2008 Woodie Awards
Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll: the art of David Hevel comes to DePauw, anamalizes celebs
By: Julie Rooney
Issue date: 11/2/07 Section: Features
- Page 1 of 1
"You can be smart about being stupid and shallow," said David Hevel at the opening reception to his Peeler show "Babes in the Woods." His work supports his claim.
Bejeweled taxidermy animals glare from their nests of faux-floral arrangements, plastic jewelry and fake fruit. From lions to dogs, these mongrels are strange combinations of glass eyes with eyelash extensions and pooling drool around snarling teeth. On top of this, each work references a pop celebrity who has fought their way into the public consciousness. Sexy Back, for instance, represents Justin Timberlake as a small black and white dog, perched precariously on a log decorated with leaves and small berries. His sad eyes, lack of ears and grinning pant reference Timberlake's sensitive reputation, to which Hevel adds off-kilter, flailing legs and an erect, pencil-thin penis.
The subtlety of Hevel's work falls into both art history and contemporary pop culture. Baroque and romantic foliage are immediately brought to mind by the overload of glistening grapes and gossamer stuffing, as well as the dramatically lit, dynamic poses that depict the celebrity at the most intense moment of Hevel's created fantasy. Hevel cites artists like Caravaggio as influences as well as an interest in "gross clumping."
Referencing pop culture's icons might appear shallow at first, but over time the refinement of his commentary begins to emerge. In a decadent and over-sexed culture, it is difficult to avoid vanity, vice and greed. By translating superstars into little yapping dogs, Hevel turns the focus on the viewers of pop culture instead of the icons themselves. It is only through the audience's desire for entertainment and exoticism that these animals were supported in the first place. To do this Hevel takes advantage of post-production, the theory that available cultural images are a credible fine art medium, and a way to make fresh, open-ended narratives.
Unlike his contemporaries, Hevel is not so much viciously condemning the star-viewer relationship as he is adding to the wicked enjoyment of the spectacle. Hevel creates culture's perfected beings, and then makes them flawed in a way that is interesting to the viewer. It is funny to the audience to see Beyoncé transformed into a drooling, grimacing Doberman, complete with afro and hoop earrings. Depicting Britney Spears' two boys as caged monkeys or Katie Holmes' silent scream as a baboon makes the viewers both cringe and laugh. Through his ability to personify sculpture, Hevel addresses pop culture commodity and identity as well as points at fine art, as if to ask, "Are we just here to entertain, anyway?"
Deliciously overdone and wildly creative, Hevel's show is a must-see on campus. In my three years at DePauw I have never seen such an engaging, exciting and cutting-edge show, and I highly encourage everyone to visit Peeler before it comes down Sunday.
Bejeweled taxidermy animals glare from their nests of faux-floral arrangements, plastic jewelry and fake fruit. From lions to dogs, these mongrels are strange combinations of glass eyes with eyelash extensions and pooling drool around snarling teeth. On top of this, each work references a pop celebrity who has fought their way into the public consciousness. Sexy Back, for instance, represents Justin Timberlake as a small black and white dog, perched precariously on a log decorated with leaves and small berries. His sad eyes, lack of ears and grinning pant reference Timberlake's sensitive reputation, to which Hevel adds off-kilter, flailing legs and an erect, pencil-thin penis.
The subtlety of Hevel's work falls into both art history and contemporary pop culture. Baroque and romantic foliage are immediately brought to mind by the overload of glistening grapes and gossamer stuffing, as well as the dramatically lit, dynamic poses that depict the celebrity at the most intense moment of Hevel's created fantasy. Hevel cites artists like Caravaggio as influences as well as an interest in "gross clumping."
Referencing pop culture's icons might appear shallow at first, but over time the refinement of his commentary begins to emerge. In a decadent and over-sexed culture, it is difficult to avoid vanity, vice and greed. By translating superstars into little yapping dogs, Hevel turns the focus on the viewers of pop culture instead of the icons themselves. It is only through the audience's desire for entertainment and exoticism that these animals were supported in the first place. To do this Hevel takes advantage of post-production, the theory that available cultural images are a credible fine art medium, and a way to make fresh, open-ended narratives.
Unlike his contemporaries, Hevel is not so much viciously condemning the star-viewer relationship as he is adding to the wicked enjoyment of the spectacle. Hevel creates culture's perfected beings, and then makes them flawed in a way that is interesting to the viewer. It is funny to the audience to see Beyoncé transformed into a drooling, grimacing Doberman, complete with afro and hoop earrings. Depicting Britney Spears' two boys as caged monkeys or Katie Holmes' silent scream as a baboon makes the viewers both cringe and laugh. Through his ability to personify sculpture, Hevel addresses pop culture commodity and identity as well as points at fine art, as if to ask, "Are we just here to entertain, anyway?"
Deliciously overdone and wildly creative, Hevel's show is a must-see on campus. In my three years at DePauw I have never seen such an engaging, exciting and cutting-edge show, and I highly encourage everyone to visit Peeler before it comes down Sunday.
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