Trigger Magazine - New York City: Jeff Soto: Supernova

February 26, 2006

Jeff Soto: Supernova

Jeff Soto: Supernova
by Mikal Saint George

Forget Astor Place, Vinegar Hill or Smith Street. Without doubt the hottest real estate on the market exists in the fertile confines of Jeff Soto’s mind. An Orwellian wonderland landscaped by Dr. Suess, decorated by Maurice Sendak and packaged by Sid and Marty Krofft. Fuck Gwathmey and their undulating curtain of glass.

This artist puts himself into his work even more so than would be expected. The feeling is cathartic for the viewer because there is an underlying understanding that the creative process has been cathartic for Soto. For a few moments, past, present and future are merged to form another reality. In creating this alternative universe Soto invites us to explore our personal journeys and bleed them into his own.

An ideal example is the free-form multi-media piece currently ensconced on two walls of a room at the Jonathan LeVine Gallery. This is the kind of installation that could easily be incredibly irritating. Work of this ilk often walks a fine line between inspired and insipid. More often than not they are merely ego driven piles of personal flotsam and jetsam that could just as easily be found (and more interestingly displayed) in the dusty confines of your great aunt Emma’s back bedroom closet.

Instead, Soto has assembled an amalgam of family snapshots, naked lady tear sheets, robots and landscapes that is personal, somehow secret, delicate and deliciously offensive. The effect is haunting, humorous, intriguing. His obvious talent and technical skill speak for themselves. It is the humanity that he has infused in his work. The viewer can still feel him choosing each photo, assembling every element, and tasting the air on the day the Polaroid was taken. One can feel the rush of blood at first viewing the naked and “natural” woman in what would surely become a well-worn gentleman’s mag. When spirit and skill meet with opportunity the result is ecstatic – boundless and stimulating. This is fun!

Soto is representational of a generation of artists who grew up in the sublime, surreal 70’s. A decade marked as much by its polyester infused banality as it EST driven activism. Soto’s characters seem perfect ambassadors of the era. They are violent, blunt, rusty, displaying the kind of blatant sexuality usually associated with Swedish porn. All of this occurs while masking evil intentions, misguided libido and apocalyptic angst with a deadly serene smile. Mother’s little helpers taken with rocket fuel.

Ironically, the nostalgic elements of Soto’s work seem nostalgic only from a modern point of view. If they were in fact displayed 30 years ago they would undoubtedly be lost. Without our current understanding of dread and new world order they would seem foreign and easily misunderstood. Soto has created a phenomenon of creating retro nostalgia but only from a futuristic interpretation of the past. It could not have existed then and is only historically relevant in the present. Soto paints the way Nostrodamus wrote. Let’s hope documentarians will be analyzing his mystique 500 years from now.