WAS THE NEWSLETTER #126

I’m Paige Wassel. WAS the Newsletter is your weekly dose of design inspiration, where this is not your mother’s watercolor exhibit.

LET’S GO TO AN ART SHOW

I went to see artist Gabe Bartalos’s new show in Los Angeles last week, and OMG, I had to write about it today because I’ve been thinking about it ever since. That’s what makes art so incredible, seeing something that keeps tugging at your subconscious.

This exhibition was wild, no exaggeration. I’m talking giant sculptural masses of destroyed electronics, distorted foam-latex faces, and mysterious bodily-adjacent substances under glass. It was visceral, just total nightmare fuel… and I could not get enough.

The show’s called Ornamental Anger. (How evocative is that?) It’s currently running at Good Mother Gallery. The second I walked in, I knew I was going to love it because these pieces were giving the energy of a mad genius who’s spent decades becoming even more weird. And I mean that in the best possible way.

The Artist

Gabe Bartalos is a prosthetic makeup effect artist, a writer, a sculptor, and a special effects pioneer. Bartalos’s career doesn’t even sound real, like no one could have done as much as he has. For example, he worked on The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, plus he built creature effects for Brain Damage and multiple Leprechaun films. He’s collaborated with Matthew Barney on the Cremaster projects for years. He’s also made prosthetic work for David Byrne and St. Vincent. There’s a good chance if you’ve seen something scary, he was behind it.

His career is just a completely unhinged mix of horror movies, experimental art, practical effects, and performance, all wrapped up in tactile craftsmanship. (I’m obsessed, obvi.)

The Show

Experiencing the work in person was so cool because even though the pieces are legit disturbing, there’s humor in them. And not kitschy humor, but a throughline that feels genuinely obsessive. His process is like no one’s I’ve ever seen before. His studio practice apparently involves everything from foam latex and clay to bones (!), wire, hair (!), found objects, wood, newspapers, and glass. He uses the kind of materials that I’m pretty sure trolls collect in German fairy tales

This is not anywhere close to a traditional polished gallery exhibition. His exhibit is more like wandering directly into a serial killer’s psyche, and again, I say that with respect. He created a piece called “Hello Snot” which is made from compacted technological debris. The whole thing looms over the room like a monument to human excess and humanity’s eventual collapse. The scope of it is what’s so moving. He also has these microscope slides with weird fluids trapped inside them. I got creeped out wondering what it could be. (Exactly the point.) He’s got sculpted portrait busts with distorted features and incredibly detailed textures. They somehow manage to straddle the line between grotesque and beautiful simultaneously.

This is why the show is so effective; the craftsmanship’s so impeccable that it doesn’t feel like a gimmick. The true intention and commitment radiate off every piece. Plus, it’s super clear that these objects were crafted by a person with decades of technical knowledge, skill, and a true POV. Up close, the surfaces are incredible, and everything has weight and texture. Yeah, some of it is unsettling, and that’s the point. Yet they were just so meticulous that I was still drawn to them.

The Lesson

The show hit me because I’m exhausted by how sanitized everything has become aesthetically. It’s like the algorithm only spits out the aspirational version of “tasteful.” So much design lately errs on the side of not being too emotional, too ugly, too funny, etc. I swear, half the internet wants to live in the lobby of a successful chain hotel where you can’t tell if you’re in Dallas or Detroit. Why?? There’s no risk, no sense of humor, no flavor. Meanwhile Gabe Bartalos is over here building bizarre foam-latex sculptures and weird architectural installations out of reclaimed wood and I could not love it more. Even if it weren’t impeccable (but it is), at least there’s conviction behind it, plus an unexpected measure of joy.

As I walked through the show, I kept thinking, This is what happens when someone fully commits to their own visual language, when they aren’t trying to hold back to be more mainstream. The work is weird, okay? Sometimes it’s genuinely upsetting. But it’s memorable because it actually has a point of view. Here’s the thing—interiors work the same way. The best homes usually have at least one object in them that creates tension. One thing that’s slightly unsettling or overly specific or emotionally-charged. You don’t want a space that feels too optimized. A strange object gives a room personality. It suggests somebody with actual interests lives there.

That’s why I loved Ornamental Anger so much. It reminded me how refreshing it is to encounter work that doesn’t care about being universally appealing. The show understands that horror and humor are oddly close cousins. Ugliness can be beautiful, and feeling uncomfortable isn’t a bad thing.

Also, on a purely practical level, I respect anyone who’s managed to build an entire career around making monsters professionally. I feel like that level of niche commitment is kind of badass.

The Call to Action

If you’re in Los Angeles, the show is absolutely worth seeing in person. Like, the scale and textures really don’t translate the same way online. Ornamental Anger is on view through June 27, 2026 at Good Mother Gallery. The gallery is located at 5103 W. Adams Blvd. in Los Angeles.

Go. Experience it for yourself. And then tell me if it haunts your thoughts, too.

DO / DON’T by Basma Alromaih

xx,
P