The sculptures of Mihoko Ogaki are deeply felt. Her sculptures often deal with the heavy ideas of life and death. This series titled Milky Ways follows suit. Plastic sculptures of people inhabit darkened rooms. Lit from within, the bodies illuminate the surrounding walls and ceiling with a starry-like pattern. Each body carries a universe within it, projecting it out onto the world around it – it isn’t difficult to draw out a metaphor from there. It is further interesting to contrast the dark unlit plastic bodies in the well lit gallery against the glowing beings alone in the middle of the dark room. [via]
Taylor McKimens is one of my favorite artists, ever since finding his comic book “The Drips,” his work has been on my radar. So, using my new blogging gig here at Beautiful/Decay as a good reason to see his studio – I went over to Taylor’s studio at Deitch Projects in New York. I had to ask the perfunctory question about what was happening with Deitch Projects, and he said things depended on several variables – and didn’t go into any details. His work in progress completely blew me out of the water, and I walked around with my mouth open like a tween at a Jonas Brothers concert.
Sabato Visconti is a photographer, visual artist, and digital puppeteer. He fine-tunes his art on an atomic level by using a number of techniques that manipulate code and scramble pixels into what is often surprising results. “Glitch art,” as the aesthetic is called, uses a palette of static, snow, and other shadowy artifacts to create art that is, despite its hi-tech nature, exceedingly organic.
The intense colors and bio-rhythmic patterns that emerge from Visconti’s glitched-out photographs are raw and still retain an emotional connection to their subjects. Some are more abstract, emerging like clouds of texture that seem by turns woven and crumpled and, when it gets particularly noisy, crunchy. Though it might be counterintuitive, it makes sense that glitch art is organic; after all, artifacts in old-school photographs and film footage have always occurred spontaneously. Now, artists are harnessing that force of microcosmic nature and using it creatively.
“You’re trying to find this really fine balance where something doesn’t break fully, but breaks just to the point that you can see it breaking,” Visconti explains. The tension between form and disintegration is palpable in his work; at times, it’s like staring into a digital void or a watching a snapshot of an identity crisis. He takes it one step further in a collection called, “Vertigo by Alfred Glitchcock,” which takes stills and remixes them into evocative visual mayhem.
Do androids dream of electric sheep? If they do, then this is what they see when they close their eyes.
Latvian artist Janis Straupe carves intricate and detailed wooden creations that experiment with functionality and design. Working in wood for over thirty years, he builds wooden sculptures as well as highly unique wood furniture. Although built from the very traditional material wood, his works are incredibly contemporary and creative in design, like his cabinet that resembles a giant beetle. The two side cabinet doors open up as wings or the shell of the beetle, while the top drawer is part of the head. There are so many little compartments that are located in every nook and cranny of the cabinet. This beetle-cabinet exhibits incredible design while still remaining practical and functional.
Janis Straupe’s work displays incredible craftsmanship, as his beetle cabinet is hand made. Insects being a theme that often comes up in Straupe’s work, he also has a series of enormous, larger than life spiders. The artist constructed several large, wooden spiders that stand up on all eight legs, towering over your head. One even has its legs sprawled out against the wall, as if to climb up to begin a web. Humungous insects carved out of wood are Janis Straupe’s specialty. (via Bored Panda)
Stripping is pretty cool, but stripping to songs takes it that much further. Imagine, if you will, the H.M.S. Pinafore with g-strings. Or just imagine burlesque, which combines showmanship, rump shaking, and a generous pinch of snark to create one saucy form of theater. But performers are more than the sum of their tassels, and photographer Nicky Devine has been smart enough to document the burlesque community from behind the scenes, giving us a candid look at those who spend their lives in service of this bawdy entertainment.
Seaborg, a Japanese designer and artist, chooses latex as her medium of choice. A blend of installation and performance art, her latest work is an “inflatable animal farm,” complete with blow-up cows and pigs as well as performers in inflatable suits. Saturated with bright children’s book colors, the installation also features somewhat disturbing images, exposing what seems to be a literal underbelly. In a slaughterhouse, a pig with prominent human breasts dangles from the ceiling, gutted and bled. Another photo from the installation shows a pig, partly eviscerated, posing coquettishly with a come-hither expression.
In the past, Saeborg’s work has been included in group shows that portray a female perspective on modern Japan, particularly colored by sexuality, pop culture, and humor. According to beautiful.bizarre,
“As a new driving force of the economy, these women now work for the modernization of traditional Japanese culture, a culture that was unknown to the Western World. This new feminine expression is based on ‘impermanence’ (a Buddhist concept) and is mixed with the attraction to darkness and the internalization of feelings.”
Saeborg’s inflatable farm certainly hits all these notes, putting the ideas of impermanence and objectification front and center. These pig-women are fetishized, yet at the end of the day, they’re nothing more than a commodity: so many pounds of meat. (via Hi-Fructose)
When I met Dan Attoe we were both starting the MFA program at the University of Iowa. I’ve known him for eight years now, and even though Dan lives in Washington State and I live in New York we have maintained our friendship through collaborations, especially with the art group Paintallica.
While at school we became friends – I’ve noticed Dan sort of collects weirdos like me. Before coming to grad school Dan had created a studio practice that involved making a painting a day, and was already working on paintings that have a relationship to his current work. While in school Dan wasn’t stuck on some notion of an ideal practice, he just worked while everyone else was talking about how to work, he wasn’t terribly concerned with theories; he has a background in psychology and knew to trust his own creative faculties.
While everyone else was screwing around with their identities, Dan had already settled into a kind of self-knowledge. I don’t know if his gnosis came from growing up in the deep woods with a forest ranger for a father, or from one of the experiences he had growing up that caused him to study psychology and art.
Being alive you meet a lot of bull shitters and have to play a lot of stupid games, but rarely do you meet someone as genuine and considerate as Dan.