Secret Still

Trolling through my favorite artists’ websites today looking for updates, I noticed that Ken Garduno has a pretty massive pile of new work up on his site. Last time I checked in with him there were some black, red, and tan pattern-y pieces, but it looks like Garduno has given them up for more illustrative pieces. His newest work is still mostly black and white, but there are tiny splashes of bright color in each one, drawing the eye and creating a new level of complexity to some already complex work. I saw his piece in the B-Movies group show up here, but what’s up on a solo show in SF, Ken? I need walls covered in that Garduno goodness.

Ken Garduno

And speaking of updates, Stephen Kelleher, aka Frankenstyles, has not only dropped a little new work, but a revamped website as well. The new site design is clean and classy as is the new work. If I had an eighth of his talent I would be on my yacht right now. So take note, he’s freelance and ready to party. I always want to get dudes like him to join me in a zine or something, but the word freelance is a bit of a misnomer. Nobody works for free, and I don’t have any money. C’est la vie. La vie is a bitch.

Frankenstyles

Every so often I come across an artist whose work pretty much slaps me in the feelings. Today Tomokazu Matsuyama left a big, red welt on my astounded gland. His work has some of the characteristics of traditional Japanese paintings — the figure positions, subjects — but everything is so filled in with pattern, shape, and color that you could miss the Japanese stylings. It’s such a beautiful juxtaposition of chaos and simplicity. I’m amazed to find this level of maturity in the painting of someone not much older than myself. Now he just needs to show over on my side of the country so I can giggle excitedly at his work in person. I would giggle like a little girl.

Tomokazu Matsuyama

Photographer Jack Radcliffe has managed to capture a horrifically accurate portrait of a life in his study of his daughter Alison. He set out to photograph her entire life, but found along the way that he was more interested in human relationships in general. Each photograph manages to capture a moment in a young girl’s life, not the life of the photographer’s daughter. There’s no judging as parent, and that was a conscious choice made my Radcliffe. I doubt I could manage that kind of detachment from my kid, even if it only lasted as long as the open and close of a shutter. Radcliffe is able, and the results are beautiful, piercing, and heartbreaking.

Jack Radcliffe: Alison

Maybe it’s because I read Martha Stewart Living, or maybe it’s Design*Sponge’s fault, but most of the illustration that I like seems to fall into the “softer” category. I like delicate lines, and cool colors, and simple shapes. No matter who’s at fault, it’s probably gonna be the reason I get severely beaten in an alley someday. But when I recover I’ll go right back to wanting everything in my house to be soft and warm. Illustrations like Cheon Eun Sil makes. They’re all smooth colors and comfortability. These are the illustration version of a thick, chenille blanket. And regardless of what my testicles want me to say, given the opportunity to wrap the illustrations around me, I totally would. Take that machismo.

Cheon Eun Sil

What if Basquiat and Andy Warhol had somehow managed to have a child together? What would a kid like that create? These are the questions I ask myself in the quiet hours I spend rocking back and forth in my corner. The internet, as always, has provided the answer. The work of breakdancing astronaut duo Hank and Matlok is just the kind of thing the little pop bastard babe would crank out on a three day coke binge. It’s colorful, schizophrenic, shaky, and covered head to toe in the scrawls of popular culture. It’s your favorite kid’s breakfast cereal turned into epic artworks, and it’s part of a balanced breakfast. Shit is ill in the extreme. We need to form a skate posse together.

Hank and Matlok

Russ Mills, the genius behind Byroglyphics, has an assload of new prints for sale in his online store. You know I don’t usually shill for anyone, but amazing work like this for so cheap is too much for me to keep to myself. Visit his site to see all the new work he’s been pumping out, then visit his store to buy a print before they’re all gone. Make it the one thing you do this year that you won’t regret.

There has long been a raging argument about whether or not so-called Street Art is actually art. Even the works by street artists shown in galleries is sometimes disputed. I’m not an expert in any way, shape, or form, but I know what moves me, what I think is beautiful. That, to me, is art. One person communicating their emotions to another person through a medium. Even conversation is an art. But I have no doubt that even the most staunch defenders of “pure” art forms would have no trouble accepting the work of Ernest Pignon-Ernest as art in its truest sense. His street art works so harmoniously with its environment that, as with all great street art, the environment itself becomes a part of the representation and meaning of the work. I think most of us will agree that making art a part of the world is preferable to making it on the world. Or maybe it’s just me. Thanks for the link Will.

Ernest Pignon-Ernest

Just a quick state of the union. I’m done for today, and tomorrow marks the beginning of my Three Day Three Year Anniversary Jam. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday will be spent celebrating the love, respect, and mutual annoyance The Girl and I have cultivated over the last three years. We’ll be repping our relationship in the most gangsta ways possible. We’re visiting the Exploratorium, the SF Zoo, hiking in the desert, and making fresh strawberry jam. You just don’t get more street than that. I suspect Suge Knight will drop by for some pointers. So for the rest of the week/weekend the blogosphere can suck it. Peace, I’m out.

French artist Sinke is bloggling my mind today with patterns on top of patterns, playing a twisting game of open space magic. Not only that but there’re plenty of blinding-ass colors to squinch up my pupils all tiny. I’m getting eyestrain from the redonkulousness of it all. And if the paintings aren’t enough to leave you drooling and confused, the toys sections features an array of spray cans in coats and little shoes. Sure, because who hasn’t wanted to play dress-up with their cans now and again. I think I’m more a fan of the paintings, really. The type of work that would go hand in hand with a good Shag piece. Alls I know is, if I keep staring at these things I won’t need to get LASIK ’cause my janky eyes will fix themselves. Or boil out of my face. Dude, spellcheck is not enjoying this post.

Sinke