Artist Questions Beauty, Disturbs Viewers

The Lehmann Maupin gallery knows that sex sells. Among the plethora of chic, modern galleries in Chelsea, Ashley Bickerton’s exhibit on 26th Street is hard to miss: voluptuous, perfectly shaped nude models painted with vivid primary colors surrounded by island scenery stare at passersby with purple and orange eyes. The exhibit features monumental paintings in psychedelic hues depicting life-size painted bodies adorned with synthetic flowers. And while the bright tones and bursting scenery are undeniable eye candy, Bickerton’s works also raise questions about popular culture, artifice, race, sex, and modern ideals of perfection.

The most striking piece is tucked in the very back of the gallery. From far away, the figure’s face, framed by an abundance of snowy white flowers crowning her long hair, appears to be smiling. However, upon closer inspection, it becomes evident that the flowers are plastic, the hair a wig, and that one eye is blind. Dark, shiny skin peeks out from the paint on her left cheek below her milky white eye, which ominously contains no pupil. Such subtle faults prompt the viewer to reevaluate the initial beauty and appearance of the painting. Bickerton’s use of fake flowers, painted skin, and wigs—all of which initially appear to be natural—also has wider implications about the fakery of the model industry.

Many of the other paintings contain a recurring male figure painted entirely in a shade of turquoise. The viewer sees him, knife in hand, standing next to a beautiful woman clutching a small child. In another work, the man is lying back in a hammock with another equally perfect woman. He can also be seen in what appears to be a bar scene, drink in hand, smoking a cigarette that is tipped with orange dabs of paint so realistic it feels as though smoke will emanate from the painting any second.

Such lack of distinction between the real and the fake is a motif throughout Bickerton’s exhibit. While the figures are indeed naturalistic, their bodies, skin, and eyes are simply too perfect—and the unnaturalness of their flawless appearances is emphasized by the unnatural colors of their body paint. The fact that the models have become a canvas—that they are literally painted upon—could be seen as a reference to the magazine phenomenon of airbrushing. While the models in Bickerton’s works are beautiful, the abundance of artifice, once discovered, makes them eerie.

Though the idea of excess, particularly in relation to physical appearance, is a key motif in these works, the paintings verge on feeling overdone and overcomplicated. The hammock scene seems focused on the primary figures, but numerous stacks of books with convoluted names in the background come off as trying too hard to imply hidden significance. Bickerton may have intended to overwhelm the viewer, but it seems that his primary focus is on nature versus artifice. Thus the inclusion of weaponry in one of the paintings also seems like an attempt to take the meaning of the work further than it needs to go.

Perhaps the most compelling aspect of these works is the stark contrast between the traditional hand-carved wooden frames and the emphatically fake natural scenery depicted in the paintings. These wide, intricate frames contain scenes of women in the jungle carrying out tasks such as cooking and balancing baskets on their heads. These traditional, quotidian images are juxtaposed with the unnatural women in the paintings. In one particularly striking piece, the model’s eyes appear to be made of glass, and her breasts and lips are perfectly (and eerily) rounded. Her countenance—along with the rest of the exhibit—forces the viewer to grapple with contemporary values of beauty.