Jonathan Meese
 
Ahoi de angst, 1998
 
And here we are again, it seems. As many aspects of 1990s art have come to resemble tricked-out revisions of 1970s art, it is hardly surprising that, since the beginning of this decade, art predicated on elements of chaos, and particularly scatter-and-disorder installation, has reared its head again - only generally with a bastardized, global-dustbin twist. 'Slacker Art' (when it was mentionable in public) conjured up the fictionalized look of smart, sulky teenagers refusing to tidy their bedrooms. Karen Kilimnik's disorganized installations - thrown together in a short space of time and featuring anything from fake blood to scattered leaves to photocopied photographs of members of The Avengers - narrated a media-fixated adolescent's fantasies with a certain amount of art-historical nous (she has since switched, mostly, to faux-naive paintings of herself as various celebrities).
Filling constructed spaces with pop-cultural junk and photographs of himself, Jonathan Meese currently works in similar territory, but he utilises an aesthetic of glut whereas Kilimnik, typically, was spacey (in both senses). His large, disco-light-illuminated box Ahoi de angst, 1998, contains video monitors playing Warhol films and is plastered with counterculture icons. In recent works Meese has laboured to cram as much second-hand material and as many allusions into one space as possible.

Jonathan Meese in front of the house of
Piero Manzoni - Milano - March 2000



Where once art edged with disorder was coolly open, even refined, the preferred effect now is seen-it-before suffocation; claustrophobia.
In such works, the randomness is a reflection of mental processes, a smorgasbord of psychic jetsam. But it is also a space of accessibility, a way of presenting the fabric of the world as it is, in an analogue of a living space. Moving through one of Meese's or Kilimnik's installations, the viewer is thrown into a clunky, fictive boudoir and pressed into close relation with these familiar images, these democratic reference points. In one sense, this is yet another twist on the uniting of art and life, an attempt to get as close to transparency as possible before the ground crumbles. In another, it is a hyper-distanced dissection of cultural processes. The edge of improvisatory disorder in the work allows it to reflect, to theatricalise, cultural effects, while the institutional setting allows it to step back from them.
 
 
  from
Martin Herbert, "Chaos Theory"
Contemporary Visual Arts #26