Called America, America (July 19 - Aug. 15) — and originating long before the events of this past weekend — the show features large-scale mixed-media works by Seattle artist John Andro Avendaño.
“I grew up Hispanic … rooted in East Los Angeles,” Avendaño writes on his website. “Daily I was either in the shadows or lived adjacent to violence.”
At the same time, during his 1960s and ’70s upbringing, “anti-violence movements were a big part of the California scene in our Hispanic community,” he says. Avendaño sees his art as a continuation of these anti-violence efforts, a distress call to these less-than-united states.
In his America, America series, the stars and stripes are starting to disassemble — some nearly obscured by bullseyes. He writes that he began the series during the 2020 racial justice reckoning, when he discovered a stack of paper targets and sought to use them in his collage work.
With a nod to the iconic work of Jasper Johns (known for both his flags and his bullseyes), Avendaño created his own artistic take on violence past and present — one he hopes might serve as “a beautiful thing … an expression of healing.”
Another artwork that feels especially resonant in this cultural moment is currently hanging at the Frye Art Museum.
Stephanie Syjuco’s sheer black silk chiffon “Phantom Flag” drifts in the air of the rotunda as part of After/Images (through Sept. 8), another show that critiques America’s history of violence. “I see this flag as a shadow of itself, drained of that colorful promise,” Syjuco said at the press preview. It looks like a flag in mourning for its home nation.
In Georgetown, yet another new show proves timely — though sadly it seems art about gun violence is always timely in America. Trash Talking at Mini Mart City Park (through August 18) is a stunning collection of more than 100 cardboard-and-packaging sculptures by Vashon-based artist Michael Leavitt.
Colorful and tremendously clever, these works draw us in with a wink and a smile: a replica of a TV news camera made from Twix, Starburst and gummies boxes, with shiny candy logos visible; “Macintosh Killed the Public Phone Call,” an all-white, old-school pay phone made from Apple product boxes; high-top sneakers made from meticulously layered packaging from boxes of Reese’s peanut butter cups, LEGOs and various cigarette brands.
Gas nozzles and juice boxes bear the emblems of our incessant guzzling, from Rainier Beer to Hershey’s chocolate to Chevron oil.
There is a lot of humor here, but look closely and the story gets deeper and darker. In the title plaques accompanying the sculptures, Leavitt shares not just the type of product boxes he used — sourced largely from a neighborhood convenience store — but how many of the items each empty box constitutes: 16,000 cigarettes smoked, 800 plastic LEGO pieces, 420 ounces of Sprite.
The materials used in “Breathe,” a gas mask replica, represent 5,200 menthol cigarettes, four gallons of Mobil oil, 200 inhaler puffs and 60 COVID tests previously held in those boxes. These mounting numbers paint a discomfiting picture of American consumerism, addiction and ill health. And we haven’t even gotten to the gun wall yet.
A pistol replica made from a Skittles box is an homage to Trayvon Martin, shot while holding a bag of the multihued candy. In honor of the Virginia Tech mass shooting victims, Leavitt crafted a Glock from Marlboro cartons (the cigarette factory is also based in Virginia).
An AR-15 made from Disney product boxes marks the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School shooting in Florida. It’s pretty intense. And also an example of how powerful art can be when the medium is expertly matched with the message.
Trash Talking is one of the many public events officially sanctioned by the Seattle Art Fair (July 25 - 28), which for the eighth year will flood the Lumen Field Event Center with art makers, buyers and lookers. A boatload of Northwest galleries will have booths at the Fair; others are planning offsite events and exhibits.
I’ll write more about the Seattle Art Fair and concurrent shows in next week’s newsletter, so watch for my picks, and footwear suggestions (hint: sensible shoes!), for Seattle’s biggest visual art party.
