He is now 79 years old. When he retired from
the bench in 1991 he said of the twenty-two-page statement he
wrote about the Deep
Throat case, “If I were to write
that appendix today, I would be deemed a fool, given the
substantial change in our outlook.”
Often sexually
charged content aside, two of the major quests in Robert
Williams art and life have been an unrelenting confrontation
with notions about reality and an uncompromising pursuit of honesty. These quests have led him to lock horns conceptually with
more than a few fools, but
along the way he has developed a huge following and come to know
some of the most colorful characters of our time.
R Crumb, of
course, created Zap, virtually
drawing the first two issue (#0 and #1) entirely by himself in
1967. Beginning with issue #2, he began to get help. His
original collaborators included Rick Griffin, S. Clay Wilson,
Spain Rodriguez, Victor Moscoso, Gilbert Skelton and Robert
Williams. Williams’ initial contribution was two untitled
offerings and a little ditty he titled, “The Supreme
Constellation of Dormasntoria,” for the infamous issue #4 in
1969—the issue that prompted the prosecution and subsequent
conviction for obscenity in Tyler’s New York criminal court.
The conviction
was upheld upon appeal. But today it hardly seems like a
conclusive victory for the rightwing guardians of moral
righteousness. Although R. Crumb has retreated to the south of
France where he lives and plays mandolin with his band Les
Primitifs du Futur (Primatives of the Future), Zap
continues. Issue #14 was published in 1998. And the
initially underground phenomena has spawned an entire industry
of comic books, T-shirts, toys and other ancillary products.
Along with Crumb,
Williams has become the most noted figure from the original Zap group. There is a waiting list to buy his paintings, and the
list of collectors of his work reads like a Who’s Who in
Hollywood and Rock’n’Roll. Six books about him and countless
magazine articles have been published—Williams may be the only
person ever to have feature articles written about him in both Hustler
and Artforum. Juxtapoz, the magazine he founded to champion high energy art that
many critics and curators deem not smart enough for museum
standards, has become one of the most widely circulated art
magazines in America.
In an essay written for a recent exhibition at Tony Shafrazi
Gallery in New York art world legend Walter Hopps compared
Williams to Edgar Allen Poe and Mark Twain for his creation of a
unique American vernacular.
There is so much
adolescent verve busting from the seams of Williams’ paintings
that it seems like a contradiction of terms to use the word mature
to describe his new work. But he has been exhibiting his
paintings for thirty years: In the 1970s he had an ongoing
one-person exhibition at the Brucker’s Movie World Cars of the
Stars and Planes of Fame Museum—now defunct. Brucker’s
museum was in Buena Park, just up the freeway from the Grand
Central Art Center in Santa Ana. Before these exhibitions,
Williams worked with legendary car and motorcycle designer and
innovator Ed “Big Daddy” Roth doing drawings, design work,
and coming up with flashy names for Roth’s creations. Shades
of these early experiences are still visible in Williams’
work, but there are complex layers of influences in his
paintings.
These influences
were most succinctly documented in a widely reproduced cartoon
that was used in the catalog for the 1987 group exhibition Bad
Influences at Otis Parsons (Los Angeles). Titled, GRAPHIC
INFLUENCES, the drawing features a caricature of Williams
painting on a tree stump with its root leading to blocked lists
of influences with titles that read: ACADEMIC ART (MODERN),
ACADEMIC ART (EARLY), ILLUSTRATOR PAINTERS, MOVIES & TV,
PULP MAGAZINES, QUESTIONABLE ESTHETICS, CARNIVAL MIDWAY ART,
PSYCHEDELIC ART, UNDERGROUND COMICX, COMICBOOK ART and HOTROD
& MONSTER T-SHIRT ART. Each heading contains a list of
influences: Salvador Dali, George Grosz, Max Beckman, Grant
Woods and Hieronymus Bosch are some of the obvious artists
listed; but the list includes Pablo Picasso, Delacroix,
Gericault, El Greco, Carvaggio, and Titian along with Maxfield
Parish, Frederic Remington; and Girly Magazines, Tattoo Art, and
Surfer Art.
One artist who is
not on the list is Gustave Courbet. Although the stylistic
connections are tangential, Williams reminds me of Courbet in
several ways. Like Williams, Courbet was dismissed by many
critics of his day because his paintings were considered too
common and didn’t address the fashionable issues of the
prevailing art world. In the mid-nineteen century when
Courbet’s paintings were rejected at the official Salon, he
simply created his own Salon exhibition adjacent to the
sanctioned exhibition. Courbet once said that art had to be
“dragged through the gutter” before it could be great art:
meaning that there was more truth in the streets of Paris than
behind the hallowed walls of the French Academy. It may seem odd
to compare Courbet to Williams since Courbet was a
realist—according to him the first and only realist—and
Williams’ paintings are unmistakably surreal. But Williams’
images and titles are distinctly about our time (which is
surreal). And like Courbet he strives to reveal underlying
truths about our reality.
One of the
primary themes in Williams’ oeuvre is his questioning of the
verity of experts and authorities: be it the scientist,
politician or art critic. By deconstructing and
reconceptualizing fables, folklore, history, myth and beliefs
Williams exposes cracks in the
truth and gives cause to question conventions. What is
perhaps most unsettling about his work is that he does not offer
pat rebuttals or solutions. His paintings and titles add up to
open-ended conundrums. He reinforces for us one of the most
disturbing and uncomfortable truths that we have had to wrestle
with at the end of the millennium: absolutes are not always
absolute.
Mike McGee,
February, 2001