What do the rapper Snoop Dog, a platinum-blonde child pageant queen in a doll-like outfit, a homeless man riding the New York subway, an anonymous scar-faced pimp, and businessman Donald Trump, former reality TV star turned president, have in common? They’re all Americans, either perched at the margins or reigning at the pinnacle of the American Dream. Each one is sublimely captured through the lens of Andres Serrano, posed bathed in light, gazing upward like extravagant pop-culture pietas.
While this blend of the sacred and the profane—liturgy and pop culture—may be jarring, it’s entirely in line with Serrano’s work, which has long been shaped by classical and baroque painting, as well as an obsession with religion, death, and violence. Serrano himself identifies as “Christian and patriotic,” unfazed by those who tried to censor his most controversial piece, Piss Christ, which depicts a crucifix submerged in blood and urine, and which has been vandalized multiple times.
Such controversy doesn’t intimidate Michel Draguet, curator of the Musée Maillol exhibition and a staunch opponent of censorship: “I’m not in favor of restricting artistic freedom but rather supporting it.” To that end, the exhibition features an audio guide where Serrano explains his artistic vision. As for the scandal surrounding his work, the artist notes, “I’m happy to have sparked reflection, even if it wasn’t my intent, because it means the work resonates deeply and gets people thinking.”
America’s dark side
Sensitive souls, beware: a visit to this exhibition is an emotional rollercoaster. The series on Native American peoples, photographed in face paint and traditional ceremonial dress, inspires awe; the poignant portraits of New York’s homeless, as destitute as they are dignified, stir deep emotion; and the chilling sight of a gun barrel in extreme close-up, aimed at a blood-stained American flag behind you, roots you to the spot. A symbol sacred to the United States, torn apart and desecrated.
This collection of photographic tableaux sketches a collective portrait of an America that is apolitical yet seething. “Contrary to what one might think, Serrano is not a Democratic artist aiming to discredit the Republican side. He’s not hostile to Donald Trump. What he presents, with empathy, is a certain America riddled with resentment: the America of the downtrodden, the workers abandoned by the Left, the Black victims of racism, and the white men fearful of their loss of power. The America of those left behind.”
Serrano, a provocateur of conscience, uses the polished beauty of his images as a kind of visual trompe-l’oeil. “His images are doubly unsettling because they are aesthetically refined, even as their subject matter is repugnant—like his photographs of Ku Klux Klan members, where the stark geometry of their hoods plays with shadow and light,” Draguet explains. In Serrano’s work, the formal beauty of the image serves to accentuate the cruelty of its subject matter.
From dream to nightmare
Yet, the artist seems to suggest, it’s not the image that is violent, but the historical and social reality of America itself. Take, for instance, an unbearable photograph of a Black man, lynched, mutilated, and hanged, displayed for the eyes of self-righteous white America. This large-format, cropped photograph—by far the most shocking in the exhibition—is the only one that isn’t a staged work by Serrano, but a historical document from the 1910s, once circulated as a postcard. It presents an unvarnished vision of America at its most abject.
The exhibition concludes with Trumperies—a collection of objects branded by Donald Trump’s various companies, from vodka and an airline to a private university, alongside mugs, baseball caps, and plush toys bearing his likeness. Or, for instance, a line of deodorant bluntly named… Success! The American Dream, repackaged for commercial sale. “[Trump] has spent his life promoting himself—his casinos, his products, his name… In the end, the winner is whoever gets the most attention, whether it’s good or bad,” observes Serrano.
In an adjacent room, a film titled Insurrections is projected, documenting the January 6, 2021, assault on the Capitol by Trump supporters. “It was like a burlesque coup d’état,” says Draguet. As if the dark force driving the actions of a few had spilled over, infecting the whole nation. “Andres Serrano sheds light on the violence that’s inseparable from American history, a history that he himself is a product of, as an artist of Hispanic origin who rose from the depths of New York’s underground.”
“That’s the paradox—and the power—of his work,” sums up the curator. “Serrano’s art is a machine for dismantling populism.”
“Andres Serrano. Portraits of America.” Through October 20, 2024 at the Musée Maillol, Paris.
