Masculinity at War: Austin Alphonse’s Glorious Struggle
Los Angeles-based painter Austin Alphonse paints a world he has not quite left behind yet. By that, I mean an ambivalently imagined world with its basis of reality culled from his suburban hometown in Ohio, his former place of residence which is New York City, the dry land of California that he currently calls home, and the weight of history itself. Inspired by the Greek myth of Sisyphus, Alphonse paints male figures, often in solitude or in a pair, engaging in interpersonal struggle or sharing a fragile moment of intimacy and connectedness. These isolated episodes, painted against particularly American landscapes that nevertheless bear no correspondence to real place, hold no resolution, as Alphonse’s figures often are caught in the pose of self-reflexive questioning of their aspiration for various kinds of belonging. The themes of Existentialism are the paradigm of representation for Alphonse’s debut solo show, OASIS, at Vardan Gallery. Throughout the exhibition, truths of experiences and psychologies are only readable through coded objects and gestures of communication that do not fully resolve. For Alphonse, meanings are not a given but must be pulled out of the mystique of existence itself through his paintbrush.
Qingyuan Deng: In the quote you provided for the press release, you mentioned this idea of meaninglessness. What does it mean for you to explore meaninglessness in your paintings?
Austin Alphonse: Sometimes I ask myself why I am doing certain things and my purpose of doing them, as everyday life can feel quite mundane. Art is an approach to push back against this lost sense of purpose, which is why I paint. I see my painting as a subconscious search for meaning more than an embrace of meaninglessness. I am constantly looking for a way to make sense of the struggle the people around me and myself are going through, which can seem to be an endless struggle.
QD: Some of your paintings are about the aftermath of war, and war is such a classic example of meaningless struggle. Do you want to talk more about how you weave the memories of war into your paintings, which often veer toward the autobiographical?
AA: My paintings are not so much about war as they are about the type of people who participate in them or are forced to participate in them. I come from a long line of military men. My father was a drill sergeant, and both of my grandfathers were in the army. One served in Vietnam. My brother got out of the army two years ago. The military as an institution has played a massive role in my life, and more so in the lives of my family members. This is why I ended up making a lot of paintings about the institution of the military, the people who work under or in tandem with this institution, and the dynamics at play there.
QD: When I look at your paintings, it seems that the men in your paintings are really affected by their past experiences. For example, Custodian (2023) clearly came out of real life but also has a more psychological extension. Do you want to talk more about the characters in your paintings?
AA: The characters in my paintings are very much like people that I have met or known very personally. These characters are either literal representations of people in my life or metaphors for them. And I think a lot of them are up against it, so to speak. They are pushing back or fighting against forces somewhat beyond their control. For example, when you are part of the military, you are a subject of it, and you have very little control over your fare. Resisting it is somewhat futile. This is why most of my characters are at rest or experiencing moments of contemplation.
QD: The idea of masculinity also feels very important to your paintings. I sense a gesture of negotiation in them. A lot of the characters have an uneasy relationship with masculinity. While they are partaking in masculine-coded activities, viewers can see the burden of masculinity on them. Do you want to discuss how you think about masculinity in your paintings?
AA: Masculinity ends up being a huge theme in a lot of my paintings because it is a burden for many people. I see that burden expressed in the people around me and in my own life. What does it mean to be masculine? How can you be a military man but also a thespian, a painter, or a photographer? These ideas appear at odds with one another, but they are not really. A lot of interesting juxtaposition happens, especially in the military, where there is much pageantry and dressing up. An internal paradox occurs when one tries to parse out what makes somebody a man, what is manly, and what is masculine. I am still trying to figure it out myself, which is why I paint men.
QD: Masculinity itself is a performance, especially when it comes to very homosocial spaces or relationships. There also is a performative dimension to a lot of your paintings. For instance, I am thinking about Midnight Conversations (2024). Two male characters are in a very ambiguous state of being against a dreamy landscape. It almost feels homoerotic, but the eroticism is implicit. Do you want to discuss this relationship between different men in your paintings?
AA: I have an interesting relationship with the men in my life. I am very interested in the way men interact with one another in life. My paintings often have multiple male figures interacting with one another, and the meaning is very subjective. I did not want to draw any conclusions myself. In Bruises (2024), I refrained from setting one narrative of how the figures were related. Whenever I show somebody that painting, they come to a different conclusion. My girlfriend thought they were lovers; my father thought it was a father and son. I am interested in putting primarily men in these different situations and seeing how others interpret it.
QD: You welcome ambiguous interpretations to your paintings. At the same time, your paintings take on a poster quality, capturing one moment in time and leaving out other contexts. What is the relationship between your paintings and the broader popular culture surrounding posters?
AA: I am a graphic designer by trade. While I know static images are so limited in what they can share, many of the posters I subtly reference end up being propaganda posters. The nature of print material means that you are only presented with one side of the truth. Still, I am interested in subverting that—seeing what happens if you take a reference and present a more nuanced narrative.
QD: You mentioned propaganda posters. Which period of propaganda posters are you looking at?
AA: I gravitate towards the language of Soviet socialist realism. I am attracted to the masculine rendering of figures, the brightness of color, and the color’s symbolism. I am interested in that gesture of purporting a constructed thing as the truth.
QD: When you paint objects, the language of graphic design really comes through. I am looking at Inflation (2024) and Untitled (Modelo, Banana and Gun) (2023). Both are about how objects can have specific cultural meanings encoded to them. Can you tell me more about how you design certain objects in your paintings?
AA: From a methodological standpoint, how I approach a painting tends to be very similar to how I approach graphic design tasks, from sketching to refining. Once, a very influential former studio mate told me I should not only have figures in my paintings. So, I always try to push myself to include more objects, which are almost characters in and of themselves, representative of the people I’m painting. A deflated basketball in the desert is very similar to a deflated man sitting in the desert. I want to give objects that would surround the characters in my paintings and in my life a chance to be their own character and tell the story in a different way.
QD: I imagine these objects are also tied to the history of American military expansion and the history of how masculinity is presented in the United States.
AA: Definitely.
Austin Alphonse: OASIS is on view at Vardan Gallery, Los Angeles, until November 2, 2024.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.