I got an anonymous email late last night with the above image. It said “This weekend I found myself at a party at Jeffrey Deitch‘s new home in the hills of Los Angeles. I’m hardly a street artist but I thought it might be nice to add some value to the interior of his “movie star house.” ”
Who knows if this is actually Jeffrey Deitch‘s house (looks like the bathroom) but I thought it was interesting that he’s getting so much backlash. Who can confirm that this is real?
Artist Jason Freeny scoops out the insides of our favorite toys and characters, and sculpts their inner organs and skeletons. Having a sculpture professor as a father, the artist was exposed to the medium at a young age. Freeny was originally trained as an industrial designer, until he began creating this series of adorable abominations five years ago. He begins with the toy itself, and then takes it apart to study its structure and fill it with its skeleton. Freeny began using polymer clay to create the insides of each toy. Now, they are sculpted from epoxy and carved with a variety of miniature tools like pumpkin carving tools and those used in dentistry.
Freeny has taken lovable toys and turned them into something somewhat dark, but also a bit educational in a way. The anatomical accuracy in his sculptures is impressive, as each creature or character most likely will have its own unique anatomy. Freeny gives an example of this by explaining that Mario has a skull more like a child than of a grown man. The detail in each character’s body is so intricate, that it makes its anatomy incredibly believable. Interestingly enough, the artist does not just dissect popular toys like Lego’s and My Little Pony, but strange oddballs as well. A couple of his dolls with their inner organs exposed look somewhat demented; like they could star in the next Child’s Play. Whether you find Freeny’s work fun or creepy, the time and technique involved in his process speaks volumes to his brilliant skills in sculpture. (via The Creators Project)
Following on from the trend of “Ruin Porn” or “Ruin Photography“, Japanese artist Satoshi Araki intricately creates miniature dioramas of bombed out cities or urban landscapes. He is attracted to anything that is in a state of decay. He is especially adept at reconstructing tiny details he finds through using Google Image Search. For example he searches for particular phrases (“Iraq war” or “Iraq ruins”) and meticulously recreates what he finds.
Obviously Araki has a sharp eye for details. Using knives and blades to scrape off paint and to add rust, he achieves realistic imperfections, turning a normal miniature scooter into a thing of amazement. He even adds cans with miniscule Arabic writing on them, tucked inside a box in one of his destroyed scenes of Baghdad. He makes sure to carefully smash the tiny windshield of a car, denting it in all the right places, and even adding a bent license plate all to create a believable environment. For such scenes full of violence and horror, he surely makes them a thing of beauty and wonder.
There is a strong sense of poetry in Araki’s work. He focuses on the destruction of man made buildings and objects – mainly being overtaken by nature. Trees grow over old rusted cars; grass forces it’s way through rotting rubber tires. And this is the fascination that other Ruin Porn artists have as well. They all capture the beauty of the world we have created around us crumbling to the ground. And just like Araki, they find joy in that chaos. They celebrate the beauty of the piles of rubble we live in.
The French photographer Marwane Pallas’ painterly photographs contain within their borders an uncomfortable blend of allure and violence. His work centers around the body, honing in on its urges and most private yearnings. At times, the body itself is seen in profound sharpness, crystal clear, while it also sometimes bleeds sensual color, as if painted on a canvas. Pallas’ highly stylized images read more like murals than photographs, deliberately and seductively drawing us into a fictitious and allegorical narrative.
With his series What I Eat, the artist presents human appetite as an visceral marker of identity; a housewife is forced to eat her clothes iron, and a (possibly transgender) woman, having undergone a breast augmentation, munches on a plastic barbie doll, symbolic of the idealized female form. A cancer patient dips his cigarettes in ketchup, and a priest hesitates for just a moment before devouring a wooden crucifix.
In This Is My Body, religious allegorical icons stand in for an overwhelming eroticism. Eve in the Making presents the artist as still and pale as marble, wounded like Jesus Christ, engaging in an act of intimacy with a translucent head, whom we might imagine to stand in for God. In another self-portrait, a nose bleed causes blood, seen as wine like the blood of Christ, to drip over his parted lips into a glass below. A candle drips onto a pair of praying hands; on closer inspection, we see that the waxy light lays in place of a man’s erect phallus. Like Eve, the artist into apple that ultimately brings death, containing within it an ominous skull.
In Sur/Face, this sensualized physical body undergoes a metamorphosis, veering into a metaphysical and spiritual realm. Enchanted forests cover the artist’s head, and mossy roots stand in for veins. The flesh cracks open to reveal a layer of fresh new skin. Take a look.
Believe it or not, the tiniest comic strip in history has recently been drawn onto a single stand of human hair. The comic, titled “Juana Knits the Planet,” was initially mapped by the artist Claudia Puhlfürst; later, it was burned into a plucked stand with an ion beam, which is in essence a delicate and thin version of a laser beam. The narrative follows a girl (Juana) through twelve twenty-five micrometer frames, and the artwork is a promotion for a Do-It-Yourself conference in Hamburg, Germany called the Exceptional Hardware Software Meeting.
Purfürst’s illustration is a touching wordless story about about a lonesome little girl who seems to exist within a vacuum of a blank comic book frame; that is, until a ball of yarn rolls to her feet. From the thread, she creates a paintbrush, painting trees and music into existence. Ultimately, Juana writes code and builds herself her very first friend: an adorable robot. This parable of human growth and ingenuity is made all the more delightful for being engraved onto a strand of hair; the story of technological expansion returns, ultimately, to the human head, the site of its conception.
In this video, we can discover the astounding scale of the little comic. Strands of human hair are composed of hard proteins; the outer layer, or the cuticle, contains scales that form curves and ridges, and yet the frames of “Juana Knits the Planet” are perfectly straight and meticulously rendered. It’s pretty mind-blowing; take a look. (via HuffPost and Lost at E Minor)