Nunzio Paci is an artist from Bologna who paints human anatomy with a surrealist flourish. Recalling the studies of the body from the Italian Renaissance, male cadavers are flayed and opened up, exposing layers of raw muscle and twisted sinew. Body parts are numbered and labeled like dissection records, with marginalia scrawled softly along the sides. In the tradition of his Italian precursors, Paci takes an artistic approach to science, blending grim images of death and corporeality with a reverence for the complexity of the human form.
Paci brings his own style into these anatomical portraits by expressively exploring the body’s connection to nature; veins that unravel past the skeletal contours sprout into leaves, and branches twist upwards from shoulders with a spring-sapling fervor. Birds perch on the blooming dead, and in the corner, dissection instruments are curiously mixed with garden tools. Beautifully macabre, Paci’s mutating cadavers explore not only the interrelation of life and death, but the material links between all living matter—expressed, for example, by the similar structures of arteries and branches. On his biography page, Paci describes his creative approach:
“My whole work deals with the relationship between man and Nature, in particular with animals and plants. The focus of my observation is [the] body with its mutations. My intention is to explore the infinite possibilities of life, in search of a balance between reality and imagination.” (Source)
Claire Healy and Sean Cordeiro’s large scale installations leave us feeling a bit overwhelmed or claustrophobic, and this is perhaps maybe the point. Their installations use recyclables to not only emphasize the gluttony of spending, but even more so, to confront the looming power of clutter and our strange animalistic aversion and contrasting need for it.
Of their work, the two say, we “live in such an organized society where detritus is not an issue. You put your garbage in a bin, and it goes somewhere. When you start to look at detritus, you automatically think about refuse. Or even more about consumption…getting caught up in the cycle of consume, consume, consume. And how these objects start to quantify your life.”
Los Angeles photographer Dan Busta has a couple very interesting photographic series exploring single-themed concepts at length. This one, Dots, is fairly self explanatory: naked women covered in dots, posing within rooms also covered in dots. What the images offer is part optical illusion and part good old fashioned sensuality. The natural beauty of the models stripped down to the most basic elements of form and pose. Through his exploration of this distinct concept, and through the manipulation of dot and background colors, Busta harnesses a unique way to showcase the beauty of these women in a flattering way.
Busta is no stranger to photographing people. He has photographed the rich and famous, his website is a yearbook of actors and celebrities we know and love. Another interesting project of his, Ghosts, shows a white-clothed figure standing in various settings. Busta’s exploration of themed projects continues to be a strong point in his work, and something that sets him apart as a photographer. It’s exciting to think of what he will do next!
It’s been sometime since we’ve heard from Natasha Khan’s Bat For Lashes, but that all changes on Oct. 23 when her new album, The Haunted Man is released in the US on Capital Records. The Guardian has a preview of six songs that I’ve been listening to on repeat . She’s playing a handful of shows in Europe in the next couple of months so definitely try to see her live if you can. What do you think of the cover photo by Ryan McGinley?
Want more Bat For Lashes? Check out the video for the new single Laura after the jump!
Marcos Montané is a Buenos Aires-based Art Director who says he is “experimenting in the fields of procedural design, generative graphics and visual music.” His work is expressed in typography, visual design and audio-reactive visuals for VJ sets. Perhaps his most striking work is what he differentiates as some of his ‘still’ works, wire sculptures that recall natural, repeating readouts from a Richter scale, echoes, orbital fields or cellular biology.
In works like his Flowfields I & Flowfields II (above, and below – grouped and singular), Montané explains his inspiration and process “I was always amazed by the visualizations of flowfields that return some 3d softwares. In this case I used a topology optimization software and export the resulting lines to turn them into wire structures. The final result is a compact mass of wires.” The mass of wires takes on the appearance of sound waves solidified, equal parts organized yet chaotic(-looking).
Montané’s One-Piece Structures (below, with white backgrounds) are generated structures from a single piece of wire. Although simpler in their construction, the One-Piece Structures (which are named and numbered as Variations) equally complicated geometries, such as computer landscapes, GPS-tracking fields or sonar readouts.
You can follow Marcos Montané’s work at his Tumblr and Flickr accounts.
Chateau-vacant is composed of three French artists; Yannick Calvez, Lemuel Malicoutis, and Baptiste Alchourroun. Although they have differing stylistic techniques they share one thing in common; and that is their desire to create computer-free art. With Chateau-vacant they have come together to celebrate their alternative approach to illustrative design.
The Taiwanese photographer Yung Cheng Lin presents the female body in unusual, erotic and sometimes absurd ways; his surreal, staged images capture a raw sensuality that oscillates between the fantastic and the grotesque. Here, women are seen initially as objects of desire, but they contort their bodies in ways that defy objectification and veer into abstraction.
Lin’s images, wrought with sexual tension, are at times uncomfortable to look at; a girl grips a box of milk, and its liquid ejaculates on and into her ear. Another woman holds a ripened, banana, which we might assume to be symbolic of the phallus, between her thighs; a finger penetrates and abstracted mound of flesh. A replica of the Mona Lisa sits between a woman’s legs, the part of hair mimicking a vulvar shape. The viewer, often seeing these female subjects from above, feel like strange voyeurs, peering into intimate rituals undetected.
Amidst Lin’s exploration of sexuality is a growing sense of anxiety that may be read perhaps a fear of female sexual power. A rose intimately penetrates a woman’s throat, and her head falls back and out of the frame as if in pleasure. But this symbolic intercourse is foreboding, dangerous: the flower is dead, wilted, and blood trickles down the model’s neck. Dead bugs infest the sets, sitting atop bananas and dangling from blood-red threads, signifying impending decay. Like drone bees who flock to mate with their queen only to die after the moment of fertilization, the insects fall at the feet of women. Take a look. (via Lost at E Minor and White Zine)