Next Magazine Illustration — Spin (June, 1996)>>>
Winston Smith created an illustration for the Topspin article Working For A Living — Want To End Welfare? Pay Higher Wages by Andrew O’Hehir in the July 1996 issue of Spin Magazine.
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.
Next Magazine Illustration — Spin (November, 1995)>>>
Winston Smith created an illustration for the Topspin article The Rich Get Richer — The Real Issue For ’96 Is The Growing Chasm Between Them And U by Eric Weisbard in the March 1996 issue of Spin Magazine.
Available as an Iris print
Signed & Numbered
Edition of 100
31.7″ x 29″
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.
Next Magazine Illustration — Red Herring (July, 2000)>>>
Winston Smith created an illustration for the article Apocalypse How? — Everybody talks about the end of the world, but we’ve actually asked the big question: What will it be like? in the November 1995 issue of Spin Magazine.
With quotes from Moby, JG Ballard, Matt Groening, and Jaron Lanier.
Available as an Iris print
Signed & numbered
Edition of 50
34/75″ x 29″
Next Album Cover – White Lies for Dark Times >>>
Winston Smith designed the album cover to Insomniac, the fourth studio album by the American punk rock band Green Day, released on October 10, 1995, through Reprise Records. This album reached number two in the United States and went double-platinum.
The collage on the album cover was created by Winston Smith and is called God Told Me to Skin You Alive, a reference to Dead Kennedys first album, “Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables”. Interestingly enough, the cover art contains an image (the dentist) that was originally used in a collage featured in the insert booklet art of Dead Kennedys’ album Plastic Surgery Disasters. There are also three skulls on the entire album cover– one for each member of Green Day. One of the skulls requires you to view the piece at an angle. The hidden skull is taken from Hans Holbein’s 1533 painting The Ambassadors.
Insomniac was reissued on vinyl on May 12, 2009.
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Winston Smith, who named himself after the protagonist of Orwell’s 1984, likes to slice up vintage National Geographic and Life magazines and World War II era children’s encyclopedias and paste them back together to create images that most God-fearing Americans would not be proud to have on their coffee tables. Smith’s lo-fi montages of apple-pie women feeding babies milk from torpedoes and Norman Rockwellesque retirees harvesting money from trees – collected now in his book Act Like Nothing’s Wrong (Last Gasp) – are agitprop images in the grand surrealist tradition of John Hartfield’s famous antiwar collages. “Artists are like canaries in the mineshaft,” Smith explains. “Coal miners used to take these birds underground as indicators of poisionous gas. If the bird dropped dead, then they would be alerted. Artists have this certain kind of sensitivity.”
Smith’s dark sense of humor found him a friend in Jello Biafra, who first entered his orbit after receiving a postcard of JFK’s head exploding with the message: “If you want more, write back.” Biafra did, and ended up using the artist’s rendering of a crucifix wrapped in U.S. dollar bills on the cover of the Dead Kennedys’ 1981 album, In God We Trust Inc. In Smith’s world, where UPC symbols bear a striking resemblance to Nazi architect Albert Speer’s “Cathedral of Light,” it’s not surprising to find that the last four digits of his phone number happen to be 1-9-8-4. Gulp. “One of my cats is named 51 50,” Smith notes. “The police code for crazy.”