Rick Prol

The East Village in its pre-NYU, gentrified heyday was a bit like the cantina scene from Star Wars. A seemingly lawless no-mans land simmering with every species in the known universe. A devils playground of broken glass, run-away punks, inebriation of every sort and a mind boggling amount of passionate creativity. An inferno that for a nanosecond was able to illuminate (what at least we thought was) the world.

Suffice it to say, anyone willing to navigate the murky waters of Alphabet City had no fear of the underbelly of the urban beast. We had no reason to look away from the flotsam and jetsam around us, that's the reason we were there. We didn't shut out the homeless guys, the junkies in the park, the squatters or the freaks. They were part of the landscape. I wouldn't run into them at Danceteria, but fear them? Not listen to their putridly beautiful stories? Never!

These are some of the characters that inhabit the world of art icon Rick Prol. They are like the cartoon-ey, sweet dreams of a paranoid schizophrenic child before he learns how to translate the images in his mind's eye into acts of violence. They grab the viewer, embrace him and continue to gently caress with razor sharp blades, jagged glass and glistening meat hooks. Composed of and surrounded by lush color they are stretched, twisted, pinched, slit, deformed and then pushed into the glare of a dangling, naked light bulb - the resulting shadows all a part of the deliciously devious effect. Apocalypse never seemed so enticing.

They are apparently wounded, often "stabbed" multiple times but there is no indication that they have given up. They may be beaten, but they are still putting on their best tattered suit and heading out for the night. The infliction of pain may even be desired. Proof of our ability to not only survive but to feel that which so many take "pains" to avoid.

It is scientific law that all things organic have an innate desire to return to the inorganic. Life wishes to die, to decay. Without decay there is no new life. We all wish to die in order to be reborn as something if not better, at least new - if only fleetingly so. There has always been so much talk about life after death. What if there is death after death? What if the Ninth Circle turned out to be just another VIP room?

Prol, along with co-curator and fellow artist Jan Lynn Sokota, recently unveiled the "East Village ASU" exhibit at the legendary B-Side Gallery. This gem of a show is not to be confused with "East Village USA," the Dan Cameron curated behemoth at the New Museum.

Make no mistakes, the New Museum exhibit is a must-see! Stephen Lack's Strip Search is at once alluring and chilling. David Wojnarowicz' The Death of American Spirituality will have you going back again and again to inspect another hidden detail previously overlooked. David Sandlin's Temptation Beneath the Pulaski Skyway is hypnotic. A personal favorite is Nelson Sullivan's 25 minute long My Life in Video.

The show seems to take great pains to be comprehensive. Still, there is the feeling of being seated at an elaborately set table, enjoying a sumptuous meal and realizing there is no salt. In anything. It is still something to write home about but there is something basic, elemental, missing - preventing complete satisfaction.

Case in point is the downright bizarre placement of a print of Prol's S.O.S. - in the dark, under a stairwell, unaccredited. In the interview that follows, Prol addresses this perplexing issue. I will therefore say nothing -- other than if someone does not want work represented, don't put it up. If they do, do it properly with credit and maybe even a pin spot. To sort of put it up but in the dark in a weird place seems very middle of the road to me -- the very definition of mediocrity which is what I thought we were all trying to avoid. But, what do I know.

What the Prol/Sokota exhibit lacks in size it overwhelmingly makes up for in authenticity. The small white cube of a gallery is accessible through a practically unmarked black door. With more than 35 artists represented, the show displays a remarkable capacity to transport viewers back in time. The smell, the sounds, the tastes of the era are palpable as one sits on the simple futon and studies the works on display. Maybe it is the location and its intimate size. More likely it is the sensitivity demonstrated by Prol and Sokota in curating. Whatever the reason, don't miss this opportunity to re-visit a golden era that was all too brief.

What follows is my interview with Rick Prol at the B-Side Gallery where he shares his thoughts on art, inspiration, compliments and yes...that other show.

Interviewed December 15th, 2004

Mikal Saint George: In curating the East Village ASU show, what was the impetus - the statement you wanted to make?

Rick Prol: It was an opportunity. I wasn't planning on doing a group show here at first but I wanted to start up a gallery again in a more consistent manner in terms of doing shows each season. I had kind of re-opened it in '96 but I changed the name to Doggie Style Gallery and I did a couple of shows and I was going to do them more consistently but I didn't so I kept it as my studio. Then recently the reopening of the gallery just kind of coincided with a new look at the East Village scene and then it all came together. Then I decided I wanted to do a group show before I did a one man show for Walter Robinson.

We were playing around with names and Jan said, "Let's call it "East Village ASU", it should be a play on the name of the New Museum show, linking the shows." Then I said, "and some others", and she said, "others with a U". Her idea was to not allow one curator or institution be the only entity to document the history of the East Village art scene and that the artists should have an equal contribution to the historicization of the period. The timing of that is very important because I didn't wait, literally my opening was the day before his (Dan Cameron's) which again kind of just turned out that way, it wasn't really planned. It's fortunate that it went that way because it's the way I wanted it to happen. I got a lot of encouragement from certain people but they said it's going to be wedded to that show in some way. It definitely has been. The Village Voice they said this show is a footnote to his show but I don't know if I'm happy with that characterization...

MSG: That's an interesting way of putting it! Well, take any press as a compliment.

RP: Yeah, definitely! I also wanted to put some names out there that I thought were part of the scene that I thought were left out of his show, plus there are some new people in this show. It kind of has the feel of what it was like to curate shows back then - which I did. In '83, '84 I started to curate shows for the East 7th Street Gallery. The first show there, the "Underdog" show, got written up in Art Forum by Thomas McEvilley and it was a great review! I got a lot of people shown because I did four group shows in a row there and it really helped to get the ball rolling for some people's careers. Many of the people in this show were in that first show like David Wojnarowicz, Martin Wong and Walter Robinson. After doing three or four shows - there were three and then there was a fourth show at the Cat Club (the "East Side Story" show). I showed George Condo, Peter Schuyff, and Donald Baechler...I mean there were so many people in those group shows. It was pretty remarkable and it was very much like this current show. It was a salon style idea and then I did a one-man show at the East 7th Street Gallery, "City Of Fire", that got written up in Arts Magazine by Holland Cotter. This kind of show re-captures that time in many ways. The second show was the "Nightmare" show then there was the "Twilight Zone" show...

MSG: What was the "Nightmare" show?

RP: It was just a group of artists again. It was somewhat self-promotional because I curated them and I put myself in them. Interestingly enough that's how I got my name started. Then the Hal Bromm Gallery approached me and wanted to show me. They saw my work but had heard of me first as a curator. Then my work spoke for itself and I got picked up by people. Just before that I was showing at the Piezo Electric Gallery. That all happened because of a big group show called the "Resurrection" show at the Middle Collegiate Church. This huge show that was another salon - an amazing show - and I had this big, big triptych in there. From there I got into Piezo Electric and then things moved very, very quickly. People from Europe were coming to pick me up. It happened for a lot of people that way.

MSG: It was a very special time...

RP: Yeah, and it wasn't the kind of thing where I had to bring my slides around. You got your name out there by being on the scene. Obviously, some people stood out more - their work was better. To tell you the truth, there were a lot of people trying to do what I did. But it didn't work as well or they didn't quite get in there on time.

MSG: Do you think it is a timing issue? There are so many people who would have given their right arm to do what you did.

RP: It is 100 % timing and instinct. Like, I don't know why I called the first show "Underdog" but I think it was a really interesting thing that Thomas McEvilley picked up on that and compared it to Tony Shafrazi's "Champions" show that happened just at the same time. It was interesting because once he pointed it out to me I could see what he was saying about what I had done intuitively. That is what his review was about...how the East Village was creating its own thing. All these artists that I showed and other people started showing, I don't know that I started out - or that anyone started out - thinking we were going to be opposed to anything. There just were not enough galleries that you could just easily fit into. I first went to Paula Cooper to try and get a show and she was very nice, she liked my work but I had no market yet. I went to Mary Boone right away...

MSG: What was that like?

RP: They were really great with me but they didn't pick me up or anything. They encouraged me. I got a very good response from them but I realized that if you shoot too high, too quickly you probably aren't going to get there. You have to work the social thing kind of...

MSG: Absolutely, it is an industry like anything else.

RP: Yeah and then one thing leads to another and again, like I said, if you have the stuff...and I had the stuff with my art. My art was ready, like really ready. My work really came into a kind of fruition at that moment. I had graduated from Cooper (Union) in 1980 and those two years between graduating and showing I really painted a lot. I experimented a lot. I was very fortunate at that moment to get through that period of experimentation - which was great. Of course I was still experimenting even when things picked up and happened.

That's another interesting point though, there was so much to react to then. In terms of painting and what was going on and just the scene. Obviously, it's a very different time now. It's not that same melting pot or that feeling of so much to react to. At that time there was a neighborhood that allowed it - there was a place and the whole international return to painting movement.

MSG: I've talked about this before, there was a kind of fire at the time that just doesn't exist now.

RP: Yeah and you can't fake that and you can't predict it, it just kind of happened. It's just remarkable to be all of a sudden in the middle of that and not even really realize it! I can't even explain it but it was almost after it ended that I realized that we had just been through this amazing period.

MSG: Yeah!! That time was mostly appreciated in retrospect!

RP: It's almost like having a great lover. You instinctually know "this is the best sex I am ever going to have." But you realize that later because you discover you are never going to get it again, maybe! That's why you were so crazy about them! That's how you become sexually addicted to someone because somehow, internally, you know "this is the best." It was one of the best times that would ever happen and somehow you knew that but only after. Like this amazing realization.

MSG: For me, I feel like that was the last time real uniqueness was actually celebrated and I miss that excitement. Especially at this point in time when everything is so homogenized and corporately sponsored and so "Pottery Barned". That's kind of what I mean when I say that spark, that fire isn't there in the same way.

RP: I think it exists maybe in small Cliques or pockets. There are some artists I know that came after and they think they have that for themselves. They have their network. It's very romanticized too, that period of the East Village. And rightfully so! When I look back on it, it was just an amazing period. To experience the beginning of it, to see people getting on to it and then getting off of it. It's like a ship that kind of took off...

MSG: Well, it's also a ship that hit some rocky water because there was the financial crash, AIDS...

RP: Which decimated everything. And then the rent is going up. The inevitable gentrification, which was very interesting because it almost did consume itself from inside by its own success. It seemed the more it (the East Village) got co-opted and the artists got siphoned off or some of the more hard core stuff was eclipsed it ook on a poignancy in a way because it was ephemeral...maybe not ephemeral but it had a poignant quality to it because it didn't get recorded properly or fell between the cracks. Sometimes that is the best stuff.

For each individual artist it's a little bit of your responsibility, ultimately to yourself and your art, to make sure that you get things recorded. It sounds so obvious - not just slides. I realize that everything is about documentation because other people are going to write the history and the East Village was vulnerable to this kind of re-invention. Everybody has their view, their take. Yeah, everybody has an opinion. But somewhere in all of that the record is often not quite correct, some of it I think is even really off base.

In particular, some of the things going on in the "East Village USA" show. There are some people prominently displayed in that show and they were hardly on the scene. I mean good for them, they got the exposure now...

MSG: I am sure you are not the only one walking in there with the same questions.

RP: It's kind of upsetting. I didn't want to be in a show there that everyone and the kitchen sink was in it either. I want to be in the right show that is - I wouldn't say exclusive - but there was a core group and it is recorded somewhat in the Timothy Greenfield-Sanders photos (On display at the "East Village USA" exhibit) but even that is not totally correct, at least for me, that's not 100% accurate. There are some people in those photos that weren't even really...it's very strange. I could tell you exactly who (in the photos) I think was not only around but contributed or did something in terms of the East Village that was very significant - that made it what it was.

These people who were really on the scene gave so many others a launching pad or an opportunity because they had already greased the wheels. That gave way to a lot of new-comers exploiting the scene and what was happening for their own careers. Then there were those that came along and promoted the new stuff while over-looking some of the original things that allowed it to happen in the first place.

I think (Dan) Cameron did a good job in many, many ways - I give credit where credit is due. The show looks good but there are some glaring, glaring omissions. Some people got this really royal treatment and they were either minor figures or they really had nothing to do with it.

Specifically - I'm going to get really specific about who was left out and who shouldn't have been - me, for better or worse Mark Kostabi...

MSG: What are your feelings on Mark? I am really curious.

RP: I think Mark did something with his work that was really extraordinary for him. I don't like the later paintings really, I don't even look at the later paintings - to me those are real products. I think he is talented, I think he was fine. He had a lot of ideas, a lot of energy, he could paint. If you see his early paintings, the ones that he did, they are cool in hindsight. Initially I never liked his work, he knew that. But then I grew to like a lot of his stuff. He just became something else. It's like a theatrical performance with paintings...that are products. They are clever but they are to sell as these products and don't have much soul.

MSG: It's corporate art.

RP: Yeah, corporate art with these one-liner jokes.

MSG: I think he was in on the joke though, that was his saving grace.

RP: He is a remarkable person. He got a lot of bad press because of the anti-gay thing he said and that haunted him to a degree. I don't know if that was a set-up but he obviously said something he shouldn't have. If he meant it, it's worse. I don't know if he was just trying to be provocative...

MSG: Which is my guess...

RP: There is a lot of that kind of gender, sexual orientation stuff going on in the "East Village USA" show. I know some people who got in specifically because powerful collectors pushed to get them in. That happens everywhere but if you are going to talk about curatorial integrity!

To hear that and then to be excluded! I just didn't catch it in time. I know he (Dan Cameron) got lots of e-mails and phone calls asking why I wasn't a part of the show.

I wanted to respond to him in my own way. He had written me a letter, an explanation of what he did and why he did it. So I was like, alright your putting a print of mine in the show but am I in the show? Why would you represent me that way? Why don't you represent me correctly? Why don't you let the work duke it out?

I don't think he loved everything he put in that show - that would be ludicrous.

There is a lot of Pat Hearn, International with Monument, FUN Gallery, Gracie Mansion - that's kind of how it is. It is not an exclusive four gallery show but it almost feels that way. It feels like his version of the cool kids. Also, the people who made it really big after. It's kind of funny that some of the people that were really big then didn't get in and others that weren't really around that much and weren't really significant but made it later got in.

I have to wonder what about my work he didn't like or didn't get because if you look at all the other work, my work would have stood up really well in that show. I think it would have been like a missing link between many things.

MSG: Do you think it's a political situation?

RP: Absolutely! It's political, it's personal! I don't know, I can only speculate. Who knows, maybe people have said things...I don't know.

MSG: I think it's very hard for artists, regardless of their medium - painter, performer, whatever - who have been in similar situations not to lay awake night after night eating themselves up over it!

RP: Absolutely! That feeds right back into why I did this show because I had to direct my energy. If I had just sat there and not done this show I would have just been upset about Dan's and had to have just swallowed it and taken it. But I got more pro-active and I thought I have to do something, let the chips fall where they may.

Mark Kostabi specifically was very, very positive about it. He said to me "this is a great thing you are doing." He was very encouraging. Whenever I showed doubts he was like "No, no, no - you've got to do it. It's the right thing to do!" He picked up on it right away and helped me continue as did Walter Robinson and Jan also.

MSG: You're also not being consumed by the politics. There has got to be some purity somewhere so why not you be the one to have the pure show? You should!

RP: Or at least in my own way, let that (the "East Village ASU" show) speak for me. You know, do it in the press, have the fight out there in the open - stand up for myself, instead of writing letters. That's not going to get me anywhere. Again, I hope people get it. I'm not doing it like I'm Mr. Altruistic but it is a nice feeling to show people's work. You know, all of a sudden this was the show they wanted to be in and this was the show they were upset if they were left out of.

I'll tell you something very interesting that happened, I took on the hat again of being the dealer/curator/artist. It's not that I had more compassion for Dan but I understand what it is to do shows. All of a sudden I was in his shoes in a funny way.

MSG: It sounds to me like people are stepping up to the plate and calling him on it though.

RP: I hope so! Dan may not get or like my work but he can not deny the relevance of what I did or what I meant to the scene.

MSG: So, I want to change direction a little bit. I want to get more into your specific work. What is it like to have the experience of curating a show? Does that enhance you as an artist? Or does being an artist enhance you as a curator?

RP: Well, what it taught me was to have a certain confidence in my eye. Sometimes I would question what I like. I would ask myself "is this really any good?" It's really more like a gut reaction. What it showed me was that I could walk into someone's studio and see a lot of work and just (snaps fingers) pick it. Maybe that's common, maybe that's not so special...

MSG: It's special if you're good at it.

RP: Everyone told me I was. I guess I just feel like I have a sharp eye. The only thing was a few of the people, I was so rushed, I was not able to go to their studio and pick the work. 99% of the time they would bring me the wrong thing if I didn't go to their studio. If I went I always got more or less what I wanted.

Plus, I always welcomed the opportunity to go to other people's studios. It sharpens me because I am taking on this other role. So I now know how to better deal with someone coming over (to my studio). It's very telling. Sometimes you will go to someone's studio and they are totally unprepared and there is nothing to see. I know I've done that! It actually gives me a much better ability to handle my own presentation of my own work. I see both sides more clearly.

MSG: What kind of reaction do you hope people will have when they see your work?

RP: Well, first of all, compliments are always hard to take. If they are honest about it, I guess that's fine.

MSG: Is it easier for you to take criticism than compliments?

RP: No, I can read pretty quickly where someone is coming from in terms of missing the work. Sometimes it can be interesting. The tricky part is showing unfinished work. You show them something finished, people are going to say what they want but I feel the piece is fully realized - it is what it is. It's like it has its own life. I don't (at that point) react so much. When I was younger, I would destroy something because someone said something negative about it. I'll do that to myself sometimes, if I don't like an image or something but other people don't destroy my work anymore. There are really only a few people that I know that could come to my studio and make comments on my work and they really have a profound ability to help me. Right now there is only one person, Jan Lynn Sokota, that has this place in my life..

Picasso said something interesting about that, something like; the problem with other people's work is you can't change it. You can always change your own but you can't do that with somebody else's work because it's their work. It's a pity because you would like to help them.

MSG: Do you have masterpieces?

RP: Yeah. A lot of the pieces that you might term 'masterpieces' I often in the short run reject them and don't think they are that good. Even looking back, sometimes I out and out not like them.

MSG: Really?

RP: Because they can be an impediment to going forward at times. Because you always want to go forward and make the better painting. Paintings are always in competition with each other, they are all vying to be the best painting that you are making. In order to move forward sometimes you have to carefully destroy what you did before- not literally of course. Sometimes you have to really get past it though. Not like there is something technically wrong with the painting - that's something else. But it's like seeing a fully realized painting and not being able to look at it any more. Unfortunately I have had some of those paintings and I'll kind of destroy them in a way and I shouldn't have. I should have just left them alone.

But again, I have only been able to look back at my '85 period more recently and really see it again for what it is. It's almost, looking back, the intensity of the work. It was almost too much for me to look back at. There is kind of a really early free moment where you're just discovering everything, everything is ahead of you. You have no history with your own work yet to refer to, just doing it is what it is all about. Then all of a sudden you have your own history to deal with. That's when artists can get screwed up and wish they could re-do some of their earlier paintings - you can become obsessed with your earlier work either because you love it too much or hate it too much. Either way can be kind of an impediment.

You kind of cannibalize your own work. It's a chain of imagery. One image modifying the other, to paraphrase Philp Guston, 'it is mysterious.' I think just to have a major period or "style" It's like some people only have two books in them and then they write a bunch of others but it is only those two that are really important but to have had that 'period' is crucial.

MSG: Where do your images come from?

RP: There are certain key experiences and images in my life and things just click. It's like past significant experiences come forward. Just like all my past comes forward. Like from childhood, why did I have this feeling about windows, broken windows? My mother always turned me on to very spooky imagery. My background is Spanish / Irish so influences like Goya, Bosch and German Expressionism...I have no problem with images of violence, not gratuitous...

MSG: There is a violent edge to your work. It's interesting though, and maybe I'm just jaded, but although it is violent, it's not gruesome. TV is worse.

RP: Mark Kostabi was giving me advice recently and he said "The only thing wrong with your early paintings is the knives and collectors just don't want knives. Or they don't want their kids looking at knives."

MSG: OH I DO!

RP: I know! But he is just so driven on this marketing thing. Like you have got to make it all palatable. It's almost like making a film and then running it by a bunch of people to make sure it will sell. "Oh, you don't like this great ending? OK, let's stick this one in."

That is just the last way I would go about making my work. If anything it is totally the opposite. I always felt like they were never hard enough. That is partly what drove them is that I was never satisfied. I was satisfied to the degree that I was on the right track.

My father didn't like them. He kind of steered me into being a painter, he was a great classical guitarist and he was also a painter and an artist when he was younger. But he never got my work really or it shocked him or freaked him out. I knew I was on the right track. When I got to that point where I didn't care what he thought...that was a huge break-through. For years I was very different, I didn't paint about my feelings in the same way. I don't know if 'feelings' is the right word. It's just a need to convey an image that is true and it can be difficult. I got very specific about wanting to describe my "feelings". I did it with images.

MSG: I think your imagery is very indicative of the era.

RP: My imagery is grounded in the urban environment and it is what the East Village looked like. I used it as kind of a back drop. The environment gave me incredible fuel but there was a deeper reservoir I drew from.

MSG: I think one of the things that is so striking about your work is that it can mean so many different things to so many different people. I think that is truly the mark of extraordinarily special work.

RP: Well...thanks...again, I can't take compliments!

MSG: Well actually it sucks.

RP: That's better!

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