LA photographer Pretty Puke, whose oxymoronic nickname speaks to his work, is an artist whose many material relics of the city’s witching hour speak for their subjects more than they speak for him. Is he a fortuitous onlooker? A Richardson-esque instigator? Or has his mere presence become an invocation in itself, summoning the demons of whatever present company he may be keeping? Either way, he gets up close and personal on an apparently regular basis with characters and situations that many would rather observe and pearl-clutch about than actually participate in. Thankfully, even the haters can enjoy his first solo show tomorrow night at Ironlak, where he will be displaying his very-real work up close and personal for the first time IRL. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll get drunk and do something stupid that will end up in a future gallery show. Meta.
When I was flipping through PP’s tumblr in search of images to accompany this, I stumbled upon this gem of an artist statement that far exceeds the validity of any press release that could ever be written. From the man himself, it reads (typos fixed by me because I can’t help myself):
“I’m getting really sick of fucking assholes giving me so much shit about my work not having any ‘artistic value.’ Why do annoying-ass people give themselves boundaries? My photos represent a generation, our generation. My photos will carry on and may or may not be remembered. A photo doesn’t have to be revolutionary, but a representation of a time caught by a single frame. I just do. I wouldn’t create if I had to give myself boundaries.”
Amen, bruh. Pretty sure you just annihilated my need to make some witty comment about your detractors, while adeptly justifying your right to real estate in the creative landscape, also known as “doing my job for me”. T.G.I.F, bitches!