Slater Bradley
Identity,
Twice Removed

Written by Alissa Atkinson

In Slater Bradley's 2004 exhibit STONED & DETHRONED, there are images of Nirvana's Kurt Cobain, dressed in his unique version of West Coast grunge, unwashed blond locks obscuring an intent but troubled face. It reminds fans of a moment in time when they revered the rockstar, noticing only his sincerity, the quiet seriousness in his piercing eyes. They notice now what was behind this gaze: the unwanted shadow of fame, the struggle to live as an addict, and the desire to end it all. Bradley captures the defining moments of doomed icons with photography and video; we see questions of mortality in their expressions, and relate to the solemnity in their poses. Labeled both "an elegiac exhibition... to foreground the importance of his music in the formation of millions of identities" and "an elaborate hoax" by Team Gallery, STONED & DETHRONED is much more than just a tribute. It's even more than a demonstration of Cobain's role in the shared consciousness of a culture.

The exhibit is part of Bradley's autobiography.

This might be confusing, but with a few more details about his methods, understanding the intent becomes a little easier. Cobain is not posing for photos, nor is Nirvana playing in the featured video Phantom Release (the title should be a hint). The video portraying a live performance by the band was filmed in 2003, starring a cast of actors hand-picked by the artist, and headed by Benjamin Brock, Bradley's own body double. It's enough to make anyone's head spin. The video is a tribute to one of the artist's favorite ill-fated rockstars, starring not someone who necessarily looks like that rockstar, but bears a striking resemblance to Bradley himself. Somehow, the performance represents Cobain in a meaningful way that viewers find not only extraordinary, but uncanny.

Although STONED & DETHRONED made perhaps the biggest artistic impact, Bradley's "hoax" did not start nor end with Nirvana. It began more than four years ago, when Brock posed for a postcard image in Bradley's 2000 Charlatan exhibit at Team Gallery. More photographs were taken, and the artist continued to misrepresent his lookalike friend as himself. These works included Brock as Bradley as the late Ian Curtis, the lead singer of British punk band Joy Division. The photographs were such successful imposter pieces that they joined those taken of the actual singer in photo archives, and Factory Archives (2002) a video portraying Joy Division, is still considered a work created with pirated video footage of Curtis himself. Bradley's accuracy is unparalleled, and the intrigue of his finished products are not denied, but one question still remains: how is this collection autobiographical? What do depictions of dead rockstars have to do with Bradley's own identity?

Some artists' self portraits include distorted images of themselves, smeared by messy charcoal, or skewed by photographic lenses and face-changing make-up. Some are merely straightforward, life-like images. Bradley does not stop with pictures of himself, or even start with them. Firstly, he uses Benjamin Brock, his proclaimed "doppleganger." As if using another to represent oneself is not a large enough statement in the fluidity of identity, he takes moments in the larger realm of his existance, his culture, to show his self image in the greatest depth. He puts himself (well, Brock as himself) into these moments, creating a fictional autobiography that he finds perhaps truer than the actual one. It delves into his perception of his generation, the profound meaning music holds for him, and most importantly, his own mortality. Bradley's autobiographical art possesses an emotional truth that captures the fragmented nature of his identity, and maybe, one that holds true for all of us. Our identities are shaped and defined by much more than just ourselves.

His most recent installation, The Year of the Doppleganger, will be featured in the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Archive from April 24th to June 26th, 2005. In this exhibit, Bradley uses footage of the Cal football team's practice along with Brock's performance of the drumbeat of Led Zeppelin's "When the Levee Breaks" in Berkeley's empty Memorial Stadium. The seemingly casual observational footage transforms into a calculated statement about adolescent fantasy and the pressures of competition when combined with his "doppleganger" theme. He utilizes manipulated video footage as well as the haunting duplicates such as the Nirvana video. His fascination with the darker side of cultural moments that comes through in this recent piece is present within his entire body of work. Through images of tombstones, doomed musicians, and the sychronized movements of college football players, Bradley's contemplation of his existance is highlighted. Though this may not be seen on the surface, the artist's complex portrayal of identity is the ultimate statement made in each absorbing piece that makes up his fictive autobiographical collection.