What’s the deal with airbrush, anyway?
A brief inquiry into the employment of the airbrush in contemporary painting
Every art school grad with an Instagram account these days seems to hold in their hand an airbrush. Why?
In of itself, the airbrush is not a new phenomenon. Invented in 1882 by photographer Francis Edgar Stanley, the airbrush was first conceived of as a tool for the retouching of photographs. Functioning by moving compressed air through a venturi pump, an airbrush atomizes paint into tiny droplets that are then sprayed through a nozzle in a fine mist. Revolutionary in its ability to retouch an image with near imperceptibly and great precision, the subtlety of the airbrush and the perfection of its finish, free from brushstrokes, lead to it being picked up in the automotive industry for the decoration of cars by the late 1800s, and subsequently the makeup industry, t-shirt makers on Venice beach and spenny nail techs.
As such, the historical popularity of the airbrush for photographers, mechanics, and makeup artists alike can accredited to its potential as a medium for flawless finish; it’s capacity for realism. Reminiscent of Academic standards of the early Modern period (wherein illusory realism was the name of the game and traces of the artists own hand through visible brushstroke was frowned upon) the airbrush physically distances the hand of the artist from canvas, allowing for crisp mechanical perfection.
That being said, the airbrushed paintings that seem to inundate the graduate shows and Instagram feeds of today are certainly not stylistically of that academic realism. So why use an airbrush? Young artists today are, instead, revelling in rejecting the potential of the airbrush for perfection; technically embracing splotchy finishes, runny paint, and incorrect perspective. Perhaps, in this context, the airbrush is subversive; the lack of gesture-based physicality involved in airbrushing while at once allows for that perfect finish, equally widens the gulf between artist and artwork, whose proximity in traditional painting is fundamental to the hegemonic cultural notion of the genius artist and masterpiece. In short, the heightened gap between artist and canvas, facilitated by the airbrush, seems to have been embraced by the contemporary painter in a dual rejection of both a traditional understanding of the role of the artist as creator, and the academic penchant for realism.
But the airbrush has been around for ages, why now is this kind of alternative application so popular? To me, the rejection of the mechanical perfection of the airbrush appears to be an inevitable consequence of - a reaction to - our post-internet digital age, evidenced in the shared iconography of these contemporary works. Frequently drawing visually (and sometimes textually) from early video game graphics, meme culture, and now-dated computer software – these paintings reminisce on an earlier online culture; a more hopeful (read perhaps even purer) time of internet usage that has since disappeared with rampant technological development, while interrogating the contemporary digital culture of brain rot. They evoke this certain yearning, a nostalgia for a less polished, less sleek, fundamentally more human, digital experience. Their imagery is gauche, marked by provocation, crudity and humour, their use of text cryptic and idiosyncratic; all referential to a culture that exists terminally online. ‘Avantgardebabe’ suspends two low-poly leopards on a utopic screen-saver-esque beach complete with clipping palm trees, in a contemporary reimagination of the gardens of paradise. Similarly, ‘angel_lovecraft’ renders an anime woman of impossible proportions in another fictive paradise, wading through turquoise waters in a skimpy black swimsuit towards the viewer. It is titled ‘Gender as a performance’ – denoting the fictive, digital exclusivity of the male fantasy and its impossibility in real life. Visions of VR porn also spring to mind. In essence, the stylistic contemporary employment of the airbrush to create these ‘nouveau-naïve’ images that appear poorly rendered, functions in two ways; at once as a celebration of the dated technology of a bygone late 90s early 2000s childhood, and as a reactionary critique to today’s technology and its surrounding culture.
While writing this, I’ve found myself uncertain about how I actually feel about airbrush art – what am I to conclude? While the idea of subversive medium employment and contemporary critique on paper appeals to my sensibilities, I’ve found that airbrush as a technique, and its accompanying style, is rapidly becoming hackneyed (such that I’ve been able to write this entire essay about it) and I cannot help but notice my contempt grow every time another painting appears in my explore page or in an east London gallery. Its popularity in the scene and widespread employment is unfortunately marked by very little development or variation from one artist to the next, resulting in an abundance of paintings that do not feel unique, distinct or particularly impactful beyond their cultural capital as trendy ‘airbrush art’. Airbrushes’ ubiquity amongst artists of a certain age and demographic seems to have stunted its growth, cementing it as simply the nouveau fad culturally and artistically. As such, its potential as this exciting critique of internet consumption ironically has succeeded to a central aspect of the culture it seeks to critique, a lack of originality and artistic individuality in today’s media. While I grow increasingly tired of seeing it on my feed, I find myself asking reflecting on these questions - is it effective? is it substantial? is it original? is it genuine? Are these works commercially successful, and with whom?
Where I stand as of now, though liable to change, is that airbrush art, while not inherently bad, feels somewhat like podcasts to me – that is, in its current form - airbrush art feels trite. Having become somewhat a pastiche of itself by virtue of its popularity, I anxiously await something new from the airbrush artistes of Instagram and Dalston.
User: Isabella Roskill
19 Oct 2024
