Art of the far north: Zaria Forman’s Greenland farewell.

Screen Shot 2014-03-16 at 6.15.39 PMIt’s been a long, difficult winter. Frigid and unrelenting. Bitter cold in a way that feels almost violating, seeping under my clothes and into my skin, settling in my bones and turning those elegant calcified shapes into fragile pieces of ice, ready to shatter at a moments notice.

To be clear, I’m not a fan of winter.

But I am very much in love with Zaria Forman’s series of drawings, “Greenland: Chasing the Ice.” In August 2012, she lead an arctic expedition for the purposes of capturing the icy landscape in art. Inspired by her mother’s desire to head north, Zaria struck out on history’s second trip with this goal (the first was in 1869, led by the American painter William Bradford). Tragically, though Zaria’s mother was instrumental in planning the expedition, she didn’t live to see it through. “Documenting climate change, the work addresses the concept of saying goodbye on scales both global and personal,” Zaria writes. “In Greenland, I scattered my mother’s ashes amidst the melting ice.”

Whoa, right? It’s big, heavy, sad, lovely work. And the drawings, as you might have noticed, are stunning. Zaria also traveled to Svalbard (a peninsula at the northern tip of Sweden) and produced many drawings based on that experience. Her work is amazing. Delicate, detailed, but so, so cold. It makes me shiver to look at it.

Check it out here.

 

Myriam Dion is destroying print media.

anthology-mag-blog-Cut-Paper-by-Myriam-Dion-2As much as it pains me to admit this, I know, at some point in my life, I said the phrase “print media is dead.” It was probably when I was fresh out of college and working exclusively online and intoxicated by the sweet poetry of HTML and distracted by the truly catholic offerings of my most beloved blogs. I probably thought I was just being practical. I probably thought I was right (because I usually do think that, sometimes even for far longer than I honestly should).

But print is not dead! Print is alive and wonderful and fun, and learning about things like page bleed and grammage has been surprisingly fascinating. Paper is a cool thing, in and of itself, but Myriam Dion makes it extra, excruciatingly cool. This Canadian artist turns newsprint into art, thus destroying the original object’s functionality while creating something that is far more beautiful than the paper itself. And she does this by cutting, slicing, and peeling out slivers of the pulpy-soft weave. With Dion’s pieces, print is both alive and dead. And I love it.

See more at Anthology Mag.

Girls.

nz-10I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the friendships that form between girls. As a kid, I always had just one best friend. I tended to have these incredibly close, very intense relationships with just a single person. I guess you could say my serial monogamy began back in grade school, because as an adult, I do the same thing with men.

I think I’ve always been drawn to the intimacy that can arise between a pair of two—especially between two girls. For years, the most important relationship in my life was with a friend named Sara. We spent every free moment together; we held hands, we called each other every night; we talked alike and acted alike. We were eventually voted “Dynamic Duo” in our high school yearbook. Even now, when fiances and boyfriends have become our Significant Others, we remain close. But the giddiness, the head-tingling pleasure of whispering secrets, the sweet feeling of acceptance—all that is something I will always link to childhood. To late night sleepovers and days spent passing notes, written in glitter pen, folded with intricate origami, and written in the secret language that passes between middle school girls.

While her photographs don’t depict groups of two, Osamu Yokonami’s series of schoolgirl portraits remind me of that strange, almost mystical feeling of becoming so very, very close with another person. There is nothing sexual about it, but in some ways, that makes it even more intense; it’s wanting to be someone, to inhabit the same space, to have an identity that is somehow more than yourself, yet lighter, more diaphanous, full of sweetness and light and air.
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Dressed in uniform, these girls are seen from a distance. At this range, they all look the same. They could have come out of the same wooden doll, little matryoshkas walking one by one across a snowy field. They could be dolls or demons. They meld together, these girls.
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The entire series is gorgeous, as is all Yokonami’s work. There is a dreamy quality to it that reminds me of old photographs, shot with clunky cameras and developed in dark rooms. See what I mean, here.

Jillian Tamaki makes myths come alive.

Screen shot 2013-08-12 at 7.59.28 PMI have always been drawn to myths and legends above all other forms of storytelling. They’re the oldest answers to all of our questions. They speak to people across cultures and generations. They say something vital, strange, and deep about what it is to be human. They are in our blood, deep within our veins, moving like so many slow growing roots, connecting us to our most primal fears, most archaic yearnings.

Over and over, artists have tried to capture the otherworldly nature of these stories, and I never get sick of seeing them. But these images, by illustrator Jillian Tamaki, strike a powerful chord in me. Her style is both precise and free-flowing. Shadows of horses rush from a dark cloud, swans beat their wings into a frenzy of feathers. The style reminds me of woodblocks, but there is something wonderfully modern about each piece.

irishmythsandlegends_tamaki8In addition to this series, which was created for a new printing of Irish Myths and Legends (available through The Folio Society), Tamaki has worked on several more mundane projects. But though they may be company commissioned, her talent elevates even ads.

See more here.

{Via}

Maine-made prints.

Hummingbird TriptychI don’t highlight Maine-based artists nearly enough on my blog, especially considering how much awesome talent is hidden away in our corner of the country. Including Josh Brill, the artist behind Lumadessa. He makes these fantastic geometric animal prints that I totally adore. While his shop has many colorful avian prints—including a stately blue jay and a pretty little cardinal—I particularly like the jungle animals. Made of stripes and blocks and other hard shapes, they are surprisingly light and sweet.
Screen shot 2013-07-02 at 9.09.06 PMIn unrelated news, I just finished reading Life of Pi. I expected to love it, and I didn’t. But I did close the book with a new appreciation for zookeepers. I’ve still never been to a zoo (an odd never-have-I-ever fact), and I’m not convinced I should ever go to one, but there is something to be said about animals loving their routines. I know my dog loves her simple life.

Anyway, if you want to buy one of Josh’s prints, you can do so here. 1% of profits go to animal and environmental charities, a fact that makes me feel mildly better about possibly purchasing yet another quirky, unframed print. I really need to find some good, cheap frames…

Bright white, true blue: the MFA exhibits my favorite colors.

blueandwhiteIt’s not often that I wish I was back in Boston, but this exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts has me planning a trip down south: “Blue and White,” on show at the Henry and Lois Foster Gallery. Blue and white ceramics are such a familiar sight, but this show takes the traditional color palate and somewhat rigid medium and twists it, transforming the formula. From what I’ve seen online, the pieces echo earlier work in a playful, irreverent way. Plates are painted with unexpected scenes, impressionist brushstrokes dance across porcelain, and polka dots lend a youthful quality to a fluid sculpture with a möbius strip-like complexity.
Screen shot 2013-07-02 at 8.56.43 PMHow fun, right? Sadly, it’s only on view for a few more days… so I probably won’t make it there. What a bummer.

[MFA Boston]

Carly Waito has me craving rocks.

Screen shot 2013-06-23 at 11.14.53 PM
Some kids, my teacher friends have told me, feel the need to put everything in their mouths. “I don’t get it! Why would you eat that?” they say, wondering about glue, crayons, chalk, and other, more sinister science-experiment materials. I act like I’m confused, too, but I get it. I was one of those kids, who needed to lick objects, to smell and taste each thing. I was a kid who ate chalk and dirt and took rocks from the beach, smoothed by the sea and flavored with salt, and hid them in my mouth like candies.

Is this gross? Maybe, but I remember a fair number of paste-eating kids from my childhood. I think most of us grew out of it, but for whatever reason, I still want to lick these paintings by Carly Waito.

Screen shot 2013-06-23 at 11.14.40 PM

Yes, they are paintings! I know, they look just like photographs. It takes some serious skill to render geodes and rocks in such exquisite detail. Lately, I’ve found myself drawn to hyper-realistic painters. My dad is a big fan of James Aponovich, and so several years ago, he bought me a poster. It’s a still life, and it’s very realistic, two things I don’t always go for, and yet somehow it has survived my schizophrenic apartment hopping and remained on my walls. More and more, I find myself appreciating artists who give their work that weird lickable, slick quality. Even as they approach perfection, even as they verge into photographic likeness, there is always a certain element that keeps it from being quite perfect. Is that cruel to say? I hope Waito isn’t striving for perfection. I rather like what she’s doing now.

Fong Qi Wei blows up blossoms.

Rose Exploded 01, SingaporeIf you ask my boyfriend, who is a biologist by trade and botanist by passion, he will tell you all about the sex lives of plants. Pistols and stamens and pollen—oh, my! It’s some seriously dirty stuff. I think photographer Fong Qi Wei gets that. His flowers are exploding with joy, bursting with happiness and color and light. His photographs are a psychedelic exercise in neatness. Paradoxical? Perhaps, but I don’t care.
Sunflower Exploded 01, SingaporeSee more here.
{via Laughing Squid}

A few thoughts on death, photography, and Ghost Busters

med_fuss_af-0462-jpgA fascination with ghosts can be written off as whimsical. Often, people imagine Casper or Bill Murray fighting ectoplasmic globs, when one mentions the g-word. True believers might find it a bit more sinister, but even then, they tend to speak of odd occurrences with windows, breathy sounds heard in the night, a persistent shadow that falls without light, old objects found with no point of reference. All things that are possibly spooky, but never truly threatening. As someone who writes frequently about ghosts, I tend to hear a lot of ghost stories. But even when the storyteller is uncomfortable, I find it’s more often out of embarrassment than fear.

But a fascination with death? That’s an entirely different kind of beast. Even the word trails off with fear, lingering consonants that dryly hang in the air. Death is threatening. It is real. It is ugly and universal and either entirely unfair or ruthlessly just, depending on who you ask.

Though I don’t like to think about death, I tend to do it a lot anyway. This helps explain one of my weirder possessions: a book of images from The Burns Archive. The Burns Archive, as you’ll see if you click that link, is a collection of photography that focuses primarily on the grotesque. There are images of soldiers and their gun wounds, portraits of the mentally ill, and lots and lots of postmortem photography.

Why would anyone take a picture of a dead person? Well, this used to be the thing to do when your relative died. It was a curious practice, and often involved propping the deceased up in a chair, pushing their eyelids open, and doing everything possible to make them appear alive. It’s the strangest masquerade; the dead posing as the living in a medium that has been described as a metaphor for death itself. Though I’ve never found the pictures particularly creepy, this idea freaks me the heck out.

And if I’ve just creeped you out, maybe this will bring you some peace: the New York Times recently ran a piece on their Wellness blog about German photographer Walter Schels, who captures his subjects in the days before death, and then again soon after. Instead of being sinister, manipulated and a little bit weird, these pictures are oddly peaceful.

“People are almost always pretending something, but these people had lost that need,” he said in an interview. “I felt it enabled me as a photographer to get as close as it’s possible to get to the core of a person; when you’re facing the end, everything that’s not real is stripped away. You’re the most real you’ll ever be, more real than you’ve ever been before.”

About the image: I didn’t want to clutter up my blog with pictures of dead people, so instead I simply linked to them, and used this gorgeous photograph by Adam Fuss, an extremely talented artist, to illustrate the point. It’s from a series call “My Ghost,” so I thought it was rather fitting.

Honestly, I love Naomi Okubo.

LovelyHonesty is a tricky thing. I think everyone, in some way or another, struggles with the truth. Some people lie, both to themselves and others, acting as through the truth is a disease they can avoid with enough mental hygiene. I tend to flow in the opposite direction; I can be guilty of sharing too much, giving too many pieces of myself. You’re probably thinking maybe that’s why I have a blog. That might be true.

Naomi Okubo not only creates beautiful things, but she also paints with honesty. The contemporary Japanese artist creates images that remind me so much of the scroll painting tradition (and since I’m terribly, incurably American, they also remind me of the “Oriental” inspired works of Mary Cassatt). But while her images are undeniably gorgeous, I’m almost more interested in her artist’s statement. And that never happens. lovely2She writes: Continue reading