Incredible And Innovative Art

Contemporary art can often be repetitive and unimaginative. Smearing gesso and white paint on a canvas (no matter how skillfully applied), and calling it "The Absence of Something #404" is not terribly innovative. Piling rusting "found objects" onto a modern art gallery floor as a "social commentary on our disposable consumerism...blah blah...yawn...blah blah", is a lazy explanation for re-purposing junk into junk, while making curators and wealthy collectors extremely happy.

Sometimes one has to know where to look to discover that contemporary art is far from dead, but thriving not so quietly around the world.

Reminiscent of old natural art history illustrations, artist Victor Stankovic cloned cephalopods with insects and created a new species on paper. His on-line animated GIF version only adds to the charm.

Cephalopodoptera by Vladimir Stankovic

This is Vladimir Stankovic's series Cephalopodoptera.

Engineer and sculptor Jonty Hurwitz created an innovative new approach to what Dali achieved without the aid of modern technology. The sculptures reveal their true shape in a reflective surface.

Frogs Are Endangered by Jonti Hurwitz

More can be found at Jontyhurwitz.com

Artist Liu Bolin provides a truly thought-provoking social commentary of a society, where individuals are invisible. His disappearance act uses painstakingly applied paint only.

By Liu Bolin

More of his photographs can be viewed at Thisiscolossal.com

I will see you in a few hours.

The Visual Journal

As children, we draw and paint without giving any conscious thought to composition, materials or color theory.  Looking at some of my childhood creations, I see the unrestrained freedom of mixed media; collages, cutouts, stickers, crayolas and markers mixed with watercolors and found and flattened ephemera. If it could be glued down, I apparently did.  I created comic books, game boards and experimented with pop-up books.

While some stop drawing and creating altogether, my artistic endeavors became "serious". In my spare time, I studied the old masters, realism, art movements and focused on sketching and painting images inspired by the natural world.

At times prolific, at other times other interests took over, but I have always tried to keep some connection to the artistic needs of my right hemisphere. When lack of time prevented me from planning and executing completed paintings, I was restricted to sketching and doodling. Then I discovered the visual journals of Peter Beard; raw, visceral, sometimes graphic, yet always authentic.  I was familiar with his wildlife photography, but I had never seen a grown-up version of creating for the sake of creating with his childlike abandon.

Image by Peter Beard

Image by Peter Beard

Peter Beard's natural studio

I was fascinated and inspired by his journals and began combining writing journals with sketches, found images, paint and markers, without thinking about the end-product or attempting to create "art". It was liberating and allowed me to continue creating, when I had little time to devote to anything artistic.

Visual journals are not a new invention, they have been described as notebooks, field books, visual diaries, scrapbooks and recently resurfaced as "art journals". What they offer in their various guises are infinite possibilities to experiment, observe and explore the world around us and within us.  They require no artistic skill, art supplies or time-commitment. They are not restricted to subject matter or creating a work of art and can contain anything from mundane to-do lists to deep thoughts.  Eventually, they will add up to represent ones life, guiding memories through visual imagery.

I highly recommend them.

The Creative Writing Project Written By Fellow Bloggers 1

This is a fun creative writing project written by fellow bloggers in 5 minutes or less. Feel free to continue the story, add some dialogue or whatever else inspires you. Silence that inner critic, better yet send him/her for a walk, this is not about writing well, but having fun at creating something. Some courageous fellowers have already contributed. There are no rules, add more than once if you like, just one request, please keep it "clean", I prefer to avoid search terms that will gravely disappoint some poor soul out there.  I will post it in the sidebar under Categories so that you can continue to read and add to it. The mystery so far...

Untitled

by

1. Antares Cryptos, 2. A little Sprite, 3. Jono, 4. Claire Beynon, 5. Marylinn Kelly , 6. Elisabeth ,
7. Vinny C, 8. Sprite, 9. Antares C, 10. Marylinn and...

1. He had no recollection of how he had ended up here, wherever here actually was.  Disoriented, he looked around but could not discern much detail. A strangely familiar scent lingered in the air. He thought he heard footsteps. "Hello?" he called, when...

2. ..suddenly there was the sound of metal scraping on reluctant ancient hinges and a door ponderously opened before him. A brilliant white light streamed in from the opening, blinding his eyes and he held a shaking hand to them while they adjusted to the glare. When he lowered his hand, there, before him, a dark figure outlined in the doorway was...  

3. ...beckoning silently. "Wh..Who are you?" he wanted to ask, but the words wouldn't come. He felt drawn, pulled even, he moved slowly toward the figure. As he got closer the familiar scent grew stronger and his eyes adjusted further. Stood before him was a woman dressed from head to toe in white robes. A hood covered her head and part of her face, but he could still tell she was extremely beautiful yet unfamiliar. She continued to beckon and he wasn't afraid. She moved aside as he reached and passed through the doorway into the light. Once through he turned briefly away from her to see...

4. . . . a giant plumb bob, swinging from West to East like the slowing pendulum of an old, old clock. Cumulus clouds gathered on the horizon, growing in volume as he watched - and increasing in dimension and momentum. He ducked as a flare of white lightning sparked across his path, glancing back to where she stood, silent and inscrutable, her ice-blue eyes taking everything in but giving nothing away. . .

5. except for a darting glance toward his clenched left hand, a look so quick he thought he imagined it. As he stood, just for a moment, to plan his next steps, he opened his hand and discovered a map had been drawn on his palm. There were few landmarks, nothing as helpful as a giant "X" and "You Are Here." But the lines were clear and unsmudged and indicated, he hoped, a path toward open country where, if luck was with him, he might find...

6. ...some clue, as to the identity of the woman in white robes, who shimmered in front of him as if she were a ghost. His name was Simon. How could he forget? But hers? What was her name?
The woman did not speak, not at first, but she held out her hand as if to welcome him forward into her ...

7. ... Once again, that mysterious power she had drew him in. Only for a second, he glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the door he had come through. It was gone. He knew he should be worried, but he wasn't. "Shouldn't I try to find an exit? Some way back?" Simon asked himself, No. Those feelings were strangely subdued. All he could think about was this strange place, that strange, beautiful woman with those piercing blue eyes. He turned to where she stood. She was...

8. ...still silently watching him, as if to see what he would do next. Simon was torn. He wanted to stay with her, but he desperately wanted to leave. He looked out over the land again, surveying this strange place, trying to find something familiar. Something to bring him a small amount of comfort. Something to strike out for. But the ever changing landscape and the ferocity of the darkening sky held him back. It was then that Simon realised what he was meant to do. He....

9. stepped towards her, only to discover that she had disappeared. Confused, he looked around. Had he imagined her? Gingerly, he ran his fingers through his hair feeling for bumps or cuts, but found none.
His surroundings were briefly illuminated by another lightning bolt, which revealed a path before him. He began walking towards it and flinched when he felt a burning sensation in the palm of his left hand...

10. and the faint sound of a distant engine, not too well tuned, rumbling in his head. Shaking his head did nothing to dislodge it, but instead increased the volume. What an odd time to think of how sharply he'd spoken to his dog, Renfrew, who had wanted to follow when he set out, saying...

Creativity Rules

I came across this and had to share it with dreamers, builders, innovators and creators.

I am curious, what do you create, build, take apart, improve on, make, upcycle or DIY (Destroy It Yourself)?

One Down, 364 Days To Go

Once again, I have been noticing heart shaped candies in communal spaces, which look and probably taste like last year's.

Valentine's Day is a strange celebratory event.  The concept of "I love you" (once a year, here's a card, confectionery, flowers or a tie, now leave me alone), is foreign to me.  To limit our appreciation and affection for those we care about to one day of the year, while showering them with thoughtless junk, seems counterintuitive.

We scramble to show love and affection by purchasing unimaginative mass-produced cards and gifts in an effort to meet yet another marketing campaign for happiness through the consumption of strategic merchandise.  Before Christmas decorations have a chance to be put out of their misery by being marked down to more than 50% off, the pink and red invasion is already placed on shelves.

With military precision, mostly pink stuffed animals holding ubiquitous heart-shaped pillows parade on store shelves, ready to declare war peace on a household or loved one.  While conservation and recycling is in all of our collective consciousness of late, this does not prevent manufacturers from producing synthetic emotions in the form of plush toys that will eventually end up on a landfill.

With annual amusement, I know that by late February 14th, hormonal teenagers will line up outside variety stores and sweat in card stores in a frantic search for amorosity.  Inevitably, they will leave with funeral flowers and cliched cards, hoping that they might achieve a declaration of their undying love.

Victorians are somewhat responsible for the kitschy images of cherubic children with wings that would not allow a small chicken to become airborne. When did handmade go out of style?  Among friends and family, I am the frequent, willing and grateful recipient of new hobbies and interests.  Someone made it, baked it, constructed it, built it, wrote it, thought of it.  Even though I am not always certain of what "it" is that I have just been gifted (or where to put it), I like "it" anyway.

Just as I was bemoaning the lack of creativity of contemporary cards and gifts, a friend sent me this:
Created by Stephanie Burrows and available here.

I "heart" science.


















I "heart" my family and friends.
















I "heart" my fellow bloggers, readers, followers and commenters.

Commercial symbolism is contagious.

Have a healthy heart day.