In the 5th Century BCE, Sun Tzu's "Art of War" pointed out that "All warfare is based on deception." He later added, "Deception. That's what spies are good at. That's why I don't trust those lying, sneaky bastards." Gallery/Shmallery's recent exhibition of Anton Prohias' work clearly proves both points quite clearly. Or does it?
Prohias' art on the gallery walls answers that question. It speaks for itself. But I'm still going to talk. Visually, what did I see while observing said art?
Two enemy Spies. Two pointy-headed figures, unceasingly ripping, tearing, slashing, gouging, and clawing each other. Their lethally savage techniques are considered by many to be evil and cruel. But whom or wham is Prohias' attacking with his ink-stained fists of fury? His art answers this question as well. As will I, yet again, for as long as I have to. Because I'm being paid by the word.
From January, 1961 until now, Prohias' "Spy vs. Spy" has relentlessly memorialized, mocked and deconstructed the Cold War's spurious duality with these two Manichean figures locked in "eternal" combat. One "Spy" wears black clothing, the other "Spy" wears white. Aside from this performative aspect of their costume display (and the intentional self-representation the Spys tacitly communicate via the identity/tribal signifiers explicitly implicit in their respective choice of clothing and/or uniform) these figures could be twins. Ironically, the line work defining these antithetical icons is identical. They are polar(ized) opposites, as different as black and white. Yet each is a mirror image of the other. "Spy vs. Spy" is the official title of Prohias' recurring sequential art feature. Visual statement refutes this textual labeling. The inescapable and ineluctable conclusion? They are truly the same Spy. There is only one Spy. And that Spy is at war with him/herself. Or non-gender-specific self. The brutal and bestial futility of the Spy/Spy's self-self, other-other struggle (and Prohias' parallactic critique of the dualistic-yet-artificial cycles of violence in the Cold War's neverending East-West conflict) repeats and reiterates throughout the artist's transgressive body of work. Deconstructed as murderous slapstick long after Vaudeville's death, Cold War tragedy turns endlessly to farce in the Spy/Spys' ultraviolent, yet anti-heroic, expression of mindless eternal recurrence. These vicious circles are vicious indeed. Prohias also thinks it's funny when the Spy/Spys find cleverly sadistic ways to hurt each other.
—Jackson DeVoe, Visual Art Critic at Large