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What is it about the Nordic countries that makes them so good at capturing light in striking ways? It probably has to do with being so close to the Arctic circle; I bet there’s some killer light with an angle that severe to the sun. Or maybe there’s some magical Viking stone that gives them their powers. Probably that. I’m willing to believe that magical stones are the root cause of most extraordinary things. Whatever it is, it’s working.
While I look for the perfect duck recipe, and you consider what kind of porn you’re in the mood for this evening (why else would you be on the internet), why not take a look at the Hergé-tastic comics, illustrations and doodlings of Zombiehopp. With a +5 pencil of nerdiness, this work will make you smile and possibly forget what you just saw some naked chick do with her feet. Oh, internet, you are shameless.
As artists come to balance working in both digital and traditional mediums, the possibilities for creation are slowly expanding, while in some ways the techniques are dying. This is an old argument, and not one I’m going to dig into here (though for the price of a beer at a bar I will talk about it for hours), but take a look at the work of someone like Cam Floyd and you will see that there can be a happy medium between the two. Cam creates work with the traditional tools like charcoal, graphite, paint and ink, but then brings that work into the digital realm to add subtle details and hues. And it’s exactly what needs to happen with his work. His style is smudgy and rough, and the digital gives it some sharp lines as counterpoint to the coarseness. This is a balance, and in Cam’s case it’s done beautifully, creating a mix of smooth and blurry, washes and overlapping values that create a richer, more complex emotional pull. Juxtaposition like this has been used for centuries in all the arts, and now with digital tools refining their controls and behaviors, there are two more ideas to be pitted against each other: digital and analog. Like I said, I won’t drag out the pros and cons of either one, but rather I might say that in that ages old argument the right answer isn’t necessarily one or the other, but possibly both.
I’ve always just assumed that when people say something “shows promise,” they’re saying that it “isn’t good enough.” I mean, yeah, it includes that unsaid addendum that whatever it is has the potential to be great, but it says first and foremost that it isn’t great right now. At the same time, I find myself thinking that things “show promise” all the time, even though I think it’s kind of a dick thing to say. I look at tons of portfolios and only a few of them are any good, but a few more are almost good, they have some good ideas, and some interesting methods of execution, but the artist just hasn’t gotten to the point where what’s in their head is coming out clearly in their medium. All that being said, Conor Whelan’s recent work is fantastic, professional, clean and simple. But if you go back a ways into his portfolio you’ll see some work that “shows promise.” His portfolio, then to now, is a good example of how that promise can turn into perfection given time and diligence. That’s a whole other kind of inspiration for you. And if not, well that’s only because as a writer, I still only “show promise.”
Wendy MacNaughton is a minor miracle worker. Flipping through her “Meanwhile” series has made me enjoy living in the Bay Area just a little bit more, and for a homesick southerner, that’s really saying something. Plus, who doesn’t love to see stories and pictures from places that they’ve been in/on/past? She keeps her pictures loose, warm, and personal, like a Maira Kalman for the West Coast. Even if you’ve never set foot in San Francisco, you can still connect to the pure humanity that shines through in her work. See, minor miracles.
Wendy MacNaughton found via Drawn!
In my experience, with most street artists there is a disconnect between the style of their outdoor work and their works on paper. Both can be equally amazing, but they usually look very different, and rightly so. One is being drawn larger than the artist themselves, usually quickly due to the illicit nature of the work, and on a rough wall surface, the other is being drawn very small on smooth paper with very precise instruments. Of course they’re different. But somehow Spanish maestro ARYZ makes them the same. And I’m not talking about a burner on a brick back alley, I’m talking about a 40 ft. high multi-color masterpiece. I’ve never seen anyone with that kind of consistency before, maybe he should get some kind of crown or at the very least a scepter that is also a paint roller. Long live King ARYZ.
If you haven’t remembered to check out the work of the always fantastic Luke Pearson lately, consider this your reminder. You’re probably overdue for your annual marvel at how awesome his work is. You should probably double your dosage, just to play it safe.
Maybe there’s a reason that Philadelphia was the home of the American Revolution, maybe there’s a reason that I’ve become friends with everyone I’ve ever met from Philly, that reason is unknown to me. I just know that good things come from Philly, PA. Daniel Blackman further proves this rule with his simple, somewhat folksy, somewhat modern graphic design work. I devoured his entire portfolio without stopping. Curse you, Philadelphia, why do you make things so awesome?
As a long-time listener of Metal and enjoyer of all things associated with its evil, there wasn’t even a question about whether or not I would like Florian Bertmer’s sinister mastery of ink and graphite. It was a foregone conclusion. The guy made his own evil Ouija board for fuck’s sake, and called it the Hexenbrett. The detail of every piece literally makes my mind boggle; I can feel it boggling right now. It’s not pleasant. I tell you this more in the way of warning, because you’re going to want to see his work, and when you realize how many fine lines there are, how small he gets, and how well considered everything is, your mind will boggle. At the very least. If you’re on the bus, you will probably hurl on your seatmates. So the warning is more for them than it is for you. Gird your loins for evil in its most righteous, put a little Dimmu Borgir on the stereo, and click that little guy down there. Prepare for boggling.
