Sean Landers has taken the stage at two of Chinatown's finest galleries. What gives? For over a decade, Landers has been a popular punching bag for critics. The artist's peculiar combination of self-deprecating humor and over-inflated ego has offered an easy target, and the "Kick me" sign on his back grows bigger every year. So, it is somewhat surprising that his recent "salon" paintings of comic geniuses—Andy Kaufman, Richard Pryor, Don Rickles, Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau, Bob Denver—manage to ingratiate so convincingly. They're good, efficient portraits. It's no secret that Landers wants us to imagine these funnymen as forebears of his own ongoing schtick. Of course, not all comedians are created equal, and Landers is no Andy Kaufman. Still, Rodney Dangerfield, 2004 (at China Art Objects), might be Landers's most sincere self-portrait to date. Eyes bulging, Dangerfield and the other subjects stare down three larger canvases—two at China Art Objects, one at sister—riddled with quickly scrawled self-loving/self-loathing text. "It turns out I'm not the stupid fool I used to portray myself as," declares Landers on Giant Leap of Faith, 2003, as he roasts himself in front of a select crowd of his own imagining, like Rupert Pupkin in Scorsese's King of Comedy. Pupkin, like Landers, like Dangerfield, don't get no respect. But beware: Landers's whoopee cushion still has some air left in it.
Artforum.com, September 24, 2004