Oh my gosh, Judith Geher’s work takes my breath away. Her style is gorgeous—it’s like Mary Cassatt time-traveled to the 21st century, attended fashion week, and then spent some quality time at the florist. Her paintings are filled with color and motion, thick brushstrokes and sweet pastels. I’m dying for spring flowers, and Geher’s paintings just fit the bill. 
Truly beautiful, right? I love the impressionist style, not to mention her lovely subjects. I wonder if she ever does portraits. It would be AMAZING to be painted as one of her ethereal flower girls.
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Flying so close to the sun.
Sometimes I think I’m pretty crafty, and then I see work like Diana Beltran Herrera’s and I realize I have a long, LONG way to go. I can make paper flowers, but she makes paper fly. Her gorgeous series of paper birds can be seen in full on Flickr, but I first found it on the excellent site Colossal. It’s truly amazing what someone can do with colored paper and a little bit of glue. I’m jealous.
See more here.
I want to hang out with Amy Ross.
You know how people are always saying stuff about celebrities like, “I could totally see myself being best friends with Person X and going out for Taco Tuesday in our yoga pants!” or whatever? (Jennifer Lawrence, you seem to be everyone’s girlcrush of the moment. I hope you savor it, because the internet tide is mean and will turn.) Well, sometimes I feel that way about artist. I know, I just mocked the idea. But sometimes I see a picture and think I would probably like the way their brain works. And that happened today with Amy Ross.
Ross makes these wonderfully detailed pictures of impossible creatures. Birds with mushroom caps for heads, trees with cloven hooves, people shape-shifting into wolves and foxes and other wild things—you get the idea. It reminds me of illustrations from old children’s books, or something out of an 19th Century field guide. They’re lovely and strange at once. Sometimes, I don’t even see the out-of-context species-mixing until after I look a bit closer, particularly with the magnolia series. 
Don’t you think, based on these pictures, that Ross would want to drink tea with me while explaining Downton Abbey? Why does everyone like that show so much? I don’t get it.
See her whole portfolio (it’s HUGE) on her website: AmyRoss.com.
Papercuts for The Bard.
Some people say that print is dead, but I’m not buying it—probably because I am buying books, and so are plenty of other bibliophiles. However, I do think publishing is changing, and one way I can see it adapting to the digitization of the writer word is through making books that aren’t disposable, that aren’t simply a collection of characters, but rather objects worth owning (and collecting). Plenty of publishers, both the big guys and the indie players, are releasing special edition copies of the classics that are straight up gorgeous. I’ve written about my adoration for the Barnes & Noble collaboration with typographer and artist Jessica Hische a few times before (enough that my mom took note, and bought me a box set for Christmas last year), but today I came across a new object of literary lust: Sterling Publishing’s Shakespeare collection, as illustrated by papercutting genius Kevin Stanton.
Just look at Ophelia! It’s lovely and bold and sharp and fluid all at once. From what I can tell, the books have different color palates, from Hamlet‘s dramatic navy and red to the vibrant yellows of Much Ado About Nothing. If funds weren’t an issue, I would buy them all right now—especially Hamlet, because I’ve always had a soft spot for that faker.
Check out more of Stanton’s work here.
Not your grandma’s needlepoint.
Stephen Campbell makes sassy embroideries (prints for sale here), which I freaking love. It’s awesome whenever anyone subverts “women’s work” or “folk art” and shows how transgressive, beautiful, and straight-up artistic it can be. Embroidery requires WORK, you know? Not to mention skill and an eye for color and design and… yeah. Art isn’t just made with oil paints, and that’s freaking rad.
Also, I had a no good, very bad day today, so Campbell’s print is making me thirsty. But you know what we have on top of the fridge? Maker’s. Inspiration strikes!
{Found via Style Carrot}
Our lies are the same, but her fonts are better.
Over at Daily Dishonesty, graphic designer Lauren Nicole Hom documents some of the lies she tells herself. It’s funny, self-aware, wonderfully done, and hits VERY close to home. From the silly (“I have read the terms and conditions”) to the vaguely depressing (“I’m not hungry”), I identify with every single one. But somehow, every single lie is much nicer—more polished, less raw and confessional—when done in hand-drawn typography. This girl has skills!
My Russian romance.
There are few places I want to visit more than Russia. Maybe I’ve just read Anna Karenina one too many times (no, that’s not possible), but if I were to suddenly fall into a Scrooge McDuck-style pile of money, I would spend it all on a ticket to Russia.
If I could go to Russia, I would want to see everything—not just the cities, though Saint Petersburg looks like magic made of stone—and I mean everything. I want to ride the Transsiberian railroad and stare out at all the miles of quiet, scarcely inhabited land. Oddly enough, my desire was only amplified by this recent story from the Smithsonian about a family that lived in the wilderness of Siberia for over 40 years without any human contact. Driven from society by religious persecution, the family of five survived off the land, hunting for meat and dining on bark when there was no better food to be found. It’s really, truly fascinating (not to mention strangely inspiring).
But I’m digressing from what I wanted to blog about, which is this fantastic series of photographs by Richard Davies. The UK-based artist lived my dream and journeyed through the northern part of the continent, capturing images of grand old wooden churches. While I’m familiar with the shapes of the buildings (onion domes that billow out and spires that aspire to the heavens) I don’t think I’ve ever seen them rendered in wood quite like this. Continue reading
Let’s replace the street lamps with chandeliers.
If someone were to ask me right now what do you want to be when you grow up? I would say: “an artist.” I love art. Love it in forms—from oil paintings to earth works—and all places—on the outside of the building and the inside of a gallery. But you know what? I have no talent. None! So instead, I write about the awesome things other people do.
And damn, this is awesome. Austrian artist Werner Reiterer has been creating these beautiful street chandeliers since 2006. By installing these symbols of opulent, interior life onto decrepit outdoor spaces, he creates a fascinating juxtaposition. These outdoor pieces are playful, yet a little tense, especially in how they draw immediate attention to divisions between public and private, haves and havenots. Now, more than ever, it’s fascinating to see how these old symbols of wealth translate, especially when taken out of context.
Cool, right? Plus, I love that it’s accessible to every passerby. Art for the masses! Occupy museums! Or just, you know, enjoy this cool picture.
Kari Herer makes the prettiest bugs.
Artist Kari Herer creates weird and beautiful prints that mix both materials and species in a minimalist mash-up that I adore. Flora and fauna come together in her photography. Using live blossoms and her static sketches, Herer makes bugs out of magnolia petals, foxes out of lush, overripe roses. Some of her pieces look like a Flemish still life—vivid and colorful, bursting with excess. However, others are almost self-consciously O’Keeffe-ian, like the antlered bouquet below. 
And though I’m not a “Mainer” quite yet (or will never be, according to the diehard reps of this odd state) I was more than a little excited to learn that Herer lives and works in Maine.
To purchase prints, go here. And if you want to see more of her stuff, click here.
Christopher Boffoli’s very small world.
When I’m stressed out, I forget to eat. Hunger simply nag at me when my mind is occupied—it melts away, leaving me clear-headed and full of that odd, manic energy that comes from too little sustenance and too much talking. But what if my world were made of food?
Photographer Christopher Boffoli creates amazing images of tiny men living their small, everyday lives while surrounded by massive meals. A janitor sweeps up a pile of mustard on a hotdog, a group of scientists examine the crime scene of a crushed blackberry, and geologists consider going spelunking inside an eggshell. I’ve been documenting my obsession with miniatures for some time now, so it should come as no surprise that I find this series just delightful. And now I’m kind of hungry.
{Found via Incredible Things}
Katy Kelleher 