Before we talk about Paul McCarthy’s demented versions of Snow White figurines now at the Henry Art Gallery, let’s go back to the erection of the hobbity bishop at fake-Ariel’s wedding to the prince in the 1989 hit Disney movie The Little Mermaid. You had to pause or slow down the movie to see the undeniable thing sprout for a moment, forming a tiny little anti-monument that would become visible only in the era of home entertainment that followed.
At least one lawsuit was filed against Disney for the indiscretion, but some of us found it amusing and the only enduring thing of any value in the movie. Rather than subliminally bullying us about not being prettier, chipperier, and younger, this was a moment when The Little Mermaid was subliminally tipping us off that we had a mole inside that bully world of established norms, somebody who might take our side and even pervert the whole thing someday.
It is my understanding that McCarthy, the LA artist who until about 15 years ago was not a megastar of the art world, thinks of himself a little like that inside man, the one who will venture in after dark and rummage around the friendly-faced fascism of postwar American iconography. He’d muck things up so that we’d never see Snow White’s red hair bow and stiff high collar the same way again…
