By Matt Dukes Jordan
Larry Wessel’s feature-length documentary called LOVE takes viewers into a fascinating and strange realm of the unreal (the hyper-real?) — realm of Beth Moore-Love’s art. Both Moore-Love and Wessel know that there’s something spooky and nasty about American history and culture and they have reflected that in their respective mediums.
While America’s founder’s Enlightenment-based idealism offered a vision of a new and wonderful kind of nation, there is a shadowy side to it all, starting with stealing the country from the locals with brutal swindles and military campaigns. For pure creepiness one can consider the Salem witch trials, the cannibalism at Donner Pass, the madness and mayhem reported in the book called Wisconsin Death Trip (one source of inspiration for Moore-Love’s art), and, well, there’s the grandfather of all nutty grave-robbing serial killers and the man who provided a lead character for many films including Psycho, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Silence of the Lambs — that crazy kooky cannibal, fashion freak, and Wisconsin native, Ed Gein. Far more destructive than the above horrors is the fact that the U.S. never hesitates to use military force, even for nothing more than to ensure cheap banana prices at the expense of the local farmers, as in the repeated invasions of Honduras. (Note: the U.S. military attacked Honduras in 1903, 1907, 1911, 1912, 1919, 1924, 1925 to “protect U.S. interests.”)
One could say that Moore-Love’s art is, in part, an expression of the idea, “Nothing risked, nothing Geined.” Moore-Love takes risks in her art and pushes it deep into creepyland Americana with ease and painterly sophistication. Thanks to her ability to combine innocence and gore, she has Geined (sic) a following in the U.S. and Europe. Born in 1964 in Des Moines, Iowa, she was strongly influenced by time spent in San Francisco in the 1980s where she met Boyd Rice, Anton LaVey, and others; plus she helped run the Force-Nordstrom gallery on Market St. there and showed work by Mark Mothersbaugh and Karen Finley, and more. A meeting with Joel Peter-Witkin was important to her artistic development as well.
Wessel’s film tells the story of her artistic life largely from her point of view in a series of intimate conversations at the kitchen table in her house in Albuquerque. We also see her firing an automatic weapon outdoors, and going for drives in the mysterious, awesome, sometimes spooky landscape of New Mexico.
She offers an engaging and in-depth commentary on each major painting she has created. The film moves chronologically through her career, beginning with her first paintings which were done while she was studying with Albuquerque artist and lifelong artistic mentor and friend, Dale Caudill, aka Bo, who also has a prominent role in the film. A charming hippie rogue of an art teacher and friend, he offers much entertaining commentary along with her fascinating descriptions of what went into each painting.
The film is appreciative, expertly filmed, and has enough of its own surreal touches to create the right mood for learning about Love’s work. Periodically the viewer is teased with lingering shots of New Mexico’s semi-wastelands. They are combined with Lynchian sounds and music to create a menacing, surreal mood. At times, it becomes as if we were inside of Moore-Love’s paintings.
The destruction of human dreams and innocence is a major theme in Moore-Love’s art. Wessel subtly suggests that the Vietnam war and her father’s absence while serving in the military there were an influence on Moore-Love’s sense that there’s an underlying violence and nastiness to American life. Curiously, one of the most striking works of photojournalism to emerge from that war is the photo by Nick Ut of the “napalm girl,” 9-year-old Kim Phuc. She was fleeing the heat of a napalm bombing in a village she lived in. Moore-Love may not have been directly influenced by the image of the terrorized Kim Phuc, but the spirit of that photo and the horror of it suffuse her art.
Moore-Love is well aware of the power of the metaphor of the tormented child in fine art. Wounded waifs have been a staple motif of the lowbrow/pop surrealist art movement that I surveyed in my books WEIRDO DELUXE (2005) and WEIRDO NOIR (2010). San Francisco artist Margaret Keane may have kicked it all off with her big-eyed girl paintings which reflect a kind of wounded innocence following WWII.
The bizarre evils and incongruities of our hierarchical, top-down managed society are the kind of things that fine artists like Moore-Love address. As Moore-Love describes the influences on her work, Wessel provides images of paintings and works she refers to. Wessel has put many hours into putting together a documentary that flows along with seeming effortlessness, but which involved a huge amount of research and work.
This documentary may not be for the squeamish, but it’s well worth watching for an in-depth portrait of a significant American artist who has been addressing big issues in her complex and unique paintings for decades.
The full piece originally appeared at FLESHAPOIDFILMS .