NYC artist Michael Mararian sent me an e-mail about his new show that just opened at Corey Helford Gallery in LA. And thank God. I wish the rest of you would give that a try. Save me the 8 years that I spend every day tracking down good work. True, I might not like your stuff, but I won’t tell you that. I’ll just let it pass on by. It’s like hitting on someone in a bar; either it works out or it doesn’t, no one gets hurt from trying. If Mararian’s work came up to me in a bar it would clearly be getting lucky. Or I would run the hell away. It’s hard to tell. In his own words, Mararian’s Inky Dreadfuls “is like the sensibilities of Edward Gorey meets the Americana of Norman Rockwell,” and I’m gonna throw in: with the draftsmanship of Durer. In his new show titled Phobias, Foibles & Fiends, M.M. takes on the world of fear and folly with a cast of morose moppets (dude, I am hitting the alliteration hard today). The works are all black and white brilliance except for the occasional blood red or infernal fiery orange, and many come in their own ornate Edwardian frames. There are still a few available for you to purchase and hang above your steampunk LCD TV. That’s right, I mocked steampunk. Now take off those waistcoats, assholes.

M. Mararian’s Inky Dreadfuls

I see a lot of great work most days. I see a lot of bad work, too, but I can filter it pretty well. Maybe about five or six times a year I actually see something that moves me, that is deeply personal yet completely open, a shared experience of emotion through art. That is certainly the ultimate goal of any artwork. This morning I came across a photo-essay titled Days with My Father by the photographer Phillip Toledano. The series captures Toledano’s life with his father, who has no short term memory, after Toldeano’s mother died. The series is heartbreaking and hopeful, and brought up a mix of emotions I wasn’t expecting. It’s interesting to see someone else’s perspective on their feelings for their father, and to view my own paternal relationship in that light. Toledano shows his mastery of the photographic art as well with each staggeringly expressive shot. Every portrait captures the sum total of the subject, even though that total is completely different from one shot to the next. At the heart of the series is just the simple act of a son demonstrating his love for his father in the only way that he knows to express such powerful emotions. You can almost stand at the edge of the limitless expanse that is that love and peer over. Almost. Some things are just too personal. Now I’ve gotta go call my dad.

Phillip Toledano: Days with My Father

I know how sweet the cushy corporate job can be. The job where you’ve got that golden ball and chain of insurances and 401K’s tied to your ankle. You might not be happy, but you’re not too unhappy. It’s not easy jumping from that frying pan right into the fires of freelance. Unless you’re like Johnny Yanok who has more than enough talent to get clients without trying. The Ohioan now gets to spend his time making paintings and throwing great work at clients like Cartoon Network and Disney. We should all be so lucky. Fortunately for Yanok there doesn’t appear to be an end in sight. His work has consistently been some of my favorite in the various group shows that he’s been involved in, and he’s got more in the pipes. Seems like he’s found himself that ever elusive American Dream. It’s in Akron. I never thought of looking there.

Johnny Yanok

Canadian Mathlete and Calvin Klein Hand Model Rey Ortega (read his interview) wanted me to let all of you know about his upcoming group show, No Parachute Required, opening next Thursday at Gallery 1313 in Toronto. I won’t be there because I’m allergic to snow and hats with ear flaps, but I know that several of you are Canadians by trade. I check the stats, there’s no sense in denying it. If you’re anywhere in the sovereign Maple Nation you have no excuse for missing out on this show. Aside from Rey’s work, the show also features works from Christina Ung, Alexei Vella, Greg Hill, Michael Byers, and Kyung Soon Park (mentioned previously). That’s a seriously great line-up, and for the first time in my life I’m a little regretful that I’m not going to America’s little brother. Check the flyer (above) for all the details. And as an added bonus Rey was drunk enough to send me a great shot of one of his newest works. The piece is actually the finished version of the sketch that was featured in my interview with Rey. How do you like them apples, Internet? See the masterwork after the jump.
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One of my favorite things in coming across artists and designers is when I find one whose work inspires me, astounds me, what have you, and the artist in question is still in school. Do you even know what that means? It means that they’ve got the rest of their lives to get better. It also means that they generally haven’t been weighed down by the millions of conventions that plague the creative world. And on top of all that they probably haven’t been rejected enough to really give a shit what anyone else thinks yet. That last one is a pro and con. But such is the untainted, potential-filled, already wonderful work of Toronto’s Jan Avendano. Her patterns and doodly, scribbly illustrations make me all kinds of glad. I’m really into her complex pen work most of all. As someone with almost zero patience I am always amazed by anyone who can draw in so many lines and curves. I’m usually thinking about the next project before I’m halfway through the first. But this isn’t about me, it’s about Avendano, who’s work is great. Great, god dammit, and it’s only gonna get better.

Jan Avendano

Eleanor Davis, in her bio, says that Savannah, GA is “possibly the most pleasant city in America”. And in some ways she’s right. Some parts of it that I’ve seen are not very nice at all, and I’m pretty surprised I’ve lived to tell about them. I’ve also seen the parts that she’s talking about, and I can see how they would make her work weird and cool and full of little monsters getting into scrapes. She also runs Little House Comics with Drew Weing. Savannah is definitely a great place for that. Because of SCAD, the art and design community there is tight-knit and wildly creative. Eleanor’s comics and illustrations are magical for sure, and even though I have my doubts about Savannah, the city and its art community are better off for having her there.

Eleanor Davis

*Update*: I’ve been informed that Eleanor has left Savannah for the tiny, indie bubble that is Athens, GA. I can tell you that’s probably a better place to sit under trees and make comics. It’s not as easy to score some rock, though. Life is all about trade-offs.

p.s. Every time I do an update like that I always hear Robert Stack’s voice from Unsolved Mysteries. He would come on at the end of a segment and say “Update” like he was a journalist, and not some guy who hosted a show where ghosts were regularly featured. You always knew there was a happy ending when he would say update. Helped me sleep easier.

South Korean (now Canadian) artist Kyung Soon Park has a beautiful and graceful illustration style that mimics traditional Asian brush paintings. I’m all for use of classical styles, but when that style is applied to modern subjects there is a whole new depth added to the form. Every piece maintains a subtle juxtaposition between the simple world from which the style derives, and the complex modern world that the subjects inhabit. It turn everything into a kind of satire by default, a window into the past held up as a mirror for the present. All of that and it looks amazing. Win/win.

Kyung Soon Park

I came across one of Rob Hunter’s penguin book covers somewhere online, and damned if I wasn’t completely impressed. I saw his Moby Dick cover and it made me actually want to buy Moby Dick. I fucking hate Melville, so that is pretty incredible. His illustrations are so playful, and yet so well done it almost makes me sick. It’s rare to find a good illustrator who can create such a powerful voice in their work. And by voice here I mean the ability to convey a message, tone and concept all without words in an image. His work hearkens back to the real illustration golden age before every kid with a computer could make some multi-colored flower explosion behind a leggy model. I’m glad people like Hunter are still out there being more talented than everyone else. It helps me sleep.

Robert Hunter

Quiz question of the day: What do you get when you give a small, Japanese child a bunch of acid and some paints? Answer: Ginette Lapalme’s magical mystery works. She creates paintings and drawings that feel like if you knifed your dreams in the gut and tried to mop up all the blood with gumdrops. Yeah, that’s a pretty good description. Let’s go with that. I could see myself laying shirtless on a shag rug reading one of her zines and drinking Grape Drink from a goblet. Zappa will be covering Barry White on the Hi-Fi. And just like that I’ve got my weekend planned out.

Ginette Lapalme

Daniel Zeller’s abstract inkwork falls somewhere between close up shots of Nudibranches and aerial photos of the Nile, but more importantly it falls right into the radical section of my brain. It’s a big section, but it’s on the underside so it’s hard to get to. But anyone who has enough discipline to convey concepts through such rigorous detail gets a gold star in my book. I can’t even imagine the almost trance-like state he has to occupy while creating these modern mandalas. Along with the intricate drawings comes a color pallette that is both simple and perfectly suited to the task. The contrast between each color creates almost a vibration in the eye that gives the patterns depth and dimension. Capital job, sir. Capital.

Daniel Zeller