The first rule of going to a Paul McCarthy opening at the Hammer is not to go hungry—art lovers shall not live on breadsticks alone. Visibly disappointed, Artillery writer Ezrha Jean Black arrived right at the moment the food was being whisked away while simultaneously the free bar switched to cash. Luckily my cohort and I arrived early enough for the accouterments of the evening. I’m not saying the cheese selection and complimentary wine was my favorite part of the evening, but they were a close second.

Installation view at Hammer.

Instead, my most pleasurable moment was witnessing a young girl—maybe 12 years old— gawking at the giant photographs of Paul McCarthy’s performances. She seemed particularly interested in one that showed a masked nude McCarthy hovering over a box with a hole in it, his penis red (blood or paint?) half inserted into the hole (cue Justin Timberlake— this guy’s got his steps down). Paul McCarthy. Fun for the whole family!

Viewer and dog observing Paul McCarthy’s work.

A scan of the exhibition left me with the feeling that the shock-art performances and drawings of McCarthy seemed a bit outdated. Swinging around and glorifying a white male penis isn’t shocking, it’s the status quo.

Viewers and Paul McCarthy work.

Mara McCarthy center.

The playlist Hammer selected made me curious if McCarthy would ever listen to. It seemed like the kind of music (inoffensive jazz-inspired hip hop) that old people think young people might like. It did serve as a fitting backdrop for Mara McCarthy, (The Box Gallery, Paul’s daughter) to saunter the grounds with her entourage Mean Girls-style.

Paul McCarthy chatting with Tulsa Kinney, Artillery mag editor-in-chief.

Kelly Berg, Andy Moses, Billie Weisman

Jay Wingate, Luis De Jesus

Most of my meet-and-greets took place in line for the bar and the food, including Andy Moses with wife/artist Kelly Berg along with Billie Weisman. We saw Annie Philbin’s doppelgänger and started snapping her photo mistakenly and she immediately knew we were thinking she was Philbin and laughed. Then we spotted the real Annie as Larry Johnson went up to her. We soon found out that the look-alike was Annie’s own sister! The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the all-black attire with platform shoes! Soon enough, the free bar was closing—our cue to leave. On our way out we ran into gallery Martin Durazo and Claudia Huiza chatting it up with Luis De Jesus and Jay Wingate of Luis De Jesus Los Angeles gallery.

Larry Johnson and NOT Annie Philbin (but her sister!)

Annie Philbin and Larry Johnson at Hammer.

Overall I’d call the Hammer opening a success. A night including so much genitalia and alcohol has never gone so gracefully.

Photography by Leanna Robinson