I went to the KAWS show

And all I got was a t-shirt.

I have to admit I’ve been hesitant to write this newsletter. I asked what people thought of KAWS on Instagram last week, and I got a lot of strong responses. Very strong responses. You can view the post and add your opinion here.

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I feel neutral about KAWS, the divisive street artist turned toy producer. The work doesn’t spark anything in me; it feels empty. Instead, I’m interested in the interaction with art that his work spurs: how we interact with art as commodities, the marketing of artists, how art is packaged. I fear that the dismissal of KAWS overshadows the insight his career can give us into the art market and globalization.

sad toys=sad art lovers

When I went to the show during the press preview, people were excited about it. I jotted down the note: “The exhibition KAWS FAMILY will be very popular. People are excited. Visitors are wearing KAWS merch, posing like sculptures, posting online, and buying merch. In other words, excited about art.” This optimistic view of the show aligns with a surface-level thesis: people going to art galleries, excited about art (no matter the quality), is good. Would it be better if people were flocking to engage with a meatier artist? Sure. But since that’s wholly unrealistic, I think it’s nice that people are excited about the show. The layout of the exhibition also takes you through the second floor of the AGO alongside some great exhibitions and art from the permanent—wayfinding via KAWS. Come for KAWS; stay for Henry Moore. Take a picture of a giant toy; learn about the art of Tarralik Duffy or Sarindar Dhaliwal.

my favourite place in the city. in comparison, it really exaggerated the lack of feeling in the kaws work

Merch, AI, hype, fans, haters. The KAWS show has it all. When I made it to the gift shop, I was also pulled into the hype that I bought a t-shirt. People kept talking about how quickly KAWS merch and collabs sold out throughout the show. I won’t deny it: there’s an allure to something that’s in demand and scarce. It’s basic supply and demand economics—and KAWS has it down pact. A natural extension of the exhibit, buying anything on offer felt like collecting my very own KAWS. I wrote the following cryptic line in my Notes app:

The art is art. The merch is art. The merch is merch. The art is merch.

In a conversation with KAWS (Brian Donnely) and Chief Curator at the AGO, Julian Cox, they alluded to this. Donnely stated that when something is plastic, it’s a commodity, but when it’s bronze, it’s art. So, he wanted to make sculptures out of bronze that looked like plastic. This blurring of lines between art and commodities is fascinating to me and what I think draws the most ire about the work. But don’t many artists do the same thing, in less obvious ways? Perhaps the art world isn’t comfortable looking in the mirror at the market conditions of our chosen professions.

taking photos of a KAWS sculpture (AI)

From a collector's POV, art is often inaccessible and intimidating. The appeal of artists that do mass editions and trinkets is that it allows you to participate in a market you might otherwise be locked out of. Buying an original of a massively popular and successful artist, even if it’s an edition, is exhilarating. When I talk to many collectors, a KAWS, Mr. Brainwash, or Picasso print is usually their introduction to the art world. From there, they branch out to more interesting emerging artists, paintings, or 1/1 artworks. It’s the same thing the AGO exhibition has the potential to do: get people in the door, get them comfortable, and slowly introduce them to more dynamic and rigorous art.

Keep reading: I reviewed Jacob Todd Broussard’s exhibition at Towards Gallery for Cornelia Magazine

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As always, I love dialogue! I don’t mind varying opinions, and I love to hear from people passionate about art and the systems that surround it. This was longer than I thought it would be—back to a more casual format next week xx.