In more recent, large-scale works such as "Commanda," "AK-47s," and "Arab Woman," the decorative patterning is taken to vertiginous extremes, conjuring the horror vacui, or fear of empty space, associated with traditional Arab ornamentation. But Fairey's main graphic components remain crystalline, the compositions sturdy and monumental, so the eye senses a clear hierarchy of visual cues.
Fairey's DJ-like sampling of historical styles and motifs and his love of all things retro make his work reminiscent of the grab and twist of fashion and pop music, both areas he loves.
Graphic design is so central to our culture - through advertising, branding, propaganda, news dissemination, and other forms of public communication, including street art - that one welcomes the chance to see brilliant, multilayered examples of it at audacious institutions like the ICA.
How is it different from so-called "fine art"? Confronted with an artist who has done so much to tear down conventional categories of visual expression, it seems churlish to draw a distinction. But it is no criticism to say that graphic design favors pre-existing signs and symbols over less cliched forms of expression. Speaking in a language others recognize and understand is simply a better way of communicating with the greatest number of people.
What is lost, perhaps, is a certain intimacy, and an ability to communicate private experience. For all its smarts and all its seductiveness, there is not even a whiff of private experience in Fairey's work, which is why, although I'm attracted by what he does, I don't really feel he is talking to me.
Sebastian Smee can be reached at ssmee@globe.com.
