Artist Satoshi Offering More of the Same

Since the 1980s, Japanese artist Rocco Satoshi has been creating graffiti art. He picked up on Keith Haring’s popular moving figures, bold colors and schematic plan and didn’t change them very much. Even his signature logo looks a lot like Haring’s.

One would think Satoshi’s art would have evolved by now, but, as seen in “Panic Rocco,” at Installation Gallery, his primitive figures and geometric designs just keep multiplying.

Satoshi, a native of Yokohama (San Diego’s sister city), has already painted several murals here. The projects include a shop on Goldfinch Street, a wall at Bethune Elementary School and a freeway overpass at Chicano Park. The siting of the latter project is ironic, considering, that unlike the other murals in the park, there is nothing political or rhetorical in Satoshi’s art. The only outdoor piece in the current exhibition is a mural on an overpass on Washington Street at Pacific Highway. The rest of the works are confined to inside the gallery.

Satoshi may not make the typical graffiti artist gesture of thumbing his nose at society, but he does try to remain true to certain graffiti techniques. He has maintained a rapid method of painting, which most graffiti artists originally perfected in order not to be caught on other people’s property, and he has at least tried to give his works on paper and canvas the same rough surface of an urban wall.

Because Satoshi wasn’t allowed to paint directly on the gallery walls at Installation, the artist improvised. On the one makeshift wall where he was allowed to paint, he went beyond the canvas boundaries. The other works simulate a coarse surface, which allows him to scratch and inscribe.

If there is a message to his art it’s “Let’s have fun.” He uses vibrant colors and designs most people recognize. What isn’t geometric--in other words circles, squares, rectangles, jagged lines and stylized lines--is primitive in a kind-of pictographic style.

None of Satoshi’s pieces are titled, but it doesn’t matter. One will see profiles of bodies running, characters with arms raised, double-headed and multiple-limbed figures, and a few facial renditions. X’s and O’s also dominate, as do stars and the sun.

The only aberration in the show are two plywood sculptures. One is a large work about 12 feet high modeled on one of Satoshi’s signature figures. The other piece is smaller and an anomaly. It is Cubist in appearance, with irregular and rounded forms.

Perhaps it’s the Japanese love of American pop culture and the American love of simplicity that has encouraged Satoshi to continue with this style. There is not much more he can do with it, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try.

* “Panic Rocco,” paintings by Rocco Satoshi, are on view at Installation Gallery, 2150 W. Washington St., Suite 103, through Feb. 7. Hours are noon to 5 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday. Call 260-1313.

In recent years, the question has arisen as to whether white people can viably discuss art by blacks, or whether anyone with a Eurocentric background can understand art done by ethnic minorities. This question inadvertently emerges when viewing the current exhibition curated by the African American Museum of Fine Arts.

“Cornwell,” a one-woman show at the Lyceum Theatre Gallery in Horton Plaza, spotlights the art of Jean Cornwell, who has been an artist-in-residence in the San Diego schools in the Young at Art Program and who also teaches African American art history at San Diego City College.

Cornwell creates realistic ceramic figurines. She also paints. Her style and her subject matter fluctuate between realism, surrealism and a combination of the two. Sometimes her paintings are totally naturalistic, such as the female portrait “A Study.” Most of her other works incorporate some manner of realism but are never literal renditions.

Cornwell’s subject matter is African American and her style is European.

In the show’s accompanying brochure, curator Adrienne Fuzee claims that “in traditional African societies, the artist’s role is to articulate the spiritual values of the community. The artifact produced by the artist has a power beyond its existence as object . . . “

Fuzee goes on to explain that it is difficult for an African American artist to consciously produce works in this manner because “the influence of the Eurocentric art tradition is pervasive, and its fixation on art as a product of a critical or analytical process exists in direct contradiction to African American artists’ esthetic traditions.”

Such strong statements really don’t apply here. Although Cornwell uses some African American themes as her subjects, her work is essentially very traditional in the Western sense. She has a nice touch. Her ceramic figurines are evocative, and her use of color is strong and quite skillful. The problem, however, is that her work is one big cliche. African Americans may presume to be the best at understanding such works, but to this critic’s eyes, the message appears trite.

This is most evident in the few political pieces in the show. “Sandpaper Dreams” is a painting of a young urban boy sitting on a city street. He is surrounded by strewn papers that incorporate images of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Sammy Davis Jr., a black regiment in the Civil War and various other images. It’s fairly apparent that his hope is blowing away in the wind.

Just as obvious is the ceramic piece “The Thief.” It is a profile of a young black man. One side depicts his likeness, the other side is of a hand removing his brain.

Cornwell has talent; she knows how to paint. She should look inside herself for subjects that are more original. The potential is there for this African American artist to flourish, but she should stay away from the preordained subject matter and try to tell us something new.

* The African American Museum of Fine Arts exhibition of Jean Cornwell’s paintings and sculpture remains on view at the San Diego Repertory Theatre’s Lyceum Theatre gallery, 79 Horton Plaza, through March 1. Hours are noon-4 p.m. Tuesday-Friday and 2-5 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Call 231-3586.