by Anne Gabriel
There is a current phenomenon happening in the LA art world at the moment…and it’s terrible. There is an underlying assumption that if you are a male artist, white, and old, and happened to be making art in the 1960s and were friends with famous artists back then—but were never really quite super famous—that you must be an undiscovered gem that is worthy of an expansive solo show and/or retrospective over and over again. This assumption IS WRONG.
Why? Seriously, like why? If the art was any good these elderly white males would have made an impact long ago given all of the benefits stacked in the favor of white men making art from the 1950s and up. Instead, at the Pit’s current 10 year anniversary show, a full room was devoted to a survey exhibition of James Hayword’s works. Said works encompass mostly large flat panels painted with textured paint in various colors. It’s a celebration of his “mark making”. Why? Why are we celebrating an elderly white man’s boring abstract mark making and similarly why are we making space for another elderly white man’s stick/sculpture paintings?.
Most of the cheerleaders of said artists and works are themselves, white males, less aged, but most definitely over 35. The sense is that if they can make these elders “famous enough” by touting their 1960s art making heritage, then the sale of their artwork, might, just might pay the bills.
It’s a gross exploitation of bad work. None of it says anything. None of it pushes boundaries of the art historical cannon. It is boring work clothed in a pseudo history of importance based on who these artists knew. It’s not the artist’s fault though. It’s the fault of boring white guys doing boring curation.
The end.
Photo: Alan Schaffer 2024