Using Humor in Art

New Arrivals 2019 from September 11th to October 20th, 2019 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Fiona Yang

Art has always been funny, and often in the darkest times. Dadaism, for example, was an art movement that occurred right before and continued during World War I. Dadaism embodies the absurdity and existentialism of the time. Dadaist artists were disillusioned. Many had tried to experiment with new mediums and styles of art in the period before the war, to which public response had been dismissive, if not scornful. Dadaist artists cited repressive social structures and the unquestioned pressure to conform as reasons for this backlash to their art.

Artists then turned their attention to the war. World War I was the first war in which trench warfare and devastating advances in weaponry were employed, leading to casualties never seen before in warfare. Dadaist artists once again cited repressive, conformist values, but this time as causes for the war, arguing that people bought into corrupt and nationalistic politics without question. Dadaist art emerged as an attack on “rational thought” – the type of overly logical and reasoned thinking that had suppressed art and allowed disasters like World War I to happen. 

The purpose of Dadaism, then, was individualistic, absurdist expressionism as a way to provoke thought in the general public. Artists found a way to do this through humor. Humor has always been an accessible medium. Art that is funny catches people’s attention and makes them laugh, which in tduchamp fountainurn allows them to feel more open and reflective about the work. A Dadaist example of humor would be Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain from 1917. At first glance, it is a urinal with a name printed on it. At second glance – perhaps influenced by the locational context of an art gallery, or by an informational plaque – it becomes art. This dichotomy is funny! It also, however, allows you to think more deeply about the piece: what makes it art? How has it been elevated from its original, lowly position as a urinal? What was the “rational” thought process that led you to conclude it was art? 

These conceptual questions are what Dadaists wanted us to ask when looking at their art, but humor is the vehicle that drives us to ask in the first place. If not for the humor inherent in this piece, it is very possible that it would not have the historical significance it has in the art world today.

Another contemporary example of humorous art hangs in Stamp Gallery today. 

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Noel Kassewitz’s Rococo Remastered: Sunset on the Empire is the perfect contemporary complement to Dadaist artwork. Rococo Remastered is a raft that Kassewitz actually puts to use in the Potomac River, as proved in the piece’s accompanying video documentation. The video’s backing track is a hilariously upbeat song that is distinctly at odds with the darker themes of the work. While it’s funny to see Kassewitz try to paddle on this raft in the Potomac River, the work is actually trying to communicate a serious, deeper message about climate change and revolution. Kassewitz’s purpose in making this piece was to inject humor into climate change and the rise of sea levels, and therefore encourage more people to think about the subject. There is a definite parallel between the existentialism of World War I and current nihilistic, existential attitudes towards climate change. 

Additionally, Kassewitz embodies the idea of revolution into her work with her use of “millennial pink.” Pink was a very common color used in Rococo-period art, and the Rococo period directly preceded the French Revolution. Kassewitz, by using “millennial pink,” observes another type of revolution on the way – perhaps one that will redirect our thinking on climate policy, or about art. That hint towards a “revolution” is also directly paralleled by the Dadaists’ revolutionary, incendiary thinking on individualism and expression. 

In the end, both Kassewitz’s piece and Dadaist art is brought together across time by the humor they use to provoke thought about their respective contexts. Kassewitz uses humor to make climate change more accessible; Duchamp used it to question the purpose of art and the rationality of thought. Humor is and always has been a universal medium.

Noel Kassewitz’s work is included in New Arrivals 2019 at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from September 11th to October 20th, 2019.

Vivo en America

New Arrivals 2019 from September 11th to October 20th, 2019 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Marjorie Antonio

I live in America. That is what Karlo Andrei Ibarra’s work Continental declares in bright neon blue. As a person who immigrated to the United States as a child, I found Ibarra’s Continental to be a particularly bold piece. The use of neon as a medium may be one of the best ways to present that statement. It is an unforgiving, bull-horn loud, daring-to-be-noticed, icy blue. The simple declarative statement is only three letters; the form taught in elementary level Spanish. However, if you truly consider the history of migration, displacement, identity, and globalization, it is certainly impressive how his work speaks volumes in just three words.  

While Ibarra prompts us to question what living in America means, I deconstructed his piece with each neon word: What does “vivo” mean, what does “en” reflect, and what truly is considered “America”? 

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“Vivo” – derived from the Latin vīvere means to live, to be alive. While the concept is similar between the two definitions, the connotation of just being alive versus living reflects the struggles of immigrants, the work that must be found to survive and to live comfortably. “En” – meaning in – questioning what inclusion really means. Ibarra captures the current political argument of exclusion versus inclusion and im/migration. While many universities and workplaces across the U.S. are championing the initiative to have more diverse and inclusive spaces, unfortunately, multicultural representation or acceptance is not often seen on the federal level, whether be in immigration policies, ICE raids, Supreme Court decisions, and executive orders. Another component of Ibarra’s work is the very definition of America. Does that include North America (such as Canada and Mexico), Central and Latin America, or South America? Yet, the colloquial definition of America only includes the United States of America and very much excludes any others. The geographic connotation of America is perhaps one of the most interesting questions that Ibarra offers for the viewer to consider. To say “I live in America” almost never begets more questions, just the common understanding of America’s borders and distinct culture.

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I found Continental to be one of the most striking in Stamp Gallery’s “New Arrivals 2019” exhibition, which is a student-curated collection as part of the University of Maryland’s Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP). I am particularly impressed by the cohesiveness of the current show since all of the artwork transverses multiple mediums, yet, the messages that the pieces convey are in-conversation with one another. Continental, in particular, spoke to me about the millions of immigrants that currently reside in the United States, and the work adjacent to it, Lester Rodríguez’s 3,180 KM, represents the length of the border between the United States and Mexico. Borders, whether they keep things in or out, is part of the vocabulary of this collection. 

Ibarra’s Continent is so much more than three neon words; it is a defiant statement of the body restrained by imaginary borders, by anti-immigrant laws, by what America is considered versus what it actually is. It is the voice of the many people who take pride in their residency, of the life they have crafted and toiled for, resounding in neon lettering, in a language that will soon be the most spoken in the world. I can hear the voices sing: vivo en america.

Karlo Andrei Ibarra’s’s work is included in New Arrivals 2019 at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from September 11th to October 20th, 2019.