Christopher Lavery’s sculptures and installations work as poetic monuments– stretching beyond one particular brand or medium, and focusing, instead, on the art of humanity in relation to our natural state of dreaming.
For instance, Cloudscape (top image above), a collection of representational clouds, stands as tall as 42 feet and hovers alongside Pena Blvd. in Denver, Colorado. Each piece, made of steel, solar panels, polygal, and LED lighting, allows us to reconsider our own relationship with the sky– how a cloud is a talisman or connector: nature’s billboard, ephemerally reminding us to look up and inward.
Big Gold Word Bubble (plan and model, 2nd and 3rd image above), his latest endeavor, after completion, will stand 14’ tall and examine this idea of how, parallel to the clouds, language is both concrete and abstract: a beautifully harmonized collective word bubble and diversely individualized journey of interpretation. To help support its construction and transit to Art in the Park at Elm Park in Worcester, MA, click here. To view more Cloudscape installation shots, scroll down after the jump.
Artist Jordan Eagles works in a gory medium: blood. Eagle has developed a unique production process that envelops blood he sources from slaughterhouses. Using Plexiglass and UV resin, Eagle encases the blood in a way that preserves its haunting red hue. He further manipulates the blood and resin to create various effects and appearances such as adding blood-soaked gauze or running an electrical current through the pieces. His work calls to mind the rituals surrounding death and the preservation of memory. Check out the video to get an idea of his singular process.
The Glue Society‘s newest project for Sculpture by the Sea, Aarhus is an amusent park, or rather, was an amusement park. James Dive of the group gathered an entire demolished amusement park and compacted it into one 13 foot cube. Pieces of rides and remnants of prizes can easily be seen in the mass. The cube was clearly once a place people looked for fun and relaxation, but is now irretrievably gone. Dive says of the project, “The project is about the finality of a missed moment. Creating it was undoubtedly the most violent process I’ve ever embarked upon.”
Sarah Sze’s installations incorporate everyday items from toothpicks to light bulbs, and “Triple Point,” her most recent endeavor at the Venice Biennale, is no different. Ladders, paper scraps, aluminum rods, sleeping bags, and other finely scavenged items collect and assemble to create a whole new type of machinery: a thinking one that has to do with re-assessing value and investigating the romanticism of objects at play with one another in this never-ending Milky Way of constructs.
According to The New York Times, Sze “wanted the installation to bleed out into the environment.’’ This is relevant to not only the pavilion itself, where the bulk of her work sprawls from room to room and outward onto the exterior landscaping, but also the neighboring community.
Blazing a cryptic trail, before the opening, Sze deposited a series of fake rocks (aluminum structures wrapped in photographs of rocks) sporadically in unexpected places, sometimes, with local businesses, who now house them in unconventional spaces, often along with their own imaginative origin stories. The intention is to lead patrons into the exhibit slowly, almost subconsciously, as though foraging their own trail into the surprising wilderness of Sze’s art.
More images of the installation and a video after the jump.
Malia Jensen juxtaposes deep sensory textures with completely opposite objects or animals to create a feeling of longing, sexuality, desire, or play. The pillow, tragically, will never be comfortable enough, born from cutting board wood. Likewise, the breast, shaped from a block of salt lick, will never be able to feel a tongue the way that it should. Each carefully chosen medium breathes a new heavy sadness into the life of these objects, condemned to mirror reality without all the glorious amenities or enjoyments.
Of her work, in ArtSlant Magazine, Jensen states, “You can seduce someone in, and they might be laughing for a while, but they realize this is somewhat dark. There’s a deep sadness in a lot of work. It’s like finding a human condition in an animal parallel.”
A Million Times by the Stockholm based studio Humans Since 1982 beautifully mixes the analog and the digital. The piece begins with the simple analog clock as its starting point. 288 clocks are arranged on the wall, their hands spinning to run through hypnotic patterns and display the time digitally. Each of the 288 clocks’ two hands run independently, powered by 576 individual motors. The entire installation is connected to custom made software and operated from an iPad. Watch the dials spin in the video after the jump.
The intricate work of Nahoko Kojima is created from single painstakingly cut sheets of paper. For example, her newest sculpture, Byaku, is cut from a single giant sheet of Japanese washi paper. Using a simple X-Acto knife like scalpel Kojima tirelessly works to pull the image out of the paper. In order to maintain precision, she is said to change her blades about once every three minutes. Kojima’s multilayered work also inhabitants a playful space between 2D and 3D. At times her work is framed like a painting while other times presented like a sculpture. [via]
There is something fantastically unworldly yet alluringly familiar about Amy Joy Watson’s bright sculptures. Whether it’s a drooping bow or a glitter-filled orb, this Australian’s artful structures feel like a 1986 birthday party, translated or abstracted by a video game of that same era: there are no soft edges, only the disjointed illusion of it.
To make each piece, Watson stitches or glues together watercolor-stained balsa wood, occasionally adding a tasteful Gobstopper here, or helium balloon there, to garnish her own primal sense of whimsy and sacred geometry, resulting in a somewhat spiritual monument to another imaginative age and time.