The Boy in the Bubble

By a.d. amorosi

Illustration by Chris Cahill.

"No hidden secrets" was his motto. "No final meaning" his creed. Graffiti artist and Kutztown native Keith Haring has been taking heat lately. Much heat. The late Haring's graphic style may have held kids and adults enthralled throughout the go-go '80s (a time when the broken plates of Julian Schnabel and the balloon cartoons of Kenny Scharf made millions), but the recent exaltation of his work at the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York and along Park Avenue has been seen by critics as an outrage. To naysayers, Haring's output is so primitively childish that it's without merit.

Ain't critics jerkoffs? They manage to like Con Air, over-glorify Radiohead and bust on poor Keith Haring. The man is the link that joins club kids to marketing and unifies dance crowds of all genres. Baby, please!

Haring's work (on display till Sept. 21) was about joy, discovery and motion. In his time in New York, his scene (from the late '70s to early '80s) was about the quadruple threat of East Village performance art, the rise of hip-hop culture, the maximizing of punk rock that became the new wave and, I guess, Madonna.

That Haring's work was the apex of this era must be what pisses sourpuss critics off. In Ann Magnuson's introduction to the exhibition's catalog, she states that his goal in life "was to make you feel good about yourself." Not only did this translate beyond his artistry in Magnuson's mind, it also carried through his desire of escaping suburban America. Though his work now has a bizarre universality, the kid from Kutztown was trying to recreate the pop art lives he'd read about growing up.

Combine the public mammothness of an artist like Christo, the hacked-up collage writing style of Beat elder William S. Burroughs, the buoyant but critical cartoon nature of pop and the rhythmic poise of graffiti bombing and POW! You get Haring. Whether you step through the exhibit's darkened mock-underground railway set-up or the club room with its links to Afro-dance culture, the Whitney's dedication is a Palmolive-soak to the skin in giddy Americana.

It's no surprise that most of his work goes Untitled. His rounded, bubbled-up characters are radiant in their anonymity; pictured fucking dogs, jerking off near the Empire State Building while being struck by aliens, dealing with phallic red lipsticks or in any number of dance-like poses. Part of his art was inspired by subway graffiti tags and his own hidden homosexuality. (His sexuality was made public when he revealed he had AIDS in Rolling Stone magazine. Haring was one of the first public figures to do so.) But much of his work is inspired by a worldly dedication to consumer culture.

Most fun is perusing Haring's roots. Dig the '60s photo booth shots of a bespectacled Keith growing up or his collection of stuff that ranges from Monkees Fan Club membership (he loved Davy Jones) to a hilarious 3-D Richard Nixon. The best bit of homespun trash could be his "Classic Rock" drawing that not only features outta control bands like Henry Gross and Mott The Hoople but extols WMMR's virtues (must have been a loooong time ago).

The most shocking bits of the exhibit are the more vicious strokes: the rallying cry and political dedication behind Michael Stewart USA For Africa, 1989's portrait dedicated to the supposed police murder of graffiti guy Stewart; the savage ink drawings of freestyle sex, cannibalism, and unwilling bondage that may have come with his learning he was HIV positive (as well as watching others in his community fall prey to the virus); and a terrorizing look at religious imagery.

Yet, it's playfulness that he's often remembered for and that surrounds his triple-smiled cartoons: his squiggly lined world dancers, his jump ropers in double dutch land and his goofs of artistic traditions. And that the guy had the balls to make his own Tut-like tomb/hot dog stand to sell off his wares, well, all the more power to him. Normally nobody gets outta Kutztown alive. That Keith Haring made it to NYC and back means he deserves a medal if not a Whitney exhibition. Dig that.

Keith Haring, The Whitney Museum of American Art, 945 Madison Ave. at 75th St., New York, (212) 570-3676.

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