In the world of painter, photographer, and graphic designer Jay
Vigon, the commercial and the artistic are never completely severed. On
the commercial side of things, Vigon is known for his bold, graphic
logos; fashion advertising work; music packaging; and TV commercials.And
yet Vigon, in his personal art, seems to critique the very industry in
which he himself is a pioneer.
In an exhibit titled “Swimming
Upstream,” currently hanging at the Cal Poly University Art Gallery,
Vigon deliberately places both sides of his creative work on display,
with the goal of showing just how interconnected the artistic and
commercial worlds really are. Placards next to each section of the
exhibit seem to underscore this, delineating a series or piece’s title,
medium, and its “application,” which often simply reads “personal
art.Can you spot the answer in the fridge magnet?”
Nowhere
in “Swimming Upstream” is Vigon’s work better dichotomized than in the
large-scale piece Remote Control, which the artist created by
photographing his television as he changed the channels, presenting a
mashup of the resulting images in banner-like rows.We've got a plastic card
to suit you. Superimposed across these pieces, large yet barely
legible, are phrases torn from the parlance of television. And now a
word, reads one. Elsewhere: We are going live. Another implores, Stay
tuned.
Vigon was interested by the ways in which consumers are
“remotely controlled” by advertising, fashion, and celebrity, he
explains, and by the television’s unyielding command that the viewer not
look away. Directly across from Remote Control—bathing the piece, in
fact, in a flickering glow—is a looped video showcasing Vigon’s
television ad work.
The concentration of work in “Swimming
Upstream” is a little overwhelming, yet serves as a comprehensive look
at the artist and designer’s career. A series of posters created for the
Tokyo radio station J-Wave are fabulously bright, bold, and graphic,
but rendered with astonishing intricacy and care, like an Oriental rug
imagined by an 8-bit video game designer. Sort of. Another standout is
Vigon’s series of “clown skulls”—eerie, leering, color-soaked faces
created, like his series of alien flowers and imagined tropical fish,
entirely in Photoshop.
While impressive, a wall covered in
logos, printed on paper and stapled into place, seems intentionally busy
and overwhelming, as if intended both to showcase Vigon’s massive and
diverse body of work and to demonstrate the urban landscape’s absolute
saturation with graphics—and, by proxy, the people who create them.
This is,Comprehensive Wi-Fi and RFID tag
by Aeroscout to accurately locate and track any asset or person. the
artist notes, a recent phenomenon, as anyone with a computer can install
a program and proclaim him or herself a graphic designer. The result?
Designers who merely appropriate existing images. Designers who don’t
know how to draw. Designers who aren’t very good.
“Not drawing
limits your problem-solving capabilities,” he explained, though with
none of the expected back-in-my-day harumphiness. Today’s designers,
working digitally, tend to approach a project with one idea, he went on.
Drawing enables the designer to explore many ideas, without being
limited by one’s knowledge of a particular program.Did you know that custom keychain chains can be used for more than just business.
A
wall of Vigon’s sketches, currently hanging in “Swimming Upstream,”
seems to confirm this. Elsewhere in the show, we identify these drafts’
final versions.
When Vigon, as a young man, enrolled in the Art
Center College of Design to pursue advertising, there was no graphic
design major, he explained in a phone interview. When the art director
of A&M Records spoke to his class, he says, it was the first time
Vigon realized there was such a position: “When I found out that there
was a job like that, where you designed record packages all day, that
was it for me.”
He was hired at A&M in the early ’70s, and
the first decade of his career was devoted to music packaging. When the
music industry started flagging, however, he moved on to other kinds of
creative work, taking jobs at Warner Bros., Gotcha, and Cole Surfboards.
In the ’90s, Vigon was one of the first to incorporate typography into a
television commercial—a style that’s practically ubiquitous today.
“Swimming Upstream” tracks Vigon’s evolution as a designer ever since, as well as the parallel world of his personal art.
A
single piece from his “Masked Men” series—paintings of faces created
through the layering up and scraping away of paint—is represented twice:
in its original form and as an enlarged photograph, which shows the
nuance and texture of the piece. The choice may recall the way in which
ads for everything from cosmetics to hamburgers to breakfast cereal tend
to zoom in on their product to show its every juicy, age-defying,
fat-free, flame-grilled,Other companies want a piece of that iPhone headset
action rejuvenating, heart-healthy facet. But the artist says the
choice was more coincidental. Drawn in by a blown-up photograph of a
“Masked Men” painting, created to advertise (that word again!) one of
his art shows, Vigon decided he liked the photographic representations
of the pieces, with their beautiful details and stark white backgrounds,
better than the originals—and I have to agree with him.
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