The Essential New Art Examiner

Ha Ha Ha

J an E step Ha Ha Ha Ray’s a Laugh September 1999 “I’ve always wanted to move people as much as I can, so much that they cry. Sometimes women look at the book and they cry and I think, ‘I’ve done it.’” —Richard Billingham1 Since I first picked up the 1997 publication Ray’s a Laugh, I’ve had an uneasy relationship with Richard Billingham’s work: both with the artist’s intent, and with its emotional resonance. The book features snapshot pictures of the artist’s family taken over a six-year period from 1990 to 1996: the alcoholic father Ray, the obese mother Liz, and the fidgety younger brother Jason. They live in what appears to be a cramped, dimly lit apartment that lies just outside of Birmingham, England. They seem to spend most of their time drinking and hanging out in this crowded domestic space. In one image Ray slumps on the floor next to a toilet, dark stains running down the porcelain. In another a cat whizzes through the air toward Ray’s head as he ducks for cover. Syringe in hand, Liz feeds a tiny, newborn kitten enveloped by the heavily tattooed folds of her arm. She pieces together a jigsaw puzzle of a picturesque town, wearing a voluminous, floral housecoat. A stack of white bread sits on a dresser next to a rumpled bed on which Ray perches. There’s evidence of domestic warfare: in a couple of pictures Liz threatens Ray with her fists, cheeks puffed out in anger, then, in a later shot, offers him a tissue to wipe up the blood. We see their J A N E S T E P    Ha Ha Ha   293 unwashed hair and pimples and yellowed, crooked teeth. And, despite the occasional fun and games, the group looks worn out and resigned. When showing the book to other people I’ve witnessed the “Make ’em laugh, make ’em cry” response that the artist describes: people nervously chuckle and point their finger, with the gesture seeming to shake off some excess of feeling. Or they get really quiet and sad, sort of closed in. The emotions seem to come quickly, clearly, and distinctly. But I’ve always felt a complicated mess of feelings: I don’t particularly want to look, but I’m fascinated; I can’t say I like them, but they linger with me; there is humor and intimacy, but also a kind of clinical coolness in the artist’s stance. I have a strong reaction, but one borne more out of ambivalence than anything else. And it’s precisely this lack of simplicity—so seemingly at odds with the straightforward response the artist wants to elicit—that keeps me interested. Putting aside the complicated emotional tone of the work for a moment , something more readily articulated and understood (by me) is the way one might question the artist’s intent. What is the purpose in publishing and exhibiting pictures that are so private, that seem to breach a bond of confidence? Many people have family secrets, more or less traumatic , but most people shy away from revealing them in such a public way. It’s not always prudent to disclose one’s troubled history, especially to someone in a position of power; someone who is deciding whether or not you’d make a good parent or a fit employee, for example. Collectively, we’re of two minds. On the one hand, we don’t seem too accepting of other people’s emotional excesses. The fact that experimental geneticists are eagerly searching to locate the chromosome markers for alcoholism, depression, and obsessive-compulsive disorder with the intent to control and ideally eliminate these so-called “defects” from the gene pool, hints at the lack of tolerance for emotional “imbalances” or “problems” in the culture. On the other hand, we encourage the identification and disclosure of illness in order to fight its debilitating effects and as entertainment . We live in a time of abundant emphasis on self-help programs and psychotherapy; there are even public venues in which to proclaim our desperation and unhappiness, daytime talk shows being one of the most popular arenas. The book publishing industry has seen a virtual spate of autobiographical memoirs describing excessive drinking, eating disorders, incest, sex addiction, bad marriages, etc. But these books are about survival and recovery. There’s public ridicule if your case is too extreme or too far out there, as...