Verghese 2022
Verghese, Anisha. 'Irony’s Subversive Bite. Destabilising Colonial Legacies in Contemporary Art.' (PhD Thesis, University of Auckland, 2022), 83–86 (Type: dissertation) » Download PDF
Susan Dorothea White A critical interrogation of the past through an ironic revisiting is typical of some postmodernist artistic practices. The use of imitation through pastiche or parodic references that either satirise or acknowledge older genres creates temporal distortion, stylistic diversity and a multiplicity of elements. Helene A. Shugart explores the use of postmodern irony as a subversive rhetorical strategy through an examination of the painting The First Supper (1988) by Australian artist Susan Dorothea White. Shugart analyses the technical and thematic points of congruence and divergence between The First Supper and its rhetorical premise, The Last Supper (1498) by Leonardo da Vinci. Further to this, she explores how the piece contests the original context and finally, she examines the subversive potential of postmodern irony.
Based in Sydney, White is a multidisciplinary artist who works with a wide variety of painting, sculpture and printmaking techniques. The First Supper, 1988 (Fig. 16), an acrylic painting on wood, measures 4'4" x 8'4" and is a modest size in comparison to its ironic referent. The fresco of The Last Supper captures a familiar religious event in Christianity, Christ’s prophecy of Judas’ betrayal on the eve of the crucifixion. Seen as symbolic of the cornerstone of Western Christianity, its paradigmatic patriarchy is overtly challenged by the presence of women in White’s painting, who are posed identically to match the male disciples and the central figure of Christ. White meticulously reproduces the form, proportions, facial and physical expressions of the figures. While scaled-down in size from the awe-inspiring original and revised to acrylic on wood, the smaller, more accessible painting of The First Supper retains the use of the Fibonacci series that da Vinci is famed to have employed, thus enabling White to achieve a mathematically and geometrically precise reproduction. The superficial congruencies collapse to reveal conspicuous incongruences. Apart from the obvious modification to the title and the presence of the multiracial women, another immediately noticeable alteration in The First Supper is the warm, almost cheerful light, as opposed to the dark-toned, ominous and melancholy setting of The Last Supper. The finality of The Last Supper is traded for an optimism in new beginnings.
The 1988 Australian Bicentennial motivated White’s deviations, which was in effect a celebration of the 200th anniversary of the arrival of English settler colonisers on Australian shores. With extraordinary cultural arrogance, the English claimed possession of the land under the European policy of terra nullius, thus deeming the land uninhabited to justify genocide and territorial expansion. The irony of the impaired vision of the colonial gaze is indeed intriguing. The rationalisation and legal explanation of the colossal theft of land helped appease their own sense of injustice. Such a commemoration, therefore, is undeniably problematic to indigenous Aboriginals considering that the disease, disenfranchisement, violence and massacre following colonisation nearly wiped out their own population.
The central and slightly isolated figure of Christ is replaced by an Aboriginal woman, casually dressed in a T-Shirt that is adorned with a print of the Aboriginal flag, a pointed affirmation of identity. The sacred aboriginal land of Uluru is additionally visible through a window behind the group; it is identifiable by its distinct rock formation. The clusters of figures replacing the apostles around the table are women from various parts of the world representing the multi-ethnic society that Australia comprises. They are identifiable by their diverse features and culturally symbolic attire, which are highly detailed, colourful and individualised, unlike the generic flowing robes, and the homogeneity displayed in the group of Christ’s male apostles. The only person of Western European origin at the table is a blonde-haired woman in sneakers, who takes the place of da Vinci’s Judas. Clutching a money purse like her male counterpart, she is interestingly the only one to have processed foods before her, which are rather distinct from the other natural foods displayed on the table. Shugart suggests that the canned CocaCola and burger placed before her are symbolic of commercialism, artifice and capitalism’s exploitation of natural resources. She states that this signifies that the woman, not unlike Judas, embodies treachery and betrayal “here in its colonial and consumptive incarnations.”260 The woman represents the manipulation of nature as opposed to the other women who seem connected to nature or are in harmony with it, as plainly indicated by the simple, whole foods before them.
The table is bountifully laden with bread and a colourful array of fruits, vegetables and seafood, in addition to a centrally placed bright blue emu egg. This abundance is in stark contrast to the sparse meal before the male disciples symbolising the Christian attributes of abstinence, self-restraint and asceticism. Feminine energies have long been associated with nature, creation, nourishment and bounty, while the masculinised spirituality of Christianity calls for frugality, self-denial, sacrifice and suffering to be indicative of the faith required to attain the path of salvation. We see this embodied in the dramatic difference between the thin, linear figure of Christ who is fashioned to Eurocentric conventions of beauty and the dark-skinned, rounded Aboriginal woman. Shugart suggests also that this “indicates a clear inversion of the Western hierarchy that places “cultured” European men at the very top and women below, with women of “other”, darker-skinned races relegated to the very bottom.”261 The spirituality represented in White’s painting is simple, earthly and accessible, unlike the unattainable divinity represented in da Vinci’s work. All are worthy to partake in the feast; regular women of varying ages, sizes and ethnicities are present at the table. While bread remains present in White’s version, clear water replaces the glasses of wine, thus decontextualising their ritual association with the body and blood of Christ.
At first glance, it is easy to be unenthusiastic with regard to the complexity of the postmodern ironic subversion in White’s painting as it seems like a mere, literal inversion of The Last Supper, overturning the frugal nature of Western Christian spirituality, its patriarchal premise and the racial homogeneity that it represents. However, a slightly deeper analysis promises a more fruitful albeit tricky yield. Apart from the focus on religion, The First Supper addresses a plurality of issues concerning colonialism, capitalism, exploitation, Aboriginal land rights, non-western spirituality and cultural diversity
A multiplicity of meanings may be inferred from those articulated in The First Supper and some of them even prove to be problematic. For instance, while the women dressed in traditional attire represent the multi-ethnic configuration of Australian society, most contemporary Australians, irrespective of ethnicity, may not dress in their cultural attire and might even resent the stereotyping. Another such example is illustrated by the binary replacement of men with women, whereby other identities on the gender spectrum remain excluded. Additionally, essentialist notions of women as bountiful, fertile and connected to the natural world are evoked. In the same way, although Eurocentrism is rejected, the Aboriginal woman replacing Christ is still centrally placed and isolated from the rest of the figures, thus echoing the Western Christian hierarchy that it seeks to undermine.
By retaining the inherent structure of its ironic premise (albeit altering and challenging its meaning), The First Supper runs the risk of reinforcing the language and model of Western Christianity. However, if the allusion to the original was not established, one could not challenge it in the first place. This is one of the principal limitations (and the irony) of subversive irony—that the subversion often takes place in a mode familiar to its adversary, or the dominant discourse, or the very ideology that it seeks to critique or subvert. This hegemonic potential coexists with its more positive qualities. For instance, postmodern irony engenders reflexivity and tends to privilege the viewer. It invites its audience to tease out complexities; it opens up a context and even provides competing contexts, consequently eliminating the likelihood of deferring to universality. An audience to whom the irony is unapparent could view The First Supper as a homage to da Vinci’s masterpiece. A more percipient audience might be able to see past the apparent congruence that embodies the critical riposte.
Regarding commonalities between traditional and postmodern subversive irony, Shugart marks the principles of detachment and superiority while identifying some nuanced differences. In the case of subversive irony, she says, “superiority is more complex.”262 She indicates that the specific postmodern nature of subversive irony tends to invite a predominantly perceptive postmodern audience. Postmodern irony, she states, “is highly abstract and esoteric, characterized by and cultivating paradox and fragmentation.”263 Shugart states, that the discernment of the subversive irony present may then prove to be a confirmation of the audience’s predetermined postmodern literacy. This linking of the perception of subversive irony and people’s cognition of postmodern tenets seems slightly ill-advised, as a person with no prior knowledge of the postmodern could nevertheless have the capacity to perceive subversive irony if she is accompanied with an understanding of the contexts present.
Depending on varying individual perspectives, the audience could enjoyably manoeuvre through the contradictory and multiple messages that present themselves for scrutiny. This excursion could also prove to be cumbersome or cause confusion to a person unaccustomed to such negotiations of meaning. Some ironies may be more apparent through clear contradictions and hence easier to access, while others, more intricate and complex. The audience is thus divided into exclusive groups based on their levels of discernment and/or cohesion with the artist ironist. An artist risking the use of irony must accept varying levels of engagement from her audiences.
Based in Sydney, White is a multidisciplinary artist who works with a wide variety of painting, sculpture and printmaking techniques. The First Supper, 1988 (Fig. 16), an acrylic painting on wood, measures 4'4" x 8'4" and is a modest size in comparison to its ironic referent. The fresco of The Last Supper captures a familiar religious event in Christianity, Christ’s prophecy of Judas’ betrayal on the eve of the crucifixion. Seen as symbolic of the cornerstone of Western Christianity, its paradigmatic patriarchy is overtly challenged by the presence of women in White’s painting, who are posed identically to match the male disciples and the central figure of Christ. White meticulously reproduces the form, proportions, facial and physical expressions of the figures. While scaled-down in size from the awe-inspiring original and revised to acrylic on wood, the smaller, more accessible painting of The First Supper retains the use of the Fibonacci series that da Vinci is famed to have employed, thus enabling White to achieve a mathematically and geometrically precise reproduction. The superficial congruencies collapse to reveal conspicuous incongruences. Apart from the obvious modification to the title and the presence of the multiracial women, another immediately noticeable alteration in The First Supper is the warm, almost cheerful light, as opposed to the dark-toned, ominous and melancholy setting of The Last Supper. The finality of The Last Supper is traded for an optimism in new beginnings.
The 1988 Australian Bicentennial motivated White’s deviations, which was in effect a celebration of the 200th anniversary of the arrival of English settler colonisers on Australian shores. With extraordinary cultural arrogance, the English claimed possession of the land under the European policy of terra nullius, thus deeming the land uninhabited to justify genocide and territorial expansion. The irony of the impaired vision of the colonial gaze is indeed intriguing. The rationalisation and legal explanation of the colossal theft of land helped appease their own sense of injustice. Such a commemoration, therefore, is undeniably problematic to indigenous Aboriginals considering that the disease, disenfranchisement, violence and massacre following colonisation nearly wiped out their own population.
The central and slightly isolated figure of Christ is replaced by an Aboriginal woman, casually dressed in a T-Shirt that is adorned with a print of the Aboriginal flag, a pointed affirmation of identity. The sacred aboriginal land of Uluru is additionally visible through a window behind the group; it is identifiable by its distinct rock formation. The clusters of figures replacing the apostles around the table are women from various parts of the world representing the multi-ethnic society that Australia comprises. They are identifiable by their diverse features and culturally symbolic attire, which are highly detailed, colourful and individualised, unlike the generic flowing robes, and the homogeneity displayed in the group of Christ’s male apostles. The only person of Western European origin at the table is a blonde-haired woman in sneakers, who takes the place of da Vinci’s Judas. Clutching a money purse like her male counterpart, she is interestingly the only one to have processed foods before her, which are rather distinct from the other natural foods displayed on the table. Shugart suggests that the canned CocaCola and burger placed before her are symbolic of commercialism, artifice and capitalism’s exploitation of natural resources. She states that this signifies that the woman, not unlike Judas, embodies treachery and betrayal “here in its colonial and consumptive incarnations.”260 The woman represents the manipulation of nature as opposed to the other women who seem connected to nature or are in harmony with it, as plainly indicated by the simple, whole foods before them.
The table is bountifully laden with bread and a colourful array of fruits, vegetables and seafood, in addition to a centrally placed bright blue emu egg. This abundance is in stark contrast to the sparse meal before the male disciples symbolising the Christian attributes of abstinence, self-restraint and asceticism. Feminine energies have long been associated with nature, creation, nourishment and bounty, while the masculinised spirituality of Christianity calls for frugality, self-denial, sacrifice and suffering to be indicative of the faith required to attain the path of salvation. We see this embodied in the dramatic difference between the thin, linear figure of Christ who is fashioned to Eurocentric conventions of beauty and the dark-skinned, rounded Aboriginal woman. Shugart suggests also that this “indicates a clear inversion of the Western hierarchy that places “cultured” European men at the very top and women below, with women of “other”, darker-skinned races relegated to the very bottom.”261 The spirituality represented in White’s painting is simple, earthly and accessible, unlike the unattainable divinity represented in da Vinci’s work. All are worthy to partake in the feast; regular women of varying ages, sizes and ethnicities are present at the table. While bread remains present in White’s version, clear water replaces the glasses of wine, thus decontextualising their ritual association with the body and blood of Christ.
At first glance, it is easy to be unenthusiastic with regard to the complexity of the postmodern ironic subversion in White’s painting as it seems like a mere, literal inversion of The Last Supper, overturning the frugal nature of Western Christian spirituality, its patriarchal premise and the racial homogeneity that it represents. However, a slightly deeper analysis promises a more fruitful albeit tricky yield. Apart from the focus on religion, The First Supper addresses a plurality of issues concerning colonialism, capitalism, exploitation, Aboriginal land rights, non-western spirituality and cultural diversity
A multiplicity of meanings may be inferred from those articulated in The First Supper and some of them even prove to be problematic. For instance, while the women dressed in traditional attire represent the multi-ethnic configuration of Australian society, most contemporary Australians, irrespective of ethnicity, may not dress in their cultural attire and might even resent the stereotyping. Another such example is illustrated by the binary replacement of men with women, whereby other identities on the gender spectrum remain excluded. Additionally, essentialist notions of women as bountiful, fertile and connected to the natural world are evoked. In the same way, although Eurocentrism is rejected, the Aboriginal woman replacing Christ is still centrally placed and isolated from the rest of the figures, thus echoing the Western Christian hierarchy that it seeks to undermine.
By retaining the inherent structure of its ironic premise (albeit altering and challenging its meaning), The First Supper runs the risk of reinforcing the language and model of Western Christianity. However, if the allusion to the original was not established, one could not challenge it in the first place. This is one of the principal limitations (and the irony) of subversive irony—that the subversion often takes place in a mode familiar to its adversary, or the dominant discourse, or the very ideology that it seeks to critique or subvert. This hegemonic potential coexists with its more positive qualities. For instance, postmodern irony engenders reflexivity and tends to privilege the viewer. It invites its audience to tease out complexities; it opens up a context and even provides competing contexts, consequently eliminating the likelihood of deferring to universality. An audience to whom the irony is unapparent could view The First Supper as a homage to da Vinci’s masterpiece. A more percipient audience might be able to see past the apparent congruence that embodies the critical riposte.
Regarding commonalities between traditional and postmodern subversive irony, Shugart marks the principles of detachment and superiority while identifying some nuanced differences. In the case of subversive irony, she says, “superiority is more complex.”262 She indicates that the specific postmodern nature of subversive irony tends to invite a predominantly perceptive postmodern audience. Postmodern irony, she states, “is highly abstract and esoteric, characterized by and cultivating paradox and fragmentation.”263 Shugart states, that the discernment of the subversive irony present may then prove to be a confirmation of the audience’s predetermined postmodern literacy. This linking of the perception of subversive irony and people’s cognition of postmodern tenets seems slightly ill-advised, as a person with no prior knowledge of the postmodern could nevertheless have the capacity to perceive subversive irony if she is accompanied with an understanding of the contexts present.
Depending on varying individual perspectives, the audience could enjoyably manoeuvre through the contradictory and multiple messages that present themselves for scrutiny. This excursion could also prove to be cumbersome or cause confusion to a person unaccustomed to such negotiations of meaning. Some ironies may be more apparent through clear contradictions and hence easier to access, while others, more intricate and complex. The audience is thus divided into exclusive groups based on their levels of discernment and/or cohesion with the artist ironist. An artist risking the use of irony must accept varying levels of engagement from her audiences.
