by Vivianne Lapointe “I’m So Wild About Your Strawberry Mouth,” a multidisciplinary exhibition by West Virginia-born, New York-based artist Aïda Ruilova, presents…
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by Vivianne Lapointe “I’m So Wild About Your Strawberry Mouth,” a multidisciplinary exhibition by West Virginia-born, New York-based artist Aïda Ruilova, presents…
Continue Reading…
Our interview with the artist about sand-blasted books, ethereal paintings and a transcendental point of view
Examining evolution through the dual lens of spirituality and science, Montreal-based book sculptor Guy Laramée creates miniature landscapes from antiquated paperbacks. Drawing upon over three decades of experience as an interdisciplinary artist (including a start as a music composer) and an education in anthropology, Laramée carves out an existentialist parallel between the erosion of geography and the ephemeral nature of the printed word.
Laramée also evokes notes of nostalgia and the passing of time with his paintings of clouds and fog. A self-professed anachronist, Laramée takes inspirational cues from the age of Romanticism and the transcendentalism of Zen, exploring “not only what we think, but that we think.” Laramée’s distinct, conceptual medium and thematic study of change has involved him in such contemplative projects as the “Otherworldly” exhibition at the Museum of Arts and Design and an impromptu collaboration with WIRED UK.
We caught up with Laramée during his recent exhibition, “Attacher les roches aux nuages” or “Tying Rocks to Clouds”, at Expression: Centre d’exposition de Saint-Hyacinte in Quebec, to learn more about his process and philosophy.
The bookwork came in the alignment of three things: a casual discovery, my undertaking of an MA in anthropology and the building of La Grande Bibliothèque du Québec. The undertaking of this grand library fascinated me because at that time (2000) I thought that the myth of the encyclopedia—having all of humanity’s knowledge at the same place—was long dead. I was, myself, going back to school to make sense of 15 years of professional practice and was, once more, confronted with my love/hate relationship with words. Then came this accident, so to speak. I was working in a metal shop, having received a commission for a theater set. In a corner of the shop was a sandblaster cabinet. Suddenly, I had the stupid idea of putting a book in there. And that was it. Within seconds, the whole project unfolded.
Tom Cheshire, one of the associate editors of WIRED, wrote me one day, saying that he loved my work and inquiring about my future projects. Off the top of my head and half jokingly, I told him that I had the idea of doing a piece with a pile of their magazines (that was not true). He picked up on the idea and suddenly, a pile of magazines was being shipped to my studio. I had had a lot of offers for commissions—all involving my work with books—and I refused them all because they all made me so sad. People were trying to use my work to fit their agendas but the collaboration with WIRED truly inspired me because it fit perfectly with a project I had on my bench for a while, and for which I had found no outlet. The Great Black Tides project is the continuation of The Great Wall project. It gives flesh to a short story written in the mode of an archeology of the future.
The first piece that came out of this project is WIRELAND. It is both ironic and beyond irony. It is ironic that a high-tech magazine would include such a low-tech work in their pages—and foremost a type of work that looks so critically at the ideologies of progress. And it is beyond irony even, because the piece is beautiful. It is beautiful for mysterious reasons but I like to think that the way Tom Cheshire trusted me was a big factor in the success of the enterprise. So if there is a message in all this, I would like to think that it is this: never stop relating to people who defend worldviews, which seem to contradict yours. There is a common factor beyond all points of view.
The 19th century painter and emblematic figure of Romanticism, Caspar David Friedrich, said, “The eye and fantasy feel more attracted by nebulous distance than by that which is close and distinct in front of us.” That sums it up all very nicely. What is blurred and foggy attracts your eye because you want to know what is behind that veil. It is a dynamic prop to set you in motion.
The Great Nostalgia is my main resource. It is not nostalgia about a lost golden age (which never existed). It is the nostalgia, here and now, of the missing half. We live between two contradictory and simultaneous worldviews: the participant and the observer. I work along the thesis that all of humanity’s joy and sorrow come out of this basic schism, something most of the great religions (Buddhism, Sufism, etc.) evoke abundantly.
My work is existential. It may depict landscapes that inspire serenity, but this is the serenity that you arrive at after traversing life crisis. You can paint a flower as a hobby, but you can also paint a flower as you come back from war. The same flower, apparently, but not really the same.
Originally the project was a commission for a local biennale here in Quebec, an event that celebrates linen. The theme of that biennale was “Touch”. I started with used rags, the ones that are used by mechanics and that are called “wipers”. I started by sowing them together without really knowing what I was doing. I was attracted to the different shades of these rags. They are all of a different grey, due to the numerous exposures to grease and the subsequent washings but meanwhile, my mother died. I was with her when she gave her last breath. Needless to say, that gave the project a totally different color.
So, I decided that this project would help me pass through the mourning of this loss. I decided against all reason—you don’t do that in contemporary art— that I would carve a statue of Guan Yin, the Chinese name for the Bodhisattva of compassion in Buddhist lore. It took me four months. I had never carved a statue in wood. Finally, the statue came out of a syncretic version of the original. It is still faithful to one of the avatars of these icons but there is a bit of the Virgin Mary in there. Then, I built an altar over the statue and put the altar on this 16×16 feet tablecloth made of 500 used rags. The piece was first shown in an historic Catholic church which was almost a statement about the possibility of an inter-faith dialogue—even if that was far from my concern at the time when I put it up there. To me, these rags, with the hands of these women over them, became the metaphor of our human condition. As a Japanese proverb says, “The best words are the ones you did not say.”
“Attacher les roches aux nuages” will run through 12 August 2012 at the Centre d’exposition de Saint-Hyacinte.
Centre d’exposition de Saint-Hyacinte
495, Avenue Saint-Simon
Saint-Hyacinthe (Quebec), J2S 5C3
Ethereal neon and abstract forms in new work by Evan Gruzis
Opening tomorrow at Duve Berlin, an exhibition of new work by Evan Gruzis explores the interstices of waking and dreaming life. “Alpha Wave” derives its aesthetic from the afterimage effect—the “burning” of an image on ones vision after the original image has disappeared. Gruzis—a young artist whose resume already boasts work in the Whitney Museum Collection and a solo show at Deitch—presents a series of hauntingly minimal works on paper and through video.
While his past work bears the mark of nostalgia for Hollywood of the 1980s—a byproduct of his time spent in LA—this collection marks significant growth. Gruzis ditches pop elements in favor of a more streamlined look, going beyond gloss and neon to convey the “alpha wave” narrative throughout the work. While he made a name for himself based on his masterful employment of india ink, the artist has turned mainly to watercolor in this collection. Gruzis uses a liberal amount of water in the creation of his gradients, which are painted on “arches aquarelle” paper. Stretching the paint, he slowly builds layers to create his transitions. The photorealistic effect looks to be the product of a neon light show or early digital design. In addition to watercolor, Gruzis employs graphite and acrylic into most of the works that are included in Alpha Wave.
One of the standout works, “Movie”, is a purple canvas of watercolor, gouache, india ink and spray paint. Highlighted with pinpoints of star-like specks, the somber, glowing piece conveys a unique effect that serves as testament to Gruzis’ curious experimentation.
The exhibition also includes “TV”, an abstract video work of projected LED lights. Interpretive and hypnotic, the installation carries Gruzis’ dream-like sensibility. Gruzis first made his way onto our radar last year in his collaboration with Rafael de Cardenas called Exotic Beta, though this exhibition certainly sets him apart in his own right.
“Alpha Wave” will be on view at Duve Berlin through 20 April 2012.
Duve Berlin
9 March – 20 April 2012
Invalidenstr. 90
Berlin, DE 10115
The process behind the artist’s large-scale portraits pairing cultural icons
Already a household name in Asia, Korean painter Kim Dong Yoo‘s inaugural U.S. exhibit at NYC’s Hasted Kraeutler gallery aims to introduce the artist to a new, American audience. The self-titled show features a series of large-scale paintings that, from afar, depict a single grand portrait of notables from John F. Kennedy to Michael Jackson. Upon closer inspection, however, one realizes that the work is actually comprised of hundreds of smaller portraits of other, connected figures from Marilyn Monroe to Madonna.
The relationships between his culturally iconic pairings are intriguing. In addition to Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Diana, and Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck; Kim Dong Yoo has coupled Albert Einstein, one of the greatest geniuses of all time, with Marilyn Monroe, one of the greatest beauties of all time. He’s also played upon the religious and pop culture interpretations of the Madonna, and the tension inherent in the legendary relationships between Jacqueline Kennedy and JFK, and JFK and Monroe, to name a few.
Perhaps even more surprising than the dueling portraits, however, is the process behind each piece. While the look is decidedly digital, the work itself is absolutely man-made. Kim Dong Yoo begins each labor-intensive piece by drawing a grid, hanging a tiny photo for reference by his canvas. He then hand paints every tiny portrait—no stencils, stamps or computers involved. It takes him about two days to complete a single half row, wherein each portrait varies just so from the rest, allowing for the larger, composite portrait’s depiction. Kim Dong Yoo began the series in the late nineties, and completes three to five paintings each year. As gallery partner Sarah Hasted notes, “He makes it look easy, but the process is incredibly involved.”
Elements of Kim Dong Yoo’s series call to mind the work of both Andy Warhol and Chuck Close. Also interesting, according to the gallery, is the fact that another artist by the name of Alex Goufeng Cao has recently begun displaying work using the same visual concept, though his pieces are rendered digitally. Hasted Kraeutler notes the similarities bring up questions of derivation and new creation—ongoing issues in the modern art world—but rather than taking legal action, Joseph Kraeutler says, “We just want people to understand the concept began as Kim Dong Yoo’s.”
When Kim Dong Yoo himself is asked what he hopes people will take away from the show, the artist responds: “I find joy in the fact that my work balances both grid-like elements, which call to mind the digital world, and an analogical technique—drawing every pixel by hand. And while these components coexist in my work, I want viewers to also see both the visual and emotional harmony and the competition between the two figures—Marilyn and JFK, for example—in every piece. But, at the same time, the thoughts the viewers have when they see the works will be colored by their own distinctive feelings regarding the format and the personalities involved.”
Kim Dong Yoo is on display at New York’s Hasted Kraeutler through 24 March 2012.
Brooklyn-based painter curates an exhibition in Santa Monica
Curator of the upcoming exhibition “Dark Water,” Brooklyn-based painter Martin Wittfooth drops his brush in favor of hand-selecting contemporaries who inspire him, compiling 29 representational painters’ whose visions reflect the exhibition’s namesake. Wittfooth admits, “As an artist in the curator’s seat, I’ve been very biased in who I invited due to my own tastes, but I think this approach has made it a rather focused project.”
The exhibition’s haunting works shock and entrance with challenging variations on the mythic visual theme. Standout pieces include Christian Rex Van Minnen‘s grotesquely surreal creature, the mythology of Caitlin Hackett, a pregnant Venus by Steven Assael, and a continuation of Jason Yarmosky‘s Elder Kinder portraits.
Wittfooth recognizes dark water as an allusion to the inner self, but chooses paintings that tie in relevant global issues such as environmental imbalance and dependence on industry. Presenting new takes on antiquity is nothing new for Wittfooth—his solo show “The Passions,” currently running at NYC’s Lyons Wier Gallery, is a contemporary exploration of martyrdom, depicting enormous animals as the subjects of antiquated devotional paintings.
Wittfooth explains, “The image of dark water shows up in a lot of my own work and I felt that it would be an interesting symbol for other artists to work with—the title, Dark Water, is the theme itself.” With this, Wittfooth presents a collaborative resurrection of the symbol’s timeless intrigue.
“Dark Water” runs from 12 November through 3 December 2011 at the Copro Gallery in Santa Monica, CA.
Peek inside the artist’s mind to learn what motivated his latest film noir inspired paintings
As a young boy growing up in Queens, Travis Louie would roam the hallways of his friends’ houses gazing longingly at their vintage family photographs, realizing the lack of pictures of previous generations of his own Chinese-American family. Years later when Louie’s drawing career transitioned into painting characters inspired by film noir and German Expressionism, he realized that in some way he was creating his own virtual family history. Only this family, clad in Victorian and Edwardian garb, had all sorts of ogres, monsters and insects crawling and climbing about.
We spoke with Louie at his studio in upstate New York while he was painting a man with a giant Cane Toad on his head—an image that will soon be on view at the Merry Karnowsky Gallery in Los Angeles, along with several other unique pet-and-owner portraits—and the artist revealed where his love of storytelling, surprise, and humor comes from.
I was in the second grade. They gave me some crayons for some busy work while they were testing other kids. I started drawing. It wasn’t a great drawing, but it was what I drew that kind of freaked the teacher out. I drew my memories of a Senate hearing that I had seen on public TV Channel 13. It was film footage of the McCarthy era. What had compelled me to watch it was that so many of my grandfather’s favorite actors were in there. I drew the people at a table with a bunch of microphones. The teacher asked me, “What is that?” and I said, “That’s the Senate hearings.” Then she wanted to talk to my parents. The drawing did not look like McCarthy, Humphrey Bogart, Danny Kaye, Lauren Bacall or anyone else that was there. I did not know why the hearing was happening, it did not make any sense to me, but I wanted to know what it was all about.
I was afraid of people. I remember one time I was on the subway with my mom. While the train was moving, she let go of my hand for a second and someone else grabbed my hand. That was always really creepy to me. My mother lit into this guy like you wouldn’t believe.
Growing up, I used to go to my friends’ and neighbors’ houses. Their families had these great old photographs. I thought, “What’s going on that they had these things?” The reason why we didn’t have any in our family was that Chinese people are very superstitious and did not like having their pictures taken, especially in the 1890s. I don’t know if many cameras were that available. I have not seen that many photos of older Chinese people from that era. I think there was a little bit of envy. So now with my work it’s almost like I am making my own ancestors. They just happen to be monsters.
I love the look of those old movies and am interested in cinematography. I love old German Expressionist films. I did not come across them until later. As a kid I watched whatever was on for the Movie of the Week on Channel 9, which were mostly gangster movies and noir pictures. As I got older, I noticed that the noir directors had been looking at the German Expressionist films. If you look at Citizen Kane there are a lot of shots that look like they came out of the movie Metropolis including the shots of the gigantic door. I started watching more old movies to see were they got the lighting from.
I use kind of a weird watercolor technique with transparent layers of things, one on top of the other, [and I think about] how far back you can go and how dark it is possible to make something. There are transparent washes of acrylic paint over and over again. A lot of it is rubbed out. Underneath that there is a lot of graphite to create a very smooth, continuous tone. I learned to do that because I used to work for a photo re-toucher.
Sometimes I dream them up. This particular show was influenced from a photograph that I saw on the back of a book about how to care for tarantulas. I was in a pet store and I came across this book and I thought, that’s kind of odd. I have a pet tarantula at home. I am looking at this book and it’s pretty informative. I flip it over and see there’s an author photograph on the back. It is the weirdest author photograph I have ever seen. He’s dressed in a powder blue tuxedo, like the kind they are wearing in Carrie. Next to him is his pet tarantula in its enclosure with a prize-winning ribbon attached to it. I looked at it and thought, “That is the craziest thing.” There was a pet show with tarantulas in it? How do you judge that? What’s the criteria? That’s when I decided to do a series of paintings of people with unusual pets. The one I am painting right now is of a man with his Cane Toad. The toad is about the size of a small pig.
I also have a bust coming out by Shinbone. We will have one at the gallery during the show. It comes in a wood crate. From the back it looks like Beethoven and when you flip it around it’s my Uncle 6 Eyes.
Travis Louie’s show opens on 12 November and will be on view at the Merry Karnowsky Gallery in Los Angeles until 10 December.
170 S. La Brea Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90036
Isreali painter Oren Eliav on technique, Tel Aviv’s art scene and what makes an art object
Hollow-eyed portraits, glittering ornamentation and cavernous architecture haunt the canvasses of Israeli painter Oren Eliav. The Rappaport Prize-winner’s otherworldly imagery creates tension between doubt and faith, exploring the historical implications of his subject by reworking old-world painting techniques to effects that toe the line between the grotesque and the beautiful. Following his solo show “Two Thousand and Eleven” earlier this year at Tel Aviv Museum of Art, we asked Eliav about his journey as a painter and the art community in Israel.
I painted and drew like every other kid does. My “discovery” of art was only when I was studying Political Science at Tel Aviv University and started taking courses in art that I realized this is my true fascination. I then applied to the Bezalel art academy, so I could finally be “at the driver’s seat” to practice art and not just learn about other people doing it.
It’s hard to separate the Cooper Union experience from the New York experience. I went to see art almost every day at Chelsea galleries, the Met and other New York venues. This proximity to art, not as a tourist but as a resident, had a deep effect on me. For example, being able to visit a specific painting at the Met every few days and understanding it differently every time opened my eyes to what I consider the mark of truly great art: the ability to generate different meanings and emotions over time. As a painter, I really benefited from the more technical classes that unfolded a wealth of painterly know-how, from watercolor to tempera, fresco and advanced oil painting techniques.
I learned something from everyone I encountered. The learning process for me was mostly to realize how differently people perceive the same work. In my opinion, this is what makes the “art object”, a painting in my case, a very peculiar kind of object. Each of us see the same thing in a completely different manner.
I don’t think I’m necessarily exploring the dark side of life. I’m attracted to places of ambiguity and uncertainty, to the subtle but swift passage from known to unknown. But it’s not necessarily dark. It’s just a bit shaky, other artists have this capability. If you look attentively and long enough at Velazquez, for example—I have “The Spinners” in my mind—you can sense how what you thought you were looking at is actually something else. Reality starts spiraling and becomes convoluted.
The brushstrokes are both layered on and stripped away. The whole process of painting for me is based on pushing and pulling, or in your words, “appearing and disappearing.” Technically, it is a result of working with many successive transparent glazes. A painting has a double presence. It can act as a window, so we look “through” it and things are sort of in there. But it also has a material presence, as an object hanging on the wall with its own surface qualities and physicality. So during the painting process I try to be on the lookout for a point of balance between “out there” and “in here.” Where I sense this weird double presence, I stop painting.
The Tel Aviv art scene is very vibrant and bustling with activity. Israel is a not a simple place, and I think good art often appears where there is tension and complexity. The art community has expanded remarkably over the last decade. There are more artists, art schools, galleries and collectors than ever before and it brings with it a variety of interesting positions.
Right now I’m working on the last chapter of a trilogy. It started with my show in June 2010 at Braverman Gallery called “They’ll Never Wake Us In Time.” In March 2011 there was the second solo show at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art titled “Two Thousand and Eleven.” The last part was planned for a gallery in Berlin, but plans changed and it is now going to be shown elsewhere in Europe or the States sometime next year.
In this cycle of works I’m trying to construct a haunted present, to convey a sense of things that belong in the past and suddenly come into life or movement in the present. As if objects, styles and persons that are long forgotten and obsolete manage to shine through darkness for one last time.
Colorful geometric beadwork in an artistic update to the classic friendship bracelet
Call them jazzed-up friendship bracelets or modernist beadwork, Julie Rofman’s colorful cuffs reinvent hippie tropes—even if the Northern California studio overlooking the ocean where she makes them might suggest otherwise. With Andrew Bird or NPR streaming and a horse grazing next door, the Massachusetts native draws on her background as a painter to create intricately-patterned pieces with subtly shifting shades and finishes. This attention to detail, color and composition shows in her weaving technique, abstract shapes and vibrant colorways.
Weaving Japanese delica beads on a small loom to create each pixelated cuff, the process takes anywhere from two hours to two days. While Rofman begins with an initial palette in mind, she works intuitively. “I think this is what makes it most enjoyable, the decisions arise throughout the process,” she explains. “I like seeing how matte beads interact with sparkly beads and the interaction of bold and muted colors.”
Inspired by artists like Vassily Kandinsky and Paul Klee, the geometric motifs and bold hues look equally great piled on an arm or worn solo—from classic friendship widths to statement-making cuffs. The effect beautifully combines traditional Native American patterns and island style, with names of exotic locales like Oslo, Trinidad and Morocco.
See more of Julie Rofman’s handwoven beaded cuffs on her site or at the Standard Hotel’s West Coast shop in downtown L.A., where bracelets sell for $75-265.
Stunning paintings by artist Alex Kanevsky. More after the jump.
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