Check out the photos we took at the Brooklyn Bowl poster show. Click here…
The Art of Moonalice
An exhibit of Rock Posters created for the band Moonalice.
Moonalice is a band that commissions a poster for every gig and gives them away for free. Since the band’s formation in 2007, Moonalice has produced a unique series of almost 550 original gig posters with artwork from over 20 artists.
Moonalice posters feature artwork from many of the legendary poster artists of the psychedelic 60′s as well as today’s top rock poster artists. Moonalice is a band that lets poster artists do what they do best – make art! Unencumbered by standard constraints, Moonalice posters are as diverse as the artists who create them.
On Sunday, October 28, 2012, Moonalice proudly presents their 2nd poster show at the Brooklyn Bowl. The full series of Moonalice posters will be on display and available for purchase at this FREE East Coast event. Many Moonalice poster artists will be attending the event in-person. The poster show opens at noon, Moonalice’s concert will follow the poster show in the evening. Join the event on Facebook!
SUNDAY – October 28, 2012
Doors open at Noon!
Artists in attendance:
Wes Wilson • Alexandra Fischer
David Singer • Stanley Mouse
Chris Shaw • John Mavroudis
Dennis Larkins • Dave Hunter
Dennis Loren • John Seabury
Chuck Sperry • Wendy Wright
Carolyn Ferris • Gary Houston
Darrin Brenner • Winston Smith
Lee Conklin • Lauren Yurkovich
George and Patricia Sargent
Also featuring artwork by:
Ron Donovan • Claude Shade • Grace Slick
BROOKLYN BOWL 61 Wythe Avenue, Brooklyn, NY
It was a dark and stormy night in Berkeley where I was attending a conference of social scientists (who were neither). To avoid a fatal attack of boredom four of us slipped out of a post-dinner panel on the impact of the Kennedy-Nixon debates on U.S. politics and made our way down University Avenue looking for trouble. We found it. A poster announced a Dead Kennedy’s concert. We went. Four suit-and-tie professors. We stood out like a sore middle finger.
I don’t remember much about Jello Biafra’s music but I remember the poster that first caught our eye. Winston Smith was the gonzo-artist responsible for it. In the years since Smith launched his career with bizarre posters announcing concerts by bands — some of which didn’t actually exist — he’s risen from provocative to notorious, from fringe to out-of-this world, from appearances on coffee house walls to a book on coffee tables; which is where you today find Act Like Nothing’s Wrong. It was this book that propelled Smith into the nation’s consciousness, thanks to televangelist Pat Robertson. When Robertson railed against Smith’s work on The 700 Club he kept it hidden from view, presumably to protect his easily upset viewers. The piecethat got Robertson’s dander up is “Idol,” a shinny plastic Jesus nailed to a “cross” of dollar bills. To paraphrase Carly Simon: Pat Robertson “you’re so vain you must think this picture’s about you… don’t you, don’t you.”
The first thing you’ll notice is that Winston Smith isn’t a painter. Instead of brushes and paint Smith’s tools are scissors and a glue stick. The word for his medium is montage art, pieces and images culled from the kitchen midden of our culture, arranged to provide the maximum sound from a clash of symbols. He provides what Aristotle called “the shock of recognition.” Through his eyes we see the familiar, the pedestrian images and icons of our society as we have never seen them before. He makes us look at ourselves, at our culture, and at what we praise as progress.
Winston Smith’s shows us where we’ve gone astray in our love affair with “capitalism,” “consumerism,” and “convenience” in order to get us to change our ways. He’s no machine-smashing Luddite but an iconoclastic patriot who cares enough about the country to want us to do better and be better. Smith’s into artistic “tough love.”
Describing himself as a figure “shrouded in mystery and legend,” Illustrator Winston Smith says the cut and paste montage of ‘50s magazine imagery that he creates monthly for Spins Topspin column “reflect the hypocrisy, excess, and banality of 1950’s America.” That decade “made a disastrous impression” on the artist, who has worked closely with the Dead Kennedys’ Jello Biafra designing many of the seminal punk outfits record covers. Smiths motto: “Moderation is for the weak.” Smith who also contributes illustrations to Mother Jones, The Progressive, Utne Reader and Maximum RockNRoll, has compiled a second volume of his montage art, Artcrime (Last Gasp), due in May, 1997.
Excerpt courtesy of Spin Magazine.
Armed with old magazines, an X-acto knife and glue, the man behind the Dead Kennedys’ and Green Day’s most (in)famous album jackets fights to make you think.
At a glance, it seems harmless enough. Pleasant, even. A smiling father gazes lovingly up at his happy, well-coifed wife; their son leaps joyously in the background. At a glance, “Nuclear Family”, part of the vast body of work by the in turns respected and reviled montage artist and punk rock illustrator Winston Smith, is a peaceful peek at the perfect American Family.
Look more closely, however, and this bucolic scene turns gruesome: Dad’s got two ears — on the same side of his head. Mom’s jaw is horribly distorted (way beyond talk-show host proportions), an appalling feature matched — if not surpassed — by her three baby-blue irises. And the boy’s seven-fingered hand no longer seems gleefully outstretched, nor does his double-wide mouth look much like a smile anymore. “Nuclear Family” suddenly carries a whole new message.
Such is the nature of Smith’s collages. He takes beloved and familiar American images–from Santa Claus to Ronald Reagan to Norman Rockwell’s illustrations–and, with the help of an X-acto knife and some glue, strips them of their mythological aura and replaces it with a hefty dose of reality. All the better to see them more clearly.
“A lot of my images are from publications from the ‘50s and ‘60s. They’ve got all these fantastic illustrations that depict a fantasy world,” Smith explains, his gentle voice becoming slightly more agitated. “There was some silly remark [Newt] Gingrich made about looking at magazines from the ‘50s, and how that was the America we want…Beaver Cleaver, Ozzie and Harriet, that’s what we want to live up to. No mention of the racism, the sexism of the era. We’re supposed to keep up with the Joneses, but the Joneses never existed.”
Smith, who two decades ago took on the name of the protagonist from George Orwell’s 1984, finds it ridiculous that we should model ourselves after an era that thrived on inequality, manipulation and denial. In order to get that point across, he uses some pretty potent imagery, harvested from post-war magazines and cut-and-pasted into something altogether different. Dozens of his works addressing this division have been gathered in his 1993 book, appropriately titled Act Like Nothing’s Wrong.
You’ll also find the pieces for which he is probably best known: the Dead Kennedys’ logo and “Idol”, a crucifix of dollar bills, which was used for DK’s In God We Trust, Inc.. “Idol”, much to Smith’s (and, one would assume, Jello Biafra’s) pleasure, gave Pat Robertson conniptions. Shops displaying his work, and DK’s album, were shut down in England.
Smith is again designing the album jacket for a popular punk band — this time for Green Day’s latest, Insomniac (see image at the top of this page). And again, his work is straddling the line between what is and isn’t acceptable for the mainstream. An animated version of the cover for Green Day’s “Stuck With Me” had to be altered before it aired on MTV. A gun was removed and replaced with a circular chainsaw. The change of weaponry was oddly appropriate, though. The original work, from which he designed the album cover, was entitled “God Told Me to Skin You Alive.”
Negative responses like these don’t bother Smith. In fact, he’s flattered by them. “It feels just as good as if they’re wildly enthusiastic about it,” he says. “If they rabidly don’t like it, then that’s sincere…my pieces are like Rohrshach inkblots. Music and art are catalysts for emotions, so even if they react unfavorably, I’m pleased.”
Smith’s art is the visual counterpart to punk rock. It’s crowded and chaotic and seeks to explode the myths of the American Dream. On the surface, they may seem harmless. Pleasant even. But they aren’t, and that’s the danger Winston Smith wants to warn you about. And he does so, in ways sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant, but always–always—powerful.