I agreed to meet at Downtown Credo in College Park and dig deeper
into the controversy his work was kicking up. It would seem apparent
the controversy of The Pinks stems from his antagonizing portrayal of
political figures such as Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and the Pope.
Instead, through a mock screenplay performed by Vanessa Andrade and
Arturo Ugalde, the subjects of homophobia and implicit anti-feminist
sentiments were brought up. As a reaction to Andrade’s piece, Scheidly
confesses, “I felt like I came off as a homophobe, and douchebag in
general. I thought it was interesting, though. I see what she was doing
with it and I knew where she was going with it, but it played out with
me being a douchebag. There was no resolution, like, ‘Wow, I get what
he’s doing here.’”
In his screenplay, Ugalde writes “[Pink is] associated with homosexuality and, yes, with being a woman, and also with infantilization and
feminization. These paintings are coming across as offensive.” An interpretation rooted in our current social climate, yet one that doesn’t
completely take into account the historical significance of pop-surrealism and lowbrow art. With its origins in the 70s underground punk
culture, lowbrow art served as a satirical and often rebellious art form
that mirrored the attitude of the alienated artist of the time. Contrary
to expressionism and other styles of highbrow art, lowbrow work lacks
“scholarly writing.” During an interview with Takashi Murakami, Evan
Pricco says “What I always like is that Robert (Robert Williams, Founder of Juxtapoz) writes with this mixture of elegance and ‘fuck you’
authority, and it seemed to resonate beyond the page into a whole
culture.” Does Scheidly’s work fit neatly into the style of art pioneered
Earth Goddess, acrylic on Masonite
by underground culture? He takes pop-cultural icons and symbols and
integrates them into his portraits of historic and political figures in a reflection of his own humorous and trivial outlook on life. Between sips of
cold brew, Scheidly casually reinforced his blithe disregard for serious
dialogue on the deeper meaning of The Pinks. His explanation boiled
down to color theory, explaining, “Mainly it’s about color theory and
how color can change perceptions. Which it does. When people look
at these, they think it’s gay Hitler. But it’s not gay Hitler, that’s your
perception that he’s gay because he’s wearing pink.” Does that speak
louder of Scheidly, or of the audience member introduced to his work?
During his time with The Pinks, Scheidly mentions the numbers of
threats and other outlandish reactions to his paintings. He claimed the
subject of homophobia and anti-feminism has never surfaced as a response to his work. During an exhibition in San Francisco, his work
was berated by an elderly woman, visibly upset by his representation
of the Pope. The painting of Vladimir Putin also registered insults and
threats, but it was the painting of the Star Trek character, Spock, that
mucked up the most violent protest. After receiving several suggestions
of suicide, Scheidly jested the Trekkies would have the power to hack
his computer. Why such strong reactions to a portrait series? It’s an
obvious, lighthearted mockery of the characters, but does it equate to
an ignorant representation of homophobia?
“If you don’t actively learn about the turf or genre you
inhabit, you can’t ever properly call yourself a resident
of that landscape. What you are is a tourist.”
–Curtis X Meyer
17
One thing is abundantly clear: the amount of controversy and dialogue
Scheidly’s work has drummed up is refreshing. Lacking high-quality
criticism, the contemporary art scene in Central Florida is at risk of
death in its infancy. How often do we question or analyze beyond a
surface level of niceties in our own environment? Social issues are on
the forefront of this election season. With Trump, reproductive rights,
LGBTQ+ rights, immigrants’ rights, and others, face the possibility
of being rolled back decades. The progress we’ve made as a civilization could ultimately be whittled away by an orange-faced bully. And
while these are serious topics, I continue to wonder if projecting anger
and disgust onto The Pinks is misdirected. Perhaps not. Scheidly is a
straight, middle aged white man—a benefit in most circumstances. It
certainly doesn’t make for a strong case for friendly interpretation of his
portraits. Best known for The Pinks, Scheidly claims he continues this
body of work for the acclaim it allows him. Our conversation steadily
drifts into his greater passions, such as his tiki art, and his fascination
with surrealism.
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