Art, Inspiration

Emilie Franceschin-isque summer time.

I should had posted this a while ago. To say the least, I attended Emilie Franceschin‘s latest exposition at Les Territoires this June and although there was a minor accident during one of her performances, it was an agreeable event. The artist, Emilie looked just like in her pictures and her aesthetics were pretty good. Performance art is not a subject I know very well. Sometimes I do some solo performances in the privacy of my room, grab some makeup and let it take over me. Just recently one of my roommates saw me on my way to the washroom and asked me if I was trying makeup on for halloween. I smiled and nodded, “Yes!” said I, rushing to the washroom. I might actually write something more in depth about this art form, but for now a brief mention of Emilie Fraceschin’s Secrets does it.

Fraceschin is French, a graduate from the Toulouse School of Fine Arts, and has performed all over Europe. At Les Territoires, the gallery was divided into two rooms. The first one at the entrance welcomed the audience with a short film projected on a circular screen. The content was interesting as it explored the process of conceiving a performance, which demands the artist to be present. In the video she appeared sitting on a dinning table rehearsing an absurd yet existentialist script with another actor who would enter into a similar dynamic, creating a dialogue of intimate preparation in a rather mechanical and mundane setting.

The second room immersed the audience in the privacy of her portraits and sculptures. The sea and navigation are the main things I recall from the experience as there were a conceptual video installation of the sea and a paper boat maquette. Emilie performed in that room. She entered the room barefoot as we, the audience, sat or stood by the walls, creating an agora like set up. Emilie walked to the middle of the room and after building up momentum with her body movement, she proceeded to bury herself in soil and then pour water on herself…or was it the other way? I didn’t take notes, but the accident occurred when someone dropped their drink, breaking the glass too. It was unfortunate, yet extra drama was incrusted to the whole affair.

As a vernissage, though, it was stressful that there was no cheese and the alcohol was not free. Nevertheless, it was an interesting project. Here are some images taken from the artist’s website that prove most of what I’ve tried to explain in this text.

Finally, this is a recording of the performance Around.

Emilie is a remarkable artist, I am happy I had the chance to see her live in the comfort of my current home, Montreal.

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Art, Article of the Day, Illustration, Inspiration, Politics

Questioning nonsense as Lola makes portraits with glue and paper

Can art be a therapeutic endeavour collectors purchase for status while bored people pursue to avoid going insane? Can politicians be caricatures of society, and can leadership be a social construct idealized by the brain of an ape? Is there such a thing as privilege…or is it a 20 year-old English boy masturbating in-front of his 13-in macbook?

Currently based in Ireland, Lola Dupré made these illustrations by putting together pieces of various pictures of the actual portraits. Indeed, her illustrations are collages she completed by using paper, scissors, and passion…or a lot of time to meditate while creating.

Lola Dupre

David Cameron

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Barack Obama

cb5e3a18318593-562c77ff8b99b

Margaret Thatcher

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Kin Jong II

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Pope Benedict XVI

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Art, Article of the Day, Illustration, Inspiration, Science

Passing by to say hi and to share Paolo Čerić’s work, why not?

I stopped feeding this channel for a while. Life got out of my hands, like when water overflew your fists as a child trying to hold it. I’m still trying to put it back in order, as if there was any before falling in this void. I no longer know whether it’s going further down or the other way. In fact, I feel like floating in space while hearing the tic-toc of an old clock. A clock that is so ancient I can’t dare to question. Not because I don’t want to do it, I’m just exhausted at this point. Life is great…it sure is…keep telling that to yourself, maybe it will become true some day. Hopefully, when “some day” comes you will be riding a wild horse in the prairies. It is Napoleon’s white horse taking you to the horizon where the sun sets at dusk (as if possible). Why not?

A facebook acquaintance shared Adel Abidin’s Life is Short, Let’s Have an Affair installation with me, which I planned to publish originally. Of course, I changed my mind. I found Paolo Čerić instead, a Croatian artist whose talent with Processing kept me from weeping as I typed this text of adulation for his mastery of the medium. Paolo, if you are reading this, please note that I admire your good taste in graphics. Not knowing what to select from his exquisite collection, I finally ‘curated’ the following set he published on Behance. Paolo named it Single Stroke, and it came out when I looked up for the word ‘rape‘ on Behance’s searcher. 

Programming, Digital Art, Paolo Čerić

Programming, Digital Art, Paolo Čerić

Programming, Digital Art, Paolo Čerić

Programming, Digital Art, Paolo Čerić

He created them with Processing, which, as some of you may know, requires the artist to code. Numeric beauty, certainly.

Programming, Digital Art, Paolo Čerić

Here is a link to his tumblr! Visit him and like his stuff if you think it worth your effort, or as you prefer. Thank you for passing by.

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Art, Article of the Day, Inspiration, Photo manipulation

Michel Lamoller likes layers

Michel Lamoller likes layers.  Layerscapes (sculptures) is one of his most recent collection, where he creates the illusion of a 3-dimensional image with varying depth. His cities are harmoniously crafted, as you can see in the pictures below. Tautochronos is another project of his currently on the making and, layers, once more, are primal. However, for this post I only selected pieces from Layerscapes, including those he produced back in 2013 and 2012.

To synthesize his technique Lamoller explains, “I work with many layers of photographs create a new space. This space, still containing photographic information, gets photographed again. In my work I play with the reality of the image, and also with its space by turning the space-illusion into real space again.”(via artistaday)

Don’t forget to visit his website to discover more of Michel Lamoller.

2014

2014

2014

2013

2012

2012

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2012

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Art, Article of the Day, Inspiration, Painting

Denzler’s nostalgia

It is somehow romantic to look back into the history of television and consider the fact that there was a time in which its transmission was terrestrial. This also brings into consideration the notion that for a few years the world was seen in black and white, and signal disturbances were common. In comparison to the sleek body of the modern T.V., it once resembled a heavy box with dipole antenna or ‘rabbit ears’ that just enhanced its archaic form. Swiss painter Andy Denzler explores the concept of images disturbances in his 2014 collection, “Between the Fragments”.

«In terrestrial transmission, it was a matter of course that there were also image disturbances.» he explained.

Denzler collaborated with Swiss photographer Lukas Mäder by using selected pictures of his portraits depicting celebrities. In the paintings, however, Denzler distorted the images to reflect them conceptually into the abstract realm, bringing out the sentimentality of an obsolete world through warm colours that recalls their nostalgic antiquity.

Here are the pictures:

Girl with a Peach

Vreneli vom Guggisberg

Nevus

Burgäschi See I

Touch

Decision

Have a look at his website for more of his work!

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Art, Article of the Day, Illustration, Inspiration, Politics

The Leśniak portraits

Portraiture, turns out, is not dead. And it won’t be. What is more, it will continue evolving with the upcoming generation of artists and requests, for where there is demand, there is supply. From the depiction of power through the arrogant form of monarchs and imaginary creatures in ancient times, to the acknowledgment of existence through ‘selfies’ taken in washrooms, alas, portraits prevail.

Piotr Leśniak, an illustrator from Warszaba, Poland, came up with these for different magazines:

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak
Those, of course, are very different from these, which he made for Playboy:

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak
And the ‘selfie’, of course:
Piotr Leśniak

Piotr Leśniak, check out more of his work at http://www.behance.net/lesniak…It’s worth it!

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Inspiration, Literature, Vintage storytelling

Vintage storytelling: HILLS LIKE WHITE ELEPHANTS, a short story by Ernest Hemingway

Hills Like White Elephants

By Ernest Hemingway
The hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would come in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went to
Madrid.

‘What should we drink?’ the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.

‘It’s pretty hot,’ the man said.

‘Let’s drink beer.’

‘Dos cervezas,’ the man said into the curtain.

‘Big ones?’ a woman asked from the doorway.

‘Yes. Two big ones.’

The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the felt pads and the beer glass on the table and looked at the man and the girl. The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white in the sun and the country was brown and dry.

‘They look like white elephants,’ she said.

‘I’ve never seen one,’ the man drank his beer.

‘No, you wouldn’t have.’

‘I might have,’ the man said. ‘Just because you say I wouldn’t have doesn’t prove anything.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain. ‘They’ve painted something on it,’ she said. ‘What does it
say?’

Anis del Toro. It’s a drink.’

‘Could we try it?’

The man called ‘Listen’ through the curtain. The woman came out from the bar.

‘Four reales.’ ‘We want two Anis del Toro.’

‘With water?’

‘Do you want it with water?’

‘I don’t know,’ the girl said. ‘Is it good with water?’

‘It’s all right.’

‘You want them with water?’ asked the woman.

‘Yes, with water.’

‘It tastes like liquorice,’ the girl said and put the glass down.

‘That’s the way with everything.’

‘Yes,’ said the girl. ‘Everything tastes of liquorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.’

‘Oh, cut it out.’

‘You started it,’ the girl said. ‘I was being amused. I was having a fine time.’

‘Well, let’s try and have a fine time.’

‘All right. I was trying. I said the mountains looked like white elephants. Wasn’t that bright?’

‘That was bright.’

‘I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it – look at things and try new drinks?’

‘I guess so.’

The girl looked across at the hills. ‘They’re lovely hills,’ she said. ‘They don’t really look like white elephants. I just meant the colouring of their skin through the trees.’

‘Should we have another drink?’

‘All right.’

The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table.

‘The beer’s nice and cool,’ the man said.

‘It’s lovely,’ the girl said.

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all.’

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on.

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just to let the air in.’

The girl did not say anything.

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’

‘Then what will we do afterwards?’

‘We’ll be fine afterwards. Just like we were before.’

‘What makes you think so?’

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads.

‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

‘I know we will. Yon don’t have to be afraid. I’ve known lots of people that have done it.’

‘So have I,’ said the girl. ‘And afterwards they were all so happy.’

‘Well,’ the man said, ‘if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. But I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘And you really want to?’

‘I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want you to do it if you don’t really want to.’

‘And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like they were and you’ll love me?’

‘I love you now. You know I love you.’

‘I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are like white elephants, and you’ll like it?’

‘I’ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think about it. You know how I get when I worry.’

‘If I do it you won’t ever worry?’

‘I won’t worry about that because it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Then I’ll do it. Because I don’t care about me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t care about me.’

‘Well, I care about you.’

‘Oh, yes. But I don’t care about me. And I’ll do it and then everything will be fine.’

‘I don’t want you to do it if you feel that way.’

The girl stood up and walked to the end of the station. Across, on the other side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. Far away, beyond the river, were mountains. The shadow of a cloud moved across the field of grain and she saw the river through the trees.

‘And we could have all this,’ she said. ‘And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said we could have everything.’

‘We can have everything.’No, we can’t.’

‘We can have the whole world.’

‘No, we can’t.’

‘We can go everywhere.’

‘No, we can’t. It isn’t ours any more.’

‘It’s ours.’

‘No, it isn’t. And once they take it away, you never get it back.’

‘But they haven’t taken it away.’

‘We’ll wait and see.’

‘Come on back in the shade,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t feel that way.’

‘I don’t feel any way,’ the girl said. ‘I just know things.’

‘I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do -’

‘Nor that isn’t good for me,’ she said. ‘I know. Could we have another beer?’

‘All right. But you’ve got to realize – ‘

‘I realize,’ the girl said. ‘Can’t we maybe stop talking?’

They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table.

‘You’ve got to realize,’ he said, ‘ that I don’t want you to do it if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly willing to go through with it if it means anything to you.’

‘Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We could get along.’

‘Of course it does. But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want anyone else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.’

‘It’s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.’

‘Would you do something for me now?’

‘I’d do anything for you.’

‘Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?’

He did not say anything but looked at the bags against the wall of the station. There were labels on them from all the hotels where they had spent nights.

‘But I don’t want you to,’ he said, ‘I don’t care anything about it.’

‘I’ll scream,’ the girl siad.

The woman came out through the curtains with two glasses of beer and put them down on the damp felt pads. ‘The train comes in five minutes,’ she said.

‘What did she say?’ asked the girl.

‘That the train is coming in five minutes.’

The girl smiled brightly at the woman, to thank her.

‘I’d better take the bags over to the other side of the station,’ the man said. She smiled at him.

‘All right. Then come back and we’ll finish the beer.’

He picked up the two heavy bags and carried them around the station to the other tracks. He looked up the tracks but could not see the train. Coming back, he walked through the bar-room, where people waiting for the train were drinking. He drank an Anis at the bar and looked at the people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train. He went out through the bead curtain. She was sitting at the table and smiled at him.

‘Do you feel better?’ he asked.

‘I feel fine,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.’

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