« Posts under Visual Art

Tonight!

Alright, folks . . . Just like the flyer says : This evening marks the official signing / release party for Incurable Disorder : The Art of Elizabeth McGrath [Last Gasp]. It’s a gorgeous book; good times are guaranteed to be had; I’m running really late, so you can either take my advice or sniffle in regret later. Not unlike me in the present tense, with the five loads of laundry I didn’t drop off. But hey! I’ve been waiting to use “soft grunge” as an excuse.

The Folly of St. Hubertus : 2012

The Hunger : Dedicated To Ivan X : 2012

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Elizabeth McGrath’s Incurable Disorder

I’m pleased to announce the release of Incurable Disorder : The Art of Elizabeth McGrath [Last Gasp], the second full-length monograph of this visionary artist’s works, including dioramas, mixed media paintings and three-dimensional sculptures produced from 2005 to 2012.

In addition to over 200 color images, the book includes introductory essays by filmmaker/producer Morgan SpurlockMcGrath’s art dealer Alix Sloan, and the artist herself.

Regarding the creative process of the “damaged anthropomorphized animals who would rather bite than be healed,” McGrath explains “The conception of these brainchildren is hard to pinpoint. They stem from the emotional encounters I have with humans, landscapes and objects, and are further shaped by the constant stream of words and images that survive my mind’s filter. Once I have the skeleton of an idea, the rest comes automatically, but staying on task through the many hours it takes to complete one of these works requires a heavy dose of news radio, stories, and audio books. For instance, the chapter titled ‘Altarwise by Owl Light’ started with a Dylan Thomas poem but grew during The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley…”

She continues, “When I see the finished pieces it takes me back to the story or vice-versa, like memories from a vacation.”

As aforementioned, the tome is divided into sections — each paired with a passage from a poem or literary work that functions as a companion piece. The chapters are as follows :

Tears of The Crocodile
[ excerpt from the poem “What All The World Is Made Of” by Robert Southey ]

Altarwise by Owl-Light
[ with an excerpt from the Dylan Thomas poem of the same name ]

Incurable Disorder
[ accompanied by my poem Dead Letters : Twenty-Six Are in its entirety ]

American Animals
[ excerpt from Gods In Alabama by Joshilyn Jackson ]

Shadowless Summer
[ excerpt from Thomas Pynchon‘s novella The Crying of Lot 49 ]

With Tomorrow’s Scream
[ accompanied by a quote from Redmond King ]

Elizabeth — a.k.a. Liz, a.k.a. “Bloodbath” — McGrath is the only artist whose creations I collect, and without doubt, one of my favorite people on the planet. We met through a mutual friend in 2002, when I was asked to M.C. the Broken Dolls fashion show in January of the following year.

I’ve written about her numerous times between then and now : regarding the release of her first retrospective  Everything That Creeps in January of 2006, the premiere of Cecil B Feeder‘s documentary Bloodbath : The Movie, the main subject of which is — yep, you guessed it — in 2011.

I even modeled for CREEP Clothing, Miss McGrath’s collaboration with B.F.F. Winter Rosebudd : a feat which included strutting around Echo Park with an evil-horned creature [the duo’s slaughtered chupacabra stole] draped about my shoulders, the pièce de résistance complete with velvet cloven hooves and a poisoned arrow. And did I love it? Every fantastic click and tick of the clock.

In short, Liz is generous, genuine, a true talent, and a stead-fast friend. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and truly : I’m honored to be part of this chronicle of her creative outpourings.

Oh. And uh, in the event you might have been “skimming”? It’s as simple as this : Incurable Disorder = new book you need in your life. Me? New poem in book. Matter of fact, I’ll save you a click and leave a copy right here, even . . .

Cheers!

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Perception.

Joe Rees : Belief, 1974 / re-fabricated 2009

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Faggot Dinosaur Give-Away!

Though much to my chagrin, no : I don’t have some butt-humping Brontosaurus to send your direct. I do, however, have an invaluable relic uncovered during the most recent excavation of my abode. And like, I’m sharing. I’m sharing, Mary!

So, anyway. Yes, it’s been a minute, but I’ve mentioned Ali Liebegott‘s wicked excellent anthology Faggot Dinosaur in the past — a detail whether or not you recall, all the same : You need this journal in your life.

About the project [ Shoddy scanner notwithstanding ] :

In short, the anthology is “a visual and literary collaboration of dinosaurs knitting, fucking, and listening to Barbara Streisand! Queerness of the Paleolithic Age abounds at Faggot Dinosaur.”

Though to expound upon the extent of how it abounds . . . This gorgeous, full-color, perfect-bound compendium of cool includes contributions from Resa Alboher, Jen Benka & Carol Mirakove, Denise Bilbao, Cooper Bombardier, Lisa Brown, Clint Catalyst, Justin Chin, Lucy Corin, Carmella Fleming, Leora Fridman, Nicole J. Georges, Hilary Goldberg, Nicki Greene, Michael Henry Hayden, Diane Hoffman, Sade Huron, Elyssa Joy Kilman, Andrea Lawlor, jojo Lazar, Janice Lee, Ricky Lee, Cayenne Link, Amy Macabre, Mary Meriam, Na¹amen, Sawako Nakayasu, Kirk Read, Steven Reigns, Joshua Robinson, Tracy Jeanne Rosenthal, Roxanne, Sam Sax, Cedar Sigo, Michelle Tea, Masha Tupitsyn, Vlad Viski, Ed Wolf and Yasmin San Francisco.

[ Illustration : Victor Ray ]

It’s a charming little beast, this book. Indeed, indeed! I mean, as with Liebegott’s other works, you should already own one. Seriously. Regardless, for one lucky reader out there, I have a copy with fifteen contributor signatures to donate. That’s right, kids : the only journal in the world with autographs from Justin Chin, Janice Lee, Michelle Tea, Ricky Lee, Na’amen, Mario Ashkar, Kirk Read, Tracy Jeanne Rosenthal, Jen Benka & Carol Mirakove, Lucy Corin, Hilary Goldberg, Carmella Suzanne Fleming, your host of this humble Dot Com, and of course, The Liebegott herself. So much crazy mad queer ink smeared all up in one place, yet I plan on sending it somewhere, to someone else. What’s the T?

Well. For your chance to receive this collector’s item, all you have to do is leave a comment — email address included; my telepathic skills don’t pay the bills, ifyouknowwhatImean — by 9:39 PM Pacific Standard Time, the Third of March, Two Thousand Thirteen.

[ Illustration : Nicole J. Georges ]

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More Ouija, Woncha?


[ Rebecca Caldwell‘s ‘Witchmobile’ ]


[ Ouija Board Beaded Necklace : Gilliauna ]

Dario Robleto :
Hippies And A Ouija Board (Everyone Needs To Cling To Something), 2003-2004

Suitcase: Cast and carved dehydrated bone calcium and bone dust from every bone in the body, microcrystalline cellulose, cold cast iron and brass, rust, antique syringe, crushed velvet, leather, thread, water extendable resin, typeset Bottles, medicines, and Ouija board: cast and carved dehydrated bone calcium and bone dust from every bone in the body, typeset, home-brewed moonshine (potato derived alcohol), wine health tonics (water, sugar, fermented black cherries, yeast, gelatin, tartaric acid, pectinase, sulfur dioxide, oak flavoring, fortified with 100-year-old hemlock oil, Devil’s Claw, witch hazel bark, swamp root, powdered rhubarb, pleurisy root, belladonna root, white pine tar, coal tar, dandelion, sarsaparilla, mandrake, mullein, scullcap, cramp bark, elder, ginseng, horny goat weed, tansy, sugar of lead, mercury with chalk and tin-oxide; calcium potassium, creatine, zinc, iron, nickel, copper, boron, vitamin k, crushed amino acids, home-cultured antibiotics, chromium, magnesium, colostrum, ironized yeast, ground pituitary gland, ground wisdom teeth, ground sea horse, shark cartilage, coral calcium, iodine & castor oil) Records: various 1960’s 45 rpm records cast in prehistoric whale bone dust, typeset, 42 x 23 x 19 inches

Collection of the Jack S. Blanton Museum of Art

University of Texas : Austin, Texas

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GIF It To Me! [ Princess Hijab and Other Animated Awesomesaucery ]

As A Kid, I Often Said I Wished I Could Speak In Hieroglyphics

symbols, gif, animated gif

“How rad it would be,” I thought
[ though — since the timeline I’m referencing is circa rural Arkansas —
quite likely not verbatim, my choice of vernacular ]

“If I could speak in pictures. Fancy symbols, and all that shit . . .”
Meaning : not carved in stone, but rather contained
in word bubbles,
like in a comic strip

eye of horus

Y E A H .

A funny thing, time : cycles : that symbol of the serpent swallowing its tail . . .All these years later, and where do I find myself? Obsessed with animated .gifs / yearning to communicate by means of a visual vocabulary. But I mean . . . let’s face it : Does this gem excavated-from-the-uncredited-swag-on-imgur from Tod Browning‘s silent film The Show [ image source / with kind regards to Mogsville ] not speak volumes?

casting away, animated gif

Or how about the next, in terms of a comment response?

bloody,GIF

[ Source: Sex With God : tumblr ]

And this flash-tastic action? Is it worth the proverbial thousand?

scary, clown, GIF

[ Or has ‘creepy’ been eclipsed by the contest of All-The-Fucks-You-Don’t-Give? ]

GIF, animated gif, GIF it to me

Hasty generalizations and snide jabs swept aside like unpaid internships, corporeal punishment, or any scenario in which Unique, Special Beings aren’t coddled — even and especially when [ HARMPH! ] “bored. So tot-al-ly bored” : Animated awesomesaucery is served with syllables and consonants, on occasion.

For example : this little ditty by Seacrestcheadle, which I would’ve plastered on my pal Ugly Shyla‘s wall many moons ago, if Facefail permitted such forms of communication [ because yeah, She Gets It ]

internet famous, animated gif

Alas, Focus! I need focus!

Seacrestcheadle isn’t why I’ve chosen to get bloggy this fine day [ though worthy a post of his own, indeed! ] Au contraire, I’ve intended to post about the following individual for quite some time now . . .and finally : here we are — and here I am.

If by chance you’re not familiar with the guerilla art of Princess Hijab,

Then please consider this a formal invitation to become acquainted : your introduction by way of brief video clip [ courtesy : Ghosts Of Many via Live Leak ]

O.K. — Now that I’ve provided a bit of background info . . .

GIF, GIF it to me

Aside from recalcitrant acts of Hijabization, the Princess constructs some friggin’ amazing GIF animados ; must admit.

And since ultimately, that’s what I’m ‘on about’ today . . .

C H E C K ± T H E S E :

animated GIF, Princess Hijab

Princess Hijab

Madonna, animated gif, Princess Hijab

animated gif, Princess Hijab

Princess Hijab

gif, animated GIF, Princess Hijab

animated gif, Princess Hijab

╬  For a full-page GIF-tastic sensory overload, check out 8 BITZ PER PIxEL

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Black Ibis Tarot-Au-Go-Go

As aforementioned, Bethalynne Bajema‘s Black Ibis tarot deck — a veritable companion to the graphic novel of the same name, and act of cartomancy in which I appear as The Hierophant — is available for public consumption.

Cue the cornets, please . . . A fanfare is appropriate!

Moreover, The Black Ibis Tarot — a complete collection of artwork in the deck, accompanied by quotations relevant to each of the Major Arcana — is available in book form.

Among the luminaries Bajema chose to to illustrate her underworld :

Kambriel as The Priestess

Ugly Shyla as XIII Death

Suzanne Gerber as XIV Temperance

Meredith Yayanos as XIX The Sun

Zoetica Ebb as XVIII The Moon

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D*Face: When Art & Vandalism Meet In A Cement Kiss

D*Face

I’ve always been fond of artists who bomb urban landscapes, or ‘drop’ their works—even & especially when
the artists continue these guerilla interactions with the public after achieving success [ a subjective term, I
realize: though in this instance, let’s skip the philosophical shit & stick with a more universal meaning…
namely, that of monetary success &/or a sense of notoriety ]
. One example that immediately comes to
mind is Shepard Fairey. Late one night back in 2004, while I was in New York during a promo tour
for the Pills, Thrills, Chills, and Heartache: Adventures in the First Person anthology, I was out,
lurking the East Village, doing a bit of my own sticky-vinyl [Ahem!] ‘beautification.’ Speaking,
you know, theoretically. I tend to aim high when engaging in such endeavors—meant both
literally & metaphorically, Jay Ess Why Kay—so the sound of my palm slapping metal [ the
back-side of a sign ] followed by a louder sound: that of my landing, visibly startled a
man who, incidentally, looked over the shoulder from his own activity: sticker-
plastering a pole. It was Shepard, out in the same 3 A.M.—doing his part to
to spread the message, so to speak—& we shared a chuckle of recognition.

Not because I’m some big-shot artist, obviously, but rather because I was a contributing editor for
Swindle magazine [ R.I.P. ] at the time. & here’s this guy—well, my boss, essentially—
& he’s out…Oh, I’m rambling. [ Besides, YouGetIt anyway, right? You.Get.It ]

London-based artist D*Face lists Fairey among his influences, which—on the tip of phenomenology,
billboard re-appropriation, & the mutual interest in California’s skateboard subculture—could be
considered a ‘given.’  Nonetheless, neither the antics of, nor the artwork produced by, D*Face
is derivative…at least not directly [ or rather: singularly ].

& from that mention of art & antics, let us hone our focus on
this bitchen custom-made tombstone:

Not a work to be taken lightly, huh?  [ Cue the canned laughter here, kplzthnx ]
Well, the eve of “Going Nowhere Fast”—D*Face’s solo show at the Corey Helford Gallery
he did a drop at  2728 N. La Cienega Boulevard in Century City.

All 400 pounds.

You’re following me, right? He left this amazing art piece for display, there on the street—knowing full well
that [ hello! Voice of Adult Reason on Line One] it would only be a matter of time until someone
came along, &…[ as far as I’m concerned ] ‘got lucky‘?

As has been cited, he also did two drops the night prior.

★ ☆ ★ Hollywood Boulevard, Walk of Fame ★ ☆ ★

Here’s a shot as the infrastructure of GENIUS is assembled:

A tombstone

at the star of one ‘Charlie Sheen.’

†ꝉ†

Is that excellent, or is that friggin’ excellent?

The other grave-marker?

This beaut, at the Santa Monica pier:

I can’t help but wonder where they are,
who has them now…

Did any of the individuals who ‘liberated’ the tombstones realize what they were taking?

If not, in what ways do you think their attachment to the objects might change
upon learning they’re worth something more than cool points
among the neighborhood kids?

¤ O R ¤

If so—meaning, if whomever [ allegedly ] happened to find this piece of  ‘found’ art is familiar with
the work of D*Face, do you think he/she was all “Jackpot!” about it?

Said another way:

This person wouldn’t technically be stealing, so shouldn’t we expect him or her to come forth?

In this city where it’s not just about Keeping-Up-With-The-Proverbial-Joneses
but rather eclipsing them, the ascent to superstardom [ in theory ] so incandescent…
Doesn’t  it seem incongruous for us not to have heard from a single one of these fortuitous beings?

AAAAAAAAAAH,   I T ‘S   A L L   G O T   M E   J U S T   S O

SpUNd face, frustrationOUT

I’ve spent hours on-line today, click-&-scrolling my way through re-blog after re-blog after re-blog
regarding the [ so-called ] drop; ditto, same re: last night’s openingopeningopening

& find it suspect that in all this media coverage,
there’s an irrefutable gap between what journalist Amy Duran [ via Juxtapoz digital, April 9th]
describes having taken place the eve of April 8th, in her statement

“Considering that both the Santa Monica Beach and the Charlie Sheen tombstone had been removed so
quickly I suggest making you[r] way out to see this piece in person before it’s gone.”

& coverage of the exhibition itself, which Jack In Shows [ via Daily Du Jour ] summates
“included a D*Face Oscar appearance, two of his new tombstone pieces,
three ‘dead’ celebrity impersonators…”

Mmm-hrmm.

Brainloop

I’ve been wrong before, yet still—I’m of the mind that more than one form of the ⟣faux⟢ went on
in this scenario.

Mr. Dean Stockton, a.k.a. D*Face?  Seems to me that what he schemed is the opposite
of a ‘drop’…as in: “catch” would be a more appropriate term.

My theory: he used two gravestones, not three, & just “happened” to conveniently bring a writer along
for the ride.  The result?  Insta-PR, no need to add water. Unless, of course, a person
wanted to scrub clean the carbon stains from the night before…


[ photo submission I received after posting a frustrated tweet ]

Apparently, this image was captured while waiting in line for the opening: April 9, 2011

For the sake of clarity, please allow me to reiterate:
What I’ve presented is a theory, based entirely on speculation.
I was not present for any of the aforementioned events; hence,
none of my conjecture should be treated as fact.

However, within the scope of this hypothesis, I’ve gotta say: the name of D*Face’s show
resonates with new meaning, all things considered.

But why wouldn’t it?

The gravestones—testaments to bad behavior, on which “Going Nowhere Fast” was inscribed—went
[ well…] nowhere in this staged guerilla act, the [ theoretical ] Drop-Without-A-Drop.

I mean, when media is the medium an artist chooses to
make A Statement About The Media & A Celebrity-Obsessed Society—
yet that artist is playing the role of a guerilla artist; is “pretending to be” rather than being…

It’s fucking ‘meta': yeah, sure

Yet at the core of it all?  Chicanery, being ‘on the grift’?
Is a material-obsessed society really being challenged,
or the challenge really how much monetary gain can be filched from it?

All I have are questions.

But after reading over a hundred blogs with the same regurgitated, rarely & barely re-worded praise
I wonder: Am I the only one?

Whatever your take, D*Face is a fascinating subject about whom
the following additional reading I recommend:

[ Liz Ohnasien‘s interview with D*FaceL.A. Weekly ]

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“I Do Things Which Are Non-Verbal So That I Can Return To Language With Excitement.” — Richard Wilbur

 

V I S U A L . S T I M U L I


[ Angela Grubich ]

jaundiced eye, eyeball
[ Source ]


[ “Point of Origin” : Scott Treleaven ]


[ “Blue Witch” : Danger ]


[ “Amoun” : cthopper93 for I†† ]


[ “Seancing” : cthopper93 for I†† ]


[ “Love’s Long Listen-In” : cthopper93, for I†† ]


[ Still From “♀∧gℜ∀あ ß∀あ ♍∀♄l∀あ♀“: Kemikore Mediaworks for Ceremonial Dagger ]


[ “Vanitas” : Fernando Vincente ]


[ “Smoke” : Fernando Vincente ]


[ “Head Wound” : Joshua Petker ]


[ “Partying in Red” : Joshua Petker ]


[ Alison Scarpulla ]


Alison Scarpulla ]


[ Chris Weige, a.k.a. ‘Reckon‘ ]


[ “Firestarter (2)” : Elizaveta Porodina ]


[ “Love Is Not A Victory March” : Elizaveta Porodina ]


[ NVRMNDUS ]


[ “Wisdom, Power, Courage” : Louise Leppard ]


[ Samantha Smith ]


[ Miyake Juin 米亞奇 ]


[ Yuri Pleskin : Nagi Sakai for The Contributing Editor ]


[ Nicolás Lamas ]


[ Scott Treleaven ]


[ Source ]


[ Video “Still,” Harry Smith ]

[ “Early Abstractions” (1946-57), Pt. 4 : Harry Smith ]

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Bloodbath McGrath? Yeah, Maing: She’s The News…

Chances are, if you’re familiar with me/my work:
at one point or another you’ve either read my enthusiastic ramblings
about the phenomenonicon known as Liz McGrath
or you’ve heard me flappin’ my gums on her behalf.

Well, as it turns out?
I’m not the only effer with a keen eye, honed-ear, & impeccable sense of taste.
See, there’s this gent by the name of Cecil B Feeder—& he’s done gone & made a movie
about little Miss Thing herselfness.  Name’s Bloodbath. You know, as in: ‘Bloodbath McGrath’?

Even if you don’t: just smile, nod, & spot-check this tease of a trailer on out…

While I’ve yet to see the docu-rama drama myself, folks who reside in Nueva York—or
very least, plan on being there this eve—are in luck.

The movie premieres TONIGHT:
Saturday, February 12, 2011
7:30 p.m. at MOMA NYC
Theater 2, T2

as part of the series

“All The Wrong Art : Juxtapoz Magazine On Film”

Among the itinerary:
Legendary X Offender, Debbie Harry, is scheduled to appear—
both to provide an introduction to the film
as well as to participate in a discussion
thereafter

[ & of course, the Bloodiest of Baths will be in attendance;
ditto, director of celebrated
celluloid reliquary ]

However: provided here, now—
a smattering of retinal treats,

a modest sampling of specimen
from this local luminary’s collected body of works
that begs the question: which ‘bodies’ among The Body
were ever actually…bodies…at all?

[ if any ]

E X H I B I T . A

Black Deer sculpture

E X H I B I T . B

Deer House

E X H I B I T . C

Truth Decay diorama

E X H I B I T . D

In The Sweet

E X H I B I T . E

Death By Desire

E X H I B I T . F

Frankie Machine

Said another way: oftentimes these “taxidermied toys,” as they’re referred,
are the cause of great pause/consternation for the artist’s audience:

My assumption is that, despite the hallucinatory realm which these phantasmagories inhabit—
the harrowing “Frankie Machine” [above], for example, in which McGrath’s allegorical depiction of
The Man with the Golden ArmThe Man With The Golden Arm, Nelson Algren renders a dramatic stasis through a potent mix of personal interpretation
and consummate skill—ultimately, it’s a soulful quality about the eyes of
these mythological beings that resonates within the human condition.

A sense of psychological lockjaw.  Addicted. Creatures of habit as much as habitat.

Translation of the Latin text?
“No One Is Free Who Is Enslaved To The Body”

H O W E V E R , E N O U G H !
of my blathering

This is, after all, work that speaks for itself—& rightly so…

For that reason—among countless othersthe Managament hereby deems it imperative
that your library includes a copy of Everything That Creeps : a gorgeous compendium
of Miss McGrath’s work [ through 2005 ].  The book itself is an <i>objet d’art</i>:
with a die-cut hardcover exterior, full-color glossy pages thick as most magazine
covers [ except with sepia stains at the edges, & cute-enough-to-kill doodles
& details scattered throughout ].  Truly, the tome invokes a sense that
one has happened upon some rare, fantastic relic from last century’s
dustbowl era.

I N . W O R D S . N O T . M Y . O W N
[ excerpt of product description ]

“112 pages of full-color photos & detail shots
reveal the exquisitely complex details of [ McGrath’s ] sweetly twisted creatures,
giving a glimpse of what the City of Misfit Toys might have become had it been
saved by Satan rather than Santa.”

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Jeepers Creepers: L.A. Artist Elizabeth McGrath Makes Light Of Our Dark Sides (Archived Article from Frontiers Magazine)

Liz McGrath, Frontiers Magazine

[ CON’T ]

Liz McGrath, Frontiers Magazine