Phoenix Art: A Case Study

There are two ways to think about Phoenix in terms of art. We're either coalescing, or it's a free for all. We're in a place where we've yet to establish a solid identity, but not quite old enough to pick one. Our environment is still shaping it's identity for this century. The outlying suburbs are unremarkable and strip-mall laden. The historical districts are only marginally older then the population; and the urban centers are so new that their relevance to the world of art in the long term has yet to be decided. We have the market, but it doesn't know what it wants. We have an influx of discriminating patrons who are hungry for good art. We have numerous independent groups of artists all working to promote their art and bring it to the public. What we don't have yet is cohesion.

We've had board meetings, panels, events, fundraisers, and talks. Grants have been issued and gallery space keeps getting filled. Yet it seems the general impression is that something is still missing. Something is still keeping Phoenix from developing an identity. The boards and councils have talked about how to help the arts community flourish, the artists talk amongst themselves about how to market and sell their art, but there is little talk about the art comparatively. If we want to compete on a national stage, we need to start elaborating about relevance, meaning, and the dreaded collective identity.

Phoenix is on the verge of an artistic growth spurt, so it's very important that artists get together to determine that identity. What are going to be our defining ideas? What is our art saying louder than anything else? We need to remember that as we move forward into developing a national identity that pervasive themes and continuity will grow in importance. Artists should continue to make their art with the door closed, but if we are to garner more national attention collective identity is going to be a factor in how art in Phoenix is discussed.

In that spirit, I've talked with local artists about Phoenix, and everyone perceives our city more or less similarly. Our artists are frustrated by corporatism. They feel constrained by the bland beige sameness of our housing and strip malls. There is a strong sense of feeling small and faceless in a sea of other artists all vying for the attention of sprawling cliques of galleries and organizations. This is art in Phoenix right now.

"The East Valley is the land of Bland-burbs." Said Photographer Joy Carrey to me via e-mail, "Cookie cutter homes fill neighborhoods bordered by strip malls, Walmarts, and Starbucks."

Ms. Carrey's opinion, if I can extrapolate, is somewhat bleak and her photography follows in appropriate industrial fashion with pictures of scantily clad girls in gas masks. I suppose that one could make a case for masks being a statement about the loss of individual identity in society. I don't think that was intentional but it is a reasonably common theme in local galleries. Other variants on the theme seem to be manifesting with faceless figures or figures with obscured and anonymous faces. I've seen that crop up a lot in Ryan Benham's stretched and distorted forms. They're all conspicuously faceless, and that's not a point without merit our sprawling city.

Benham also uses caricature rather heavily, which is another common theme among Phoenix artists. Consider JW Miller's Dektown series. The series is work of fiction on a par with concept albums in the music industry, which provokes interesting questions about how our artists comment on the world around them, but the main point here is their caricaturized style. They're not realism, but far from surrealism. The Dektown series could almost be called parody or archetype.

We're also seeing lots of vivid color, perhaps as a rejection of our monotone landscape. If we use those qualifications, there are countless artists working along similar lines throughout the Valley. Laraine Kaizer's exhibit at the Paisley Violin is both surreal and vividly colorful; Provoke magazine's visual section prominently displays several artists using fictionalized and surreal caricature, as do a significant number of the artists who have pieces at Art One. The examples are too numerous to list in detail, my apologies if I left you out.

So as a start, I would propose that the styles which seem to be coming to the forefront in the art of Phoenix at this point are caricature and surrealism as social commentary, though one may be an extension of the other. It's also apparent that Phoenix art involves vivid use of color not so much because individual colors are used to convey meaning, but more significantly as a rebellion to a perceived lack of color in our surroundings. Most importantly, these ideas seem to be arising from groups of artists that are working relatively independent of each other, so I think it's fair to say that we've got the beginnings of a way to discuss Phoenician art as a category. This is not, of course, the be all and end all of what art in Phoenix is or will be, but we have to start somewhere and I've yet to see this type of public discourse occur in any meaningful sense.

As far as subject is concerned, we seem to be moving in a direction that suggests a frustration with sameness and homogeny. That may be partly attributable to our landscape, but perhaps partly because we are so close to moving up on the national stage that our artists are struggling with the conflict between individual and collective identity. Perhaps one could say lack of identity as identity, which is a little post-structuralist but it is noticeable and one could make a case for it. We're also seeing including use of color that suggests a rejection of the monotone color scheme of suburban landscapes. As we move into the summer and things slow down local artists will start working more intensively on building up pieces for fall when things pick up again. Whether or not these themes continue as Phoenix's art identity evolves will be an important issue for all of us.