Volume 3, Issue 11
May 24 - June 6, 2001

ART

SOFT SPOKEN GRAFFITI

Josiah Lopez sells street art without selling out.

I wait at the Tivoli Taco Bell, eyeing passersby. I am on the lookout for a swaggering player graffiti artist cum painter Josiah Lopez. While thus occupied, I am approached by a quiet, unassuming, and bespectacled young man who says he's Josiah. This is the guy who graphically depicts gangsta life? I expect a personality as confrontational as the art. The only vestige of toughness is a shad-ow of a beard. What gives? I am ready to pay attention to this man.

Paying attention to Josiah Lopez is easy. He is an intriguing person, as full of seeming contradiction as of devotion to his art. He describes his work, in-your-face images featuring guns and naked floozies, as "conceptual." He says he paints in an academic style, but calls himself a graffiti artist. He claims he makes art only to please himself, but shows and sells in galleries all over Denver. He exclaims he can't wait to leave school: "I can't wait to be free. Too many rules. I can't do what I wanna do, be who I wanna be," yet cites professors Andy Speer, Amy Metier, and Carlos Fresquez as great sources of encouragement and influence. He hesitates at first to name art historical influences, saying he's jazzed by "anything that looks good, anywhere" and comic book art, but then lets on he admires icons such as Robert Rauschenberg and Andy Warhol.

So who is Josiah? Josiah Lopez has lived in Colorado his entire life, has grown up in Denver. He can't pinpoint a time, person, or event that made him decide on an art career. He's always been interested in it, though he's been painting in an academic style for only about five years. He created graffiti art forever before that, a fact which he believes separates him from the growing number of artists incorporating graffiti elements into their work. "I'm authentic. I've been doing graffiti so long, I'm not just adding it to my paintings. It's all me." Not that he minds the appropriation; "it shows respect for the art." It's appropriation of the years of experience, the lifestyle, that Lopez resents.

Graffiti artists in Denver have become of necessity a tight community. Lopez reminisces about the days when territorial graffiti groups roved and, yes, tagged, but also made some pretty incredible art. Increasingly strict laws aimed at tagging have put a damper on creation of all graffiti art, such as murals, though, as Lopez puts it, "laws don't stop the vandals." Lopez would like to still do mural work, but doesn't see much of it because building owners have to jump through too many legal hoops to commission it. Older murals have mostly been painted over. Lopez can't think of a single mural he's done that's still around. Street smarts have allowed him to adapt; he delivers his graffiti art via stickers and paintings. And, despite his claims to be an "older graffiti artist who's really calmed down," he's still supportive of pure graffiti art.

A few years ago Lopez, with a couple friends, decided to launch a full-color magazine about Denver graffiti art. The first issue of Undastream came out about a year ago and was distributed through record stores and online. They're plan-ning a second issue, but, well, things are a bit delayed. One of the key guys landed in jail. Lopez takes this in stride. "These things happen. We'll get it out somehow."

In the meantime, he has painting to keep him busy. Lopez makes lots of paintings, often series of four of five that tell stories. The stories often center around the high lifestyle, but except for the occasional detour into overtly political themes such as police brutality or domestic violence, he really does not espouse any views on what he depicts. He demurs when asked if he's trying to send a message about gangs or drugs or guns. "No; this is just what I know to paint."

Lopez has shown at several local venues including Museo de las Americas and Pirate. He seems surprised when he admits the pieces that are selling most are female nudes from his high life series. At first these were highly realistic, but already he's ready for something different, so he's loosening up, playing a bit with technique. Lopez doesn't allow himself to get bored. Despite the nudes' success, he plans to paint only 100 of them, a limited edition. He guesses he's on #10 right now.

Lopez is infinitely pragmatic. When asked why he's showing in galleries if, as he claims, he's creating art only for his own pleasure, he answers simply, "It's what I'm good at, so I'm gonna try to make some money." Makes sense to me. Then he follows it up with wisdom that hints that his talent is not limited to making the art. "You gotta promote yourself, get your stuff out there. Nobody's gonna find you otherwise."

An affable and intelligent man, Lopez enjoys thick knots of friends. He also has family in Denver. Both groups exert a strong pull on the artist, who's toying with the idea of moving to California for grad school. He believes there might be greater opportunity for an artist in the Golden State. His dad lives there and it just might be impossible to turn down.

I sit and ponder Lopez' last statement for a while after meeting with him. Though I'd just made his acquaintance, I find myself hoping he'll stay in Denver. But he's already indicated that just as likely as his leaving is his return; California might be golden, but Denver is home.

--Kimberly Graham

photo by Gary Stefanski

BODY LANGUAGE
@
GALLERY SINK

Look to the human form for controversy in art. Ancient taboos abound: Christian and Islamic injunctions against 'idolatry', tribal people's belief that cameras could steal their souls. Heck, plenty of people hate their own bodies, so as artistic subject matter, this one's loaded.

Welcome to Human Form, the current exhibit at Gallery Sink. Owner Mark Sink has assembled a terrific mix of photographers from the United States and beyond for a century's worth of images. A front room piece by Bryan Boettinger sparked a complaint within hours, with nary a naughty bit in sight. Silhouettes heads in profile, cut from black paper are usually sweet and sentimental. Boettinger's silhouette is a full-size male figure, head-to- toe in profile, with hairy chest, belly and legs. And a bra (hence the com-plaint?).

Susan Evans uses only language to pique interest: "I thought about photograph ing..." followed by proposals like "... myself nude writhing on the floor using a large aperture and slow shutter speed." Image is missing, or at least redefined. Tia Faulk's CAT scan "Body of Work" group also pushes the definition of photography and of human form. Illness and medicine pack fearful connotations, so Faulk's pieces, abstractly elegant real CAT scans, double as memento mori. With the gallery's first three artists, Sink has effectively set the tone: prepare to challenge your ideas of human form.

Back in the gallery, near candid shots along nude beaches come from Jock Sturges, with people of all ages comfortably wearing only sunshine. "Cindy et Patrick" is fantastic. A self assured girl of eight or nine stands near an older man. Both are nude, relaxed, nonsexual and detached. There's nothing prurient here, unless in the eye of the beholder.

Dominic Rouse's offerings combine formal composition and allusions to Renaissance art with goony visual and verbal puns, i.e. in "A bush in the hand is worth two in the bird." Vincent Serbin takes a magical realism route, collaging images to build dream like scenarios. "A Meditation on the Number 10" is a beauty. The robust model sports the hint of an angelic wing; overhead, the scratched in numbers "1 2 3 4" add up to ten; the model's crossed legs create an X, the Roman numeral ten. Serbin's are lush, textural works, and among the most evocative in the show.

The most colorful pieces here are also the most disquieting. Suzanne Junker, a for-mer Elle model, now examines cultural assumptions about beauty. "Figure for the Base of a Crucifixion #5" is a shocker at first glance a woman appears bound and gagged. She isn't. That's a small sign held in her mouth and it says, "sucking?" Signage covers her body: "plastic surgery?" over one breast, "drugs?" along an arm. Awards for bluntness, not subtlety, on this powerful piece.

A surprise find are photographs by Mrs. B. B. Chase. Sink said Chase remains something of an enigma. Her first name was probably Belle, and she headed a Denver studio between 1897-1904, specializing in society portraiture. Shown here, though, are "fallen flowers," a vintage euphemism for women outside "respectable society," and lest the point be missed, there's a discarded rose in the foreground of each picture. These are early pin-up girls, healthy looking nudes languorously posed, with plenty of veils, embroidered shawls and other Edwardian trappings.

Twenty-two artists are represented in this quirky and cohesive exhibit. Much of the work is thought-provoking, fun for the eye and mind. After all, the most erogenous zone in the human body is the brain, which will find a potential playground or mine field in this fine show.

--Renna Shesso