When you see it in one of the murals or the canvases, you first think, “Oh, WOW! That’s what my life feels like at this moment.” But it's not that simple. I don't think the work is merely a reflection of those who want to see themselves in it, nor that it says anything that's exactly about you. Maybe there's something you recognize, images that remind you of something you have seen, or something you have thought before or are thinking now. This agglomeration of images that meet in what is supposedly a truck is such a complex universe of signs and narratives that it amounts to Abdul Vas's most audacious work, and perhaps his darkest.
I am not sure whether, in any of the diverse manifestations of his visual vocabulary, it is Vas' intention to address our everyday lives. His intention seems, rather, to portray what is certainly a universe in which many of us take part, a concrete universe in which you may or may not recognize yourself, but it which you will unmistakably recognize our time.
Until this point, we know that Abdul Vas' work had developed by mingling the cultural obsessions of his native Venezuela with symbols supposedly representing the American Dream. He used aggressive and well-hung roosters to show us his vision of the cowboy culture of the USA, among allusions to the National Rifle Association and the Cincinnati Reds, pornography and SUVs. But Vas's titles and textual insertions evince a growing obsession with the Australian rock group AC/DC, its lead singer Brian Johnson, and its founder Malcolm Young.
www.acdcstage.com
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