‘Pump Me Up’ at the Corcoran Gallery of Art

By Maura Judkis,February 28, 2013

More than an exhibition, “Pump Me Up” is a 30-year-old time capsule, opened to reveal the great cultural gifts that built the foundation of contemporary Washington as well as the Pandora’s box of troubles that, for a few years, contributed equally to the city’s legacy. The good and the bad — but mostly the good — are what make the Corcoran’s tribute to the era of go-go, graffiti and hardcore punk a nostalgic look back, from Bad Brains to “Mayor for Life” Marion Barry’s famous hotel-room exclamation.

The show’s examination of the District’s subcultures of the 1980s is more art than artifact, in the strictest sense of the definition. The items selected by curator Roger Gastman — many from his personal collection, others sourced from participants of the era — were chosen for their DIY design aesthetic and visual appeal as well as their historical significance. “Pump Me Up” is a straight timeline, paralleling the progression of predominantly black go-go with predominantly white hardcore, as graffiti, current events of the era and the occasional punk-funk concert link the two. Photographs by Derek Ridgers, Glen Friedman and other pros accompany album covers, posters and salvaged street art.

Many of the visual artists in the show never thought of themselves as such. Early go-go graffiti writers painted their alliterative names on the wall to gain notoriety in the music scene, and, in contrast to later graffiti styles, their work was plain and perfectly legible. The names sound sweetly quaint now: “Whassup Woody.” “Crazy Charlie.” “Wild Warren.” Only Cool “Disco” Dan, one of Washington’s most prolific graffiti writers, considered himself an artist — but he’s a small part of the timeline. (His story is further explored in the show’s companion documentary, “The Legend of Cool ‘Disco’ Dan,” which screens this weekend at AFI Silver).

A Washington-centric show such as “Pump Me Up” is rare. Just as the exhibition sheds light on “real” Washington at the expense of official Washington, the art world in the District is divided between the local gallery scene with its homegrown artists and the moneyed museum scene, which imports shows from New York and abroad. Beyond the Washington Color School and its affiliated stars who have earned solo shows, Washington artists aren’t often the featured exhibit in local museums.

But even though “Pump Me Up” is a major recognition, the show isn’t necessarily throwing the local art scene a bone. It’s more connected to the music scene, really, and the featured artists — graffiti writers and street artists — operate outside the mainstream art community by definition, which makes it all the more imperative to handle their ascent to the gallery walls with care.

Most of the show wraps around the museum’s ground-floor atrium and cafe, as well as the hallway to the Corcoran’s restrooms, which gives the display an unfinished feel. Bringing street art into a museum necessarily diminishes it, and the Corcoran’s curator of contemporary art, Sarah Newman, said she felt that hanging it deeper in the Corcoran would remove it too far from how it was intended to be seen.

But the atrium is distracting, and a bit too casual. The work is already in the museum, so it may as well have gotten a more formal exhibition space — especially one with less of an echo, where it would be easier to hear the videos, which range from punk and go-go performances to anti-drug PSAs.

In contrast, an exhibit of posters by Globe, the Baltimore printing company that created much of the visual identity for go-go, feels complete. It rims the rotunda in neon and black, with the company’s whimsical, music-note designs sprinkled on the walls above. Near the museum’s entrance, street artist Tim Conlon constructed a faux doorstep, with weathered go-go posters on the door and a body outline roped off by police tape on the stairs, which seems like more of a photo-op backdrop for visitors than an art installation.

While graffiti and poster design provide a visual link between the subcultures, partaking in or eschewing drugs provides the thematic connection, starkly illustrating the racial and socioeconomic divide between the two music scenes. As the timeline progresses, we see go-go’s role in the emergence of neighborhood crews and violence escalated by drug kingpin Rayful Edmond, which led to the District’s designation as the murder capital of the United States.

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