Brooklyn based SVA grad Ran Hwang makes these huge, flowing sculptures with nothing but beads and pins! The uplifting, spiritual elements involved here work really well with the light, dispersed beads. You can almost see the birds’ wings flapping, and everything seems sort of frozen in time at some climactic, freeing moment. Obviously the Zen influence is deliberate. From the artist’s website: “The process of building large installations are time consuming and repetitive and it requires manual effort which provides a form of self-meditation. I hammer thousands of pins into a wall like a monk who, facing the wall, practices Zen.” I guess patience does pay off. (via)
Artist Daniaelle Simonsen plays with a unique process; this Los Angeles local combines her love of sewing and drawing with the ephemeral material of the magazine to create unique works, delicate yet fierce, that exist as individual art pieces and as usable art. You can also catch up with Daniaelle’s latest news via her blog.
We continue our month long series of free outdoor screenings at Space 15 Twenty this Wednesday, May 13th, with “Basquiat.”
The screenings are projected on the large outdoor screen located next to the Snack Bar. Seating is limited so arrive early to secure a chair, but if you get there late, no worries you can always sit on the floor or bring your own chair! Last week we even had a couple of troopers stand and watch the film!
Basquiat examines the meteoric rise to art stardom of Basquiat, a young artist renowned for his loose and expressive style- and dating Madonna at the ripe old age of 24! If you’ve never seen this film, Basquiat is the classically Shakespearian figure of the romantic and mysterious tragic-fated artist. The film also continues to explore themes of trends and commodity.
Drinks, Snacks and Popcorn are available at Snack Bar!
Basquiat- Wed, May 13
1520 N. Cahuenga Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90028
See more Beautiful/Decay Movie Times for the month of May after the jump!
Tessa Farmer’s miniscule sculptures reinvigorate a belief in fairies: not the sweet Tinkerbell image in popular conscience, but a biological, entomological, macabre species translating pastoral fable into nightmarish lore. Constructed from bits of organic material, such as roots, leaves, and dead insects, each of Tessa’s figures stand barely 1 cm tall, their painstakingly intricate detail visible only through a magnifying glass.
Hovering with rarefied, jewel-like beauty, Tessa’s tiny spectacles resound with a theurgist exotica: their specimen forms borrow from Victorian occultism to evolve as something alien and futuristic. Playing out apocalyptic narratives of a microscopic underworld, Tessa’s manikin wonders rule with baneful fervour: harnessing mayflies, battling honey bees, attacking spindly spiders. Presented as wee preternatural discoveries, Tessa’s sculptures conjure a superstitious premise, dismantling the mythos of fantasia with evidence of something much more gothic, sinister, and bewitching.”
LA based artist and designer, Esai Ramirez, has created an imagined series of art inspired Crayola box sets. With a BFA in advertising, Ramirez has used his eye for marketing along with his talent for design to rebrand classic concepts. Inspired by the Pantone color-coding system, Ramirez has matched specific palettes from iconic works of art and has manufactured them into organized lists of crayon colors. One of the conceived collaborations is with the color theory master himself, Joseph Albers. Here we see an alluring array of orange to match Albers’ Homage to the Square: Glow. The others include palettes influenced by the works of Jen Stark, known for her hypnotic, vibrant paper sculptures, Damien Hurst’s muted, aquatic blues, greens and grays, and, probably most humorously, a full box set of Yves Klein’s signature velvety blue. He also has created a Crayola/ Pantone collaboration box set in which he imagines hue names such as a vivd red titled “pms 185u.”
Esai Ramirez aims the project to be fun and hopes it “encourages adults to play more with color and art.” His work tends to revolved around the marriage of two concepts, ideally creating a new unified vessel to conceive each one. His states about his work:
“Whether it’s two lovers about to kiss for the first time or two boxers about to slug it out–the things that bring us together as well as pull us apart are what I look for in everything I see.” (via Design Boom)
Maggots, Baphomet, long-taloned claws breaking through evil faces, crazy scythe wielding demons, candelabras welded from the remains of human skulls, rot, decay and Mayhem (the general sense of disorder, and the band) all seem to pump their fists and raise their axes in artist Mark Riddick’s world. I would not be surprised if this dude drank the blood of a goat and burned a church or two. Okay, maybe not….but his drawings make me want to shred and paint my face…on his website he says he’s been illustrating for the black/death metal world since ’91. Stay death metal forever.
Artist Max Gärtner‘s solo exhibit Animal Watching is a bit of a play on words. Much of the exhibits is filled with intricate animal portraits. The portraits of these animal gallery goers are created using carefully cut paper in impressive detail, that are then mounted and framed. It offers gallery visitors a different sort of Animal Watching. Accompanying the wall mounted artwork, are what appear to three figures, each with a different animal head, carefully inspecting pieces. The sculptures are each an animal watching the gallery events. Check out the video to see the way the piece interact within the gallery and some of the art work being created.
A Place Beyond Belief (2012). Installation, National Gallery of Kosovo, Pristina. Photo credit: Atdhe Mulla.
We Must Cultivate Our Garden (2006). Installation, Carrall Street, Vancouver. Photo credit: Scott Massey.
You Imagine What You Desire (2014). Installation, Jupiter Artland, Edinburgh. Photo credit: Keith Hunter.
There Will Be No Miracles Here (2006). Installation, Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, Edinburgh. Photo credit: Keith Hunter.
Nathan Coley is a Glasgow-based artist who is well-known for his inspiring, troubling, and haunting illuminated text sculptures. When they aren’t being featured in a gallery, Coley installs these works in public spaces — in parks, over doorways, and on top of buildings — places where they are visible from afar, or as people walk by on their day-to-day business. The words he chooses derive from both research and personal experience; literature, lyrics, historical documents, and overheard conversations comprise some of his source materials. Many of his installations are directly related to religion or private belief-systems — for example, “Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens,” and “There will be no miracles here.” Others speak to violent experiences in human public life; “Burn the village, feel the warmth” is a reference to the London street riots of 2011.
As human creatures, it is safe to argue that we have a complicated relationship with language. Language is how we make sense of the world, and a way for us to connect with others. But none of us can deny the frustrating limitations we experience with it. We use language to express our innermost fears and desires, yet somehow the words seem inadequate; we can read a line of poetry and be shaken to the core, but remain unable to articulate why. Coley’s works have a similar effect; made of fairground-type globes set in aluminum frames, his sculptures confront us with their bright, almost garish boldness. “There will be no miracles here,” the sign reads, in the middle of a field; the isolated word “here” signifies a sinking stomach, a staggered thought, the unsettling fear that “miracles” are phantasmagoric events residing only in the hearts of the troubled and desperate. Coley’s work affects us on deeply personal and inexpressible levels, adding notes of hope, doubt, and other emotions into our present moment.
Architecture and context play a very important role in Coley’s work, as well. As Lisa Le Feuvre eloquently states in a monograph on Coley’s work:
When Coley pays attention to an architectural landscape it is always constructed through a singular gaze, sometimes directed where the buildings meet the ground as one walks through the streets, other times looking up or down at the buildings designed to stretch up to their full height, like enthusiastic children in a schoolroom, urgently wanting to say their piece. Architecture fulfills and produces desires, perhaps most explicitly seen in places of production, power, worship, and memory. (Source)
As Le Feuvre expresses, there is no doubt that certain (if not all) public spaces have different and powerful effects on us: stroll beneath the arched ceilings of a church and feel humbled; stand in an abandoned park at dusk and sense creeping loneliness. But what Coley also explores is the way power operates in such spaces; who does the public space belong to, and what is our role within it? How do our behaviors and self-conceptions change when we enter those spaces? As Foucault writes in Discipline and Punish, “He who is subjected to a field of visibility, and who knows it, assumes responsibility for the constraints of power; […] he becomes the principle of his own subjection.” If public spaces are indeed “field[s] of visibility” that operate on us via internalized systems of control, than Coley’s integration of art into them is doubly rich for analysis — and also somewhat subversive; the words “We must cultivate our garden,” set atop a hotel in Vancouver, Canada, reinvests local architecture with meaning, transforming our experience of that space from controlled, everyday banality into a new, stimulating process of personal signification: we decide what the “garden” means to us in that particular time and place.
See more of Coley’s works on his website, and check out the rest Le Feuvre’s fascinating essay here.