In recent years, a select group of galleries and websites have begun the important work of rescuing the unjustly neglected genre of “Bad Art” from oblivion. Institutions such as The Museum of Bad Art in Massachusetts and the Institute for the Preservation of Bad Art in West Yorkshire are dedicated to the collection and display of art works that would otherwise fall beneath the radar of aesthetic taste. A glance at the paintings which fill these collections demonstrates that, in spite of the preponderance of anatomically incorrect Elvis Presley portraits, there are as many kinds of bad art as there are colours in the Lucky Charms rainbow.
But what is “Bad Art” and how can we distinguish the really bad from the only somewhat awful? Any serious student or collector in the field wants to be sure they are concerned with the baddest of the bad. Let’s have a look at some of the generally accepted criteria.
Many examples of bad art are poorly executed. Shoddy design, crude drawing and garish colour are hallmarks of the truly bad. Sarah Irani’s “Mama and Babe” is a perfect example, with its blue lips, green hair and mad, staring red eyes. The bad art connoisseur is faced with one difficulty - this may be a perfectly naturalistic representation of a face-painting episode gone horribly wrong. Moreover, in spite of the nauseating hues, the content - a touching affection between mother and child - is difficult to thoroughly condemn.
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The reverse applies to Timothy Mensching’s “Return to the Sea.” Here the theme is execrable: in a woeful attempt to modernize the classical motif of Venus’ birth, the painter has included bikini marks, suggesting that the real subject is “Return to the Solarium.” And yet the academic skill acts as a mask of quality which conceals this work’s true badness.
The bad-o-meter registers far higher when unquestionably bad painting skills are combined with bad content, as in Donna Davis’ “Sad Dog with Hat Crying in Beer Mug.” The crude delineations of fur, froth and feather are compounded by the absurd subject. Even if dogs could cry, under what circumstances would they dilute their tears in a mug of cold beer?
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The marriage between poor painting skills and criminal or base motives has led to some bad art classics. Ryan D’s “Boy Killing Policewoman” depicts a young man shooting a female police officer in the back of the head. If the unconvincing perspective and projectile brain fragments were not enough to make this a masterpiece of bad art, the fact that the work earned its young author a felony terrorist threat conviction in an American court should be taken as compelling proof.
If the evidence of Jack Kevorkian’s work is anything to go by, the ultimate in bad art would seem to require a mixture of ethical, legal, and aesthetic offence. Famous as the convicted ‘Dr Death’ who assisted in the termination of seriously ill patients, Kevorkian has whiled away years in prison producing works such as “Very Still Life.” This gruesome picture, with its radiant orchid pushing through the gaping eye socket of a laughing skull, has all the charm of a freshly applied pornographic tattoo in a biker’s armpit. Kevorkian shows us that truly bad art involves far more than poor drawing or livid colour: it requires the careful combination of repugnant themes and chocolate-box triteness. Don’t be surprised if the next military invasion of a Middle East city involves mass distribution of Kevorkian’s paintings as part of a new and terrifying campaign of “shock and awe.”
