Outlaws at work

Kai Althoff and Nick Z, “We Are Better Friends For It,” installation view at Gladstone

Outlaws at work

Renegade culture across the generations

BY JEFFREY CYPHERS WRIGHT

Graffiti, cartoons and commix — watch out, the bad boys are back in town. R. Crumb is entirely self-taught. And Frank Z is an aerosol king from Brooklyn who hooked up with painter and installationist Kai Althoff from Cologne.

For anyone kickin’ it in the ’60s, R. Crumb (at David Zwirner gallery) was one of the best-known artists alive. Like William Hogarth, the 18th century chronicler and caricaturist, Crumb reached the masses through cheap reproduction. His black and white images uplifted the down and out. In Crumb we find a true working-class hero.

Famous for a cast of characters in wacky comics, he guided a generation busy inventing itself. Crumb himself invented entire worlds, from Mr. Natural to the Furry Freak Brothers, and developed a clean and lean style that is all muscle.

Compelling in their simplicity, the bold black lines and cross hatching have a workman quality, direct and to the point. Some come from spiral notebooks and are aged and yellowing. Occasionally, the portraits are daubed with white-out for reproduction. None of this detracts from the effect of seeing distilled essence.

This gem of a show includes several types of Crumb’s work as well as comic book panels and covers. Four pages illustrating a work by author Charles Bukowski puts Crumb at the epicenter of outlaw culture.

Crumb’s straightforward drawings of musical giants are miniature epiphanies. Kansas Joe and Memphis Minnie stand before a brick wall in a postcard-like homage. As is his custom, Crumb writes their names under the drawings, adding to their mythic stature. Crumb’s style is so familiar that these portraits have double the iconic value because of who drew them. Bo Diddley with a square back guitar and sunglasses is condensed to a note of awe.

In contrast to the musicians is a series depicting African-American culture with poignancy, humor and satire. A scene in Harlem recalling Reginald Marsh is provocative but disarming. An extremely horizontal image captures an entire block, from a preacher on the chapel steps to a sinner simpering in a dancehall door.

Street life comes inside in a rollicking show by Kai Althoff and Nick Z. The two teamed up to do an extreme makeover of Gladstone Gallery. On entering, one is struck by the dimmed lighting and mismatched, overlapping carpets covering the entire floor. A painting by each artist greets you. Althoff’s expressionist figures on a red background seem fraught with angst. Nick Z’s signature cartoon figure called “Sure” peers out from behind a catchy abstract web of graffiti, splashes and drips.

A makeshift shelter set up in a corner brings home the specter of homelessness. In another area walls are punched out to make more shelters. These “furnished” domains become animate as we imagine who might live there. Taped to the wall are reproduced drawings of Z’s adolescent figure, “Sure’. They’ve been colored in and signed by Cullen, Allison, Corey, and others, presumably children, and taped to the wall. Abandoned by society, this is a realm of orphans where new rules are made.

The main chambers of the gallery likewise have a lived-in feeling, as if you are a guest but the host is out. Recalling the recreated rooms of Ilya Kabakov, a table, chairs, a couch, a manikin, Althoff’s fanciful sculptures and so on filled a red-themed room. I counted 18 paintings. Being mostly of modest size, they add to the homey feel, and amazingly, are almost all different from one another. In the end, the shock tactic theatrics are also an exciting way to show off good painting.