Caricature: Exploring the Dark side

[Victor]

Caricature: Exploring the Dark side

by Victor Pross

“I have been drawing since I was a little kid.”

It is the classic artist cliché. You hear it whenever you hear artists speak of their backgrounds. What is often overlooked is that all kids draw. It isn’t until we’re older, facing more of life’s pressures and submitting to the restrictions and inhibitions of the adult world, that most children drop this outlet for creative expression. It’s those who don’t quit that usually become artists of one sort or another. Drawing was the one area I excelled in as a child, so I wasn’t about to give it up.

I always enjoyed drawing people. As a child, I was inclined from the very start to “twist the divine human form into silly putty shapes” as one reviewer put it. Of course, I didn’t know that the name of the art form I was attracted to was called: CARICATURE.

The art of caricature may be older than we will ever know. The same schoolboys, who kept clay tablet diaries in ancient summer, 4000 years ago, might have doodled pictures of their teachers in the sand. The tradition of that little boy has continued. It is this same mischievous boy—that being me--who moves it forward.

My motive for creating caricature art hasn’t change from the days of my childhood. It has only matured and expanded. As a child, I observed the adults moving about in the world and I captured it all—in admittedly crude snap shots—absorbing what I took to be the essence of reality: a surreal carnival of mostly preposterous beings, stumbling in the dark of their own follies.

What I saw were archetypes, caricatures.

Caricaturing was my way of coping with what I took to be a troubling reality. This “troubling reality” still haunts me to this day. It is the light in me, the good within me, that wishes to expose the dark side of the world—to alert the viewer of it—by ridiculing it in caricature. It is not an exploration of any dark side in me. It is an external exploration, not internal.

Critics responded to my art as though it were sui generis, a self created eccentric without discernable origins. The opposite is the truth. The origin of my art is the culture itself. I paint and draw as if I were an alien intelligence from a distant realm. I contemplate my own human species with a bemused objectivity, as thought I was encountering them for the first time like David Bowie’s Ziggy. I am witness to the world around me, and my visual comments are, as they were when I was a child, reactions to the people I encounter.

I was part of a generation that has absorbed the powerfully seductive influences of the mass media. In my youth, I absorbed all the noise and images of popular culture with the whole spectacle spinning around me in a Max Reinhardt Cinerama. It is the culture, the people in it, the values it enshrines, the whole barrel of rotten apples that is the target of my approach to caricature. It’s no wonder I chose this art form to capture the marvelously ludicrous people of this world.

Given the above, and by their nature, my caricatures cannot come out decorous and beautifully detached: they must be, and are, charged with fear, horror, moral outrage, humor, and irreverence. You need an extraordinary gift for humor to laugh away all the perilous things in this world. After all, the word “caricature” comes from the Italian word “caricatura” which means LOADED PICUTRE.

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Many people regard caricature as a benign—even childish—indulgence. However, caricature art has been known to get artists in trouble. Daumier and his boss, Charles Philipon, both got jail time for lampooning the French king. Philipon published a weekly newspaper called La Caricature. Within a few months, he was arrested for defaming Louis-Philippe with a cartoon in which the king’s head was drawn as a pear. Philipon submitted the drawing to the jury in his defense, explaining: “Is it my fault if His Majesty looks like a pear?” Of course, the actual reason why the French King was caricatured in such an insulting manner was not because of his physical attributes, but because he was such a pompous twit.

Like the great caricaturists before me, I strive to mix wit and humor in my art—visually, not verbally. Ridicule and exaggeration are almost always present in the work. I admit to targeting human vices, follies, abuses. This may very well sound so very negative, but there is an implicit moral code being exerted. As Philip Roth said, “Satire is moral outrage transformed into comic art.”

My caricature is a response to an age that scoffs at virtue and nobility, that turns men and women into adversaries, that tells us, through the dictates of “political correctness,” what we are to think and say, that tells us that to be good is to be "weak." My art also aims to expose and undo all false gods—even wannabe gods—including the white blank sycophants that circle around them. Call it a romantic’s disgust with the sham of a cynical age—a cynicism that is targeted at all the wrong things: love, ability, truth and goodness.

Like my caricaturing predecessors, I do my share of sniping at the false gods, and I readily confess to tossing numerous bricks at human ugliness. In fact, I have taken up arms against the modern era—its silly sacred cows, its unholy terrors, its pomposity, stupidity and malice. As a result, many critics have called me a “curmudgeon” but I don’t care for this designation. It implies that there’s some wrong with social and cultural criticism, which is the calling for any educated person. No, I am not an “amusement park” caricature artist who whips off a fast marker sketch for a few bucks. This is one reason why, among other setbacks, caricature art has been dealt a deadly blow by art historians and by art critics. There has been a battle among caricaturists and the snob "art Guardians."

There’s a wonderful essay by George Orwell called “Why I Write,” in which he says that every great writer is motivated by two things: one, the desire to show off. And two: the habit of noticing unpleasant facts. This could very well be true of caricaturists of my ilk.

Many of my targets are, I admit, as broad as a barn door and just as easy to hit. Why not? What I try to accomplish is to distill the essence of the offending phenomenon into well chosen images, and give those images an ironic twist that will leave the viewer chortling inwardly with satisfaction. But along with savage indignation, you will also often find a playful and indulgent wink. It’s not all dark.

The playful and mischievous child in me has never died, but he does fight with the angry and frustrated idealist that also resides in me. If you ever feel demoralized, overwhelmed, appalled or befuddled by the times we all inhabit—as I am. I’m simply trying to give a visual voice to those feelings.

Jean Chrétien George Orwell –

Jack NicholsonSalvador Dali

Edited May 31, 2007 by Victor