There must be some kind of face-obscuring artist club out there. This is the sixth one I’ve posted this month. (See Willi Kissmer, Prince K, Stefano Bonazzi, Benjamin Delacour, and Vonn Sumner.) Oh, wait… maybe this is the club and I’m the minute-taker… Hmm…
Any, I love Alison Brady’s style. Like stark ’70s identity crisis nightmares.
Who knew oil on canvas could be this sensual? Holy crap. When I saw these, I couldn’t friggin wait to post them. What the hell? I feel like chucking my job and becoming a painter. Or, at least, hopping on a plane and going to sit and drool for a few hours in front of the originals.
What is very clear from every image this Minsk photographer produces is that he is making full-blooded art. Gotta love it.
If you confine your discussion of a piece of visual art to subject and technique – a sin I’ve committed as often as I probably should have been (ar-ar) – you will miss the most important aspect of that piece’s genesis, and that’s execution.
How many 3D cyborg babe crapfests are out there? More than you could ever flush in an industrial loo, that’d for sure. The same concept and the same tools are available to Mr. Campbell and these struggling gomers. And yet, his are a pleasure to view, while theirs … yikes…
I got a flier in the mail last week from my haberdasher, Eddie’s Men’s Wear, saying they were having Canadian designers come in to the store each Saturday this month. Well, one of my favs, Antonio Valente, was going to be there today, so Nora and I hied ourselves over there to have a look.
We were shown some seriously cool sport shirts, pants and jackets, each with finely detailed tailoring that pretty much made everything else in the world look like crap. Anyway, long story short, I’m getting a custom shirt made. The master, Mr. Valente measured me himself for it and laid out a panoply of exotic Italian fabrics for my consideration. My god… the metro-dude in me was shining today. Wait till you see this freaking shirt.
Monogrammed turnback French cuffs, turtle shell buttons, four different patterns. I tell you, I’ve never had so much unadulterated joy in a clothing store in my life. This shirt is going to be a work of art. And not because "I picked this and I picked that". Hell no. It’s because every little part of the patterns are lined up perfectly. Everything is hand sewn. These are master friggin tailors making each piece. I tell you, I cannot wait.
You know, it’s been a while since I’ve had a visceral reaction to a painting. This lady evoked one a nanosecond after the page refreshed. To me her work exists on that last inch of cliff edge before you lose control.
You think the monkeys are scary? Wait’ll you see her clowns.