"The group of artists known as the "Pictures Generation" are usually thought to have rebelled against abstract and minimalist art by bringing back figural techniques and borrowing liberally from the aesthetics of mass media and advertising. Challenging conventional interpretations of this group, Alexander Bigman argues that these artists-especially Robert Longo, Jack Goldstein, Sarah Charlesworth, Gretchen Bender, and Troy Brauntuch-deployed totalitarian and fascist iconography to pose new, politically loaded questions about what it means to perceive the world historically in a society saturated by images. Throughout, he also situates their work in the context of other developments taking place in New York City at the time, including music, fashion, cinema, and literature. This is a book about art, popular culture, and memory, and especially about how the specter of fascism loomed for these artists in the 1970s and 1980s, and the ways it still looms for us today"--
"A fresh take on the legacy of the group of artists known as the Pictures Generation, reinterpreting their work as haunted by the history of fascism and the threat of its return. The artists of the Pictures Generation, converging on New York City in the late 1970s, indelibly changed the shape of American art. It has long been thought that this group's main contribution was to rebel against abstraction by bringing back figural techniques and borrowing liberally from the aesthetics of mass media. In Pictures and the Past, however, art critic and historian Alexander Bigman presents us with a bold new interpretation of the artists' most significant work, in particular its recurring evocations of fascist iconography. Challenging conventional narratives, Bigman argues that these artists-especially Sarah Charlesworth, Jack Goldstein, Troy Brauntuch, Robert Longo, and Gretchen Bender-posed pressing questions about what it means to perceive the world historically in a society saturated by images. He argues that their traumatic references represent not only a coded form of political commentary about the 1980s, but also a pioneering reflection on the inherently political nature of collective memory writ large. Throughout, Bigman situates their work within a larger cultural context comprising developments in music, fashion, cinema, and literature. Pictures and the Past probes the shifting relationships between art, popular culture, and memory in the 1970s and '80s, examining how the specter of fascism loomed for artists then-and the ways it still looms for us today"--
A fresh take on the legacy of the group of artists known as the Pictures Generation, reinterpreting their work as haunted by the history of fascism and the threat of its return. The artists of the Pictures Generation, converging on New York City in the late 1970s, indelibly changed the shape of American art. It has long been thought that this group’s main contribution was to rebel against abstraction by bringing back figural techniques and borrowing liberally from the aesthetics of mass media. In Pictures and the Past, however, art critic and historian Alexander Bigman presents us with a bold new interpretation of the artists’ most significant work, in particular its recurring evocations of fascist iconography. Challenging conventional narratives, Bigman argues that the artists of the original Pictures show, curated by Douglas Crimp in 1977—especially Sarah Charlesworth, Jack Goldstein, Troy Brauntuch, Robert Longo, and Gretchen Bender—posed pressing questions about what it means to perceive the world historically in a society saturated by images. He argues that their traumatic references represent not only a coded form of political commentary about the 1980s, but also a pioneering reflection on the inherently political nature of collective memory writ large. Throughout, Bigman situates their work within a larger cultural context comprising developments in music, fashion, cinema, and literature. Pictures and the Past probes the shifting relationships between art, popular culture, and memory in the 1970s and '80s, examining how the specter of fascism loomed for artists then—and the ways it still looms for us today.