Hasta La Ideas

“Paraconceptual” art in Susan Hiller’s new comprehensive book

Both intimate and cosmic in scope, as described by critic Lucy Lippard, Susan Hiller’s ruminative multimedia works are the result of a career change from anthropology to art forty years ago. The U.K.-based artist, thinking of her discipline as “value-free,” experiments with sculpture, photography, painting and more, letting the subject dictate media to give her abstract theories form.

A through-line in Hiller’s works is what she calls “paraconceptual”—combining conceptual underpinnings with paranormal studies. But the resulting mysticism, unlike many of her contemporaries, isn’t the point. Whether through hundreds of postcards or video installations, Hiller’s appeal comes from her studious, almost scientific, approach.

Often taking years to research a project, Hiller’s interrelated obsessions include themes ranging from cultural erosion (how Nazi street names were replaced with “Jew Street”) to looking at the suspension of disbelief through our reactions to supernatural phenomena. This broad conceptual scope was recently the subject of a survey at Tate Britain, which was accompanied by a comprehensive catalog, now available stateside.

The book includes a thorough sampling of work, including the more intensive and thought-provoking pieces like “Homage to Joseph Beuys” and “Painting Blocks,” which were completed over the course of decades. Others—”From the Freud Museum” and “Enquiries/Inquiries“—similarly are the upshot of several years of closely observing her subject. One of the earlier artists (and at 71, one of the oldest) to incorporate the Internet in her practice, her use of current technology, like her overall approach to materials, is not just a medium but part of the message.

The exhaustive book explores the U.S.-born artist’s contemporary work through previously published essays, interviews, papers, lectures and images. “Susan Hiller” sells online from Amazon and Tate. U.K. customers can also go to Amazon U.K..

Pictorial mind games in a contemporary French photographer’s first retrospective

At first glance Patrick Tosani‘s photographs seem like textbook examples of monolithic, clean and simple photography. But look a little closer and objects like ice cubes, spoons and high-heeled shoes reveal themselves by a trick of perspective and massive proportions, playing with scale and drawing the viewer into a new dimension. Over 200 such clever twists (many of which have never been shown before) comprise the contemporary French artist’s first retrospective, currently on view at Paris’ Maison Européenne de la Photographie.

Tosani’s focus on the odd details has the transformative effect of making everyday objects appear extraordinary and foreign, skewing scale in order for the objects to gain new momentum and dramatic intensity in their abstraction. Intentionally misrepresenting reality in a specific way gives the images a common frame of reference, connecting the series of isolated fragments into an otherworldly experience. This unusual terrain is more absurd than menacing though; Tosani’s playful forms conceptually poke fun at the nature of photographic representation itself.

The photographer ribs his fellow humans too, often choosing the human body as a subject, which he explores by forcing limbs into incongruous folded positions or by compartmentalizing details such as the top of a head or bitten fingernails. His quest even drives him to trace the body’s presence, illustrated by a stunning series of empty pairs of pants, shot so that the two big holes where the legs go playfully evoke the astonished eyes of primitive masks with magical properties.

Another whimsical series turns children (all met on a trip in Syria) into colorful blooming flowers by making portraits with shirts blowing around their heads like corollas.

The exhibition is currently on view at Paris’ Maison Européenne de la Photographie through 19 June 2011.

Skateboarding, sexuality and suburbs in artist Ed Templeton’s expansive new book

Owner and art director of Toy Machine Skateboards, Ed Templeton’s work has been most widely-seen on boards under the feet of thousands of skateboarders around the world. For fans of his skateboard graphics or those already familiar with his art, the new book “The Cemetery of Reason“—a compliment to his 2010 solo exhibition of the same name—binds together images of over 260 pieces in a comprehensive survey of the native Southern Californian’s work.

Projects span painting and drawing to screen printing and photography, highlighting his free-form approach to combining mediums, something of a hybrid documentary-style that makes for a refreshing take on heady subjects like society, religion and the overall human condition.

While Templeton often comments on today’s over-sexed and under-supervised youth, the nomadic life of a pro skateboarder gives the artist unusual glimpses into innumerable global locations. Works in “The Cemetery of Reason” include photos of a bloodied friend after a bad slam or a seedy motel in Middle America, paintings of monstrous creatures speaking brainwashed thoughts and surreal mixed-media works of nude women.

While his work spans several mediums, the strength of his aesthetic is his first-person perspective, acting as an overarching link between subjects and artworks to convey his humanistic worldview.

Rounded out with telling interviews with Templeton over the years, as well as multiple essays by influential artists, writers and the exhibition’s curator, pick up “The Cemetery of Reason” online from Photo Eye or Amazon.

An interview with legendary illustrator Bill Plympton on his forthcoming book, friendship with Terry Gilliam and the future of adult animation in America

At 13-years-old Bill Plympton wrote to Walt Disney asking for a job in the animation department. The young illustrator was initially rejected, but an Oscar nomination six years later for his animated short called “Your Face” led to Disney knocking on his door—where Plympton finally got his turn to say no. These were the early days of Plympton’s prolific career, which can be seen in its entirety in Rizzoli’s new book on the groundbreaking illustrator. “Independently Animated” is a 264-page retrospective tome that traces Plympton’s life and career as he paved his own Oregon trail from Portland to NYC in search of cinematic greatness.

Ignited by a foreword from close friend and Monty Python writer Terry Gilliam, the book—written by Plympton and David B. Levy—reads like a meandering journey into the mind of a slightly demented and always devious social agitator who wielded his colored pencils to entertain fans and influence artists around the world. Plympton surprisingly says his career as an artistic provocateur began accidentally, when a friend asked him to design a poster for his high school presidential campaign. “It was that moment when I realized the power of cartoons—they’re not just the territory of goofy animals and funny jokes. No! Cartoons can make people think differently; they can push people to the edge.”

“Independently Animated” also sheds light on Plympton’s ties to the political world, which coincidentally began when he sold one of his comic strips to a small newspaper in Flint, MI, where an editor named Michael Moore was at the helm. His influence is undeniable in the realm of social satire. The compilation of photos throughout the book reveal a man who keeps his pencil on the pulse of political and artistic humor. His pointed sketches include one of Donald Rumsfeld, fresh off a trip to Iraq to meet Saddam Hussein, a sinister-looking Pat Robertson and an alien-esque Jesse Jackson. Throughout all of the twisted and inventive styles of sketches one thing remains, the ability to laugh at absolutely everything.

We recently had the chance to catch up with Plympton at his NYC studio, where told us more about his intriguing career and created an original sketch for Cool Hunting.

Growing up you wanted to work for Disney. What was it like when you finally got to reject them?

Yeah I did want to work for Disney, that was my big goal in life, to work for Disney. What happened was around the mid-eighties when I got started with animation, that’s when the whole indie scene exploded. Jim Jarmusch, Spike Lee and Kevin Smith, people like that they were making films outside of the Hollywood sphere, and I thought well that’s an interesting concept. And so I got bitten by that bug also, and I thought ‘Who needs Disney?’ I don’t want to work for some corporate entity, I’d rather just have control of my own films, so that’s why I rejected Disney. Today if they offered me a good deal, I’d be more than happy to work with Disney, but it’s not a big philosophical point for me. If the work is good and interesting I’ll do it, but at this point I’m doing so well as an independent and I am making a living as an independent so why change?

What is the difference between how your work is perceived in America compared places like Japan or France, where adult animation is more mainstream?

One of the things that bugs me is that Quentin Tarantino can make these films that are basically cartoons, and they’re wildly popular. But when I do adult topics in animation they say ‘You can’t do that, that’s Disney’s art form. You are taking animation and ruining it, you’re sullying the wonderful, beautiful reputation of animation.’ People in America just can’t get it into their heads that animation is not strictly a childrens medium. That’s why I want to try and break that stupid barrier. Japan, France, particularly Germany, Spain—they accept adult ideas much more easily than they do here in the States. That’s the problem I have with distributors here—they don’t know what the audience for the film is, or who is going to go see an animated film with adult ideas. So there is this sort of mind-freeze that these distributors have, and I disagree because I think there is a huge audience for them. Just look at the sales for graphic novels.

Was there ever a time when you longed for mainstream success even though you were working off the grid?

I think about that all the time. I look at a Pixar or a Blue Sky Film, or see their billboards all over the city, and they’re opening in 4,000 cinemas nationwide and 10,000 around the world. I wish I could get that, it would be wonderful. But they have to pay a price for that—there’s a certain deal with the devil that they make to do those. And the devils are usually the corporate studios, and they have to change everything to meet the desires of marketing teams. So it’s not really their film, it’s someone else’s. I sure would like to make a film that played in 1,000 cinemas though, that would be so wonderful.

How would you describe you’re relationship with Terry Gilliam?

I first met him about fifteen years ago, at the party for “12 Monkeys.” I introduced myself, and he knew who I was he had seen my films. The next time I saw him was in Dubai, there was a festival there and he was the judge, or getting a prize. I introduced myself again, and he said “Oh Bill, how you doing?’ I happened to have my portfolio of drawings from “Idiots and Angels” and so he said ‘Let me look at them.’ And he just went nuts, he was getting into the detail, and how I drew these drawings, and his press agent was there and said ‘Terry we have an interview with the BBC, we gotta get going,’ and he responded, ‘Oh fuck BBC, I want to look at these drawings.’ So he really got involved in the art, asked what he could do to help me with the film. I said ‘Would you mind being the presenter of this film, no money, no commitment?’ He’s been really nice, he wrote the forward to the book, and he’s doing the introduction to a documentary they’re doing about me. He’s been extremely supportive, he’s just the nicest guy.

An imaginative retrospective, “Independently Animated: Bill Plympton: The Life and Art of the King of Indie Animation” will be available March 2011, but can be pre-ordered now from Amazon and Powells. To see some of Plympton’s entertaining animated shorts, visit the gallery at his website.

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