Last Days Of the Plague — Stephen Gibb, 36″ x 24″, oil on panel, 2020

The long history of art relating to plague can be traced from medieval times and the likes of Hieronymus Bosch to the irreverent doodling of pop surrealism art

After resisting the sort of automatic response that the year 2020 prompted—mainly as a result of the pandemic crisis of Covid-19, I finally relented.

There is only so much one can take with the onslaught of media and the reports that propagate fear and disseminate ignorance before you start to manifest a reaction. It was with fear and ignorance that this painting took root.

Basing the initial thoughts around the centrally positioned “troll under the bridge” I thought I could divide the painting into two halves, where the left represented fear and the right represented ignorance but that was just the launch pad.

A painting seldom blossoms from the core concept into a fully realised representation of that concept. It often transforms into something else as the idea incubates and I ponder the elements of the composition. This painting represents a prime example of that kind of deviation from the original whim—a transformation into something more ambitious with a broader scope of themes.

As well as the initial themes of ignorance and fear, the image now includes commentary on superstition, plague, decay, pollution, contamination and irresponsibility. Time to apply my brand of pop surrealism art to the painting

Breaking down the images

Safe as houses: What could be safer than isolation in your own home? The thing is, as we learned in 2020, you still need to interact with outsiders in the society and culture we have created. Bringing outside threat into the home is a concern and the fearful–looking house and house ablaze symbolizes that fear.

Protection: The prophylactic use of masks as protection from the virus is echoed in the plague-doctor crow and the deep-sea diving suit, both fearful enough to wear protective clothing but still threatened by contamination. The crow, and diver being attacked by the piranha were two of the first and original ideas. The crow tries to reinforce the crumbling wall oblivious to the poison gas dancing around his feet. The sun masks the smell of decay with a clothespin but the ineffective defence is futile against the underlying factor present in the “plague”.

The Plague: I wanted to represent the “plague” as a color and the antifreeze green or Mountain Dew yellow seemed perfect to symbolize it. Originally the source was to be from the troll, oozing from his nose and mouth, contaminating the water and by extension into the food and drink of the townspeople and leaching into the ecosystem as well. The locust, a symbol of plague, was an afterthought but was needed to balance the composition (as were the pumpkin, the bubbles and the Soviet-era missile)

I only drink when I’m drunk: The “villagers” are oblivious to the threats around them and they represent the ignorant aspect of my original concept. They drink to intoxication, without regard to what it is they are drinking and without any effort to protect themselves or others by wearing masks or socially distancing. This brash flouting of common sense leads to more contamination and perpetuates the vicious circle.

Always after me lucky charms: Ignorance can give birth to superstition. During the 17th century it was believed that plague was propagated by putrid air and that a beak-like mask filled with herbs, straw, and spices would offer protection—hence my plague-doctor crow. It was also believed that onions could ward off the infection!

It’s a gas: Playing off the miasma theory of plague propagation I used a poison gas canister attached to the locust to represent the idea of the plague being present in the air. Not only that but it is manifesting itself as a creepy clown that looms threateningly over the village. The mournful tree trunk also oozes a noxious gas that floats into the clouds, only to condense and return as a toxic raindrop.

Motherland of invention: Using the decaying Soviet-era missile was not a political statement. Being from the West, the threat during the Cold War was always the Soviet Union, so showing a relic from that era was reflexive. The idea of a neglected nuclear missile, rotting and contaminating the environment just seemed to fit with the vibe of the painting and as stated above, I needed something to compositionally balance the painting there.

Let’s get medieval: Our notion of plague often harken back to the Black Death and the stories that spring from that era. I wanted a little nod to that notion and the wooden cart, stone wall and cobblestones seemed to give the painting some medieval flavour.

I am the eggman: Yes, that’s me, recovering from a broken ankle while I painted this. I am vulnerable and frail as Humpty Dumpty, trying to ward off the plague by distancing myself from human contact (even further than usual).

Pop Surrealism Art: Yeah I know, WTF does that mean? It means people search the web for pop surrealism art and that ultimately brings them to me…

Back to Gallery

More about Stephen Gibb:

• Lowbrow Pop Surrealism Exhibit – Gag Me With a Toon

• Banksy Exhibit

• More On Pop Surrealism

• Trippie Redd Album Cover

The post Pop Surrealism Art, pandemic, plague and Covid-19? appeared first on Stephen Gibb.

pop surrealism peanut butter

Anyone who creates something remotely surreal owes a debt to Freud, for delineating the concept of the “unconscious” mind, Andre Bretton, for formalizing the surreal process into a movement and Salvador Dali for rising to the top as their darling poster boy.

It was Dali who captured in oil paint the highly rendered, dream-like imagery of the wandering mind into a form that was both disturbing and intoxicating. Dali spawned thousands of imitators, emulators and admirers, and love him or hate him, his influence today is undeniable. He may have borrowed from the godfather of the surreal, Hieronymus Bosch, but as one time card-carrying contemporary of Surrealism, he was the painter exemplar.

Persistence of Dali

I often hear comments from people that my work reminds them of Dali and I forgive them for being naïve but also understand that it’s just a convenient way to tag me. As a simple point of reference that helps them to share in some kind of “art” experience, I know I should be more tolerant. It used to make me insane but now I’ve become numb to it.

Dopamine

But really, why should I protest? People are making associations; connections, conclusions that may not be particularly original but at least they are exhibiting what essentially makes surrealism tick – the instinctive reflex for humans to seek meaning out of chaos. If this is how the “audience” makes sense of their perceptions, how does the artist encode their intentions?

There was a reason I mentioned Dali above because I am now going to use him and his ilk to demonstrate my thought process in explain how I came to paint the way I paint. Often asked, “Where do your ideas come from?” I can now attempt to expose some of that process in a few clumsy paragraphs.

When I first encountered the work of Bosch, Breughel, Dali, De Chirico, Man Ray, Ernst, Magritte and others, I felt an immediate connection. No one had to explain or guide me through the subtleties of what I experienced. It was like a puzzle that had no conclusion, but was fun to unravel. That unsettling sense of familiar and unfamiliar blended into one form, touching the matchstick to the fuse in my powder keg mind is what drew me to the surreal. Something dreamlike, something innocent and perverse, something lurking in the shadows whispering inaudible prompts to draw you in, spin you blindfolded and shove you back into the world.

The lovelorn and the cycle of lies

This is what art should be for me. Something that generates ideas, thoughts, and discussions and that just doesn’t pose as an answer. It should be embraced for the conceptual nudge it gives and not for some phantom truth that it strives for. It should be open-ended and mysterious, to open the floodgates of your reasoning and stir the colliding thoughts in a pot of egoless abandon. It should go with you once you leave it, and gnaw at your sleep. It should soak into your skin and enter your bloodstream. It should surprise you when it unexpectedly returns in your daily activity.

When confronted by surrealist art people are often hung up on meaning. “What does it mean?” is asked in haste and the question precedes the act of seeing. It also becomes the blind alley leading them away from self-discovery. To process without instruction is a liberty we should embrace. This is your chance to be creative with nothing more than a visual stimulus to get your cart moving. The elements of a surreal composition can set a tone and set you free to associate whatever idiosyncratic notions you may chance upon. There is no rulebook, map or schematic logic to follow. It’s up to you.

Facebook Fun

Revenge of the sycophant scorned – 2016

While Canada may be best known for hockey, maple syrup and poutine it also has a rich history in the arts and literature as being a detached point of perspective from which to do profound field studies on the United States. As the nearest sibling to America, Canada has been infiltrated by its culture, invaded by its advertising, amused and confused by its politics and saturated by its media. Where better than to observe the crucible of western culture and watch it bubble over…?

The post Surreal Life appeared first on Stephen Gibb.