Until recently I was unfamiliar with the artist Alex Ebstein, but I am glad to have rectified my lack of awareness.  There is an honesty to Ebstein’s work that I find readily engaging.  The use of yarn or string in an artist’s practice can often shift the aesthetic towards a decidedly crafty end result, but Ebstein manages to use the material with such purpose that it might as well be a drawn line in an architectural blue print.  The effectiveness of the work hinges on her ability to merge direct compositional tactics with a more playful approach to the selected materials.  Ebstein’s use of string also elevates the intentionality of her mark marking, and then quickly reasserts itself as a method of creating illusory depth in what would otherwise be relatively flat pieces.  Taught angular moments combined with purposefully relaxed textures start a visual conversation that I am more than happy to participate in.

I could have just included the ‘eye chart’ pieces because I found them extremely aesthetically pleasing, but the back-story provides a bit of insight that I think most would enjoy.  Think of it as a ‘Director’s Commentary’ for the work.  Courtesy of Miss Ebstein, “…then for the eye chart pieces. They are more of a weird reflection on (and obsession with) eyesight and my existing eye problems that force me to visit the doctor every month. I’ve had four eye surgeries in three years… I am always nervously checking my vision against things, one eye at a time, so these drawings were kind of my own dark humored joke about being an artist and constantly worrying about my vision.”  I am of the belief that ‘going blind’ is one of (if not) the most terrifying things any artist could imagine, and I appreciate the candor with which she addresses what could be an immobilizing reality to those with a more pessimistic outlook on life.  Ebstein will be starting grad school this fall, and I am eager to see how this focused environment will affect her work.  I also encourage anyone interested in contemporary art to check out the consistently interesting programming at Nudashank – a gallery she co-runs with Seth Adelsberger in the Baltimore area.

Two of my favorite upcoming artists, Timothy Bergstrom & Denise Kupferschmidt recently opened up solo shows respectively @ Halsey McKay in East Hapmton. Tim brings a new suite of his gluey material paintings that visually imitate sounds, while Kupferschmidt shows a series of studies surrounding a sculptural installation, as well as a lovely mural. Good stuff, more after the jump.

They’re the reason flowers smell so nice

Los Angeles has always held a special place in the hearts and minds of Americans, but for most it exists in an almost fictional capacity.  Hollywood isn’t a real place – it’s a postcard, a huge sign on the side of a mountain bracketed with strategically placed palm tree silhouettes.  Certainly not a place to call home, but for artist Justin John Greene that’s exactly what it is.  Hollywood is a part of his heritage, and the work reflects that.  Born and raised in the Los Angeles area, Greene’s work is strongly imbued with the history of the most romanticized industry in American culture.  In his most recent solo show at Actual Size (an exhibition space he co-runs in the Chinatown gallery district of east L.A.) the influence of the film industry is in full focus.  You Oughta Be In Pictures is a comprehensive installation that utilizes painting, sculpture, and video to create a truly immersive experience for the viewer.  Installation may seem like a bit of a leap from Greene’s primarily two dimensional practice, but a closer look into the artist’s process bridges the gap seamlessly.  His work is a distinctly enjoyable blend of sly historical references, direct compositional tactics, and cleverly applied humor.  If you have the opportunity to see the work in person I strongly encourage you to do so.

Most people draw at some point in their lives, but for a select few the action becomes compulsory – the impetus behind a lifelong obsession.  You are clearly one of those few.  How has drawing played a role in your development as an artist?

Drawing is certainly at the root of my practice, it is part of how I think and solidify concepts.  I can recall at a very young age understanding drawing as an essential tool to engage with my soundings and imagination.  Drawing was seamless with play.  As I grew older and began to associate drawing with art, it was quite clear to me that I was going to be an artist.

I’ve noticed a certain level of immediacy to your drawings that I do not see in your paintings.  Is there a difference in the way that you approach the idea of painting verses that of drawing?

When I approach painting, I set out to make a work that shows the intuitiveness of drawing, but I also engage a more analytical approach.  I’m focusing more on the elements that make a picture; its composition and mood.  I am also making direct references to imagery that requires rendering and layering.  I want my paintings to be able to stand on their own.  The paintings that have most influenced me were seen in museums, singular masterpieces that command a presence without the aid of their kin.  Those are the types of works that set the bar for me with regards to painting.  I am also interested in where these works will end up, beyond an exhibition.  Even paintings that were created as a series, once bought, will often end up on their own.  It is important to me that my paintings can feel complete in that setting and not just be an example of my practice.

I have a more fluid and casual relationship to drawing.  If I’m unsure of what to paint, I’ll draw. When I’m making drawings that are intended for exhibition, I don’t do a lot of the same preemptive planning that I put into my paintings.  Unlike my paintings, the drawings may be viewed as studies that rely more on repetition to solidify an idea.

Regardless of the medium, your work has an inherent structure to it.  What is your process for assembling an image?

For years I’ve been interested in collective nostalgia, and in exploring that   idea I have arrived at working with imagery that I think the viewer will approach with a sort of uncanny feeling of recognition.  I gather source material from film, the Internet, advertisements and objects I come across in my daily life.  I create composite images and use the application of my medium as a visual vocabulary that evokes emotion in specific elements of one picture.  The visual descriptions also often refer to other figures and styles from art history.  I build up layers of composite imagery in an attempt to transform this “research” into a singular visceral experience.  I like to work with a variety of aesthetics, which I think is very much inspired by the convoluted landscape of Los Angeles.

In the series Fashion Drawings the bodies and heads quickly become protagonist and foil in a well-composed comedy.  Where did the inspiration for this series come from, and how important is the role of humor in your work?

I was teaching art classes to some teenage girls that were interested in fashion design.  I was flipping through magazines and books filled with fashion illustrations that the school had on hand and I was struck by the aura of these drawings.  I had seen all sorts of design illustrations, for products and cars and they all seemed to share a similar cold accuracy to them that felt necessary for instructing production, but the fashion illustrations didn’t look like that.  They were full of attitude and the line quality was sparse and elegant. The idea that these were being used to draft the production of a garment felt humorously arrogant to me, which I really liked.  I then remember thinking of my students, and questioning whether they felt at all inspired by these fashion illustrations merely as drawings beyond their association with clothes, and I compared that in my mind to the types of drawings that inspired me at the age; drawings from artists such as R. Crumb and James Ensor.  I started collecting images from fashion runways and interpreted them in what I thought looked like the style of fashion illustration that most resonated with me, and I then topped them all off with a grotesque adolescent doodle.

The Fashion Drawings as an ongoing series enables me to engage with my compulsory desire to create cartoony doodles, while still making a piece that fits into a conceptual framework.  The monster-like heads of runway figures that I think represent a specific cultural ideal, act as the punch line in a joke.  Humor has always played an important roll in my work.  I’ve often felt that concepts of culture are often most vividly revealed when viewed through a parodical lens. I believe that humor even when it is dark is a positive force.  It lets me be optimistically critical about the concepts that I’m addressing.

Comparing the painting Some Mornings (2011) to that of Red Room (2009), I notice a definite shift in the amount of visual information you’ve chosen to present.  Do you see your paintings becoming progressively more reductive as time goes on?

At the time that I made Red Room, I was interested in creating an illusionistic space that had the type of bazaar impenetrable charm that I was seeing in what Jim Shaw calls, “thrift store paintings.”  However, the image Red Room is painted from is a picture of a lavishly designed interior.  That high and low contrast is of central focus in that painting, and I employed a wide array of clashing techniques to address that idea.  When I was painting Red Room, I realized how much I wanted to share my process with viewer.  Since then I’ve been simplifying the level of visual information in my paintings, because I think that will bring the viewer closer to understanding the process of how I piece together the work.  In the painting, Some Mornings, the various elements that make up that space are more easily distinguishable apart from the greater composition.  With that painting, I want the viewer to feel as if though there are mentally bringing the imagery together to then arrive at a space, as opposed to being struck with the illusion of one at first glance.

With the exhibition You Oughta Be In Pictures, you’ve arrived at installation as the next progressive step in a practice that relies heavily on composite sensibilities.  It is almost as if the different aesthetic departments of your mind had some sort of corporate merger, and that was the end result.  Did you set out with the intention of creating a participatory experience for the viewer, and is this “full immersion” method something we might be seeing more of in future endeavors?

Yeah, I’m definitely going to continue working in this method.  I see it as vital element to my practice.  It’s making a composite image in the fourth dimension.   A work like You Oughta Be In Pictures lets me engage in a more communal process beyond a solitary studio practice, which is important to me.  It took a collaborative effort to produce and like a performance it was not complete with out the viewer or audience present.  When I was planning, You Oughta Be In Pictures, I knew that I was making this self-parodying portrait that was flirting on the edge of being manically heavy-handed, and because of that I felt it necessary to create a way for the viewer to be directly placed into the show.  I wanted the viewer to feel like they were being approached by the exhibition in a manner relatable to a participatory performance.  Every element in that installation directed its attention at the viewer.

Thanks for letting me pick through your brain for a little while.

My pleasure, thanks for taking an interest.

With a display of dominating opulence, feminine vice, and diamond dust, Lauren Gibbes’s paintings masterfully deconstruct traditional romantic narratives and flourish as examples of modern Rococo. Born in the south and currently working out of Ashville, NC, Gibbes draws influence from beauty pageants, magazine ads, exhibitions of decadence, and the legacy of southern charm and chivalry. Her work is both beautiful and confrontational. Lauren Gibbes is represented by Galeria Bickar. 

Baltimore-based artist, Dan Everett, has a great body of work that really packs in a detailed glimpse into the artist’s comedically strange mind. With inspiration coming form Indian miniatures and Buddhist Mandalas, Everett’s pieces feature bizarre characters that are born from a stream-of-conscience making process. As a way to give back to the city he works in, Everett displays his work throughout the town by hanging them on abandoned buildings. We’ve got a great selection posted here, but be sure to take a peak at his portfolio site.

Langley is the first artist participating in Skylab Gallery‘s new artist-in-residence program in downtown Columbus, Ohio. Her exhibition at Skylab opens at the end of May 2012. Until then, view more of her work after the jump.

I feel like most people dream of falling in love one day, but what if that day turns into a year – and then another?  What if the act of falling in love becomes an all-consuming force that necessitates the creation of your own color-coded language?  What if your name is Michelle Jane Lee, and this series of ‘what ifs’ has actually been your life for the last three years?   The end result of that experience might resemble a thirty-foot love letter and a mountain of other drawings representing your unmentionable thoughts and desires for a woman that would ultimately come to reject you.  A hard pill to swallow for most, but Lee seems undeterred in her pursuit of the unattainable.  After all, true obsession is captivating – for both artist and audience in this case.  Her work is incredibly personal, absolutely honest, and exceptionally beautiful.  If you are in or around Los Angeles on April 7^th - I recommend that you attend the opening reception of her most recent solo exhibition at Gallery 3209.

What sets Adam Roth apart from other illustrators is that you can actually go beyond the initial surface-level awesomeness of his pieces. For example, the burger warrior above is rad as hell, right? However, it’s not just that. It’s also got Adam’s pain, joy, and personal nature infused into it, making it more of a fine artwork then just a cartoon rendering of a cheeseburger gladiator. To most of us, action figures were toys we played with as children just for fun. Yet, to Adam Roth, they mean so much more, as you’ll find out in the interview below. They’re his muses. They’re his models. And they’re part of the reason Adam is one of the most unique artists I’ve come across in Los Angeles. So, in order to give you a full spectrum of his world, I’ve carefully curated the following images so you’re not just seeing Adam’s paintings, but you’re also getting a glimpse at the toys in his collection that inspire many of his works. Adam will be featured in the  upcoming exhibit VOID: In the Nether Regions, which opens on April 12th [2012] at Homeroom Gallery in Los Angeles.

What are these action figures?

They’re Food Fighters.

Are they from a cartoon series?

Nope, they’re actually from these glory years back in the 80’s and early 90’s when companies would make toys without accompanying cartoons or movies. If the line was eventually successful, they would make comics or cartoon series about it – but that never happened with the Food Fighters that I’m aware of.

Have you kept onto them ever since you were a kid?

Unfortunately, I had destroyed many of them when I was a kid in poor attempts to customize them. However, I’ve managed to rebuild my collection by scouring flea markets and eBay.

What’s one of most recent pieces you’ve added to your toy collection?

I just got a Fisher-Price Adventure Person and man, he’s cool! You’ve got to understand that these toys are like my little plastic muses.

Have you ever made your own action figure?

That’s my eventual goal and let’s just say I’m working on it.

So, what’s your opinion on art toys vs. action figures?

The art toy market is cool, but here’s my beef with it. When I was a kid, I would’ve hated them because, for the most part, they’re essentially statues that you can’t really play with. And as far as I’m concerned, that defeats the whole purpose of what a toy is all about. Since, you should be able to pose the figures and create your own stories and adventures around them. Unfortunately, besides a few pricey exceptions, we’re not really seeing any playable artist-based toy lines come out. However, I’ve met some talented people recently who share the same sentiment as me and it’s given me encouragement that a community is forming slowly, but surely.

Where do you think your love of this kind of art come from?

When I was a kid, I went to a summer camp in Long Island [NY] where one of my counselors, Jeff “JahFurry” Newelt, introduced me to all of these awesome toys and comics I had never heard of. We lost contact for years, but through the miracle of social networking sites we eventually got back in touch and are still friends to this day.

Is there a running storyline throughout your work?

There is in a way. However, to me, connotative and evocative worlds are more interesting than denotative ones in which where everything is linear and specific. I like to see images and just imagine what they’re all about, rather then have someone tell me.

[I push a button on the back of the toy scene above and its head goes flying across Adam’s studio. Fearing I broke it, I casually get back to the interview]

What’s your favorite toy in the collection?

My favorite toy in the whole world is the main character from the original Ghostbusters cartoon, Jake. There’s the Ghostbusters film franchise and cartoon series that everyone knows with Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray, but there was actually another Ghostbusters cartoon series before all of that, which was by the production company Filmation. It was an adaptation of a mid-70s live action TV show, The Ghost Busters. The original cartoon and the one that we’re all more familiar with are completely different too. In the Ghostbusters with Bill Murray, the team drives around in the Ecto-1, but in Filmation’s Ghostbusters they have this chitty-chitty-bang-bang-like vehicle called The Ghost Buggy – plus they also have an  ape on their team instead of Slimer.

What were your favorite types of characters as a kid?

I loved all the heroes. I could tell them apart from the bad guys instantly when I was kid because toys are representative of different archetypes. And I think there’s something intrinsic to that, which kids recognize. Also, toys act as pneumonic devices – the toy helps you remember the experience, and the experience helps you remember the toy.

Whoa, is that a Dick Tracy toy?

Yes, but it’s actually sort of special because none of the other models came with a coat on them like this one has. Someone must’ve made it by hand and now it’s one of my prized possessions.

What was the experience like for you to create such a personal piece like “Bye, Nana”?

There was something so cathartic for me to go through making that piece.

It’s the same face I saw on grandpa before he died…

I know it’s crazy. The more I thought about the piece, the more I considered it being the start of a series. Yes, you’re seeing death, but it’s also a birth. It’s the ending of one phase and the beginning of another. And there are a couple things that have happened in my life that I want to depict in that same way.

Like what else?

I’ve had some intense surgeries because I was born with this thing called VATER syndrome and it has pretty much affected my whole body – still does. I remember the first time I was conscious of the surgeries. It was when I was 7 years old. It was a terrifying time in my life because the notion of being put to sleep and possibly not waking up was scary and very real. You want to hear about one of the stories?

Yes, what happened?

My thumb was bent when I was born, so the doctors wanted to straighten it out for what they claimed were aesthetic purposes. Anyways, they basically inserted a metal rod into it and left it there. I had a cast on my arm for about 3 months and then they put me in a splint. For some reason, when they put the splint on my I could see that my thumb was still an open wound. So, a 7-year-old me got to stare at this bloody hole in my thumb with a metal pin sticking out of it. To cut a long story short, one day I was playing with my toys on the floor of my room and the metal rod got caught on the carpet and pulled out of hand. Since the absolute scariest thing to me at the time was the thought of going back to the hospital, I ended up just pushing it back in.

Wasn’t that painful?

It was horrible, but it was either do that or go back to hospital, which was comparable to death.

Does your love of collecting and drawing toys have something to do with that time in your life?

Absolutely. And the way I tend to justify my voracious toy collecting is that when I was a kid, toys seemed to represent this happy place for me to escape to, as did drawing. I didn’t have to think about what was going on with my body, since I could just retreat to my imagination. And my parents, for better or worse, bought me a lot of toys – especially when rough stuff was happening. So, getting home to play with new toys became my incentive for getting through surgeries. Consequently, I think they’ll forever represent an escape from pain, from reality.