Most students would laugh at the thought of a former Bunch of Guys member being the artsy type.
But Bill Fick, Trinity `86, is just that: an artist. He returned to the University Friday to open his exhibit, "Prints," a series of darkly cartoonish, richly textured lithographs which represent and condemn the violence and pain in our society.
Each of the seven prints is dominated by a maze of black images. Fick has layered many starkly unpleasant representations of familiar topics in each large work, creating a carnival of darkness and angst for the viewer to grapple with.
Some of these lithographs contain repulsive earth tones which give the black foundation a sickly, synthetic glow, underscoring the corruption depicted in the images.
Most of the pieces deal with a single issue, such as alcohol abuse, inner-city violence, disease or racism-inspired violence. Most have a very satirical, darkly whimsical nature reminiscent of early political cartoons, yet are much more complex and textured in their appearance.
Each work is individually powerful and engaging. The exhibit as a whole loses some of this power, however, because of a large discrepancy between the specific nature of some of the works and the vague generalizations of others.
"Fire Dance" impresses the viewer with its graphic representation of KKK members, arms raised triumphantly like a mass of swastikas, burning a man and his house. In contrast, "Passing Through" jumbles urban images with a gigantic defecating pig at the center. The difference in perspective between the two pieces exemplifies the exhibit as a whole. The pieces that are issue-specific carry much more weight because they don't convey the simplistic image that all of society has gone bad.
Fick's use of cartoonish imagery is an effective technique because it makes the concepts much more accessible and seems to ridicule the seriousness with which we take ourselves.
Fick portrays humans as unrealistic cartoon creatures and litters the prints with evil-looking clowns and satanic ducks. The viewer is left with a dilemma: Is Fick directing his criticism away from humans by making his representation of them unreal, or by trivializing humans and their surroundings is he criticizing them even more? Fick's use of cartoon humans makes the whole exhibit easier to deal with, but in doing so, it takes away from the in-your-face attitude for whch he seems to strive.
The darkness and anger that the prints exhibit makes one wonder if Fick is the bitter product of too many fraternity rejections during his time at the University. But Fick explains that he was--and still is--just a regular person. "When I'm creating this stuff, I'm in a different mindset," he said. "People who are creating things can be that way."
His concern for the inhumanity of human existence, apparent throughout the exhibit, is something that surfaces--and is dealt with--when he is making the prints.
"It's a cathartic thing," Fick said. "This is the way I respond to it, rather than writing a letter to the editor or marching."
Fick also emphasized that his art is not to be taken as a literal reflection of society. "It's really dealing with an absurd point of view rather than a journalistic narrative," he said. "I'm not reporting on the world."
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