“You know, I’m completely ignorant of that artist’s work. I try not to pay any attention to art history.” I heard these words from a slight, young European artist, a lock of hair strategically hanging across his left eye, just frazzled enough to be chic. I wanted to smack him upside the head; thought better, maybe just a headlock and some nuggies. It wasn’t like I was talking to him about some cult figure from Albania or Bushwick. I was referring to Robert Rauschenberg, the Robert Rauschenberg. I’d bumped into this kid after closing time on a Sunday afternoon in the “Killing Room” at a Williamsburg gallery.
Where the following video can be found...
James Kalm ventures out east to visit an exhibition which melds the influences of Graffiti, Surrealism, science-fiction illustration and cartoon art titled "Pop Subversion". Curated by Andrew Ford, this exhibition inhabits an undefined realm that many young artists currently find themselves in, between the street and the gallery, the comic book and the hallucinatory dream. Features an extended interview with Andrew Ford.
This free Demon Pig Mask Poster is from Fuzzy Balls Apparel, which, as the artist says, "sounds like I am saying 'Fuzzy Balls of Peril'." Hence the name of the pig mask poster.
While there, scroll for more free goodies and then click about, wildly, to see all the other madness.
Illinois On A Stick, just one of the many states on sticks available by Erick Maldre -- and if you don't see the state you'd like on a stick, he does custom work.
I'd say he would sell cart-loads of this work at Lambeau Field -- better yet, if it was edible.
You can find more of his conceptual, original postmodern art at Etsy. And check out his blog, Etsy Art.
This particular piece is for the Coptopus cover (Front, back, what's the diff? It's a cover people!) and I for one love it. I wouldn't touch it if a serving wench brought it to my table, but on a cover it's quite delicious.
Stephen's dad, an amateur artist (as the cake on the right shows) . Stephen wanted to know what, exactly, his dad was trying to draw on these cakes. His dad tried his best to explain, even drawing new versions, but with no luck. After a long search, and with some humorous help from his dad, the book his dad learned cartooning from was discovered. Memory is a fun filter: when it loses things, those things cease to be real, no matter how relevant it was.
My new favorite crusty artist is Timothy Ray. I met Timothy at the NMVA's Art Burn on Saturday and yet it wasn't until I read more about him that I discovered his inner-true-crusty-artist self.
On the one hand, this project has been repeated so often with so little variation, that one cannot be blamed for saying “Oh, no. Not again” On the other hand, these projects are enormously popular, easily out-drawing even the most important museum exhibitions. So even though it is corny, trite, and represents a feeble effort to raise cliché to the level of kitsch, one must participate. Otherwise, if one simply opts out, he doesn’t get to make these statements.
Which I find really amusing -- mainly because I didn't dare utter such a thing when our daughter, Allie, had a part in painting a buffalo. Mommy-work collides with my true aesthetic response. It's not that I don't find her work or the other artistic bison messages interesting, or even non-art; I support the arts (nearly) as much as I support my kids. But damn if Ray doesn't speak the truth of such events & 'opportunities.'
If you're looking for ducks, cute children or fall landscapes, try someplace else. There is lots of that out there.
Oh, he's so damn wise. He describes the reason why I avoid many art shows. I've got cute kids at home. I collect ducks. Fall happens for many months -- every year. With art, I want something new. Something... else.
It can't be wrong to covet an artist's work for his personal crusty-factor; it's like the living artist's statement.
Ever wonder what happens to all those pointy objects that are impounded at the airports? Some turn into....
HALLOWEEN NIGHTMARES!!!!!
If spiders made out of scissors doesn't make your skin quiver with horror, you're not doing it right...or something like that. Remember, those scissors were taken away from airline travelers, which means these scissors are terrorists. Turning them into spiders is only empowering their horrible, violent spirits. Run, run while you still can. (via)
Jason Huntley made Michael Jackson out of breakfast cereal, mostly "Oreo O's" because "it provided the darkest brown and the lightest white." He calls the piece Breakfast in Neverland, maybe because Just Eat It reminds us all more of Weird Al Yankovic.
Dig the use of what I (and Donte) presume to be Alpha Bits to spell King of Pop.
Officially known as a woolie, this charming art piece had a much higher appraisal than I could have imagined. Mine is definitely not as old, nor as 'clean' in short tight stitches, as most woolies -- and valued accordingly (mine at $150, most others over $4,000) -- but it was lots more than I had paid ($4). And lots more than the estate sale had it priced at ($40). I figured the $40 had to be too high because, as Daddy says (when I mention estate sale and antique shop prices), "Well, it's still there... It didn't sell because the price is too high."
It certainly makes sense, given what I now know, that this particular American made woolie would be made later than most British woolworks -- so the circa 1930s-50s decree makes sense. Americans made few woolies, and those they did were made later (which also matches the later trend towards larger stitches). And being painted, it likely was created by a retired sailor. Which accounts for both the larger size and again, the later time period.
But it still seemed rather more 'primitive' or 'naive' than the other woolies I was seeing in photos...
Upon closer inspection though, there are many charming details which impress upon me that my woolie is authentic -- and the sailor had great artistic flair.
The flames & smoke are consistent with a boiler fire, which shows at least some rudimentary ship knowledge. And the flames on the lines are also most precise. The iceberg is reflected in the waters -- waters which have a choppy impressionistic quality, rather like a Monet. Clearly this sailor-artist was workin' it in this piece.
So I'm most proud of it, and even more charmed than when I first purchased it. The appraisal value is cool to know, but secondary.
Then again, if I had not brought it in to the appraiser, how would I know what it is called? I needed to know the name 'woolie' in order to research it. And find more of them.
Which brings me to two points.
First of all, I apologize to my woolie for calling it a "sad little piece of folk art." It is grand and I love her.
Second, while I am not likely to over-estimate the monetary value of my stuff (it's just not in my nature to do math -- and round up -- where the main issue is charm), I don't think I will ever again be so anxious about attending such events like Trash or Treasure. Or even getting appraisals.
