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Whether or not you’re the gallery type, you’ve probably seen Robbie Conal’s art.
The New York-born, L.A.-based painter has burned into the consciousness of most Angelenos via his scathingly grotesque, pockmarked and maggot-addled heads of state, which he pairs with pithy captions and plasters onto walls and electrical boxes all along your morning commute. The one-time abstract expressionist paints politicians on large-scale canvases with big, globby oils; gets stacks of lithos made; and then instructs an army of guerrillas armed with buckets of wallpaper glue to tack his work all over the city, serving up his indictments of a corrupt government with digestible humor and repulsive visuals.
Conal has published two books, has a monthly newspaper column and is considered one of the foremost OGs (he says it stands for “old guy”) of the L.A. street art scene. We gabbed with him until our tape ran out, touching on topics ranging from Los Angeles being the “pop culture production capital” to his personal art heroes to Charlie Sheen, Shepard Fairey and cats' anuses. Check out the chatter below, and stop by the Getty on Thursday, Oct. 16, to hear Conal speak about humor in art. Or head to Track 16 on Saturday, Oct. 18, for "No Spitting, No Kidding," an exhibition of large-scale political paintings, posters, and his new series of oil and photomontage work chronicling political media phenomena throughout the decades.
We recently chatted with Conal by phone from his studio in Venice.
How long have you been working on this retrospective show?
Well, things accrue. [Contemporary painter] Sue Coe was in town for a show at Overtones. And I brought Tom Patrick, the owner of Track 16 Gallery, over to meet Sue because he’s a huge Sue Coe fan. And out of nowhere she says, “Oh, Robbie is one of the most important political artists in the United States, and with this election coming up you should really give him a retrospective,” and I’m, you know, looking for a shovel. To dig a hole to China. And he says, “I’m really embarrassed because I didn’t think of it myself.“ And that was 2006, so we’ve been working on it for a couple of years.
How much of your newer body of work, the “Decades” photomontage pieces, will be up?
All the ones that I’ve done. I’ve been lollygagging getting around to the ’80s because I did Ronald Regan so much and I’m so sick of Nancy. Actually, Alf just made an appearance. He’s comforting Ronnie, resting his paw on his shoulder, thinking, “I’m so sorry about that Nancy bitch.”
How big are these pieces?
I think they’re about over 8 feet long! They’re painted in oil over [enlarged] photographs.
How did you get the rights to the photographs?
I don’t need no stinkin’ rights! I have the right of free political speech. It’s the First Amendment! [Laughs]
With your street art, have you ever been in a pickle in terms of legality?
I’m perpetually in a pickle. I’m in a pickle of perpetuity.
But you just keep creating and postering?
I plan things one foot in my mouth at a time. But I have a tigress mother lawyer: Susan Grode, Esq., who had written a book on artists’ rights. She’s Matt Groening’s lawyer. She scared the shit out of me, but she’s protected me fantastically for nothing because of her belief in art and public art and little things like the First Amendment. I’ve gotten thousands and thousands of dollars [in fines] from Public Works, but I’m not allowed to pay them. Susan’s rules.
Do you think there’s something about the L.A. landscape or L.A.’s general lawlessness that lends itself to guerrilla art?
[Laughs] L.A.’s general lawlessness? The Wild West? Well, the start of [graffiti] is in the caves, you know. But L.A. is the popular culture production capital of the world. And all the pretty boys and girls come to sell their surface. Angelenos are great surface semioticians. We can look you up and down, like on the freeway—what kind of car you’re driving, what model, what cell phone you’re on and what your vanity plates say…All that is signifiers, and we read those like a blind person reads Braille.
Do you tend to look at your art differently when it’s up in a gallery?
It’s a totally different experience. That’s the idea. And that’s where the texture comes into play. There are thousands of people who have seen my [posters], but they have no idea that [the originals] are made with globby, gnarly paint. That’s a whole different level of experience. Like, “Contra Cocaine,” which is a skull in a suit—the original painting is looking me right in the face right now. I bought it back from Charlie Sheen. That’s a really good story, but it’s for some other time. And I’m looking at Dick Cheney with pink glitter-soaked bunny ears!
So where does the drippy, addled skin come from?
Abstract expressionism. All the paint quality is abstract expressionism. I just paint them exactly the way they look! You think they’re exaggerated? [Laughs] Have you ever seen Ronald Regan in person? I got pretty good at making gnarly portraits of gnarly people.
In “Read My Apocalips,” Bush’s mouth looks kind of like a cat’s anus.
That’s exactly what it is! And the original has Mac lipstick on it. In the studio that painting was called “Anus Face.” The affectionate diminutive!
What was the impetus to take the paintings out of the studio and plaster them outside?
To communicate with regular people on the street who don’t necessarily go to galleries…to think about democracy. Or abuses of democracy.
Do you remember the first time you plastered one of your posters up?
Yeah, I was nervous! I was excited. I remember exactly where it was. The funny thing is, my wife asked me about this the other day. She asked me if I were going to that spot where I started. It’s right on the southwest corner of Rose and 5th, right by the Rose Cafe in Venice. It was 1986.
What do you think of artists who have gone on to make brands out of themselves from guerrilla street art?
That’s what red-blooded Americans do: Merchandise and monetize their production. I’ve probably taken too much LSD for that. Plus being raised by communists—that’s a double whammy. You’re talking about graffiti artists having clothing lines and stuff? Or are you talking about Shepard Fairy? Shepard’s my friend. I love him. I was on a panel with him in San Diego, and Shepard was getting shit from the audience. He was really taking some flak for being commercial. And I leaned over and I said, “Tell them you’re a capitalist.” And he said “Well, I’m a capitalist. It’s what I do to make money. To make a living.” And that shut everyone up. Basically, they were just jealous.
Do you think he’s winning at America’s game?
He’s a genius at it. And he’s grown as a person and it's been reflected in his work.
You didn’t study graphic design, but do you tend to think of the words first or the images?
Oh, any which way it comes. It comes different ways, but the words are very important. I have a thing about the English language. I have a big theory about it. I’ll save that for another time.
And you’re going to be voting this year?
I’m registered in Chicago so I can vote early and often. It’s a tradition.
I’m assuming you’re voting for Sen. Obama then?
As many times as I can.
For a gallery of his work, click here »
Alie Ward is Events editor for Los Angeles Metromix.
