The creative brains at Studio Nos, one of the premiere independent stop motion animation studios in New York City has teamed up with Action Cam by Sony in The Picture Machine, an incredibly delicious collision between technology and on of the oldest forms of Animation.
The zoetrope is perhaps one of the best pre-film animation devices to ever be invented. This simple setup takes a sequence of drawings or photographs of progressive phases in motion and through the use of speed animates them before your eyes. Studio Nos’ contemporary twist on the age old medium consists of a remote controlled car pod rigged with the Sony Action Cam driving on a track inside a zoetrope. As the car speeds up and zips around in circles a series of animation cells come to life.
The result of this imaginative mashup was a collaboration between man and machine to bring to life a non-stop parade of hand illustrated dancing mushrooms. Watch the video yourself and dream up how you can use the Sony Action Cam to create your next video masterpiece.
“Shadow” is a technological and artistic collaboration between design collective Rhizomatiks and dance troupe elevenplay. Featuring a dancer alongside three drones, “Shadow” feels like a cyberpunk performance from the future. It’s a surreal technodream of algorithmic and human elegance.
“We all have passion for and expertise in technical matters, and wanted to use this to set our imagination free across the disciplinary boundaries of design, art and entertainment. We like to challenge existing formats, from interactive to spatial design.” (h/t Laughing Squid)
Photographer Samantha Fortenberry’s colorful images reveal the pleasure of a good soak in the tub. Her aerial photos are part of an on-going series called Suds and Smiles, and it features people alone in their bathrooms. Naked, they revel in water as the space is peppered with familiar objects, and it reflects their personality. “I have taken my models and either asked them to collect an array of items that mean something to them, or I designed them a set based on an idea of their choosing,” she writes in an email to Beautiful/Decay.
As we gaze at Fortenberry’s subjects, we act as voyeurs to their pleasant time. There’s genuine looks of joy on some of the model’s faces, and when juxtaposed with the bright colors and playful objects, we too derive some pleasure from it.
Suds and Smiles also celebrates the figure. “With this series I also wanted to display the nude human body in a natural and beautiful way,” Fortenberry writes. “I want to collect a wide variety of people in all shapes and sizes to display the various form of beauty each person has.”
Argentinian artist Lorena Guzman brings beautiful and twisted fairy tales to life on a daily basis. Using polyester resins and hobby materials she creates haunting scenarios complete with intricate details that continue to be uncovered the closer you look. She uses popular folk lore, bed time stories and myths as a base to her work. Guzman makes work about over-sized alligators who help monkeys cross rivers; genies who are spinning animals around on their fingers as a hypnotic trick; a surreal alpine landscape that is actually a coiled snake; an octopus who eats rabbits; and a crow who is building a cosy nest in the back of a skull.
Guzman chooses subjects that are curious, disturbing or grotesque in some way or another. Her Chihuahua Toy sculpture comments on the bizarre subculture of dog breeding and the type of monsters people choose to create. She asks if a two headed dog is really that much worse than Bull Terriers or Boxers that have been specifically chosen for features that, to some, are ugly.
Another piece is about a hunting mission that focused around catching the illusive albino hare in the Spanish town of Santa María de los Llanos. Pointing out our strange behaviors and traditions is what Guzman excels at. She has been prolifically creating work for over ten years. Be sure to check out her many other incredible sculptures.
Full of expressive, wild colorful brushstrokes and heavy layering and textures, Philip Hinge puts on a show of his playful sense of humor and confidence. Intentionally flirting with the line between ‘good art’ and ‘bad art’ in his exhibition Don’t Look Now, he approaches his subjects with a unique sensibility. Hinge paints anything from blow up dog balloons, to rock stars dressed in bridal gowns, to mermen sunbathing and boys greedily stuffing their faces with spaghetti. Choosing banal subjects and turning them into something special and surprising is his talent.
Contextual ambiguity abounds in Hinge’s work, allowing his paintings to express a subtle anxiety that is felt rather than seen. At the same time, by ironically appropriating sources as diverse as everyday kitsch, science fiction, and the canons of art history, Hinge lampoons widely-accepted tropes of high art. (Source)
Hinge manages to break down some of the traditional and existing boundaries within the painting (and greater art) world. And while his technique and style may seem primitive, his subject matter adds a subtle layer of complexity to his work. His past series include I Am The Black Wizards – an amusing look at the death metal community and the stereotypes that go with it. He has rockers stabbed with knives, swords and clubs, gripping their legs in pain, and tough guys wearing witches hats and capes, pinned to a wire fence. His light-hearted approach to certain social taboos is a refreshing thing to see.
Natalia Evelyn Bencicova is a Slovakian photographer who creates works of surreal beauty and supernatural unease. Characterized by dark, sterile rooms built of tile and cement, her settings are eerily reminiscent of abandoned hospitals and vacant catacombs. The models are washed-out and almost alien in their beauty, contorting as they pose nude, or draped in cloth with additional limbs that reach from underneath. They appear human, but also inhuman — and no better is this obscuration of humanity demonstrated than in the images portraying piles of nude bodies sprawling on the floors, crawling up against the walls, or aligning themselves in fleshly, geometric structures. With their faces obscured by torsos and furniture, they seem engaged (or possessed by) a strange ritual that is more about the multitude than the individual.
Part of what makes Bencicova’s work so powerful and provocative are the environments and quasi-theatrical narratives she creates. The hospital-like settings foster an atmosphere that is unsettling for the psyche; writhing and embracing on cold floors or groping at sterile furniture, the characters resemble ghosts in an abstract, emotional ballet. In some of the images, the bodies look like they have been stowed away and forgotten, and are struggling to survive. But in all of Bencicova’s works, there is a haunting magnificence, a reverence for the strength of the human body, and an “opening up” of beauty that extends into the alien and absurd.