Seung Mo Park uses giant swaths of stainless steal meshing to create his complex and stunning works of art. Beginning with a projected photograph Park slowly layers the wire meshing via cuts and welding until he arrives at a three dimensional sculpture of his subject. In his latest body of work these sculptures depict a woman from a dream Park had. The body of work is meant to convey a sense of illusion relating to the dream which is achieved from the sculpture’s three dimensionality causing the images to seem ethereal, flat or shadowy ethereal, flat or shadowy depending on where the viewer stands. - Zach Tutor
(via xthunderclapsx)
I love found art or pieces that are made up of elements of other works. Many people debate over whether pieces like this should be called original art drawing on what was already in place and making something else—essentially from someone else’s art. But what these artists create is something completely new. Thought the foundation is rooted in other artists’ imagination, the finished product is held completely separate. It exists on its own and I hardly think bout who originally created the individual elements. The artistry is in re-imagining the two concepts together. In this case, this is no longer just one concept or another, but pieces like this take on a life of their own. I appreciate photo manipulation for the ability to distort what we think we already know into something new. Many of these people don’t even consider themselves “artists.” I wonder what it is you have to do to be considered an artist. When do you cross over from a doodler to an artist. That world seems to promote free and expression across all levels, but yet it is policed so strongly. A homeless man who draws portraits then becomes a novelty. So then how does one successfully enter this world without becoming a token or a “wannabe”?
If you haven’t got a chance to check out Vanessa Beecroft’s work, you should. Here’s the deal. She will probably either leave you completely pissed or enthralled. I tend towards the former. In an interesting interview, I was able to get a glimpse into Beecroft’s past and her life growing up in Italy with her mother. Her parents’ separation, rejection by her father, eating disorder, and so many other trials that added interesting nuances to her work. We like to say that people who grew up hard are the ones who have needed to be critical and disciplined enough to create their own paths to success, but from our conversations in class it seemed as if Beecroft has done none of this. I want to be able to say that there is more behind her installations and I want to say that she is inviting us to think about her work in a critical manner, which it practically shouts. It seems that a large portion of the art world seems to forget about the complications she presents and focus more on her monolithic status in the art world. Perhaps her art was once about her own anguish. Perhaps she once truly sought to express her struggle with food and her feelings of abandonment, but I see no traces of that original meaning. Professor Ma said that her work has so much potential to be camp, and it is agonizing that it could be so close to camp, but yet so far at the same time (yet another contradiction from Beecroft). The piece with the women strategically placed among the Louis Vuitton bags and the portrait of her holding the two Sudanese twins are practically begging for deeper analysis and laced with meaning. Why does she think it is acceptable to strategically use black bodies, and black children in her work without offering the viewer some invitation for critical analysis? There are no markers that this is camp so I can only take her piece as it appears and to me, it appears to be wrought with frustrating depictions of white, privileged, elitist concepts. I am sure that Beecroft is aware of the objectification of women and the fetishisation of bodies of color, but there is a problem when I cannot find her hidden narrative, and I believe that there once was one. But perhaps she has become to consumed by her own prostitution and her privilege that her narrative has hidden itself from even Beecroft herself.
I have a class that often discusses what it means for a piece of art to be “slow,” but then I can’t help but wonder about what would be considered “fast” art. I have heard that a good work of art leaves you skeptical at first look, but with more time you being to think, “Maybe I spoke too soon…” When I consider fast art the first images that come to mind are fast food, technology, speed, movement, progression—quite common modern concepts that I associate with the word “fast.” But when peel back the layers of fast art, I do not find it to be directly correlated to these things. I do not believe that fast art is only composed of pieces that were made in a hurry. The amount of time that the artist spends on the work is not solely what makes it “fast.” Instead I would like to focus on the experience of art. If slow art can be made up of a collection of experiences that accumulate over time as we take in the work, then fast art is the amorphous category in which we have what I would call visceral art. Perhaps it is a spur-of the moment photograph, a digital art piece that has been deliberately constructed, or a painting of a lone girl in an abandoned field, but these can all cause an immediate reaction within the viewer. In that sense, what is fast art to me can be slow art to you.
Determining whether art is slow or fast (or something else altogether) is a task that is tackled from both sides. An artist can intend for a piece to be absorbed slowly and I may have an immediate reaction that leaves me disconcerted later or an artist may intend to create an immediate visceral reaction, but the viewer may want to absorb it slowly and unpack it. Because of this, the slowness or fastness of art cannot be solely dependent upon the artist. Mary Ann Stankiewicz in her introduction to David Perkin’s The Intelligent Eye, says, “Works of art do not reveal all their secrets at first glance…” but what if the secret of a work of art is to allow the viewer to generate her or his own? What if a work creates an immediate and gut reaction? Some pieces just aim to provoke, to inspire, and to plant a seed that may later grow into whatever you need it to be. There is something to be said about those works that do not hold a million secrets, but just a single one. To make you mastermind of your own experience.
I went to see the premiere of a film called Stud Life. About 10 minutes after walking into the doors of the Egyptian I turned to my friend and whispered “I feel so unoriginal.” I looked around and I saw a sea of eyes that looked back at me from faces of color and I felt and overwhelming sense of community that I had never quite experienced before. This was the first time that I had ever entered a space where I was truly a part of the majority and not just an anomaly. I realize that I talk about my identity a lot. My masculinity, my sexuality, my race, my education—all of these things. I talk about them so much because I don’t automatically fit into one specific box. I talk about them to educate other people not just for my community but really for myself, so I can safely navigate spaces without being the spectacle, but I realized that no matter how much I explain—some people will truly never understand. They may call themselves my friends and after all of the “education” they have received, some will still make the most racist, sexist, and homophobic comments. Some of them will never understand my masculine gender expression. I believe that this is why I appreciated the community so much at the screening. I didn’t need to explain myself to anyone because they all understood. Whether I was standing next to another queer person of color or an ally, there was a sense of true community—as if I had known the people here for the last 15 years.
In addition to the community, the film was amazing. The true power of Stud Life came from its ability to speak to so many different people on multiple levels. What’s more, after only Meeting Campbell once, I could practically feel her warmth through the film. During her visit to one of my classes she spoke a lot about speaking to people in their language—communicating with them without the arsenal of academic terms we have been given to define our sexuality and gender, but to truly recognize that not everyone hears in the same way. She was definitely speaking my language and I’m sure Stud Life resonated with others in different ways. There’s no doubt in my mind that I need to surround myself with more people like Campbell and the others that attended the premiere. If there is only one thing that I took away from the short trip into the community it is that I really don’t have to do anything alone.
April 27th was the opening of the senior art show. I went to get a look at what some of the seniors were doing (and because we’re required to go to 2 events). What I found most interesting was how often the theme of death (and life) came up. Many of the pieces seemed to explore some boundary, or lack thereof, between the organic and the lifeless or the real and the fake, living and dead. Behind a black curtain was a small viewing room set up with a short animation repeatedly looping. The film was a few minutes long and consisted of an eerie progression of the construction of a body. From mere materials, to bones, to flesh, and eventually waking up. I still haven’t quite shaken the nagging sense of unrest from that one.
In the center of the room was a small passageway that had coffee filters lining every inch of the inside. It greatly resembled a birth canal both in textural appearance and in the unsettlingly narrow opening. I couldn’t bring myself to way through it (I’m too damn claustrophobic), but it definitely helped tie in some of the life/death and birth themes.
Samus // By: Rob Duenas
We all know Samus as the video game character from Metroid. The team that created Metroid built a game and plot around a character who was a intergalactic bounty-hunter who is always incased in a “Power Suit” and all-around badass. In the final stages of development, a member of the team suggested that it would be interesting to make the character in the suit a woman. What I appreciate about this is the fact that this character was not built to be a woman, but yet it is so obvious that there is no reason for her not to be. All of those characteristics that they had given to the original (and default male) character, were applicable to a female Samus (including her impressive 6ft 3in 200lb stature). Being female made her no less powerful and when I see depictions like the artwork above I’m reminded that not everyone is so hung up on the fact that she’s a woman. Most modern reproductions of Samus are so ridiculously sexualized and so obviously accentuating her feminine features that it really undermines the context in which she was created. I love that this drawing is so androgynous and essentially genderless. I wouldn’t immediately look at this and say “Oh, that’s a woman.”
(via geek-art)
via styleandglory: In this series entitled “I am Winnie the Pooh” French photographer Benjamin Béchet shows the daily life of famous superheroes and cartoon characters.
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This is awesome. I love pieces that send two completely different worlds crashing together and this definitely does that. What if the super heroes that we read about were in fact the local cashier at the super market? Or the guy you ride the same bus route with every morning? I get caught up in the flash and fanfare of what it means to be a superhero and forget that there are every day people who do extraordinary things. I guess that is where I meet this piece. It reminds me that some of the greatest things in life can be found in the most unlikely of places. This work grounds these characters in reality. It seems so out of place, but at the same time I can;t help but think “why not?” Of course Spiderman could be the guy that washes windows at stop lights. Most of these characters have alter egos anyway so they already play on the theme that a superhero or a cartoon character can really be anyone.
(via geek-art)
I love a good illusion. As a kid I would spend time flipping through optical illusion books to see if I could beat the creators. By “beat” I mean could I defy the rules of an optical illusion, when the creator tried to create a given effect, could I experience something else? I’m not quite sure if I ever achieved that level of mastery, but I do know that the obsession with perception developed from a very young age.
Looking at a piece like this I can only think “where the hell did they find the patience?” But then again, where does any artist find the patience? This piece is so meticulously put together that I almost can’t believe it. This reminds me of my own process when I’ve made something. Whether it’s a picture, an essay, a program—whatever. When I believe I’m done, I get up and look at it from another angle. Literally. Try walking across the room and looking at your art. It looks different. It all depends on perception and appearances. What looks one way from one angle looks completely different from another. I can only wonder what kind of technology was used to do this, or perhaps it was all constructed using only the artist’s naked eye.
(via butchrag)
(via 10fold)
