Drawing: Ahead of the Pack

Great illustration by Patrick Moberg

Video: The Rainbow Chasers

The Rainbow Chasers from Erin Wallace on Vimeo.

Art: Private

Art: Hands

Book: Blue Pills: A Positive Love Story

This book was beautiful.

I've been looking for a good opportunity to foray into the graphic novel genre. I didn't want to choose something "just because" it had pictures. And in the past, graphic novels haven't really done it for me. They should. Know me, and you'd know they should. But they just haven't.

Maybe it's because, and I'm just pontificating here, the story lines are somewhat unemotional. Correct me if I'm wrong, but tons of these (let's abbreviate here) G.N.'s are written by men, with these hard-to-grasp, somewhat unemotional concepts. They're more like adventures. Or something. It's like, it takes so long to get to the meat of the story, and there's always so much in-between stuff happening. And it makes it hard for me to concentrate. And sometimes, I'm not sure what I should be concentrating on. The story? The pictures? It's not the type of book I really know how to read. Because the thing is, I really like words, and I really like pictures. Separately. But together? It's like listening to an amazing singer singing with an amazing guitarist, at the same time, each at the same volume. It's hard to know what to focus on. Well, anyway. That's been my experience. Mostly, I haven't liked the stories.

But I was in the neighborhood bookstore, waiting for something to grab me. This book was misplaced, left out on a shelf, not quite fitting in with anything else. It should have been with the Valentine's Day book display up front, but I guess people don't really consider AIDS stories a romantic gesture.

But really, this is a love story. A total package love story. It's about a young man, who meets a young woman, and they're both pretty awesome people. And she has a kid. And she is divorced. And she is HIV positive. And so is her little boy.

So, what's a man to do?

This is their love story (and a true story!) and it's just beautiful, and mesmerizing, and sensitive, and vulnerable. Yes, the story is vulnerable. Always on the verge of falling into tears, or self-defeating, or missing out on it's own chance for happiness.

But it doesn't. And that's not giving anything away. The book is called A Positive Love Story, which of course, is really what caught my eye. How can something so sad be so utterly uplifting?

Also, I found it warmly inspiring, artistically.



[The author is Frederik Peeters, and is considered one of Europe's up and coming illustrators. Blue Pills was previously published in Europe, where it won the Premios La Carcel de Papel in Spain and the Polish Jury Prize at Angouleme. It has sold over 20,000 copies in its original French edition, and now Houghton Mifflin is publishing it in the United States. -- source]

Art: Words

Video: Leo's Song

Leo's Song from impactist on Vimeo.

Art: Flower

“A person asked a rabbi why the truth was written on our hearts, he said so that when our heart breaks, the truth can fall in … since there is no more fertile a place than inside a broken heart.”

Art: Colors

"A ship in the harbor is safe.

But that is not what ships were made for."

Art: Colors

"Sometimes I wish a million things were different.

But then I wish those million things, weren't things I wished for."

Art: Pattern

Art: Connected

Art: Doodle

A doodle is usually something you draw without thinking or planning. It just sort of happens. People always say, "I don't know what to draw," but no one really says, "I don't know what to doodle." There's a routine to it, for most of us. Maybe you always draw boxes. Maybe it's eyes. Maybe its letters of the alphabet. Mostly the doodle happens when you're thinking about other things, or talking on the phone, or waiting for a file to download. Your hand reaches for a pen and paper and the next thing you know, images start to appear. And sometimes you look down and exclaim, "Oh my goodness, what did I just draw?"

Art: Street Dancing

Street Dance from Robin Cantrell on Vimeo.

Events: Art Openings

You know that scene in Strangers With Candy when Jerry tells her friend that he reminds her of a monkey. And he gets insulted. And she says, "But why? Monkeys are hilarious!"

That's what ran through my mind last night when I was at the opening of The New Museum (of Contemporary Art -- but if you have to ask, you don't deserve to know) at 235 Bowery Street.

To make the directions simple, just take the N/R/W to Prince Street, and walk all the way away from Broadway up Prince Street, until you get to the end of options. And there in front of you, will be a big metallic building, like square blocks piled precariously on top of one another, with a big neon rainbow sign that says, "HELL, YES!" on the front. It brings the phrase, "don't worry, you can't miss it" into a whole new light. Plus, the only reason I'm telling you how to get there is because you don't even want to know how lost I got getting there. But that's the story of my life now, isn't it? Hell, yes.

By the time I reached the 7th floor of this museum, I was leaving a voice mail for my sister, saying, "This is the raddest museum I have ever been to."

Well, first I should tell you what happened before I reached the museum. A friend was having a show in the Garden State, and I stopped by her opening first. She does ceramics, and she was showing with a pastel artist and a photographer. Can pastel ever catch a break? I don't think so. It's the bedazzle of the art world. No matter how hard you shine it, it's still a rhinestone. Once I was in someone's house in Ohio, and she had framed pastels on her walls. They matched her couches. Intentionally.

The ceramics were wonderful. I love her work. Brilliant, sensitive, delicate, mysterious. Different. Definitely different.

The photography was OK, and the subject matter reminded me of quaint little thrift stores I used to frequent in my upstate NY days. But I felt like the artist never stopped saying, "This is sooo quaint" with her photographs, and so it didn't really impress me. Like, she was photographing for the sake of capturing someone else's things, but not really as a way of making her own statement. It was like her photographs were saying, "Look how the snow falls on the edges of this wooden wheel that is propped against the farmhouse." Instead of, I don't know, something else. There was little room for, interpretation, I guess you could say.

OK, moving onward. I eventually made it downtown and found myself at this little opening (all the mirrors outside caught my eye) at this big name gallery which is actually a very little space. The show was called, and let me see if I can spell this right, Nude Anthropometries Descending A Staircase. On Crosby Street.

Every inch of every wall was filled up with big paper, little canvases, note cards, and whatever. The art seemed like commentary, reactions to something, impressions of something. I don't know. I don't know what was going on there. They served a great vodka pomegranate drink upstairs though, and that put a smile on my face.

Some conversations I overheard (inspired by the art, I presume. I hope):

• "I wish you had a hoof instead of an arm."
• "This work is reminiscent of..."
• "Eva Mendes once called me drunk."

No, really, I enjoyed it. Total fun. Total energy. Lots of happy people, most as colorful as the art, staring at the art, trying to look like they got it. Or not even trying. Just enjoying it. It was full bodied, reminded me of art school days, vibrant. If I were a cynic, I would write something harsh and judgmental with big words to show you how smart I am, but I'm not. So I won't. I think art is hilarious, especially on nights like this. Who knows what we're creating, why we're creating it, why we're celebrating it. But I tip my hat to those who make it happen, and keep trying. It's hard to be original these days. It's hard to impress and make a dent in this world, beat up already as it is. But yay! for those who give it a go.

Then, onward, buzzed from the pomegranate, into the night air once more. I reached the aforementioned neon HELL, YES! and was happy to step in from the freezing night air. To celebrate their opening, the New Museum was opening their doors for free, for 30 hours, this weekend. The space is pretty fun and original as far as museums go. It's open, vast, and electric. I won't bore with you a play-by-play of everything I saw (gotta see it to believe it, as they say) but it involved the following:

• Candy
• Cardboard
• Flash animation
• Tim Allen's Disney movie, The Shaggy Dog

Overheard:

• "I think that's real mattress!"
  
• "102 dollars, please."
  
• "I'm sorry, there's no eating allowed on this floor, even though I know they gave you food on the other floor."
  
• "That was really funny. You have to watch it from the beginning."
  
• "How do you get out of here?"

I really do think this is a great museum, and I'm psyched I got to see it as a newborn. Some crazy stuff is going to go down there, I'm sure.

On the subway back up town, I came across an Asian man sitting in a corner, constructing complicated portraits of people with nothing but an origami-sized piece of paper and a scissor. It was unbelievable, and he drew a large crowd as people gathered round to watch him cut and snip his way through a piece of black paper ("in only 2 minutes!"). For a mere $8, he would cut your self-portrait, snowflake style, magically forming a total likeness of your face ("Smile! You must smile!"), which he then signed and placed inside a pre-cut beautiful matte. I mean, it was astonishing, and beautiful. The young guy standing next to me was getting his portrait done, and the result was complete before the L pulled into the station. It was more than a keepsake. It was just as valuable as any of that "art" I saw earlier in those fancy shmancy name dropping gallery spaces.

I can't complain. I can't really criticize any of this. It's all a form of eyeball exercise, taking the time to see what other people are creating and birthing. Who are we to judge so quickly and mock their mysterious reasons for fame. Who are we to say, "I paid $20 for what??" when we exit these big museums and small galleries and drink their vodka. Especially when it was all free.

LINKS:

• Jonathan Shorr Gallery
• The New Museum
• I googled everywhere for the origami subway man, but found nothing.

Camera: Leica Mini Digital Camera

I.Want.This.Immediately.

How bad do I want this? If I were a kid, and I was walking with my mom in the mall, and I pointed to that camera and cried out, "Buy! Buy! Buy!" and she said, "No, you have enough stuff already," then I would proceed to slump on to the floor and throw a fit until she caved and got me what I wanted. But of course, my mom would never cave. So I'd start babysitting, get a paper route, and save every penny I found in the corners of the couch until I could buy it myself. That's how we rolled in my house.

Leica Mini Digital Camera
Available Online Only!
Free Shipping!
$225.00!

Hear that Santa?? Hanukkah Harry? Tooth Fairy?

• 5.0 Megapixel
• 1/3-scale reproduction of the iconic Leica rangefinder.
• Features include: 5.0 Megapixel resolution; 4X digital zoom; Video mode, which captures motion in AVI format; a 1.5" TFT/LCD display at the rear; 32MB of internal memory; an SD card slot to expand your memory up to a whopping 8GB; USB interface with included cable; compatibility with Minox's Classic Camera series flash; rechargeable long-life Li-Ion battery.
• Comes complete with a leather camera strap and a classy wooden display box.
• Mac and PC compatible

Here's the funny part...
Apparently, you can only buy it online at... Urban Outfitters.

Artist: Sarah Walker

Sarah Walker's paintings, now showing at PIEROGI gallery in Brooklyn, are a mind bender. You don't simply see her paintings, you enter them. They seem like a vision of what the eyes sees before it registers what it is. Her images, though abstract, seem familiar. I can look at one and think that I see a cabin in a woods, the sky between the trees, an ethernet, a web. But the image she has created is more complex than that, more puzzling, more advanced than a simple representation of a thing.

Her technique is a series of layering, overlapping, deleting, rubbing and revealing. There is a sense of archival to her paintings, which you understand when you peer up close (which you must do, and are compelled to do). It's like some areas of paint are preserved on purpose, while others are deleted in an attempt to unveil their residue below. You can like one painting more than another, with no real ability to discern why. You can be drawn to one, and unaffected by another, yet the content is the same. Colors can be deceiving, shapes can transform before you.

The canvases in the gallery are embraced by simple white planks of wood nailed into the walls. It is all white, save for her work. It is simple vs. chaos. There is order, and there is nothing.

Pierogi website
Sarah Walker website

Art: Artists & Fleas

Today I was at "Artists & Fleas" -- an amazing flea market for artists in Bklyn. It took my breath away as soon as I walked in. This garage-turned-market is filled corner to corner with fantastic, one-of-a-kind artisan wares -- mostly jewelery and t-shirts, but also books, records, and vintage clothes. There's even a DJ mixing the best beats while you shop (if you can even imagine the type of music you'd want to hear at an artist's flea market, then that's exactly what he was playing).

What's most important to note here, is how NICE everyone was. These are working artists, who are genuinely passionate about their crafts and eager for you to try them on, touch them, and ask questions (most of the artists also sell their work on etsy.com).

The place has such a great ambiance and flavor to it. I looked at everything and my eyes lit up every time I heard the stories behind the crafts. Like, "Oh, those earrings are made from old pennies covered in found paper." Or, "I found the centerpieces for the necklaces in an old button store." Or, "my mom just showed me a whole box of jewelery she had from the 80's, big gaudy rings that I can take apart. But not this piece. This one I'm keeping." Or, "yes, my husband and I designed all these pieces together. The necklaces are only $10." Or, "sure, we take credit cards!"

I went home with the first piece of jewelery I spotted as soon as I walked in the store. My friend told me I gravitated towards it so quickly, that I needed to get it. So now it's around my neck. And it has wings. I can't tell you how much I love it.

"Artists & Fleas" is located at 129 N. 6th between Bedford & Berry.
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
open EVERY Saturday & Sunday from 12-8pm
Website

Artist: Ansel Adams

Just discovered a great article on the AP wire about Ansel Adams. There's been a recent discovery of some photographs of his that most likely were never entended for public viewing. But, now they've been revealed as "proofs" of images he was planning on photographing. Sketch-photos, if you will.

Everyone loves something behind-the-scenes. Famous, heroic artists like Adams are normally preserved under bright lights beneath big museum names. But it's rare that we get the chance to see them as human, experimenting, messing around with ideas.

"Adams' prints are perfection," exhibit curator Stephen Jareckie said. "But these proofs have a certain vitality that you don't find in a finished print. It gives them an educational point of view and shows the public what Adams' work is like at that stage — a work in progress."

Do you think Adams would have been cool with this? If you became a famous artist, revered by the billions, would you want a sketchbook of your ideas released to the public?

William Turnage, one of three Adams' trustees [said]. "I think it's unethical in terms of museum ethics and behavior. It's something that never would be done at MoMA or the Art Institute of Chicago. ...But you know, what the heck? Some people are going to take advantage and try to profiteer, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Ethical or not, what can we learn from this? That everything we make is about process, that nothing just appears as it is, and images take time to unfold. Artists think, and they plan, or they plan not to think. Either way, it's process.

"The more we find out about artists, the better perception we have of their life," Pendergraft said. "This gives us a better feel for Ansel Adams and some of his travels through the country that we didn't realize he had been in. It fills in some of the blanks and will give the visitor here a whole new perception of who he was and how he took photographs."

Source

Artist: Jeff Scher

Ohhh, goodness. What a discovery.

I love learning about a new artist whose work just makes me want to stop everything and start creating immediately.

Today I discovered Jeff Scher, who has a blog on the New York Times website. His bio says that he is "a painter who makes experimental films and an experimental filmmaker who paints." I like that. I like using the word "experimental" in a description about yourself, and I like the idea of presenting an identity that is a dichotomy of sorts. I don't think that artists should be able to define themselves too clearly. Kind of reminds me of that show tune lyric, "you gotta get a gimmick, if you wanna to get ahead."

I did some research into his work, and learned this on zanimation.tv:

Scher gave up his pre-med studies for film while at Bard College in the mid-1970s. He still makes use of rotoscoping, an old animation technique in which film frames are blown up and traced individually onto animation cels. In Scher's case, he painstakingly hand paints and shoots each frame of film, sometimes substituting clay, paper models or found materials for his paintings.

His work is sooooooo(etc.) moving. I'm especially recommending that you take a moment out of your busy day to watch his short animation, "You Won't Remember This." The title, the imagery, the movement, the music, is just so tender and precious.

I'm so in awe by this, as I usually am by animators, because I feel like the idea of capturing life frame by frame, light by light, is so awesome (and I mean that in the truest sense of the word). It's life in slow motion, then sped up again, but with an acute appreciation for how all our subtle nuances come together to create the big picture.

I'm really inspired by this.

--> His NYT blog, "The Animated Life"
--> His official website
--> "You Won't Remember This" - Film