When artist Amanda Burnham first moved to Baltimore, Maryland, she didn’t know anyone. So, she spent a lot of time in her 7th floor apartment that had interesting views of the city. The time spent observing and recording her surroundings later informed her temporary, site-specific installations that are a patchwork representation of Baltimore. Burnham draws and paints street signs, fire hydrants, architecture, and store fronts, piecing them together in a manner that’s fractured yet cohesive. Taking elements of a neighborhood (or neighborhoods), she fashions her own view of the city, creating work large enough for a viewer to walk around and between. In an interview with Dwanye Butcher of Visual Baltimore, Burnham explains why she chooses to work this way (and why she reuses paper and boxes):
The idea of things being layered and pieced together is important to me. I see this city, and really all cities, as these giant ad-hoc organisms – collectively authored, chop-a-bloc, joints exposed – an ongoing melange of edits, adjustments, negotiations. I hope to suggest that with the deliberately collage-y, visually dense, maximalist aesthetic of my drawings. I also love paper and what it does when treated as an object – the shadows it casts, the way tears and cuts are line. Most of the paper I use is really cheap stuff – low grade drawing paper that comes in rolls, kraft paper, packing materials. Boxes. That’s important because I’m not rich, but also because I see it as conceptually significant – resourcefulness is an ethic I sometimes see evidenced in the forms of the city, and it’s one I really respond to.
Burnham not only takes the outdoors indoors, but creates a whole new environment in a matter of a few days to a week. Lighting, astro turf, and electrical tape craft an ambience that’s unique to the city.
You might have never wondered what cartoon character Marge Simpson looked like naked. Or maybe you did. Either way, artist aleXsandro Palombo provides us a glimpse into what this might look like in a series that pits Marge and Homer as an erotic, glamorous couple. Nudity, leather, and gender bending transforms the couple as you’ve never seen them before.
Modeled after the photographs of Helmut Newton, known for his provocative fashion photography, we see Marge and Homer in high-fashion ensembles. Homer dons a debonair suit, while Marge’s dresses are an extreme take on the cut-out trend that’s popular now. And while both don’t shy from nudity, perhaps the most surprising works in the series are of Homer’s outfits where he wears a sunhat and heels. He doesn’t look entirely comfortable, but when considering Homer’s character (the beer guzzling, Bart-strangling, donut-loving Power Plant worker), it’s not entirely surprising.
A lot of you, I’m sure, have grown up with the The Simpsons, and this series is a funny take on the all-American family. It is all set against the cloud background made famous in the opening credits, and acts as some sort of alternate universe. It transforms Marge and Homer from a green dress and white collared shirt, respectively, and shows that everyone has a kinky side. (Via Huffington Post)
Photographer Amy Lombard is no stranger to the fringe cultures. Last year, she attended Bronycon in Baltimore (previously featured on B/D here), where she captured some of the festivities. During the year, she also frequented different animal shows and photographed who and what she saw there. The result comprised a series titled, Welcome to the Show. The types of animals range from cats, dogs, lizards, horses, and bugs. Lombard not only documents the animals, but their owners, and the relationship to one another.
The shows she attended are not the likes of the Westminster Kennel Club. Instead, they appear to be local and amateur. Since we don’t know what the context is of the shows, it makes the photographs all the more alluring. Some seem to double as pet shops (it’s only $5 for a painted hermit crab). Her style is candid, and her subjects not posing for the camera. Instead, they go about their business of show, looking, buying, and selling.
Welcome to the Show is the documentary of a niche interest. It’s not particularly glamorous, but is interesting and amusing. Lombard’s eye captures subtleties like small, amusing moments. A dog is wearing a skirt (or apron) with a $1 bill tucked in it. There are numerous people that look like their pets, which doesn’t seem surprising at an event like this.
In Spanish photographer Jon Uriarte’s series The Men Under the Influence, he photographs men wearing the clothes of their girlfriends or wives. The images are composed in the space shared by the couple. Uriarte displays ideas of gender through clothing, as the men wear outfits that would be considered feminine, including dresses and strappy sandals. In a short statement about the series, he writes:
This work addresses the recent change in roles in heterosexual relationships from the relations of our predecessors and how those changes have affected men in particular. The photos attempt to capture men’s sense of loss of reference, now that women have taken a step forward and have finally come into their own as equal partners.
While I don’t agree entirely with some of the sentiments in this statement, I do appreciate the gender-bending nature of it. The socially-constructed roles of men and women tie our identities to an arbitrary notion that we each have to be a certain way just because of our gender. Clothing is a way we can outwardly express ourselves and our choices. I like seeing these men, looking unaffected by their attire (and even comfortable), sitting in the the place where they share their homes and their lives. (via feature shoot)
Patty Carroll photographs women who hide behind fabric. In her series, Anonymous Women: Draped, she features figures sitting and standing, all shrouded in luscious fabrics, rugs, and more. These women are invisible, meant to convey the idea that as we perfect the space of our home, it can fuse with our identity. Carroll’s choice in fabrics harkens another era, and look like they could be in the house of a grandparent. The Nuclear family of the 1950′s and 1960′s comes to mind in her work, when women’s roles were often domestically confined. Carroll writes about the series and the inspiration and implications behind it, stating:
I am addressing the double edge of domesticity; the home as a place of comfort, or conversely, a place where decoration camouflages one’s individuality to the point of claustrophobia. The draperies in these photographs act as both a visual cue as well as a literal interpretation of over-identification/obsession! While my direct sources for this series come from furnishing a home, as well as remembering the nuns in their habits while growing up, this series also references draped statues from the Renaissance, women wearing the burka, the Virgin Mary, ancient Greek and Roman dress, priests’ and judges’ robes, among others. I believe everyone has a hidden identity formed by personal traditions, memories, and ideas that are cloaked from the outer world. Cultivating these inner psychological, emotional and intellectual worlds is perhaps our greatest challenge as people, wherever we come from or wherever we live. (Via I need a guide)
Oh Seung Yul’s noodles may look delicious and edible, but in reality they are complex, hyper-realistic resin sculptures. The Korean noodles dangle 12-feet tall with an actual chopstick fixed to the top. Everything is articulated, from the individual noodles to the carrots and clams. Yul has considered even the gesture of slurping this food. He has colored the noodle mass in such a way that you feel a rush of broth dripping from the chopsticks.
You can marvel at the sculptures for their craft as well as attach a narrative to them. Who is tall enough to hold that chopstick? What kind of person owns that decorative floral platter? The work exaggerated size lends itself well to a whimsical interpretation. It’s still without feeling stiff and impeccably realistic. Yul’s work tricks the viewer, but ultimately reward them with something that’s extremely considered and tediously constructed. (Via My Modern Met)
You might use emoticons/emojis in your everyday texting or in your tweets, but have you ever really looked at them? Designer Liza Nelson studies their pixelated idiosyncrasies and recreates them in her series EMOJI IRL.LOL. Using vegetables, props, paper mache, and more, she crafts the emojis we all love/hate. Nelson then photographs them and publishes on Tumblr, with the emoji accompanying it. Her opinion of emojis are simultaneously low and high. Appreciative, yet disparaging at the same time. She writes,
Emojis mean everything and they nothing at the same time. They’re completely personal and completely universal. They’re really quite stupid. And they’re the best thing that ever happened to our generation. They deserve to be observed and worshiped individually. By finding, posing and sculpting emojis in real life I’ve created a set of shrines to the individual characters because somebody had to do it.
In a Wired article by Liz Stinson, she describes how Nelson begins the IRL emojis. Stinson writes, “Nelson begins each of her images by analyzing an emoji to the point of deconstruction. ‘I’d take screen shots and zoom in and in until they were super pixelated,’ she explains. ‘I’d study them, really trying to figure out the facial expressions or the color or the details you don’t notice when they’re so tiny.’” Since starting the project, she’s gotten quite a few requests for the emoji poop icon. Nelson says she will be constructing it out of clay. (Via Wired)
Mark Jenkins’ sculptures occupy the uncanny valley. His work, in which he recreates the human body, places “people” into odd and often disturbing situations. Some of them are as fantastic as they are strange. One of the most interesting parts of Jenkins’ work is the way they are installed. His people are on the streets. They are life sized and dressed in conventional clothing, so they look as though they belong in the landscape. In reality, they don’t. His sculptures are standing in trash cans, on the edge of buildings, face first into a public fountain, and more.
Seeing Jenkins’ work amongst people is partially what makes it so successful. Seeing the reactions of others to these sculptures is both amusing and at times discerning. People walk by them as if they are nothing, as if they are completely normal. Sure, they stare at them, but they are never captured intervening on their behalf. Some, of course, aren’t believable. Others, like a woman stuck in a trashcan or laying on the top of the billboard would elicit some reaction. But, instead, she remains in the can.
The subversive nature of Jenkins’ installations is satisfying, especially if you are in on the joke and know it’s all fake. You could watch people for hours as they pass by, try and interact with the sculptures, and ultimately fail. The artist is taking the art outside the gallery and entering a world that combines art lovers and non-art lovers alike. (Via Hi Fructose)