The American painter smothers her canvases in heavy layers of gooey paint. Her inaugural London exhibition is a messy, exuberant celebration of her material, but some big messages are smuggled through if you manage to uncover them.
Schutz’s approach – earning her acclaim as a leading painters of her era – is focused on surface, brush strokes, colour and materiality. It’s painting for painters, truly advanced aesthetic geekery. Should you enjoy immersing yourself in coats of color and shadow, there’s enough here to engage you for a while. But it’s her bizarre, dreamlike, animated, symbolic visuals that really makes the paintings tick.
The works in the initial room are populated by enormous one-eyed beings and roaring mobs. One piece shows a collection of forms trudges mindlessly toward an event outside the frame, brandishing fists and leaving a trail of trash in their wake. A different work presents a figure given a large disguise in an odd ceremony before a horde of unattractive followers. It’s easy to interpret these as social commentary, as observation on the state of the US, on societal splits and furious, and mob mentality is turning everything to waste.
The Kiss by the artist.
In the other gallery space, Schutz seems to shift her focus to the people in power, instead of the masses that support them. Mysterious forms stuff their mouths with grapes and steak in a sombre dining room; a religious figure and a green-clad man sit back in gilded seats – whereas in other works a pair comfort one another in a scene filled with dead bodies, and a female figure, maybe Schutz herself, lies unclothed, desolate and powerless in bed.
This is ultradense, thickly layered art, filled with references. There’s the dreamy surreal symbolism of a symbolist master, the fleshy pink cartoonishness of Philip Guston, the festive bizarre elements of James Ensor, the large-headed oddities of Paul McCarthy. She includes nods on the art historical tradition, countless nods to pop culture (I am almost 100% sure that one painting is a depiction of Handsome Squidward from SpongeBob SquarePants). You could spend hours identifying all the elements from classic painters with which she’s sprinkled the artworks.
The Example by the exhibitor.
Painting this dense, intricate and symbolic leaves itself open to analysis. I feel as if one is tested on the symbolism of a Renaissance masterpiece but, for my money, there are a couple of distinct narratives: the people in power, and the crowds that they bait.
And Schutz should know about that. In 2017, her painting a titled piece – a partly abstract representation of the corpse of a historical figure, a black teenager who was murdered by two white men in a southern state in the mid-20th century – sparked immense debate when it was displayed at the Whitney Biennial. Critics charged her of profiting from tragedy for her own gain. A protester demonstrated against the work each day, and others called for it to be destroyed. An artist of European descent depicting – arguably with great sympathy – a image of black pain was the biggest story of the event. This marked the height of the recent social conflicts, a time that featured infighting even if they were on the same side. In retrospect, in a society more divided, simplified and angrier than ever, it feels almost quaint that people had the time to get upset at this emotional, mournful painting.
This might have ended her professional life, and Schutz probably wants to progress. But everything she’s done now exists in its influence. She unavoidably came out of that experience a transformed creator. But what hasn’t changed is how good she is, how she still engages in brilliant, sickly, thick and highly topical painting at the top tier.