Window Dressing XXX: The Amazing Hancock Brothers
Image: Taylor Holland, German Neo-Rococo Naturalistic Style (1840-1850), Gold leaf, wood, paint, composite, 2014.
Exhibition Dates: Sept 18th - Sept 25, 2023 (visible 24 hours/day)
Artist Reception: Friday, Sept 22nd, 8 - 10pm
It was probably somewhere between Wichita Falls and Dallas in mid 1990s when we came up with the name Amazing Hancock Bros. Before that we were just John and Charles Hancock showing at a Tulsa house party or dingy alternate space or in the independent art cell Big Snuff art group. We were art hungry, feral, and we drank too much.
We were strongly influenced by German Expressionists, comic books, late-night black and white horror movies, and the cosmic cow punk ethos. We emerged from central Texas to take our rightful place in the pantheon of art history, only to be turned away for lack of adequate visas, transit papers and coherent curriculum vitae. How were we to know?
Born of a southern white man and a northern Japanese mama we were raised in Waxahachie, Texas. Separated by only 18 months - we are Texanese brothers through and through. We were brought up in a time of great social upheaval: Vietnam war, desegregation, sonic booms and the mysterious disappearance of the Texas Horned Toad. But that was all decades before we came up with print bombing and eyeball registration… even before we were called the OGs of modern printmaking.
No one told us NO you can’t do that. Not in so many words and there were things we could have done better or should have looked up in the manual but didn’t. There were the all-knowing glances which were misread as come-ons or were downright ignored.
What we figgered out so far:
Doubters will doubt.
Haters gonna hate.
Bitches gonna bitch.
Snitches get stitches.
Ultimately, the hard way is the best way for us to learn.
Better to print in the wind n rain on your hands and knees than not at all. Don’t worry that there is hair follicles and Bermuda grass in yer speedball ink… No one really cares if you print or paint on discarded mattresses from the side of the road. They figure you are crazy and quickly speed by in their Tesla minivan with the gull wing doors. To do highly ritualized spoken word performances in sweaty art spaces in Masonic robes and fezzes is normal. It’s not our fault we were possessed at an early age by an evil art genie.
We smoked the sacred Boo Boo Root by the place of dead trees under a moon holding water. Communicating telepathically with Emil Nolde, John Coltrane, Carson McCullers, we uncovered great mysteries. All our heroes have been cancelled. The ancient smell of rain before a Texas thunderstorm raises the hackles on your neck.
We remember it’s all been done before but not like we do it.
The Amazing Hancock Brothers are John Hancock and Uncle Chuck Hancock.
