With Bus, the artist overstepped the lines of appropriation
by David E. Brown
It must have seemed a good idea.
As the bus pulled away, heading up Sixth Avenue, its back end
almost shouted, in bold, black type: "Don't look at me. Don't
laugh at me. Don't get too close. Don't bother me." And a bigger
slogan, white on a field of red: "Don't be a jerk."
Some kind of advertisement? One of those new, irony-laden spots,
like Sauza's "Life Is Harsh" tequila pitch? Or maybe a public
service announcement, like the New York City Transit Authority's
recent "be polite" campaign?
A little of both. Bus, a Public Art Fund project that ran between
midtown Manhattan and Queens last November, was the work of artist
Barbara Kruger, who wrapped a city bus bumper to bumper with her
trademark exhortations and a dozen or so lessons on freedom, politics,
celebrity, and power from Mary McCarthy, Thomas Mann, Courtney
Love, H.L. Mencken, and others.
Kruger gained fame in the 1980s with her innovative appropriation
of some basic advertising techniques--big image, straightforward
text, bold layout--in the service of art-cum-activism, exploring
politics, gender, consumerism, and other issues. Though her early
work was on paper, her art has always tried to be public, first
on the Spectacolor Board in Times Square and later on billboards
around town, posters across the country, and, finally, a big,
shiny bus.
So why did Bus seem so wrong? Part of the reason must be the lack
of novelty; the imperatives of the 1980s are just that. We haven't
necessarily gotten smarter, but one can only be spoken down to--even
through a thick veneer of ironic
distance--so many times.
With Bus, though, the artist's work stepped over the thin line
of appropriation: It actually became advertising. Sporting her
signature typographic style and numerous aphorisms, this was a
Barbara Kruger billboard, not a civics lesson. (She had two concurrent
gallery shows, though it's hard to tell which project came first.)
Like well-made propaganda, bus wraps--rolling billboards for everything
from soft drinks to Broadway musicals--are difficult to criticize.
"The greatest threat to freedom is the absence of criticism,"
read one Bus quote, from Nigerian writer and activist Wole Soyinka.
As the 40-foot-long behemoth lumbered by, it was hard not to feel
threatened. |
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