Are Winners Losers?

The word ​“LOSER” was spraypainted across an image of the White House in blue, orange, and yellow — not in D.C., but on a New Haven gallery wall.

I asked the artist John O’Donnell — whose show Winners are Losers opened this past week at the John Slade Ely House Center for Contemporary Art — i f this piece had predicted something pollsters hadn’t: the presence of Donald Trump in the White House.

He shook his head no.

“Before elections, magazines always make two covers, one in case each candidate wins,” O’Donnell said. ​“For me, this was kind of like that. If Hilary won, I had this vision of it being from Trump’s perspective, him calling her a loser for winning. Now, it’s just me calling him one.”

The show, which opened the day after Trump’s election and will run through December, contains a diverse array of O’Donnell’s work. One room is filled with brightly colored prints that are almost architectural, that seem entirely divorced from political context.

And then in the other two other two room, O’Donnell deals with questions of winning and losing that have been much on America’s mind.

The image of the White House is surrounded by other objects on display, all of which O’Donnell won at Dave & Buster’s, which advertises as a ​“family-friendly chain offering a sports-bar-style setting for American food & arcade games.” O’Donnell’s winnings, now displayed, include a miniature drum set, a 23-inch guitar, and a still-packaged T‑shirt that reads ​“Winner.” Often, O’Donnell estimates that he pays about ten times the value of each item to win it, leading him to wonder: am I still a winner? Am I loser? He doesn’t know.

In another room, he set up a quasi-altar to an electric guitar that he won at the Texas State Fair in Dallas recently. ​“I got it from playing ringtoss, but I kept missing and missing, and finally I’d spent $180 and I was getting nervous. So I waited for the guy who was running it to turn his back, and then I had to reach over and place the ring on,” O’Donnell said. He’s set up a new makeshift game of ring-toss around it, with beer bottles. On the opposite wall, he hung the receipts for the $180 he paid to play, and his tickets to the fair.

O’Donnell, who’s originally from Montana and now lives in Tolland, recalled being dropped off at the arcade when he was a kid with $5 and spending hours there. ​“When you live in a more rural area, going to Dave & Busters is almost like going to the city,” he said. ​“The different experiences, the loud noises and beeping, the people running around, the gross appetizers: it’s all condensed into one experience.”

O’Donnell walks a funny line between critique of these types of space, and genuine enjoyment of them. On the one hand, part of his show can be read condemning capitalism, consumerism, Americanism. On the other, he really likes playing at Dave & Buster’s. ​“I’m kind of a ninja at Kung Fu Panda,” O’Donnell said. ​“I can score 1,000 tickets from it easily.” He can start playing at 7:00 am and keep going for hours.

“When I’m at Dave & Buster’s I’m kind of a one percenter, because I can afford to pay 100 bucks, and I’ll be surrounded by these kids who have like five dollars or ten dollars and they’re all watching,” he said. ​“Playing is kind of like elevating my privilege in this weird way.”

But, O’Donnell said, the contradiction between enjoyment and critique seems like a fundamental part of the American experience to him. He can love the Texas State Fair, and then critique the self that loves it.

In the wake of the election, a lot of the questions that O’Donnell is asking in this show feel relevant: Are losers winners? Are winners losers? Who wins, who loses?