Branding, on the brain

February 15, 2008|Cate McQuaid, Globe Correspondent

MEDFORD - Apple. Coke. Kleenex. Branding and advertising pervade American culture. Consequently, most people over the age of 12 watch commercials with some skepticism. Yet most of us still fall for what certain brands signify. I use a Mac, and when a friend suggested that I buy a laptop PC because it would probably be cheaper and fit my needs just as well, I cringed. There's no escaping the power of branding. It's everywhere, preying on us.

"Branded and On Display" at the Tufts University Art Gallery gathers several artists who look critically at the hard sell. The show, organized by the Krannert Art Museum at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, and curated by Judith Hoos Fox and Ginger Gregg Duggan, begins to strip away - in provocative and sometimes annoying ways - the hallucination advertising constantly builds up.

Artists are in a unique position to critique advertising, because they use the same tools and techniques as the creative directors of ad agencies. Heck, they're probably old school chums. They're only different in that advertisers purvey dreams; artists seek to wake us up.

Hank Willis Thomas's black-and-white photo "Branded Head" comes as a jolt. Thomas deploys a style borrowed from advertising; this image looks as if it belongs on a billboard. It shows the head of a black man, with his face cropped out and the Nike swoosh Photoshopped onto his scalp.

As Fox suggests in her catalog essay, the man's color brands him, especially when we can't see his face. The branding on his skin chillingly cites slavery. Nike's catchphrase "just do it" imbues the Nike-brand wearer with his own agency, but Thomas hints that none of us is really a free agent; the corporations own us.

Many artists in "Branded and On Display" use familiar graphic language, from corporate logos to bar codes. Louis Cameron scanned the bar codes on every item in his apartment, then blended the images into an animated video projection. It's surprisingly gorgeous and hypnotic, with black bars shifting to white and back, giving the sense of doors opening and closing, or curtains ruffling in a breeze. There's triumph in its harmonious minimalism; Cameron has appropriated the ugliest stuff of commerce and made it beautiful.

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