R. W. Winkler, 91, is a Dadaist or Neo-Dadaist or Fluxus artist, a movement that flowed through the last 100 years wreaking havoc on art labels and definitions, making art for everyone, not just for the intellectuals and effetes.Dada is not a school, it’s a non-school art movement set on breaking down museum walls, breathing regular life into art and eschewing any rarified airs.
It was the slow hammer blow that atomized the current art scene into un-herdable individualist artists and their art works of today. Dada was at the center of Yeat’s “widening gyre,” making sure the center didn’t hold.
Dada’s found objects, bizarre materials, personal aesthetics, works with intimate and personal narratives on social and political issues burgeoned during the 60’s civil-rights movement, which had been re-labeled and expanded to Neo-Dada and Fluxus. Winkler was there, in California, doing his art and running an art gallery, refining his individualism in a world hard on non-glossy, non-classifiable art, unhitched from any school.
Some of his work is on view at Rio Bravo Fine Art Gallery, along with his wife Nolan’s work, his two sons’ Todd and Mark’s work, as well as Todd’s wife Anne’s work. Go quickly, because they come down Sept. 29.
Take a gander at “Channeled from Africa” and try not to laugh. It looks like a crazy white man’s interpretation of an African mask, so well done it is an unassailable poke at Picasso’s lifting of African imagery that was the beginning of the Cubist movement. The weird blackened-teeth and stitched-mouth smile may be a pun on the “archaic smile” found on early-Classical Apollos that art history books tout as the herald of Greek humanism. It could also be a horror-movie version of the Mona-Lisa smile.
Best of all, Winkler made the face by soaking a dog’s huge chew bone until it became a malleable leathery sheet, which he then reformed on a mold. That’s as good as the Dadaist Duchamp’s famous urinal for repurposing and elevating an every-day object into art, with a capital A.
“Advanced Corporate Procedure” made me laugh out loud until I got the very dark meaning. Winkler wrapped burlap over a wooden form. The shape I took at first to be a simplified torso with a blunt featureless head. I thought it expressed the blank, bland, anonymous face corporations present when confronted with environmental, living-wage and other issues.
Nolan said it was a steer’s head however, with bloodied cut horns. The patched burlap suggests the Holstein-hide pattern or a corporate patch-job to obscure the animal abuse in the slaughter houses. The shape, I still think, can also be seen as a human figure, a Christ-like figure, with its cruciform shape, perhaps expressing a double meaning—hurting animals also hurts us, impairs our humanity.
The interpretive possibilities are Dada, the nonsensical name chosen for the movement’s insistence on myriad associations by all viewers having full play. Even without assigning a narrative, Winkler’s truncated, wrapped shape is full of compressed emotion as strong as a steer’s enforced-silence bellow.
All of Winkler’s works evoke strong emotions and evocative associations, the careful craftsmanship raising them above other Dada objects, such as Rauchenberg’s Bed or Goat–he never meant them to last—which give art conservators conniption fits today. Even though it’s antithetical to say so, his works deserve to be in museums.