Jose Lerma‘s work borders between 17th century noble portraiture and wild abstractionism. Unlike his college teachings at the University of Wisconsin-Madison he works outside of the box with heavy brush strokes and massive amounts of paint. Which adds another dimension to his work: texture. Lerma also dabbled in political science and law and an MFA in painting, he is an internationally exhibiting artist with shows in Berlin, Korea, New York, Belgium, and Italy, Puerto Rico, and Houston. If you happened to miss the big article we did on Jose in book 2 you can still get a copy and read the massive interview with him. Available here!
Andres Salaff serves up a steaming sub sandwich of revolution in his latest animation, Spaghettis Burger Dress. Word around the campfire is that he plans to make a whole series of these animated paintings. Salaff’s films have played in festivals around the world and now they’re available online. Check out Andres’s videos on his YouTube channel.
Photographer Florencia Durante’s series uses light to wrap her seated subject in a brilliant spectacle of energy. It appears as fractured, gestural drawings that dances on the floor, up the bald man’s (named Ruso) legs and sometimes around his head or out the door. The white-yellow spirit is erratic and is chaotic.
In addition to having a drawn quality to them, these photographs are sculptural. Durante builds up form and by layering line upon line, taking into consideration the contour of the knees and the head. She creates a halo and a veil around her subject.
The light seems simultaneously helpful and terrifying. Ruso sometimes sits idly as it moves around and throughout him. Other times, he has his head in his hands waiting for impending doom.
The work of architect and designer Sophia Chang, Suspense is a site-specific installation that blends the inner and outer environments of a gallery space. A recent graduate with distinction at Harvard Graduate School of Design, Chang created Suspense at Invivia Gallery in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
By pulling large sheets of Lycra between rectangular frames, her work creates an interactive, suspended environment which both blurs yet highlights the building’s pre-existing architectural features. Some rooms are completely explorable, while others remain visible yet restricted by the installation. Says Chang, “The whole piece holds itself in shape under the tensile forces of being stretched without any extra pneumatic input – except perhaps the breeze flowing in and out of the two doors!” (via designboom)
Currently Brooklyn based, Ryan Peltier is a talented illustrator who is currently earning his Masters at the School of Visual Arts. He has been featured in publications such as 3×3, American Illustration, and has won awards from the Society of Illustration Los Angeles. His work has been exhibited at BRIC in Brooklyn, and the Tinlark and Billy Shire Fine Arts in Los Angeles.
Ryan’s process depends heavily on the kind of surface he is working on. He makes it a point to begin with beautiful materials that hold character. The outcome is a collection of illustrations with a whole lot of awkward humor, and delightful surrealism.
When artist Amanda Burnham first moved to Baltimore, Maryland, she didn’t know anyone. So, she spent a lot of time in her 7th floor apartment that had interesting views of the city. The time spent observing and recording her surroundings later informed her temporary, site-specific installations that are a patchwork representation of Baltimore. Burnham draws and paints street signs, fire hydrants, architecture, and store fronts, piecing them together in a manner that’s fractured yet cohesive. Taking elements of a neighborhood (or neighborhoods), she fashions her own view of the city, creating work large enough for a viewer to walk around and between. In an interview with Dwanye Butcher of Visual Baltimore, Burnham explains why she chooses to work this way (and why she reuses paper and boxes):
The idea of things being layered and pieced together is important to me. I see this city, and really all cities, as these giant ad-hoc organisms – collectively authored, chop-a-bloc, joints exposed – an ongoing melange of edits, adjustments, negotiations. I hope to suggest that with the deliberately collage-y, visually dense, maximalist aesthetic of my drawings. I also love paper and what it does when treated as an object – the shadows it casts, the way tears and cuts are line. Most of the paper I use is really cheap stuff – low grade drawing paper that comes in rolls, kraft paper, packing materials. Boxes. That’s important because I’m not rich, but also because I see it as conceptually significant – resourcefulness is an ethic I sometimes see evidenced in the forms of the city, and it’s one I really respond to.
Burnham not only takes the outdoors indoors, but creates a whole new environment in a matter of a few days to a week. Lighting, astro turf, and electrical tape craft an ambience that’s unique to the city.
Kristina Diamond‘s photography series, “I Will Be Dying and So Will You,” makes you feel like you’re having one of those dreams that you don’t particularly care to wake up from. You know, the one where you’ve finally discovered the other fantastic and terrible world residing just around the corner of your consciousness. You have those dreams too, right?
Well, Diamond does. She has developed a moody sort of wonderland in which man is not king, in fact he, or she in this case, seems to be struggling to maintain her very existence. Falling from rocks, blotted out by shrubbery–I don’t believe our flaxen-haired heroin is long for this world.
It’s this sense of anxiety in Diamond’s photographs that is most intriguing, the sense that something awful is about to happen. Diamond captures that bittersweet lull before the storm with delicate accuracy. But is our heroin simply afraid of waking up? Or is the disquiet caused by something more menacing?