I have a tendency to want to ignore images/media/people that are culturally over-saturated.  I am aware this can be just as bad as liking something just because everyone else does.  I am working on this problem, to the point where I end up challenging myself to like something, or least understand whether my aversion is legitimate or not…and what my reasons for said aversion actually are.  Such previous high-class examples are The Girls Next Door, Hannah Montana, and honestly, Beverly Hills 90210. Plus, life is much easier when you can find interest in the things you see everywhere.  This is also part of my reason for loving John Waters so much.  His life’s work is an extreme version of this; he takes the lowest of society and finds passion and interest within.   Ridiculous as this may be, I find this to be a valuable life s
kill.

Due to the aforementioned reasons, for a while I could not pay much attention to Pop Art.  I’d fine it aesthetically pleasing, but after seeing endless Warhol prints on just about anything, it becomes hard to look at it objectively.  I avoided an in depth look at pop art for some time, but my current bodies of work have forced me to change this stance.

Warhol's Marilyns

There’s the blatantly obvious, Marilyn Monroe.  Warhol’s portraits of Monroe, along with Jackie Kennedy, Judy Garland, and other tragic golden ladies,  allude to the pain and identification with the individuals, but with a firm level of removal.  It’s not exactly easy to put oneself in the same category as Marilyn Monroe etc, despite the humanity of these icons.  They are still icons, unattainable but we are still able to project our own associations.

Roy Lichtenstein’s Crying Girls series is drawn from distressed females in comics books,  thus making the pain of these both anonymous and universal.  Lichtenstein paints these modified comic panel pieces as individual images, and by taking out of the context he changes the meaning.  We are given very select clues on how and why these ladies are distressed.   Richard Prince demonstrated this point with his artist book, pairing up Lichtenstein’s girls with pulp-lady novel covers, completely redirecting the interpretation of said images even more.

With my Beverly Hills, 90210/Teen Trauma body of work, I am finding myself straddled between these two ends of the spectrum.  Brenda Walsh is a fictional tv character, yet the actress and the show are fairly recognizable.  At least, to the general public more identifiable than the specific ladies of Lichtenstein, but no where as epically recognizable as Jackie Kennedy or Marilyn Monroe. While most of can identify with some Monroean tragedy, distraught comic beautiful blonds, but it is Brenda Walsh that we see ourselves in.  She’s imperfect, she’s loved, she’s hated.  We can relive her ups and downs, break-ups and betrayals…..and she cries enough about life for all of us.   Brenda Walsh’s pain is our modern middle ground.

Brenda Walsh

(Also, just for fun. Let’s look at Britney Spears shaving her head again. )