Artist Davy Lauterbach's bizarre aesthetic

CAPTION WITH YOUR CONSCIENCE Once, a woman accused artist Davy Lauterbach of mocking differently abled children. His response: "I laughed so hard I shot wine out of my nose onto her dress" (Photo: Images courtesy of Stricola)

To see a gallery of Lauterbach's babies and read the artist's commentary (you know you want to) click here.

Davy Lauterbach paints babies. But not just any babies. Lauterbach's babies are both arresting and disturbing, bringing together elements of Diane Arbus and—oh, let's just say it: The babies all look retarded. Oddly enough, that element is what has made them sought after by celebrity collectors like Bill Murray and Luke Wilson. Radar recently sat down with Lauterbach to talk about his work, public reactions to his touched-looking tots, and why—he swears—he's really not making fun of retarded kids.

How'd you get started?
My professional background is in television animation. In 1996 I was hired as an artist for Mortal Kombat, a Saturday morning show on the old USA Network. The show was canceled after one season, but downstairs from us they were making The Simpsons, and they happened to need a new artist in the color department. One year on The Simpsons turned into eight, until one morning in 2003 I woke up in a panic attack realizing my life had become a routine. I was tired of working on someone else's project. I was living in a house in a neighborhood where I was the only person without a golden retriever. I had a mortgage that forced me to work tirelessly to pay it. I was also dating a woman who hated me and nagged me endlessly to change. So, that day in 2003 I immediately moved into a hotel, started a cocaine and whiskey bender, and by the end of the week I had quit my job, put the house up for sale, broken up with the bitch, and decided to make art of my own.

One baby is the clone of a clone of a clone of what I think I would be if I were inbred over and over and over. That baby would be repulsive. Way too smiley. Clownish. Definitely a chronic masturbatorWhat made you decide to choose this subject?
Well, I'm 35 years old, so most of my peers are at the age of feeling pressured into breeding children. The initial spark for this project came as a reaction to those people bragging about their children and insinuating that my decision not to have children was "childish." These people often say things like I should "grow up," usually before they tell me how miserable their lives and marriages have become, followed by prodding me for detailed stories about my sex life since they say they've apparently have lost theirs. These people annoy me. I'm also fascinated by developments in cloning and the bizarre possibilities that might have for creating children. So, I decided to clone my own family of art babies, and wound up with 25 babies that are self-portraits. Every baby has a little bit of me, filtered through someone else. For example, there's one baby that is a clone of me and the poet-playwright Samuel Beckett. That baby is polite with a dark side. Funny but maudlin. A little sick of it all, too. There's another baby that is the clone of a clone of a clone of what I think I would be if I were inbred with myself over and over and over. That baby would be repulsive. Way too smiley. Clownish. Definitely a chronic masturbator. My babies, however, don't scream or whine.

What are some of the common responses you get from people who see the paintings?
A lot of people seem to love them. They like to look for the clues and symbols and puzzles inside them that make up each baby's personality. People also like to figure out which baby might be theirs, or be most like them. I had three of them in a group show in New York last year. This hilarious woman bought one and said she considered it an actual adoption. I think we all love to psychoanalyze each other, so these babies appeal to that in viewers. But some uptight people can't see the humor in these paintings and accuse of me of making fun of kids. Once, I had a woman tell me, "You should be ashamed of yourself for making fun of God's most precious gift to the world. A child." I laughed so hard I shot wine out of my nose onto her dress. The most uptight people in the lot think I'm terrible.

At the extreme, I was once accused of making fun of retarded babies, which is absolutely not what is going on the work. The fact is, I am making fun of myself. I realize some of the babies look alien, but these babies don't actually exist in the corporeal world. They are all made up. It's fiction. Since they are painted in a way that references photography, the first assumption many people have is that they are paintings of actual photographs, especially those where I have posed a baby in a Sears portrait studio–type environment. Sometimes I do use reference imagery I find on the Internet, but only as a loose, loose starting point.

Do the paintings have titles? What do you call the series?
Each painting's title is the first name I have chosen for the baby. I haven't really named the series, but I suppose I should. My gallery rep, Stephanie Tricola, calls them "Davy's babies." I like that.

I understand a few celebrities have purchased your stuff.
Wes Anderson. Bill Murray. Luke Wilson. A few Hollywood studios own my work as well. Twentieth Century Fox and Warner Brothers own paintings. Dave Robinson at Morgan Creek and his wife, actress Susan Ward. Apparently, John Waters wants one. I'm flattered.

Diane Arbus: total nutjob, am I right?
Yeah, agreed. That's why she's great. I think the beauty of painting is that it has a layer of "is this real?" that is missing in photography before the age of Photoshop. Arbus' famous photograph of that freaky kid with the hand grenades is sorta cool. But to me, it's mostly funny, not freaky. It just looks to me like some kid posing, and in fact that's all it was. So to me it's not freaky beyond the idea that everybody is a disaster waiting to happen. It's like Arbus plays the unseen documentary observer in the piece. I know, I know, people say Arbus doesn't put herself above us, but rather implicates herself in the accusation. But when I look at Francis Bacon's paintings, the imagery of insanity and hysteria is as intense as my questions of "what the fuck was up with the painter who made this?" I like that added element.

To see a gallery of Lauterbach's babies with Davy's commentary on the individual pieces, click here.