“Blue Wave”— late artist Lutz Bacher’s multimedia installation made up of four parts, has No. 45 all over it, placed in various locations of UC Irvine’s University Art Galleries and Contemporary Arts Center.
As the title piece they have a video projection lasting 14 minutes, of a blue tarp moving mesmerizingly in the wind at about the same time as the mid-term election of 2018. It’s a readymade visual because it’s calming, despite the shaky camera work as well as the loud traffic sounds in the background. It very astutely captures the way things were happening in Congress then.
Then there’s 2018’s Rocket, a photo which isn’t all that fascinating technically—it’s a lobby sized color pic made on vinyl depicting a dismantled rocket on a track. But it does come off as a sign of hope to some, especially since we’re living in an age where phallocentric politicians openly brag about how big their junk is, while at the same time limiting the access the ordinary woman has to birth control. Rocket may not necessarily be interpreted by every art lover as a depiction of a deconstructed USA, but it is definitely a symbol of anti-patriarchy.
Moskva (2019), whose name translates to “Moscow” in Russian, has 96 digital pigment prints comprising rearranged texts sourced from spy novels, either hanging on the walls one on top of the other, or set on the floor like the remnants of a frenzied search. It uses the cut-up technique credited to William S. Burroughs, with its bright xeroxed sex scenes showing an overabundance of pubic hair as well as swollen “ruby fruit,” all mixed in with grade-Z dialogue punctuated by Russian words. It’s a campy read for sure. Organizer Monica Majoli’s curator notes mention that the installation echoes the Mueller Report’s redactions, while also carrying a tiny bit of psychopathology. The overall effect, this means, is the look of a bunch of drip-and-drab evidence laid out by a conspiracy theorist who’s still trying to wrap their head around all of it.
Inside an oft-closed utility closet within the same gallery you’ll find Bacher’s 2018-2019 Modules, which has a desk, a monitor, and two-hours’ worth of videos regarding the process the artist follows, which is meant for experiencing at random. At least the first 15 minutes you’ll have a smoke machine working in a small space, with white clouds forming so that everything disappears, and all you’re left with is the artist’s voice. It’s a wholly unintentional goodbye.
