Tanaka Tatsuya has taken it upon himself to make a miniature scene a day, every day for the past four years. The artist uses miniature people to scale the environments he creates and form narratives between the objects. His most successful pieces are his simple ones. One of my personal favourites is the tape as treadmill piece, because it works perfectly and seemingly without effort. Having made so many of the pieces, Tatsuya must now have an eye for the world in small scale. His ability to transform the context of the object while emphasizing its essential qualities is impressive, as with the staples as hurdles or the bed sheet as wavy water.
The artwork provides an interesting way for the viewer to consider their own scale and proportion, and imagine themselves in the absurd scenarios Tatsuya creates. Although most of the scenes are of environments within our own experience, some fantastical ones are interspersed throughout the calendar, making them all the more surprising when set beside an easily recognizable scenario. These are Tatsuya’s more humorous works, an example being the astronauts exploring a field of pistachios that look like boulder sized budding flowers. One that seems to encapsulate all of Tatsuya’s strengths is the Google Maps cantaloupe; simple, funny, absurd, and recognizable, it is one of his most successful pieces yet. (Via Spoon and Tamago)
Hair is one of the first feature that one can see on a person, so familiar that it’s almost disregarded. When it comes to Dita Gambiro’s pieces, the braided hair is what strikes the most. She creates feminine objects and symbols made out of real human hair. A dress, a purse, shoes and a heart shape, all of these sculptures are handmade and meaningful.
In Eastern culture, hair is an adornment. Symbol of beauty, it is often the representation of a woman’s power, good health and fertility. Dita Gambiro was born and raised in Indonesia where she cultivates memories of her mother and grandmother keeping snips of her hair. she also keeps snips of her friends’ hair and therefore grows a bigger attachement to that part of the body. The fact that she braids the hair on almost all of her sculptures is her way to meditate and find peace.
More than just pieces of hair forming objects, Dita Gambiro’s art pieces express the mix of different cultures. On one hand the braided hair representing Eastern culture, and on the other hand the snake carved into the metal hanger, which reminds of Adam and Eve’s snake in the Western culture.
By using such a singular mean of expression, the artist conveys us into her memories and her soul, reminding us that small details prevail over banalities such as a snip of hair. (via My Amp Goes To 11)
Today is your lucky day if you’ve ever wondered what the inside of a brothel looks like. Photographer Jasper White takes us on an intimate tour of brothels where colored lights are king and mundane things like paper towels, bed sheets, and body lotions turn into charged objects that take your imagination down a dark and erie path.
Ian Pfaff’s demo reel is a classic. In my mind, the guy nailed it. While partying really, really, hard while on spring break, Ian multitasks by writing, editing, directing, animating, building props, and making music. All around killer.
Toronto-based photographer Kotama Bouabane has an incredibly poignant series called “Melting Words.” The ice letters form typical break-up phrases, with their indelible messages transcending the medium’s own impermanence.
Within his series Cowboys, Italian born artist Stefano Galli captures the essence of the rodeo. When encountering Galli’s blurred displays of fast paced moments, at first glance, the images almost take on a painterly aesthetic. The blended earth tones enriched by small marks of what could be cadmium red mimic the sort of guttural intensity found in Abstract Expressionism. Yet, with further inspection, it becomes clear that these moments are, in fact, not abstract at all. Galli’s series displays a hyper specific sensibility of the rodeo — they go beyond what is physically there and take on the challenge to document both the visual and psychological affect the rodeo has on these cowboys. With a crowds of faceless faces, bucking broncos whose warped bodies begin to take the formation of something out of a Francis Bacon painting, and long, lingering lights that possess a cinematic feel, Galli is able to represent the true element of movement. His photographs are a clever answer to create a discourse on a challenging topic for a motionless medium: speed. But, more importantly, his images provoke not only a discourse on gesture, but also on control. What does it feel like to have control when all sense of homeostasis is disrupted? How does one remain in control? And further, through the distortion of the image, is Galli provoking the viewer to lose his or her control? Are we asked to let go of our need to make sense of what we’re seeing? Perhaps, for a moment, we should act on instinct. Delicate yet powerful, Stefano Galli truly exposes a contemporary visual thought process on an age-old tradition.