For some reason, there’s always a point in any discussion of the Mission School at which its existence is called into question. This might have to do with our discomfort at having to acknowledge an artistic movement that arose out of street art, specifically, tagging, which is illegal and largely considered a public nuisance.
Let’s assume the Mission School did in fact exist, because two of its most celebrated artists are having exhibits in town: Margaret Kilgallen’s posthumous show “Summer/Selections,” at Ratio 3 through August 5 and Chris Johanson’s “This, This, This, That” at Altman Siegel through July 30.
Many of the movement's heavyweights were not only based geographically in San Francisco’s Mission neighborhood, but derived inspiration from its handpainted signage, street art from tagging to murals, and easy merging of street culture and high art.
These artists had some of their first exhibitions in local spots such as The Luggage Store, Gallery 16, Adobe Bookshop, and 111 Minna, before showings in larger venues like Yerba Buena Center for the Arts and New York exhibits at Alleged Gallery and the Whitney Biennial gave them wider recognition. Kilgallen's street art, though mostly painted over, is still visible in some parts of her adopted home of the Mission.
The Margaret Kilgallen show displays a selection of her smaller-scale works—some painted on old book covers and pages torn from her notebook—and are more like a glimpse into the artist’s process than a retrospective on the results. Etudes of lips, hairdos, shoes, even raindrops and dots, suggest the patience with which she perfected her unmistakable style. This isn’t to say that the possibly unfinished projects are unsatisfying: they’re like watching a ballet dancer step through her warm-up combinations in class. Her cartoonish characters are imbued with real sympathy on the part of the artist for her creations.They seem tired, working-class, unpampered, thrift-store-dressed, and alone. Alone with a child, alone with each other, but nevertheless alone in facing nameless worries that furrow their brows.
Even paintings of leaves and trees, both recurrent motifs in this exhibit, further the theme of loneliness. Any image of a single leaf, for example, will convey loneliness simply for the implication that it has fallen from the tree, its home.
Kilgallen spoke of her aversion to the perfectly straight line and the inhuman perfection of machine-made images (specifically signage) in the documentary “Beautiful Losers.” As a venue, Ratio 3, with its unpainted floorboards and unconcerned DIY feel, complements her work well.
Altman Siegel, one of the galleries in the venerable 49 Geary complex, is an uncomfortable host for Chris Johanson’s exhibit, displaying work that is rougher and (perhaps deceptively) less disciplined than Kilgallen’s. As the Mission School, and the street art movement as a whole, gained respect in the art world, its artists started showing in more “establishment” venues, but one of the exciting characteristics of such shows was that the artists transformed the installation spaces, however posh, to suit their ethos. They spray-painted the walls, hung their paintings in asymmetrical clusters, even set up skateboarding ramps in the larger buildings.
“This, This, This, That” is laid out with the fastidiousness of an overpaid interior decorator’s portfolio. The paintings and wood sculptures, arranged in immaculate feng shui balance amidst the sterile whiteness of the walls, cry out for a messier, more colorful, irreverent presentation. The formality of the installation overwhelms Johanson’s work, which is like that of a bizarrely philosophical kindergartener. The most vivid works in the show are thickly, brightly-painted wooden sculptures of triangle and square motifs. The tone of the collection is jolly, exuberant, even, but, stranded in the stark classiness of the high-end gallery atmosphere, that exuberance seems labored.