“Paul Pfeiffer: Prologue to the Story of the Birth of Freedom” culminates in over thirty multimedia works of artist Paul Pfeiffer. The title of the exhibition references one of the works in the show which shows a video of director Cecil B. DeMille on loop exiting and entering theater curtains to present a screening of his biblical epic, The Ten Commandments (1956), the birth of freedom in this case referencing the birth of Moses. Though so much of the show focuses on popular culture in the West, I found myself questioning if the exhibit was rather the prologue to America and our pseudo-freedom represented through motifs of capitalism, nationalism and celebrity worship.
The exhibition is a maze of various photographic, video, auditory, and sculptural installations—an undertaking just as epic as The Ten Commandments. At the center of the maze is a room with a work entitled Live from Neverland (2006), which features a video of Michael Jackson delivering a very rehearsed press release speech denying accusations of child molestation, however Jackson is not the one speaking these words. Another video on a larger screen plays beside Jackson and features freshmen students at Silliman University in the Philippines performing Jackson’s monologue and providing Jackson’s audio for the installation. The work points to the world’s obsession with celebrity and a pivotal moment in the decline of Jackson’s legacy as an icon. In this work, Pfeiffer pulls back the curtain to show the hidden Brown labor behind all of our consumption, the Filipino students performing on behalf of a racially ambiguous star—another motif throughout the show. Many of the fabrications of Pfeiffer’s sculptures and installations employ the labor of artisans in the Philippines, Thailand and Latin America.
Incarnator, (2018 – ongoing) features an array of wooden body parts in the form of Justin Bieber, an image that has been featured on lamppost signs throughout Los Angeles advertising the show. It’s an image I’ve been plagued by—completely confused by the context of the work— but when face to face with Incarnator, I immediately understood. Utilizing carpenters known as encarnadores, Pfeiffer worked with Filipino, Spanish, and Latin American craftsmen whose job it is to make realistic renderings of Christ and saints for churches in Spain and its former colonies, and one that anyone from these countries would be well familiar with. As a Mexican American I cannot emphasize enough the religious zeal of Catholicism and its Baroque expressions in Latin America and its colonial cousin, the Philippines. This zeal transfers easily into other forms of worship and iconography whether that be celebrity, fútbol or nationalism.
Though the exhibition does not have a clearly labeled entrance or exit or directional flow, one could choose to walk in from several entrances and exits—a sort of choose-your-own-adventure. I was greeted by 24 Landscapes (2000/2008), a series of landscape photographs taken across beaches in Southern California, or so I thought. Upon reading the didactic text I learned these photos were from the final photo shoot of Marilyn Monroe before she died in 1962, but Pfeiffer has digitally erased her form from every one of these photos. Only thirty-six years old when she died and only an A-lister for some ten years (give or take a few) Monroe’s face has become as iconic and American as apple pie, though most fans couldn’t tell you a single thing about her. Many of the works in “Paul Pfeiffer: Prologue to the Story of the Birth of Freedom” point to a corporeal absence of the icon. In his erasure of various stars from their most recognizable places, Pfeiffer points to a cyclical process of replacing an old or disgraced icon with the next, whether it be Jesus, Justin Bieber, Manny Pacquio, or Bill Russell, another icon will be born to fill their shoes as is our cycle of freedom.
Paul Pfeiffer: Prologue to the Story of the Birth of Freedom is organized by Clara Kim, Chief Curator and Director of Curatorial Affairs, and Paula Kroll, Curatorial Assistant. It is on view at Geffen at MOCA until June 16, 2024.
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