Thomas Woodruff’s Freak Parade

Image, courtesy of Haggerty Museum

When I noticed that an exhibition of grotesque-ness was opening at Marquette’s Haggerty Museum, I ran for the land of fairytales where anything can happen. I never was a fan of politically correct tales with everything all prettied up for lily-livered readers who might sue if they learned that one of Cinderella’s sisters hacked off a toe so as to better fit her bloody foot into the slipper.

What I dig are bad little boys and girls who get their dues from whips and chains and bondage, tempered of course, with frogs bearing swags of rosy flowers. The unleasher of this artistic hell is Thomas Woodruff, who recently purchased a home in the Hudson River Valley, the famous haunt of Washington Irving (author of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow). God save the Valley. God save Woodruff’s Freak Parade exhibition.

Through April 18, thirty-four works of his mixed media on 60 inch-by-40 inch black rag paper slither and prance through a twisted tangle of red roots embracing pop, pomp and purgatory. There’s nary a pretty puss among them, though pusses plus coy anatomy boys and stupid sheep and conjoined wolves abound, mostly draped in rings and things and buttons and bows. Wild carrots abound alongside spider webs and creepies festooned with baroque touches. See here …. hints of the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen. See there, Dali lurks lightly. Now and then are nods to painters Ross Bleckner (who chronicled the AIDS crisis) and John Currin, a contemporary artist whose persona struts alongside Woodruff’s corpulent Bambi-Lynn, a calendar girl to die for. Currin is the dude who painted Bea Arthur Nude.

Thomas Woodruff’s “Monkey Does” from the Freak Parade series, 2000-2005, mixed media on rag paper, embellished with rhinestones, 40″x60.” Collection of the artist.

Let’s talk about Bambi. So burdened is the slut with (count ’em) eight perky breasts, that she’s more fecund  than freckle, but oh, to be a drum majorette destined to carry the righteous flaming baton while clad in sleazy satin and polished leather. Eyes downcast, does this all-American babe not represent the ultimate goal for women of a certain generation: a house, a hearth, healthy kids and a grim determination to ape the neighbors?  A Bambi-Lynn of evangelical fervor, no same-sex marriages botch her agenda; no son of hers would dare wear earrings! Two fingers on her right hand are raised to suggest she is blessing her admirers.

Woodruff’s “Anatomy Boy” from the Freak Parade series, 2000-2005, mixed media on rag paper, embellished with rhinestones, 40″x60.” Collection of the artist.

There’s quite a bit of “Tom Foolery” in this exhibition: big whacks at organized religion, big thwacks at banal celebrations (Easter, Christmas, oh the thrill of fluffy sleaze). Woodruff’s stick is big and pointed, but were we to strip away all the frippery, leaving just a few ephemeral strokes on the paper, those few strokes, given his exquisite talent, would be quite enough to remind us that here is a builder of memorials to that motley Homo sapiens crew (me and you). Some would say, his art is “way too gay,” but I say, “sheep balls.” I also admire the work of Matthew Barney, and art educator Fred Stonehouse, who, a decade plus ago, was in an Ohio exhibition with Woodruff.

If it weren’t for his controlled craftsmanship, we could smack this artist for being, despite his coy asides, just another angry guy. Born into the Atomic Age ’50s, he witnessed Korea and Vietnam and lived to witness the Old Testament horror of AIDS devastation and the expansion of global nothingness. It’s doubtful that lovers of the Milwaukee Public Museum’s Dead Sea Scrolls event, will come to see Freak Parade, though, don’t you agree there’s something oddly ironic about the two running simultaneously?

Woodruff’s “Siamese Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing” from the Freak Parade series, 2000-2005, mixed media on rag paper, embellished with rhinestones, 40″ x 60.” Collection of the artist.

I scanned the crowded galleries to see if I could spot anyone who even came close to resembling freaks. There they were, lots of them, wearing odd hats, peculiar boots and disguises of the winter kind. They milled around the food, drinks in hand. It was you. It was me, albeit not so obvious as Bambi-Lynn or Anatomy Boy or Dainty Desiree, though could it be that vanity fools us into thinking we’re somehow wonderful in our sameness.

Following Woodruff’s walk-around tour where he performed the role of circus barker, he signed copies of a handsome book detailing Freak Parade. Nearby, an oil portrait of the Haggerty’s former executive director, Dr. Curtis Carter, smiled knowingly. I miss him.

I’m sad to report the formerly intimate view on the north side of the Haggerty where the Emerald Ash Grove reigns, has been obliterated by a behemoth building designed to educate lawyers. As yet incomplete, the good news is that the monster will eventually have parking for Haggerty devotees. In the meantime, be prepared to walk.

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Haggerty Museum of Art at Marquette University
530 N. 13th St., Milwaukee
414-288-1669
Monday-Saturday, 10 a.m.-4:30 p.m.
Thursday, 10 a.m.-8 p.m.
Sunday, 12 Noon-5 p.m.