This is certainly one of the most misleading photobooks that I have seen in some time, despite being a fan of the artist’s previous book. What appears on the outside as a simple reading of America’s vernacular signage is, in fact, a kind of premonition, or perhaps an acknowledgement of where things stand along the country’s cultural landscape, all through its shopfronts. Whereas Lehr’s previous book, The Island Position (Mack, 2019), focused on similar observations, The Last Things puts those observations on blast, with the blast being both in reference to the sun drenched, hyper-pop sensitiblities of the worn and decayed signage, but also on blast as an accurate summation of the nation’s imperial tendencies exposing the rot within through the illusion of candy-colored pop art photography. Whereas it is easy to argue with myself about the notion of pop art photography, I get closer to images from that movement, with Warhol and Tom Wesselman leading the way, as I dissect John’s exceptional work.
What lies on the surface, like the most enigmatic of pop art, is a soothing image, often using advertising tropes to suggest something enviable or desirable. One can anticipate its seduction. John’s photographs offer something beautiful, seductive, and at first, oddly charming, perhaps also a misplaced sense of nostalgic sensation pervades similar to the moving images found in the establishing shots of David Lynch’s opus Blue Velvet, a world shaped by the facade of enviable normality, which is quickly washed away with a perverse circus settling under the skin of the film from the moment the dog begins to bit ethe water eminating from a hose, left to run as a man plummets deep into the fits of a heart attack.
In John’s book, due in considerable measure to the way in which he has chosen to shoot these images in a radiant, nearly bleached-out palette, a similar attitude can be found. We read the images first as a trove or catalog of American signage, consumer solicitations beckoning entry into shops, and the quaint sense of mom-and-pop storefronts suggests a familiarity that those born of a certain age will understand. Dare I say, as one of those people, that I feel a heavy nostalgia for the 80s and 90s through the work? I think this is appropriate, but where things being to be challenged is when the bleached and hand=painted signage begin to reveal the layers of cover-up paint, suggesting the failings of what came before, only to be put on repeat, the American dream of entrepreneurial dreams showing the rality of small businesses in America, with the cracks in the paint and teacup beginning to root.
Though I do not think of John as a cynic, I can’t help but be reminded of an artist like Richard Prince in this work, where the artist’s observational prowess, who seeks to discuss America through its facade, becomes apparent. Notably, Prince’s title of Spiritual America comes to mind from many of the items, particularly the grocery boxes in his installation piece, First House feel in line with how Lehr is discussing politics through paint drips, and the guise of consumable goods, Ritz crackers, and the odd box of Trix (not just for kids). This attitude suggests the artist knows the score and wants to relate their observations, but does so through a metaphorical, sugary delivery system best suited to the conditioned response of people who will recognize the imagery’s familiarity, who will be hit with a sledgehammer just after the epiphany. This is backed up by one significant image in the book of a fire behind the hedge rows, which would also be a surrogate name for the book if it were written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. The Fire Behind the Hedgerow is as real as it could be, could get, is, and isn’t, but is.
I am also reminded of a further history of American art when I look at the book. No doubt John is referencing abstract expressionism, or the later painting of Barnett Newman or Clifford Still, when he photographs details. I have seen exhibitions of the work from afar and believe that Lehr is thinking about photography more through the lens of painting than the photographic medium itself, though in fairness, nobody, myself included, will ever shake Lewis Baltz from our system, and why should we? These do feel like errant photo-Skittles prototypes. It is an update to tendencies found in the New Topographics movement, though it isn’t really a premonition anymore; it is an observation about the encroaching problems we face. There is nothing speculative about the hedgerow’s defence anymore. We are fucked.
What strikes me as fantastic, apart from the images themselves, is the book’s design. With comical declarations of type and a depth of detail that suits the book’s theme, along with a larger size, TBW continues to impress with their latest books. I have seen a remarkable shift from what were always great books, artists, and ideas to something more supernatural in their presentation. This started with my seeing Christian Patterson’s Gong Co., but was more recently cemented by Lehr and Mark Armijo McKnight’s books, amongst others. The dedication to producing memorable books that last beyond one season on photobook end-of-year lists suggests a commitment to excellence and to the roster of artists the crew has been working with. I do believe the crown is in or is near at hand. This book has my highest recommendation, and I love watching John’s work grow. One of the great things about doing what I do, between this and the podcasts and workshops, is seeing people’s work mature and graduate. This is for publishers as well. Here you have a tandem growth pursuit. Don’t miss out.
Suggested OST Portrayal of Guilt Christfucker II. X
