There's a game I like to play where I try to link a musician and an artist whose careers, styles, or personas echo each other. Here's some easy ones: Louise Bourgeois is Patti Smith, FUTURA is Suicide, Kara Walker is Nina Simone and Salvador Dali is Frank Zappa. There are some others that are also good but may not be as perfect a match: Alex Katz could be Billy Joel, Mary Weatherford could be Alice Coltrane, Urs Fischer could be DEVO, and Picasso might be the closest this game gets to the Rolling Stones. Now I am sure there are some good Dua Lipas and Bad Bunnys; I just don't know what they are yet. Time helps. A little bit of length of tooth in the career makes it easier to pair such entities. But I am having a hard time coming up with a match for the subject of this article. Maybe Eric Yahnker is Ween? At times his humor reminds me a little of James Murphy's deadpan lyrical witticisms, but other times he swings for the fences and is orbiting Weird AI territory... which is a good thing when you are trying to accomplish what Yahnker is working towards: Humor in Art. How do you make a joke someone would want to live with?
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/1671711176.jpg]
I like to hear how creatives become inspired or what permissions they allow themselves. Chefs are the best; they are so viscerally connected to their process. They become enchanted by the sight of a tomato at a farmers market, devise a method to bring out an aspect of said tomato, and then we get to shove it in our mouths. We literally ingest their creation. I am jealous of that entire creative process. They even get to say things I could never say concerning my work: "I want to teach people with my food." Rock musicians are the worst. If you ask them how they came up with a song, lyric, or melody, they usually reply with some form of "I don't know man, it just came to me in like five minutes," thereby completely deflating a profound experience I once had with my incredibly stoned buddy Darren in my car at the top of Mulholland Drive in 11th grade. Some of the most compelling discussions I've heard regarding the creative process are from comedians. Maybe it's because they're so well adapted to conveyance that I find myself relating a lot to the way they craft their material. I drove out to the desert to speak with Eric about Humor in Art, maybe to discuss how comedy and art are both devised internally and then exposed to the public to elicit sentiments that circumvent logic, or maybe find what artist he finds funny... Philip Guston, Nicole Eisenman, John Currin, or even how Shepard Fairy has absolutely no scent of humor in his work. But no, he is laser-focused on pedagogy. Which may be the least funny subject in today's context next to the current election cycle. He is now finished with his hours as an Observed Teacher and is a full-fledged, Public High School Art Teacher. He is taking on a worthy challenge in an entirely new field. Most artists with his level of self-sustaining success would probably just try and keep the ball rolling. None of his art-world notoriety or cache has followed him into this new arena. “Not one person who I go to school with, at night or in the school I teach in... knows who I am as an artist. .It's very humbling.” He mentions how the five years he has spent parenting his daughter have prepared him for it. This very funny boisterous man is humbly on his way to making this world a little better.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7761111171.jpg]
I ask him what prompted the altruistic midlife crisis, and he explains that after Trump became president, he would often find himself in a room full of like-minded folks all talking about what they wanted to change. Then, the next week, he would find himself surrounded by similar-looking people saying similar things. With “So many points of entry... Way too much access... We don’t recognize our privilege... I’m so open to wanting to know how I can put my money where my mouth is…” to “Not trying at all, cause it's too hard is bullshit.” He had made a group of increasingly ridiculous pieces of Donald J. Trump, which all sold. This freaked him out. So, in response, he began work on a series of pieces of Obama entitled The Long Goodbye, which he exhibited at CAM Raleigh. There’s a conceptual craft here that is agile and adept. Some artists rely on vague motifs or overly verbose statements to support their work, but Yahnker has the technical chops and the sharp skills of a deep-thinking satirist to back it all up. Having a journalistic mind helps him to utilize the elements of pop culture that have merit. He accredits Paul Conrad, the Pulitzer Prize winning LA Times political cartoonist, as his guiding star. “Funny thing isI was funny before I made artwork. I wanted to get into political cartooning. I could thread the needle between journalism and art.” I believe his eye, refracted with stylish imagery, for current affairs, can then allow a deeper line of thought to be shared. Humor is like a spoon full of sugar helping the medicine go down. “If I’m going to say all this about race or sexism... you have to look at your own favoritism, nationalism, or pride… America, it's always been this combination of the best and worst… which is interesting visually.”
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7767116611.jpg]
Some of the works in the show are great one-liners. Raptism, depicting Kanye West holding a baby Kanye West ready for his first dip in the Holy Water, and El Coyote, showing the titled predator holding a copy of Dianetics in his mouth, are jokes that are akin to a late-night host monologue. This is how we process much of the world for the past 50 years. It could be an international hostage situation or a celebrity hitting bottom; the nightly jester and his team of writers do much of the heavy cognitive lifting. Britney in the Lion’s Den is another great example. Yahnker said this was the nucleus of the entire show. How do we chew up and spit out our sex symbols? Can we feel empathy for a symbol we’ve lusted over, and coveted even if the entire marketing process has become formulaic? The works all ripple out from here to convey the ridiculousness of modern Los Angeles and the global cult-like following it has maintained. The most pure and blatant evocation of this in the show is the installation piece a Tale of Two Britneys. On one side of the room, we have a flag that says “Free Britney," representing the battle cry of the Britney-Stans that posted incessantly against her limited financial agency under the legal stewardship of her father. On the other side, we see the sign “Free Brittany Granger,” the WNBA star who found herself imprisoned in Russia after the Ukraine invasion began. Yahnker understands how the media touches so much of our social understanding, and he uses this to make us laugh and ponder. I asked him if he sees any similarity between artists working on their pieces and stand ups crafting a set. “The kind of comedy I have innately… is reactive. It's not a stand up set. I’ve worked for other comedians… I worked on South Park… Comedy is one of those things… when you find someone else you can roll with, it’s the ultimate click.”
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7716711171.jpg]
His latest exhibition, Lost Angeles, at the Hole’s enormous space on La Brea was packed with people intently looking and sincerely smiling. This is a hard feat to manage in these overly serious and reactionary times, but Yahnker pulls it off with humility and a professional grace that reminds me of the “Thank you and Goodnight” that a seasoned standup ends his set with at a sold-out theater. The works in the show are on a scale few artists are at ease with. And they are drawings. This is like climbing a mountain on tiptoes. Huge, expressive, colorful works, some stretching close to 10 feet wide, but Yahnker enjoys the toil, he loves a challenge, and he loves to work.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7671611771.jpg]
The first piece that greets me at the opening is Pool With Two Figures. It is my favorite piece to stare at. It is an ode to a famous Hockney piece entitled, Portrait of an Artist (Pool With Two Figures), but it is done in Yahnker’s sure handed style with colored pencils, rather than Hockney’s vibrant oils. It also changes the blue sky in the background of the original landscape to one of fire and smoke, which is frighteningly familiar to all in the Southland. It’s smart. The joke hits heavy, but is rendered beautifully. It’s a joke you can live with. That’s an easy observation to make and an easier sentence to write, but an amazing feat to pull off. Time can have a serious deleterious effect on some art, and along with its little sibling "timing," it is even morally ruthless to humor. The show opened in September, which should have been the peak of fire season here in Los Angeles, yet there were no hills currently ablaze. So the joke of this piece did not hit as hard as it could if only a few more cigarette butts were tossed out of car windows while descending the Angeles Crest freeway.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/1717717616.jpg]
As I wait to introduce myself to Eric, I am positioned in front of one of the most salient pieces of the show. Self-flagellation is a huge image, showing the moment when Will Smith slapped Chris Rock at the Oscars. But, in keeping with the celebrity-soaked and poked theme of the show, Will Smith as the Fresh Prince (in full cross -colors and sideways ball cap) is receiving the blow rather than Chris Rock. The joke is great. Folks laugh out loud and nudge their companions while they jerk a satisfied thumb towards the wall as if to say, “I get it.” Timing is everything.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/136917...
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/1671711176.jpg]
I like to hear how creatives become inspired or what permissions they allow themselves. Chefs are the best; they are so viscerally connected to their process. They become enchanted by the sight of a tomato at a farmers market, devise a method to bring out an aspect of said tomato, and then we get to shove it in our mouths. We literally ingest their creation. I am jealous of that entire creative process. They even get to say things I could never say concerning my work: "I want to teach people with my food." Rock musicians are the worst. If you ask them how they came up with a song, lyric, or melody, they usually reply with some form of "I don't know man, it just came to me in like five minutes," thereby completely deflating a profound experience I once had with my incredibly stoned buddy Darren in my car at the top of Mulholland Drive in 11th grade. Some of the most compelling discussions I've heard regarding the creative process are from comedians. Maybe it's because they're so well adapted to conveyance that I find myself relating a lot to the way they craft their material. I drove out to the desert to speak with Eric about Humor in Art, maybe to discuss how comedy and art are both devised internally and then exposed to the public to elicit sentiments that circumvent logic, or maybe find what artist he finds funny... Philip Guston, Nicole Eisenman, John Currin, or even how Shepard Fairy has absolutely no scent of humor in his work. But no, he is laser-focused on pedagogy. Which may be the least funny subject in today's context next to the current election cycle. He is now finished with his hours as an Observed Teacher and is a full-fledged, Public High School Art Teacher. He is taking on a worthy challenge in an entirely new field. Most artists with his level of self-sustaining success would probably just try and keep the ball rolling. None of his art-world notoriety or cache has followed him into this new arena. “Not one person who I go to school with, at night or in the school I teach in... knows who I am as an artist. .It's very humbling.” He mentions how the five years he has spent parenting his daughter have prepared him for it. This very funny boisterous man is humbly on his way to making this world a little better.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7761111171.jpg]
I ask him what prompted the altruistic midlife crisis, and he explains that after Trump became president, he would often find himself in a room full of like-minded folks all talking about what they wanted to change. Then, the next week, he would find himself surrounded by similar-looking people saying similar things. With “So many points of entry... Way too much access... We don’t recognize our privilege... I’m so open to wanting to know how I can put my money where my mouth is…” to “Not trying at all, cause it's too hard is bullshit.” He had made a group of increasingly ridiculous pieces of Donald J. Trump, which all sold. This freaked him out. So, in response, he began work on a series of pieces of Obama entitled The Long Goodbye, which he exhibited at CAM Raleigh. There’s a conceptual craft here that is agile and adept. Some artists rely on vague motifs or overly verbose statements to support their work, but Yahnker has the technical chops and the sharp skills of a deep-thinking satirist to back it all up. Having a journalistic mind helps him to utilize the elements of pop culture that have merit. He accredits Paul Conrad, the Pulitzer Prize winning LA Times political cartoonist, as his guiding star. “Funny thing isI was funny before I made artwork. I wanted to get into political cartooning. I could thread the needle between journalism and art.” I believe his eye, refracted with stylish imagery, for current affairs, can then allow a deeper line of thought to be shared. Humor is like a spoon full of sugar helping the medicine go down. “If I’m going to say all this about race or sexism... you have to look at your own favoritism, nationalism, or pride… America, it's always been this combination of the best and worst… which is interesting visually.”
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7767116611.jpg]
Some of the works in the show are great one-liners. Raptism, depicting Kanye West holding a baby Kanye West ready for his first dip in the Holy Water, and El Coyote, showing the titled predator holding a copy of Dianetics in his mouth, are jokes that are akin to a late-night host monologue. This is how we process much of the world for the past 50 years. It could be an international hostage situation or a celebrity hitting bottom; the nightly jester and his team of writers do much of the heavy cognitive lifting. Britney in the Lion’s Den is another great example. Yahnker said this was the nucleus of the entire show. How do we chew up and spit out our sex symbols? Can we feel empathy for a symbol we’ve lusted over, and coveted even if the entire marketing process has become formulaic? The works all ripple out from here to convey the ridiculousness of modern Los Angeles and the global cult-like following it has maintained. The most pure and blatant evocation of this in the show is the installation piece a Tale of Two Britneys. On one side of the room, we have a flag that says “Free Britney," representing the battle cry of the Britney-Stans that posted incessantly against her limited financial agency under the legal stewardship of her father. On the other side, we see the sign “Free Brittany Granger,” the WNBA star who found herself imprisoned in Russia after the Ukraine invasion began. Yahnker understands how the media touches so much of our social understanding, and he uses this to make us laugh and ponder. I asked him if he sees any similarity between artists working on their pieces and stand ups crafting a set. “The kind of comedy I have innately… is reactive. It's not a stand up set. I’ve worked for other comedians… I worked on South Park… Comedy is one of those things… when you find someone else you can roll with, it’s the ultimate click.”
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7716711171.jpg]
His latest exhibition, Lost Angeles, at the Hole’s enormous space on La Brea was packed with people intently looking and sincerely smiling. This is a hard feat to manage in these overly serious and reactionary times, but Yahnker pulls it off with humility and a professional grace that reminds me of the “Thank you and Goodnight” that a seasoned standup ends his set with at a sold-out theater. The works in the show are on a scale few artists are at ease with. And they are drawings. This is like climbing a mountain on tiptoes. Huge, expressive, colorful works, some stretching close to 10 feet wide, but Yahnker enjoys the toil, he loves a challenge, and he loves to work.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/7671611771.jpg]
The first piece that greets me at the opening is Pool With Two Figures. It is my favorite piece to stare at. It is an ode to a famous Hockney piece entitled, Portrait of an Artist (Pool With Two Figures), but it is done in Yahnker’s sure handed style with colored pencils, rather than Hockney’s vibrant oils. It also changes the blue sky in the background of the original landscape to one of fire and smoke, which is frighteningly familiar to all in the Southland. It’s smart. The joke hits heavy, but is rendered beautifully. It’s a joke you can live with. That’s an easy observation to make and an easier sentence to write, but an amazing feat to pull off. Time can have a serious deleterious effect on some art, and along with its little sibling "timing," it is even morally ruthless to humor. The show opened in September, which should have been the peak of fire season here in Los Angeles, yet there were no hills currently ablaze. So the joke of this piece did not hit as hard as it could if only a few more cigarette butts were tossed out of car windows while descending the Angeles Crest freeway.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/1369171671/1715886556/articles/obB4KxOrr1716209386953/1717717616.jpg]
As I wait to introduce myself to Eric, I am positioned in front of one of the most salient pieces of the show. Self-flagellation is a huge image, showing the moment when Will Smith slapped Chris Rock at the Oscars. But, in keeping with the celebrity-soaked and poked theme of the show, Will Smith as the Fresh Prince (in full cross -colors and sideways ball cap) is receiving the blow rather than Chris Rock. The joke is great. Folks laugh out loud and nudge their companions while they jerk a satisfied thumb towards the wall as if to say, “I get it.” Timing is everything.
[https://cdn.magzter.com/136917...
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Juxtapoz (Digital) - 1 Issue, Summer 2024