Don’t Say I Didn’t Tell Ya

The double negative in the English language can make the most extreme grammar nazi crack a smile. It expresses itself as a contradictory superlative that ultimately means the opposite of its intention, and Ed Ruscha doesn’t care. His drum skin paintings have the cadence of an OKC beer joint convo and the execution of typeface via text on stroke tool. The beat of the words hang on every syllable, and a captive audience following the circular sentences read with a bouncing ball of a sing-along. Language under this microscope is more conducive to a slow reading technique, and each sentence hangs on with a drawl. The double negative phrasing is definitely less the juggernaut of lingua francas and more colloquialisms from the hometowns most rural transplants try to forget about. “It Don’t Mean Nothing” is the perfect expression for an angry cowboy or a crestfallen debutante with the kick the dirt quality of coping. Ruscha uses the English language like he was around it when “cool” was invented. Utilitarian declarations of happenings become anachronisms when plastered upon the beige skins in the glorified rhythm section of a gallery. 20th-century painters of the American zeitgeist from “ago” ooze nostalgic pander that have more to say in the context of the Mecum car auction and these Drum Skins aren’t terribly reflective of the current migraine in the American psyche. The words wrap up the small blips of dialogue out of prime time Gun Smoke episodes in a cascade of banalities equal to the act of speed watching twenty years of Bonanza by walking around a small art gallery. “He Up and Went Downtown” is lacking in the mystery or sharpness of many other paintings of Ruscha, and technically isn’t a double negative. It’s strange to see an artist associated with blending conceptual art with pop art create such weak paintings in both those styles. His usual mastery of taking a turn of phrase and making it monumental simply isn’t in these paintings. The opportunity to show the hyper-American quality of Ruscha’s work was squandered here as he settled for making circle paintings instead of making functioning drums for the rock and rolling generation, or even a tongue in cheek appropriation of native American culture a la American Spirit cigarettes. Being on display in a museum in Texas gives a good context for the paintings as the intended reading comes with a readymade accent commonly available in the Lone Star State. It’s not a revelation for the American soul, but rather plainly just as described “Ed Ruscha: Drum Skins”…and maybe that’s enough. The Drum Skins aren’t showy like a rodeo trick roper, but instead, wield the English language with the stoic insouciance of the Marlboro Man. Ruscha paintings are synthesized western cool, but when its twilight in the saloon the whiskey is just a little watered down.