Llyn Foulkes: Outrage, Heartache and Humor at A Hug From the Art World

Beached, 2016 - 2024, 81 1/2 x 76 1/2 inches, Acrylic and found objects on luan, Image courtesy of A Hug From The Art World, New York, NY. Photo: Jenny Gorman

By GARY BREWER December 4, 2024

“I remain just one thing, and one thing only, and that is a clown. It places me on a far higher plane than any politician.”

—Charlie Chaplin

Llyn Foulkes’ exhibition at A Hug From the Art World is a rare show. One can sense in the selection and display of his work, and in the feel of the intimate, rustic gallery space itself, a vibe simpatico with the artist. The artworks interact with each other and engage the viewer so well in part from the thoughtful placement of the paintings and assemblages from the late 1940s to the present.

On the second floor the gallerist, Adam Cohen, asked Foulkes to allow him to display objects from his studio/living room: artifacts, photographs, postcards, tools, small artworks and a case of items from a lifetime of collecting—bones, bird skulls, wasp nests, sea shells, snapshots—by a mind engaged with objects’ power to convey ideas and emotions. The assortment suggests a kind of cross between Bruce Conner and Joseph Cornell. The wall is a record of the artist’s life, his art, his relationships and his travels, elements lived with for decades.

Foulkes engages us with a wicked humor, outrage, pathos, satire and a powerful ability to fuse physical objects from the world into the illusory window of painted space. At times he achieves a tension that suggests a surrealist sensibility. However, though his narratives often seek to unearth a subconscious, it is not a Freudian or Jungian universe, but one of symbols shaped by the capitalist exploitation of our subjective world—the tools of manipulation that bombard our collective unconscious to create narratives and desires, a conditioned response aligned with the will of the ruling powers.

The works in this exhibition begin very early in his career, with cartoons from the 1940s that the artist drew as a teenager, and finish with very recent works that address our current political nightmare. In the newer pieces his touch is lighter, a sleight of hand achieving powerful results. In the piece “Tex” (2017), we see an old photograph, a random found portrait with a burnt hole. Through the hole another face or eye peers at us. It could be the slippage of one identity into another or the suggestion of a narrative passed from one generation to another to maintain an orderly status quo.

High Voltage, 2020, 26x17 inches, Giclee prints, found media, found objects, oil on panel, Image courtesy of A Hug From The Art World. Photo: Jenny Gorman

In “Silence of the Llyn” (2016) the erasure of a face—a visage physically scratched out—suggests erasing history or rubbing out an undesirable. The effect is emotionally charged and evokes a range of psychological conditions from the dark history of our human misdeeds against one another.

An underlying narrative that has informed Foulkes’ work from the 1970s forward is his anger toward commercial forces that have targeted children to market products and images, abusing the innocence of childhood. Years ago, a relative in his family who worked for Disney gave him a 1934 Mickey Mouse Club pamphlet. In it, a letter stated, “The primary purpose of the club is twofold (a) It provides an easily arranged and inexpensive method of getting the patronage of youngsters. (b) Thru inspirational, patriotic and character building phrases, it aids children in learning good citizenship… .”

Foulkes has created work that expresses his outrage and sorrow at how our capitalist experiment has stolen from children a free space of innocence. This betrayal has made Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse the subject matter of much of his work’s scathing attack on the powers that force-feed us ideas in the guise of entertainment.

On the second floor of the gallery we see the first piece the artist made using an image of Mickey Mouse, “Queen of Hearts” (1983). This assemblage sculpture consists of a green wooden cross penetrated with random holes (suggesting bullet holes), possibly from a fence or an architectural element, on a pedestal. Affixed to it is a small vintage photograph of a pioneer woman—but her head replaced by an image of Mickey Mouse. The strange disjunction establishes a signature recurring image that will haunt his work up to the present.

Untitled-Mickey Eyes, 2021, 26x21 inches, Found objects and found frame, Image courtesy of A Hug From The Art World. Photo: Jenny Gorman

“Untitled: Mickey Eyes” (2021) is a powerful piece, a found photograph partially painted out with black paint, cropping the young man in a suit and giving him a strange, abstracted look. The face has been painted red, possibly applied with a piece of cloth, leaving striations that look almost like a bloody thumbprint. The face of this anonymous person is youthful, perhaps adolescent; in place of his eyes are the bold black-and-white eyes of Mickey Mouse. In the dark, unnerving countenance the blood-red face appears demonic. It looks like a picture that would be hung on a wall in a horror film set in a dilapidated mansion.

On the first floor of the gallery, Foulkes takes aim at the political universe. In “Pat” (2020), a caricature of former first lady Pat Nixon smiles. The black-and-white photo of her has been painted to surround her in a luminous sky-blue, her blouse a pale yellow and pink. Her features are replaced by another person’s eyes and a bulbous nose that protrudes through an opening, creating a slightly mad image. It suggests her effort, with chin up, to convey some idea of happiness in the midst of catastrophe.  Our political world is filled with smiling faces trying to cover up the darkness lurking behind their eyes.

A haunting image of a figure hooded in white with two black holes for eyes, set against sky blue, is a stark reminder of our tragic history and the continuing violence of bigotry and hate. “High Voltage” (2020) is the alarm bell that needs no ringing: this current presidential campaign and election, fueled by divisive vitriol, is like a high-voltage line powering the dark irrational forces that have plagued our world.

In “Lifeboat” (2016–2024), a figure holding an American flag looks like he has fallen from the sky and landed uncomfortably on his back in a lifeboat. The head is a self-portrait of the artist; the oversize yellow shoes belong to Mickey Mouse. Strange clouds animate a blue sky, a deep-blue sea with rough waters fills the background. He hopes for rescue, but alas, the craft is labeled TRUMP Lifeboat Co, hence our hero is stranded. Beached, it seems, maybe wishing to depart for safer lands. Or left adrift having arrived somewhere without a lifeline to a society that would care enough to save him. It conveys outrage, heartache and humor as well as a tragic inevitability, our world shaped by greed and profit over kindness and compassion.

Llyn Foulkes’ paintings and sculptures swiftly penetrate the psyche: powerful, nerve-sensitive, expressive works from a soul willing to feel the pain of the world and create a record of it. He uses satire as a way to allow us to acknowledge the trauma of the world, but in a catharsis leavened with eccentric humor. Humor is a profound evolutionary adaptation within our human consciousness. It is a tool for survival, a mechanism that helps us through the suffering that befalls us. We need it now more than ever. WM