Oil on canvas, 20" x 30"
Saturday, July 4, 2009
SKIN
Andrew Wyeth
There may be no better test of what's inside an artist than their response to what's on our surface.
The drama of human flesh has inspired a variety of artistic reactions. As John Updike noted, "the menace of and the sadness of naked flesh have impressed artists as much as its grandeur and allure."
At the same time that skin inspires such reactions, it also provides artists with a broad and complex language for expressing feelings, thoughts and desires. Here are just a few samples:
Toulouse Lautrec brilliantly captures the weight of flesh
In this detail from his watercolor of a weary stripper backstage, Burt Silverman distinguishes between the color of flesh that has been exposed to the sun and flesh that has never seen the light of day.
The ultra-cool Bob Peak lowers the temperature of skin to the level of liquid nitrogen
Gustav Klimt excelled at finding mythical eroticism in flesh
Andrew Wyeth puts flesh under his microscope and finds it radiant
Contrast these rich portrayals of our mortal envelope with the abject poverty of popular technicians such as Vargas or Olivia:
The disparity between these artistic treatments shows that for artists with searching eyes, skin offers clues, promises and temptations about inner life and personality. These are the fuel for true eroticism. On the other hand, lesser artists find that skin blocks any inquiry beneath the surface and ultimately leaves them with a shallow and boring caricature of sexuality.
In this detail from his watercolor of a weary stripper backstage, Burt Silverman distinguishes between the color of flesh that has been exposed to the sun and flesh that has never seen the light of day.
The ultra-cool Bob Peak lowers the temperature of skin to the level of liquid nitrogen
Gustav Klimt excelled at finding mythical eroticism in flesh
Andrew Wyeth puts flesh under his microscope and finds it radiant
Contrast these rich portrayals of our mortal envelope with the abject poverty of popular technicians such as Vargas or Olivia:
The disparity between these artistic treatments shows that for artists with searching eyes, skin offers clues, promises and temptations about inner life and personality. These are the fuel for true eroticism. On the other hand, lesser artists find that skin blocks any inquiry beneath the surface and ultimately leaves them with a shallow and boring caricature of sexuality.
Artists such as Vargas and Olivia excel at painting flesh firm like sausage casing, but they seem oblivious to the cosmic significance of the freckles that they thoughtlessly airbrush from a bare shoulder.
I was reminded of the artistic importance of skin last week when artist Kim Smith sent me an mpeg about the Omo river people in Africa who paint their skin in wondrously beautiful ways using natural pigments from the world around them.
If you can overlook its annoying quotes from Picasso, you may find this slide show about the Omo people as inspiring as I did:
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Pimp my Stroller Video - Rhett&Link
Don't tell me you never though of this, I know I have. Now finally, the first ever episode of "Pimp my Stroller" by the famous and most amazing music duo, Rhett&Link. Many of us have them, a worn out, beat down, cheerio in the crack riding ghetto stroller that is now on its final trip to McDonald's. This first installment of Pimp my Stroller is all the rage right now with the kids, sick paint job, 14" spinning rims and crazy seat covers. I think I even saw a stereo system.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
11th Annual Seattle Art Car- Blowout
This awesome pictures were taken by the who also took the time to write down the names of the cars and the wonderful artist who made them at this years 11th Annual Seattle Art Car- Blowout. If any you have more info on these cars please email me and I can post a detailed entry about your car. Some of the other cars that where there and have been featured on Art Car Central were The Vain Van, Eartha Karr, Aero Car, Leopard Bernstein and Rot N'Hell
SPACE JUNK Art Car by Rot N' Hell
Godspeed 818 Art Car by Phil Teller - Seattle, WA
The Mock 7 Art Car by Daniel Johnston - Bellingham, WA.
Bruce Art Car by Joanne Quinn Owens - Bay Area CA
The Octopod Art Car by Emily Hall - Portland, OR
Flutterbug Art Car by Konnie Mae - Ashland, OR
Flivver Art Car by Joy Johnston - Oregon
Drala the Dragon Art Car By Bruman of Berkeley, CA
Attila the Fun Art Car by Tish Smith - CANADA
All photos were taken by The KronoNaut
SPACE JUNK Art Car by Rot N' Hell
Godspeed 818 Art Car by Phil Teller - Seattle, WA
The Mock 7 Art Car by Daniel Johnston - Bellingham, WA.
Bruce Art Car by Joanne Quinn Owens - Bay Area CA
The Octopod Art Car by Emily Hall - Portland, OR
Flutterbug Art Car by Konnie Mae - Ashland, OR
Flivver Art Car by Joy Johnston - Oregon
Drala the Dragon Art Car By Bruman of Berkeley, CA
Attila the Fun Art Car by Tish Smith - CANADA
All photos were taken by The KronoNaut
THE ILLUSTRATION ACADEMY
This week I played hooky for a few days to sit in on lectures at the Illustration Academy in Sarasota, Florida. The Academy assembles some of the most talented and successful illustrators in the country to discuss their work and teach young artists in hands-on sessions.
I had the pleasure of listening to presentations by Mark English:
Sterling Hundley:
Gary Kelley:
Anita Kunz:
and George Pratt:
If you tried to single out some distinguishing characteristic that accounted for the success of these illustrators, it was certainly not the way they marketed their services. (They had very different techniques.) Nor did they work in a common style-- they used a wide variety of approaches. It was not the stage of their careers (their ages range from 33 to 76) or the medium they used (some painted with computers and some painted with roofing tar). It was not their geographic location (they came from all around the US and Canada) or their gender or their politics. Yet, this group repeatedly won top awards and received choice assignments from the premiere publications.
So what did they all have in common?
It seemed to me that they all shared a deep curiosity about images and the interplay of form and content. Each of these illustrators had the enthusiasm and energy to cast their net again and again for fresh inspiration, exploring new themes and media. This, more than any career roadmap or promotional strategy, seemed to be their common ingredient. Not one of them lapsed into using a repetitive formula. I was surprised at how much of their work was self-generated; one persuaded a symphony orchestra to team with him in an experimental show of projected images to accompany Gustav Holst's The Planets. Another went on a pilgrimage to the backwoods of the Mississippi delta to develop a project on the blues. Their broad intellectual curiosity added a richness to their illustrations that seemed to distinguish them from illustrators who took a more perfunctory approach.
Finally, I would like to add one other observation about my experience at the Illustration Academy. I've spent enough time around the New York art gallery scene to develop an extreme distaste for the phony hocus pocus that often accompanies the creation and sale of art. Sure, I respect the mystery of the muse-- my skin has tingled at the feel of her breath on the back of my neck-- but I can't stand it when her mystery is exploited to inflate a price or glamorize a particular artist. Many artists and art galleries today operate like the high priests in ancient times who cloaked sacred activity within a mystic tabernacle to keep the uninitiated awestruck.
The artists at the Academy, on the other hand, de-mystified everything they could legitimately de-mystify. They had a healthy respect for the role of the muse in creating art, but they did not expand her role for their own self-aggrandizement. Instead, they spoke in honest and functional terms about the genesis of ideas and the ways that art communicates. It was as clean a discussion of the making of art as I've heard in a long time, by people with a sincere interest in passing along helpful information to younger artists, and it reminded me why I like illustration so damn much.
I had the pleasure of listening to presentations by Mark English:
Sterling Hundley:
Gary Kelley:
Anita Kunz:
and George Pratt:
If you tried to single out some distinguishing characteristic that accounted for the success of these illustrators, it was certainly not the way they marketed their services. (They had very different techniques.) Nor did they work in a common style-- they used a wide variety of approaches. It was not the stage of their careers (their ages range from 33 to 76) or the medium they used (some painted with computers and some painted with roofing tar). It was not their geographic location (they came from all around the US and Canada) or their gender or their politics. Yet, this group repeatedly won top awards and received choice assignments from the premiere publications.
So what did they all have in common?
It seemed to me that they all shared a deep curiosity about images and the interplay of form and content. Each of these illustrators had the enthusiasm and energy to cast their net again and again for fresh inspiration, exploring new themes and media. This, more than any career roadmap or promotional strategy, seemed to be their common ingredient. Not one of them lapsed into using a repetitive formula. I was surprised at how much of their work was self-generated; one persuaded a symphony orchestra to team with him in an experimental show of projected images to accompany Gustav Holst's The Planets. Another went on a pilgrimage to the backwoods of the Mississippi delta to develop a project on the blues. Their broad intellectual curiosity added a richness to their illustrations that seemed to distinguish them from illustrators who took a more perfunctory approach.
Finally, I would like to add one other observation about my experience at the Illustration Academy. I've spent enough time around the New York art gallery scene to develop an extreme distaste for the phony hocus pocus that often accompanies the creation and sale of art. Sure, I respect the mystery of the muse-- my skin has tingled at the feel of her breath on the back of my neck-- but I can't stand it when her mystery is exploited to inflate a price or glamorize a particular artist. Many artists and art galleries today operate like the high priests in ancient times who cloaked sacred activity within a mystic tabernacle to keep the uninitiated awestruck.
The artists at the Academy, on the other hand, de-mystified everything they could legitimately de-mystify. They had a healthy respect for the role of the muse in creating art, but they did not expand her role for their own self-aggrandizement. Instead, they spoke in honest and functional terms about the genesis of ideas and the ways that art communicates. It was as clean a discussion of the making of art as I've heard in a long time, by people with a sincere interest in passing along helpful information to younger artists, and it reminded me why I like illustration so damn much.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)