Some artists are so talented they seem to be able to do it in their sleep. Lee Hadwin, though, can only do it in his sleep. Since he was an early teenager, Hadwin would draw or paint on tables, walls, clothes all while sleep walking. While awake he would show no sign of interest or talent in art making. Now Hadwin is prepared at night – he sets art materials aside before going to bed. Much of his work is elegantly simple, while other pieces are strangely intricate. Peculiar symbols and recurring shapes seem to appear in much of his work making one wonder whats going on in the mind of sleeping Lee Hadwin.
Artist Harvey Moon admits that he has always had a difficult time drawing. Naturally, then, he built a robot to do it. Moon’s machines use the same pens that you’ll find on your desk right now. However the pens are moved around, picked up, and put down on a sheet of paper by motors running on a program. His first drawing machine works vertically with only two simple motors. The amount of detail put to paper by the machine, though, is astounding. Check out the video to see Moon give a more detailed explanation of the way the drawing machine works.
Artist Brittany Schall created incredibly detailed drawings for her series Hair Studies. The mixed media pieces are certainly portraits but are decidedly missing faces. Instead she focuses entirely on each subject’s hair. The flowing masses nearly seem to suggest a mesmerizing movement. Locks tumble like smoke or water and imply the underlying form. Each subject’s hair carries a seeming personality of its own, a portrait of sorts in its own right.
Marco Mazzoni’s work softly drips with an exquisite ease of darkness. From blooming faces where birds gather to a rabbit draining with butterfly wings, each image surrealistically depicts folklore infused with spiritual healing properties that twist and twirl with our own imaginative connections to nature.
To elaborate, Jonathan Levine Gallery notes, “Mazzoni’s imagery references herbalist traditions and Sardinian folklore of mystical seductresses who enchant, curse and cure. His body of work is a tribute to the legacy of female healers throughout history. These women held an important role in medieval communities yet their ancient knowledge of the natural healing properties of medicinal plants was widely feared by the Church, viewed as witchcraft and cause for persecution.”
Light painting or light illustration has been a trending technique of late. Darren Pearson‘s skeletal pieces, though, are much more complex than most of the work we often seem to come across. While the camera shutter is open Pearson moves a light much like a brush which leaves its trail on the resulting photograph. The image appears to take up physical space and leave a haunting glow on its surroundings. Each piece also interacts with the surrounding scene, the California landscape which figures largely in much of Pearson’s work. [via]
Romanian artist Mircea Popescu‘s series Head Stock unravels the typical portrait. These obsessively detailed pieces are linocut prints – the image etched, inked, and impressed on paper. Portraits often become stand-in’s for the sitter they identify. Instead, Popescu’s faces float independent of bodies and clear facial features. The images seem to be piled with countless layers hinting at a physical face and pointing to something deeper behind it. The complexities of the Popescu’s faces reflect the intricacy of identities behind portraits.
Kyle Field, an Alabama native living in San Francisco, was born in the 1970s– and his artwork tends to reflect the mood of not only these two places, but also that era. Each craftily drawn watercolor depicts a folk narrative infused and confused with melodious psychedelic tendencies. It’s all so playful and harmonious. We find it challenging not to think of Field’s work in any other way but musical.
The first fantastically pliable medium we ever enjoyed sloppily sculpting with our teeth, molding around our gums, and blowing joyful pockets of life into, is the perfect subject matter for artist Julie Randall, whose entire body of work teeters between mystical and marvelously grotesque.
“Blown,” her most recent series, is a deep meditation on, yes, chewing gum: it’s strange shapely pleasure, born from a certain oral fixation which moves beyond youth and into darker more cryptic mouths.