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)
Melissa Brown is a printmaker who has turned her attention towards painting and animation. Her paintings repeat imagery in the way a print might, but also take on the physical quality of paint. This hybridity allows the paintings to have elements that are both familiar and strange. Brown’s animation is also a hybrid of print and paint. The animation you are about to click on is set to a mellow carnivalesque tune. Melissa has worked with games, in their various forms, to create her art. She has used the folded paper Fortune Teller we all used in grade school, and all the way up to an all-night performance on how to win the State Lottery in front of a movie screen filled with diagrams. Brown’s new animation keeps with this interest in games. It is based on an old street con, the shell game. You can see that animation in the Dinter Project Room.
When I have spoken to Melissa about her work she always starts by telling me something very technical, like something about the lighting, but we eventually talk about how the patterns and spaces in the work make us feel. This new work has a sort of physical effect on me, like a great bass line that comes out of nowhere, and, even though you’re in a bad mood, makes you dance with your seat belt on at a red light in your car at an intersection. Brown is in a group show at a Bright Lyons called Freak Furniture Fan Club with two other great printmakers Leif Golberg and Erin Rosenthal.
Using homegrown bacteria, photographer Seung-Hwan Oh warps and manipulates his photographs, surrendering his art to a higher ecological order. Oh, who also goes by the name Tonio Oh, explains that his intention is to “explore the impermanence of matter as well as the material limitations of photography.” It brings the artist’s studio into the laboratory, marvelously blending the organic and the artificial.
Oh’s website describes the process:
“As the microbes consume light-sensitive chemical over the course of months or years, the silver halides destabilize, obfuscating the legibility of foreground, background, and scale.”
It’s an interesting approach to photography that takes a normally still medium and adds a dimension of something active, live, and dynamic. When you view Oh’s photographs, the question is no longer the significance of what is depicted; instead, what catches your eye is the tension between what is shown and what is already lost. Though art is naturally created to be consumed, in this case, the art itself is the act of consumption, the parts of the photographs that have been literally eaten away by a relentless force of nature. The result, in Oh’s word, can be witnessed as something that is “entangled creation and destruction that inevitably is ephemeral”.
I know what you’re thinking….but, no. This is not Guerrilla Girls making a comeback. This is Leah Beach‘s most recent collection of work. Beach series is about stereotypes and rituals from American society; she used gorilla masks to stand for what we, humans, evolved from. Beach is mainly a film photographer and processes everything herself. Leach Beach is currently a student at the Delaware College of Art and Design.
Christine Gray’s paintings might seem playful at first, but a closer look reveals ominous mythical undertones. Woven dreamcatchers, desolate landscapes, and lightning in the sky… something else is definitely going here. Christine’s show “Into the Light” opens at Okay Mountain on January 14th, so go check it out!
With her recent series Displaced, the photographer Linda Kuo examines the illegal importation of exotic animals into the United States; her subjects, some torn from their habitats and others unable to adapt to their environments in captivity, give voice to the 300 million animals similarly brought to the states as pets.
Each photograph captures the life of a creature being treated for illnesses or wounds at New York City Center for Avian and Exotic Medicine; placed within the sterile context of the hospital, the displaced beasts oscillate between confusion, curiosity, and lonesomeness. The emotional core of the work is rooted in each creature’s supreme isolation; a bird sits alone on a scale, searching for some sort of recognition. Simultaneously, a guinea pig resigns himself to the clean, white basin, and a bird turns his puffy green back.
Amidst this sorrowful sense of displacement emerges an unexpected warmth, fueled by the desperate yearning of both animal and man to feel safe. After a failed resuscitation, a yellow bearded dragon falls into a gentle set of female hands that tenderly enfold his delicate flesh in a bright blue towel. Similarly, a turtle is offered carefully diced vegetables, which he cautiously accepts from giant human fingers; a bird’s heartbeat is measured anonymously but tenderly. Amidst a chaotic world, the hospital is shown to be a respite for the animals, fighting for their wellbeing against the odds.
For Kuo, the series is personal; bullied as a child, she empathizes with those oppressed, alone, and out of their proper place. The work’s resounding message is one of compassion—for ourselves, for the earth, and for those we share it with. Take a look. (via Feature Shoot and Slate)