Katherine Newbegin creates rare beauty in photographs of old cinematic houses. Traveling throughout India she sought out these forgotten places and transformed them into celluloid dream sites. Her quest led her to the more rural areas. These out of the way places provided a history and character needed to create an interesting narrative. Behind a sensitive lens, depictions of these magnificent structures transports one back in time to a place of make believe and desire.
Each of her pictures exude a ‘if only walls could talk’ sensibility.The cracked and peeling surfaces mimic the colors seen on sari’s worn by women in that part of the world. Perhaps the same women who once sat in the now empty seats engrossed in another’s story with dreams of their own. Instead of just focusing on the actual auditorium, Newbegin also photographed the staircases and projection rooms. In some instances, these anonymous spaces are turned into brilliant frames of abstract color. In others, film canisters and tea mugs become painterly still life subjects.
India ranks as the largest producer of films in the world and is known for its Bollywood stars. Newbegin’s quiet, intimate photographs project another side of that industry, one that appropriately preserves an important part of India’s social history.
Right on the thin line of what appears “real”, as in realistically painted, and an imaginary world of unrealistic things painted against expectation (with a subversive materiality), is where Eckart Hahn resides. An object becomes the representationof the object, at the moment Hahn departs so realistically from the tactile world as we understand it, and a tension forms there in the vacuum left by Hahn’s desertion of the “actual”. Because of this schism of realistic unreality the paintings are activated, bringing a heightened awareness to the question of what the meaning might be, while still not unsealing the hermetic narratives with in. Very much in the surrealist tradition, as Hahn comes by his image through a kind of directed automatism, (a strategy that seeks to short circuit the rigors and restrictions of scientific reason and Newtonian conclusions), the viewer receives the image somewhere in the unconscious while simultaneously seeking to interpret the paintings with the analytical mind. And there we are caught in between, in a liminal space of possibility.
The advent of Google maps was eventful for the general public – it became the first time most of us had access to these views of earth. However, it also turned out to be problematic for some governements. Some governments obscure areas they deem too sensitive to appear on Google maps. This is generally done by simple blurring or covering an area with a white or black box. In his series Dutch Landscapes, Mishka Henner presents the unique censorship of the Dutch countryside. The Dutch forgo simpler censorship methods for a strangely attractive one. Variously shaped and colored polygons cover sites the government would rather keep off the map. Inadvertently (or perhaps intentionally) the Dutch government abstracts the landscape in way that fits in well with an artistic tradition.
Italian illustrator Virginia Mori uses black ballpoint pen and pencil on paper to create strange, lady-centric compositions. The minimal drawings feature long-haired women in surreal situations. Heads are often seen severed or parts of the body are fused with furniture. Although they are weird, Mori’s work isn’t gruesome. Even when a umbrella handle is coming out of a character’s mouth, there’s no blood or guts. It’s simply a surreal scene.
Mori separates mind from body, in both literal and figurative ways. Heads are rolling, they exist on different levels, and are obstructed by hair. It represents the idea that we can “disconnect” our mental from our physical self, and that this separation can feel like two entities. But in Mori’s illustrations, what causes it? Mystics? Physical ailments? Lessons not learned? The sparse compositions allow for multiple interpretations.
Korean artist Rim Lee creates The Mess of Emotion, a haunting series of oil paintings that combine performance, photography and oils. The multi-faceted paintings work well within the themes the artist plays with, as they literally show the woman’s tortured yet delicate essence driven by emotional distress quite beautifully.
Lee plays model for her photographs; these [photographs] are then referenced in her paintings. The act of transferring the realistic image onto a canvas [a surface which usually allows for unworldly expression] indicates an unyielding desire to break free from the idea that judging character solely based on interpretations of physical characteristics and movements is in part, wrong.
Aptly so, the paint acts as a conduit for emotion and expression; the paint washes over Lee’s hyper-realistic physical portrayal, creating a dialogue between the two polarities.
The heavy-expressionistic brushstrokes fill the canvas with texture; they rise above anything else, as to indicate relevance on behalf of the otherwise invisible mental anguish she is going through. [via My Modern Met]
You’re in luck if you love your face so much so that you wish there was a copy of it. Real F, a Japanese 3D printing company creates one of a kind ultra realistic 3D face masks complete with every blemish, pore, hair, freckle, and scar. No you can have a second copy of that pretty mug of yours or do it up like Nicholas Cage in Face/Off without the messy surgery.
A graduate of the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design, Jeremy Pettis is an up-and-coming graphic designer specializing in a sort of 1970s American style hand-drawn typography. As his 2007 thesis project, Jeremy created a sort of logotype for 26 different animals (A-Z), attempting to evoke certain characteristics of each animal through clever visual cues and tricks.