As it becomes increasingly likely that the world will fall into the clutches of creationists, abstainers, religious fanatics and pitbulls in lipstick, Christopher Morris' exhibition My America at HOST Gallery offers a fascinating insight into the telling minutiae of the Republican Party campaign trail. Taken during his travels with the Bush and McCain campaigns, Morris presents a selection of images which are by turns horrifying, touching and tragic.
Take Republican Roundtable, which shows shadowy figures assembling like be-suited horsemen of the apocalypse, or Young Republicans – the bright-eyed, torch-carriers of the ideology (who bear an unnerving likeness to Nazi youth groups). Or Lipstick Lady, which looks beyond the immaculate face of the tenacious party 'pitbulls' by showing simply a make-up plastered jawline.
Morris' judgements and conclusions are far from subtle; an audience of rapt and adoring, blue-eyed Caucasians gazing longingly at the ominous insignia and charismatic arbiters of ideology makes Morris seem like the Leni Riefenstahl of the Republican Party, albeit with a strongly critical gaze. A piece called Blue Eyed Agent blatantly suggests the Aryan connotations of America's predominantly white party. A necessary comment perhaps, but, at times some of it seems a little contrived, and somewhat like shooting fish in a barrel: surely there is not one Democrat supporter who hasn't already drawn the same comparisons.
What would a Republican make of this exhibition? Would they find it flattering? Comprehend the subtle wit? Are the pictures an in-joke for scheming partisans? Or would they feel betrayed as the red white and blue blindfold is whipped away and a poignant truth is laid bare? It seems almost redundant showing these works in a gallery in Shoreditch, for however intrinsically and unfortunately our future is entangled with our fair-weather allies, the voters who need to see and unravel these images will not necessarily have the chance. It is an utter shame that Morris's pictures are not being, as it were, shouted from the rooftops.
The snide Private Space is a fantastic example of Morris' wit: 'suits' in a basketball court each fervently networking in their own acquisitioned space. But the exhibition's focus is not only on the sideshow of American politics; it also delves into the psyche of Americana, through the eyes of a country which cannot be fathomed and resists control under a single ideology. Immaculate agents juxtaposed against wild, endless fields, or working alongside the atypical, country-fried, trailer trash who are amongst their most fervent and disillusioned supporters; both suggest an arrogance and sense of autocracy about the man who wins the chance to conquer. Also apparent is the inherent struggle of wrestling a country to obedience and bringing polar opposites to a disgruntled compromise.
Barack Obama also features in the show; distinguishable only by the Democrat blue of his tie. When contrasted with Morris's picture Tie Man (a portrait of a faceless man with an immaculate 'Stars and Stripes' tie), Obama is not distinguished as the white knight of the campaign, but simply as the lesser of two evils. Reducing the campaign to its smallest details is surprisingly revealing and starkly honest, and in doing so, a narrative of dichotomy emerges. From the self congratulatory smugness of Gala Dinner, to the wholesome earnestness of Cake, or the shady corporate secrecy in W, Morris nimbly sidesteps the elephant in the room that is the war in Iraq to comment on a different kind of exploitation, that of America's own citizens.
Morris is an American himself and My America is a cautionary tale for a country sleepwalking into its own fate. This is best shown in Victory Lunch, a behind the scenes shot of a campaigner seen through a doorway in a flimsy chipboard backdrop. It's a sombre reminder that, in these times of war and a burgeoning economic crash, campaign promises are just that, a fake backdrop to inspirational yet empty speeches. This is a necessary and vital exhibition for anyone who leans even slightly left, and a stunning example of reportage coming under the art umbrella. When an exhibition inspires a spectrum of emotion and leaves you shaking your fists at the walls in rage, it restores your faith in the power of political art at least to articulate, if not change. And this is what makes My America unmissable.
Exhibition continues to 15.11.08.
Keen for more? See more about:
London Art
London Exhibitions
London Events
Add an event
Frieze Art Fair to launch new section for young galleries in 2012
Frieze have today announced details for the 2012 edition, their tenth art fair in London. Taking place...