The rise of ‘ugly’ art: “I think the internet has deeply, spiritually poisoned us”

I’m scrolling through Catherine Mulligan’s old Tumblr. Night-vision photos of women in bikinis and trucker hats, a snap of Madonna’s gold grills, a pixellated image of a dirty strip club stage and an ambiguously stained mattress (a true Tumblr classic). These trashy lo-res pictures fill me with a haunting nostalgia for the nights I spent as a teenager trawling the platform’s dark depths for my next hit of cursed images. All that’s needed to complete the scene is Yung Lean’s Unknown Death 2002 autoplaying and a Monster energy drink cracked open next to me. I’ve been obsessed with Mulligan’s art since someone shared her painting, Devil 1 on Instagram a few years ago, where a zombified woman poses proudly in front of a fiery hellscape. Her leathery, jaundiced skin, her grimy acrylic nails and her freakish grin were all an affront to my eyes in the best way possible. I couldn’t look away.

There’s a strange appeal to the messy and gruesome, a “thrill to tastelesness” as Mulligan described in a 2023 Office Magazine interview. Lo-fi, rough-around-the-edges styles of image-making have been on the rise. Works that aren’t aesthetically ‘normal’ or ‘attractive’ are flooding our social media feeds and sparking debate in an increasing number of exhibitions. A flock of contemporary painters have captured the sensations of living in late-stage capitalism and are rebelling against the market’s autocracy of ‘good taste’, challenging how we understand beauty. So is ugliness in?

Distorted digital imagery, nauseating colour palettes, grotesquely candid subjects and a subtext of sarcasm are key elements of this style: a kind of aspirational ugliness. Imagine a Gen-Z-ified Ivan Albright or an Issy Wood after being deep-fried. Artists like Mulligan are flirting with fugly, there’s a charm to how they own their tastelessness. Coverage of the politics of ugliness and ‘bad taste’ has been on the rise, with Nathalie Olah’s 2023 book Bad Taste and Nahmad Contemporary’s recent ‘Ugly Painting’ exhibition delving into the pleasures and power behind the visual trend. “The instinct with art is first to establish what ‘good taste’ is, internalise it and refine your sensibility around it. It’s very paternalistic,” says Mulligan. “I’ve found that this might lead to good work, but not interesting or innovative work. To make the latter, you need to be honest about what draws you in aesthetically, even if you’re not sure you’re drawn in for the right reasons. Taste is fake. There was a point when jazz music was considered low culture. This isn’t to compare the crap I reference to jazz, but it’s just to say the gatekeepers are often wrong. Or late.” Polyester’s tag line, “have faith in your own bad taste”, comes to mind. Artists are rebelling against a world that perpetuates insane beauty standards. But the world – and the art world – has always been like this, so why are we now seeing these works on the rise?

With the recent downfall of the ‘clean girl aesthetic’ and content like #underconsumptioncore and deliberately low-quality ‘brainrot’ memes trending on TikTok, creators are rejecting refinement, and not just on social media. From the distorted, experimental tracks of rising star Mk.gee and the alt scene’s longtime fave Dean Blunt, to the internet’s favourite disheveled pop star Sky Ferreira’s 2024 comeback and Ethel Cain’s grainy camcorder-style music videos, grit and grunge are trending in the music industry. The fashion world is no stranger to this either, with designers like Ashley Williams and Collina Strada making a name for themselves with their tousled models and kitschy airbrushed designs. “I believe that, as a society, we’re beginning to lower our guards, embracing a truer, more expressive representation of self,” says Mattia Guarnera-MacCarthy, who transforms photographs and internet relics into paintings using an airbrush technique. “This evolution—or perhaps de-evolution—has introduced what I would describe as a curated edge to contemporary art. While it may seem counterintuitive in a time of peak technological advancement, to me, it reflects the inherent nonconformist spirit of the creative archetype. It’s paving the way for an exciting and transgressive environment for artists today.”

More and more artists are making work that reflects the absurdity of their experiences growing up online and are mining the internet for reference material like memes, stock photos and reality television, typically labelled as ‘low culture’ and outside the bounds of taste dictated by the art market. “I grew up in the era of flip phones, so ‘poor’ images are familiar and important to me. I find huge potential in heavily compressed images and I like to work with oil paint to give them a new existence. If the art feels risky, it’s probably a good thing, especially if it can express a sense of unease and discomfort,” says Marilou Bal. “[My work] tends to make use of internet phenomena,” adds Tere Segovia. “I work from appropriation and an ironic gaze, which is how I think we consume images on the web. Overexposure to images can leave us tired, so delving into the ‘weird’ is crucial.”

Is embracing the ugly a subversive act for these artists – a kind of re-valorisation of trashy aesthetics and ironic appreciation? Mulligan’s mildewed zombies, Bal’s brash pixellations and Segovia’s blotchy airbrushing feel like commentaries on how we consume images and how that continues to evolve in our digital age – how we present ourselves online, what images we share, how we understand ugliness. They capture the angst and alienation of constantly digesting images online. “There’s always that turning point when certain tendencies and pursuits reach a critical mass and become exhausted – at that moment, we start seeking alternatives, usually something that stands in stark contrast,” says Helena Minginowicz, whose work is quite literally trashy – she paints on sheets of toilet paper, face masks and plastic bags. “I’m fascinated by mass-produced objects, often of questionable quality and knock-offs that look like they were a production mistake. I’m also drawn to packaging that is adorned with over-the-top graphics, usually in some absurd collage. In short, it’s one-use junk, but it’s charming and heartwarming junk.”

“I think the internet has deeply, spiritually poisoned us,” adds Mulligan. “So it’s possible making uglier and grittier work feels more honest at a time when so many images (and ‘content’) are untrustworthy (filtered, curated, bots, etc). I also think there’s a generational shift, where my generation (Millennial) was pathetically optimistic as the world was falling apart, and Gen Z is (correctly) a bit more nihilistic.” A growing number of artists are pushing beyond taste culture, prompting us to question how we navigate our digital lives, the boundaries of beauty and the ugliness we so often try to hide. In doing so, they remind us that there is something charming in the flawed, the strange and the unsettling. As the lines between high and low culture continue to blur, artists are inviting us to reconsider what we find repulsive or attractive. Perhaps, in the process, we can embrace a little more of our own bad taste.