1. Sensational Shit
A detailed exploration of Andrès Serrano’s most recent show, ‘Shit,’Yvon Lambert Gallery, Sept. 4th
–
Oct. 4th
, 2008.
By Adam Laten Willson, White Hot Magazine, 2008
Now I can say I've seen everything. Here I stand before 18 enlarged, high-resolution
photographs of animal feces, inspecting them for artistic value, puzzling out their meaning.
I am of course talking about Andrès Serrano’s latest show entitled ‘Shit,’ which opened at the
Yvon Lambert Gallery (550 W. 21st
St.) on Sept. 4th
and will continue to be shown until Oct 4th
.
The 18 photographs (4-5 on each wall) are all of the same dimension (88” X 72”) and evenly
spaced from one another. The surface of each print is veneered in acrylic and the high-resolution film
captures the gritty texture and detail of each subject in a startling way. Serrano employs a chromogenic
printing process which provides for the rather kitschy spectral backgrounds of most of the pieces. At
the base of each photo to the right is its title in a cream-colored type set against the bare black paste-
board of the wall. The pieces merely present themselves with little to no advertisement or fanfare.
Each photo, however, is as unassuming and unsensational as the presentation. Most of the
subjects are centered in their frames and with a few exceptions, the primary range of focus is exactly
where it should be. Though these focal points reveal with amazing clarity some viscerally penetrating
textures, without fail, enormous parts of each photo are purposely out-of-focus (in almost all cases, the
edges of each subject are blurred, but huge patches of cloudiness also appear elsewhere). This
intentional tension between focused and unfocused gives the impression that most of the items are
coming and in and out of being – in and out of consciousness. The technique, however, seems to be
applied rather haphazardly in the series and finally, I find it much more obfuscating than beatifying.
‘Bull Shit’ is perhaps the most cleverly titled piece, yet surely the most difficult to look at, since almost
the entire thing is out-of-focus!
The background of each piece displays streaks and splotches of vibrant Technicolor, sometimes
in rainbow scheme, sometimes duochrome, and sometimes only a single color such as red or ochre.
These backgrounds make the turds seem more like toys being advertised in a mail-order catalogue
rather than specimens of fine art. Very few of these backgrounds actually complement the fecal matter
visually. Instead, they contrast against it quite garishly.
Throughout the series, Serrano plays with meaning and language in a variety of ways. Mostly,
he plays merely cheeky conceptual games with his audience, though sometimes his games are a little
more visually-based. ‘Self-portrait’ (a shot of the artist’s shit), for example, is hung next to a photo of
dog poop. The two look remarkable similar in texture, shape, and color. Likewise, ‘Sheep Shit,’ which
includes in its forefront a terribly unfocused flower, is set beside ‘Chicken Shit,’ in which the only part
in focus is the chicken feather in the foreground.
Some of the pieces also tend toward the ironic. For example, ‘Sheep Shit’ is actually one of the
most unsheepish of the photos with its vibrant colors and overwhelming design. The title ‘Holy Shit’
relies on a triple-entendre. Of course, Holy Shit is a well-known colloquialism, but the title also plays
on the fact that this particular specimen is especially perforated by numerous holes – thus, it can be
called a hol-e-y shit. Also, the title is probably meant to remind the viewer of Serrano’s career-long
obsession with religious images and icons (a task which shouldn’t prove very difficult since Serrano’s
internationally infamous piece, ‘Piss Christ,’ first exhibited in 1989, is emphatically displayed in a
small room adjoining the gallery). Truth be told, if one strains his eyes ever so much, he can almost see
in ‘Holy Shit’ the vague shape of a cross. Isn’t that something?

2. While all the droppings are presented more as trinkets or artifacts than as works of art, there are
some which are especially so. The only reason why ‘Bull Shit’ is of any interest at all is that one can
supposedly see in it the form of a bull (since it is also, as the title affirms, a piece of actual bull shit, are
we supposed to wonder at an animal depicting himself artistically through his own feces?) The pun on
a commonly used vernacular phrase is so obviously dispensable and irrelevant to the piece, it’s hardly
worth mentioning. No, there’s only one reason it ought to provoke our interest: it serves as an uncanny
example of simulacrum. But the general problem with simulacra is that while one can often see what’s
meant to be seen, he can also see so many other things. I personally had a difficult time trying to find
the bull in the photo and when I finally did, my discovery felt flat. It seemed the cheap trick of an
optical illusion. Nothing more.
A few of the pieces conveyed their meaning directly in a visual sense and required no
thoughtful analysis at all. Something about the form of “Bad Shit” immediately instills in the audience
an intense fear and anxiety. Its figure resembles some gaping maw of a beast of the apocalypse. ‘Heroic
Shit’ also feels heroic in itself. In his recent Village Voice interview (VOL. LIII, NO. 35), Serrano
claims that this piece ‘looks like the raising of the flag in Iwo Jima.’ For my own part, I saw a
beleaguered human form climbing to the top of a precipitous cliff after a long trek through the mud. At
any rate, there is clearly an epic and triumphant quality that arises from the piece itself.
On the other hand, I spent a considerably long moment in front of ‘Good Shit,’ wondering what
was so damned good about it. It’s nothing more than a diffused shit-horizon in front of a washed-out
rainbow background. Maybe the only reason why it was good is that Serrano so fervently wished it to
be. If it were up to me, I would have titled this piece ‘Bland Shit,’ and its sister-photo, which he called
‘Landscape Shit,’ should've been called ‘Slightly Less Boring Shit.’
‘Freudian Shit’ is a sloppy and obvious title. This photo is of two pieces of crap that come
together at top and bottom, and in the middle admit a small opening between them. This aperture seems
to invite the audience to go through it as if it were a train-tunnel or a hole in the wall. I initially thought
of Jonathan Harker’s train diaries (Coppola's images burned in my mind) and hence of journeys in
general. To call my attention to the fact that the subject also looks like a vagina was, I felt, a childish
and offensive thing to do – not to mention, dismissively unpoetic. Especially since I get the impression
that it was meant more as a sucker-punch than as an intriguing commentary on the human mind’s
common tendency to sexualize just about everything. Why do I suspect such a thing? Let’s just say that
nowhere in the collection do I see the sort of depth one would need to make any sort of meaningful
sociological statement. Well at least, Serrano has the excuse that he’s not a philosopher or
anthropologist but an artist? But is he an artist?
As I’ve already said, most every piece is uneventfully and quite painfully centered. Because of
this, the show looks more like a documentation than a manifestation of artistic vision. These are the
sort of photos I can imagine being entertained by the editors of National Geographic – though
eventually rejected by them.
It might be said that the only artistic techniques demonstrated in the show are 1) his fussy
business of focusing, and 2) his candy-colored backgrounds. If the concepts behind the pieces are
interesting at all (and that's a big if), they’re interesting on a critical level, not an artistic one. All that
Serrano has demonstrated is that he can rotate a focus ring, frame a subject, and push a button, and that
he apparently has no taste as far as color is concerned. He has not shown himself to be an artist. Much
of his other work is still fairly dull artistically, but at least it’s cleaner, more polished, more direct. What
went wrong when he tried to photograph shit, I wonder?
The most polished of this new series (and consequently, my favorite) was ‘Fly Shit,’ which
displays a triangular mound of dung on the apex of which a fly is perched, and from the top there
descends what looks like a flag (probably a leaf) – the image that first comes to mind is De Chirico’s
flagged towers, and I begin to think of towers in general and specifically of the Tower of Babel and
other expressions of human virtuosity (mythical and real), and then there’s the fly – time-worn

3. harbinger of death and disease – crawling atop humanity’s greatest achievements. Unlike many of the
other shits on display, this shit looks more like soil or rock. There is no shine to it – instead, it looks
dead and decrepit. The fly appropriately enough seems poised in an expectant and vivacious manner.
All this comes through, however, not because of any grand artistic aspiration on Serrano’s part (he
more or less leaves it alone stylistically). It’s rather because he has developed over the years a technical
skill in photography – it’d be strange if after all this time he hadn’t. This is partly what makes for a
good artistic photographer but certainly not all of it. Otherwise, there would be no difference between a
photojournalist or a geological cataloguer and an artistic photographer – there obviously is a difference.
So far, I’ve expressed my opinions of the overall conceptual value of the show. In sum, the
concepts are either lacking or sloppily applied, more cheap than deep, and rarely flushed out in any
detail. Since Serrano pays so little attention to aesthetic concerns, and since he is ostensibly much more
of a conceptual artist than anything else, the fact that his concepts fail to provoke any worthwhile
critique or discussion should be enough to dismiss his ‘Shit’ as just another tasteless expression of pan-
American mediocrity. Although, we would be remiss to be so hasty, since the greater sociological and
cultural context of the show has yet to be discussed. Perhaps, in such a discussion we will find a proper
defense for his work.
In an interview with Big Red and Shiny last year, Serrano claimed that he doesn’t ‘have
strategies, the work is not intellectual. It has a social conscious [I believe here he means
consciousness], but it's not meant to be intellectual…[People] read all kinds of things into it’ Surely, he
can’t help but understand, however, that people are compelled to intellectualize and moralize his work
because of the content. One can’t make a career of photographing blood, urine, feces, ejaculate, mensa,
corpses, and people of all ages engaged in various sexual acts without inviting all kinds of intellectual
critique. He may not intend to create intellectual work, but he has certainly chosen to work with
subjects that spark critical controversy.
Having lived and worked among the political and controversy-minded art scene of 1980’s New
York, he has to be aware of the sort of effect his work is bound to have on his audience. My suspicion
is that he really does intend to question the limits and limitations of art with his work – or rather, follow
in the trend of that question. If not, he probably wouldn’t have consistently returned to shocking and
trying themes. ‘Can shit be beautiful?’ may be the question of this season. Before, it was: ‘Is
Pornography Art?’ or before that: ‘Can one find sanctity in sacrilege?’As soon as anyone begs
questions like these, he enters into an intellectual discussion with his audience. There’s no way around
it.
Unfortunately for Serrano, however, these questions and questions like them have become so
dated and redundant. From the commercial art of Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein to the dubious
pornography of Robert Mapplethorpe to the overtly political art of Hans Haacke, Americans of the last
few decades have experienced no shortage of artists trying to raise our awareness through the use of
controversial subjects and styles. Some of them have posed interesting questions about the state and
fate of art and human communication. And definitely these questions have initiated further debate
about what role art can play in society. But now merely reiterating these initial questions (which some
artists like Serrano are still doing) is like uselessly affirming a status quo that’s long been established. I
will give Serrano the credit that when ‘Piss Christ’ was first exhibited, the piece was still more or less
prevalent to the culture of its time. But now he is simply restaging his former obsessions in a time and
culture that is aching to move past them.
Ideally, I see Serrano’s new photo series as nothing more than a transitory step along the
continuous stairway of art’s evolution. In the last few decades in this country, there seems to have been
a steady decline in artistic vision alongside a growing obsession with mere conceptualism and
sociological commentary. In some cases, art has so degenerated that it barely seems to satisfy its name.
My hope is this: the more artists like Serrano drag art through the mud of mediocre conceptualism, the
more obvious it will become that art must be gradually returned to its former exalted state.

4. My overall impression of Andrè Serrano’s new show, ‘Shit’: ‘Yes, it certainly is, isn’t it? It’s the
sort of shit that every artist at some time or another must wade through to get to the really good stuff.
Unfortunately, it seems too many artists get stuck in the bog and are never again seen to emerge.’