INTERVIEW: Valentina Talijan

Valentina Talijan was born in Belgrade, Serbia in 1989. She is currently studying painting in Novi Sad, Serbia on Academy of Arts, and will graduate in June this year. She has participated in a dozen group exhibitions in Serbia as well as one in France and South Korea. I discovered her work on Behance and really enjoy her Kolaž series.

Featuring art students will become a regular part of the WIRE and Valentina was very charming and down-to-earth in her replies to my questions despite the language hurdle.

What triggers the creation process in you and how does it develop to its completed form?
Before I start to work I intend to collect as much information as I can and to find answers to as many questions about the theme I choose to deal with. I like to think about the wind, or about the immensity of the Universe (thanks a lot Doctor Who). I would say that thinking about constant movement is what triggers creation process in me (related with works presented here). Sometimes the process consists of months of just thinking about something and a few days of materializing the idea. I believe that the art doesn’t just pop out, there is work that every artist must do; if you do not do the work everyone will know it. Regarding this particular series of collages, I spent most of the time dealing with materials that I used.

Outside the media in which you work, what arts appeal to you and/or inspire you and why?
Definitely new media and performance art. New media art because art should represent the time in which it is created and we live in a time of technology. Plus their work is mainly awesome. Because I am in a phase of thinking about the artist as a piece of art, I find it very interesting. The relationship between the audience and the artist as part of the art work (or one of the objects in composition of the space involved in performance) reminds me of Baroque art spaces and the active energy in them.

How would you describe contemporary art in Serbia at the moment?
There are a few who shine. I would say it like that, because I think that my country has too many artists proportionally to its population. Personally I have a lot of respect for the work of Simonida Rajčević and a group of artists called Third Belgrade.

Why make art? 
Honestly I don’t know how to answer that question. I think that I will never find the answer and that’s a good thing. Art is not the only thing that I do, but all of the other things I do are art related.

What are your aspirations in terms of your art?
I am planning to stay for a while on the project on which I am working right now. I think that I have barely made any steps from the start and that there is still a lot of work to do; and I am currently obsessed with the facts about constant motion, I just can’t help it.

Links:
Valentina Talijan

Amy Bennett's AT THE LAKE

Amy Bennett's At The Lake reminds me of Julio Cortazar's Blow Up. I feel as if I'm looking through a lens and the closer I look, the clearer it becomes that all is not well at the lake. With a style of painting that gives her scene the look of a tilt-shift photograph with people looking vaguely like miniature figures, it has the effect of making each individual look so incredibly isolated. Even in groups (as above), individual isolation seems to be magnified as the Spartan landscape intensifies the odd focus on people despite their diminutive size.

Aside from isolation, the titles imply uncertainty and menace forcing you to investigate further. It's an odd experience seeing her paintings. At first glance or from a distance, they seem vaguely akin to Edward Hopper but perhaps with even brighter colours and optimism. A step closer and the eye senses something isn't right. What scale is this? Are those people or toys? Even closer observation raises more questions and looking for clues in the titles adds to the mystery.

Take the image below as an example. Is the man helping the woman from the lake? Has she passed out? Why isn't she wet? Oh, there's a boat... The title is "Into the Woods". What happened before? What will happen next? I love how these paintings play on our expectations with double edged narratives enhanced so incredibly by Amy Bennett's unusual style.

"Working with common themes such as transition, aging, isolation, and loss, I am interested in the fragility of relationships and people’s awkwardness in trying to coexist and relate to one another. To that end I create miniature 3D models to serve as evolving still lifes from which I paint detailed narrative paintings. Using cardboard, foam, wood, paint, glue, and model railroad miniatures, I construct various fictional, scale models. Recent models have included a neighborhood, lake, theater, doctor’s office, church, and numerous domestic interiors. The models become a stage on which I develop narratives. They offer me complete control over lighting, composition, and vantage point to achieve a certain dramatic effect."

"While working with tiny pieces that often slip frustratingly from my fingers, I am reminded of the delicacy and vulnerability of the world I am creating, and this summons empathy for my subject. The clumsy inadequacies of miniatures help me to convey a sense of artifice and distance.  I try to paint the scenes in a way that feels like a believable world, but an alternate, fabricated world."

"The paintings are glimpses of a scene or fragments of a narrative. Similar to a memory, they are fictional constructions of significant moments meant to elicit specific feelings and to provoke the viewer to consider the moment before or after the one presented in the painting. I am interested in storytelling over time through repeated depictions of the same house or car or person, seasonal changes, and shifting vantage points. Like the disturbing difficulty of trying to put rolls of film in order several years after the pictures have been taken, my aim is for the collective images to suggest a known past that is just beyond reach."

"Throughout 2010 and 2011, I created a mosaic with fabricator Franz Meyer of Munich for MTA’s Arts for Transit. Installation of the project, “Heydays” was recently completed in the 86th St./4th Ave. R Line Subway Station in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. This past summer my work was also featured in “Otherworldly”, a show at The Museum of Arts and Design in New York City. Recent awards include The American Academy of Arts & Letters The Rosenthal Family Foundation Award, a NYFA Fellowship in Painting, and a residency at The Marie Walsh Sharpe Studio Program. Sore Spots, a show of new paintings, monotypes, and sculpture, is currently on view at Galleri Magnus Karlsson in Stockholm."

Links:
Amy Bennett
Amy Bennett (Richard Heller Gallery)
Amy Bennett (The Harlow)

INTERVIEW: Moose Allain

I have followed Moose Allain for a long time on Twitter and enjoying his off kilter sense of humour without realising that he also creates stuff as well. In selecting the above image as the vanguard of his work, I wanted to share something with the text-based humour that I've come to enjoy. You will not see a better use of the phrases "Flenching Plate", "Perspiration Loons" or "Drainage Runnels".

His creations are refreshing, organic reflections of his plays on language via Twitter. Though it feels a little strange being more than 140 characters in length, Moose took time out of his busy Tweeting schedule to answer a few of my questions and provide a few good laughs and insights...

I first got to know you when we exchanged some witty banter. You were something of an anomaly on my timeline like a kid at a party quietly speaking in tongues in the corner but in fact probably making more sense than anyone else. How has Twitter influenced your artwork?

Ha! That's a nice, flattering description. I will accept your compliment because it reflects something I've always tried to do – not just on Twitter, but in my life generally - which is to be original. Now Twitter is completely hardwired into my mind, and I think that's mainly because for me it's a creative channel. I think people use Twitter in all sorts of ways, but for me its shape is usually: “output/ a bit of replying”. In other words, I seldom have time to read the tweets of the people I've chosen to follow. Other times I would describe my Twitter activity as: “hosting”. This is sometimes in the form of a hashtag/RT process or asking a question e.g. What is your local word for an alley way? And RTing the replies. Sometimes I improvise a story in tweets. That tends to divide an audience – some people love them, but I can usually expect to lose about 30 followers when I do it. So I use Twitter in varying ways, various techniques, ultimately trying to engage an audience, entertain and be original.

My main interest in Twitter is language & the play of language. I think I've, fairly successfully, managed to integrate Twitter into my 'practice' (not a term I like). I think it means I've become a lot more than a visual artist, which is great because I'm just as interested in words as I am in images. I think some of the artists I like most, the word 'art' doesn't really cover it. They just do interesting stuff with their lives, use art as a way of exploring the world – I'm thinking of people like Adam Chodzko or Sophie Calle – 'art', whatever that is, is a sort of by-product of these processes. Well, that aggrandises my work far too much, but in the end it's about connecting to people en masse as well as individually. Twitter is perfect for that, it has opened me up to an audience that you then have to perform for. It has not only opened me up to an audience, but to all sorts of collaborations. I could go on about this for ages but I'll stop there.

Recently @40elephantsmob had a selection of her tweets turned into the brilliant animation Mummy Needs Gin. Have you considered turning your tweets into something more? (film, book, etc) 

Yes. In short. I have made little books of my tweet stories a couple of years ago. I don't have the patience for animation, but I'd be happy for someone else to make them! I work with a local film company, Meat Bingo, here in Devon – we're about to start on our third project. We are lucky to have the writer David Quantick as a key member – he's from Exmouth, and Twitter has got us together. Anyway, there's potential there. I'd love to do a book of them, illustrate them myself… But I have so many projects in my head I know I'll probably never get round to.

"...I was a child who didn't want to be like other people. I suffer from reverse peer group pressure."

Who is Moose? Where did he come from? What makes Moose tick? How would Moose introduce himself to a stranger? 

Oh goodness, I don't know! I don't really like thinking about myself really. I am extremely grateful that I've got to a stage in my life where I can describe myself as an artist. So many interesting things are coming out of it, all sorts of projects, it feels like I'm at the beginning of things, which is so exciting. Before this I was a disillusioned architect. That's where I came from most recently. Looking at my adult life, it was a lot of drifting about never really being happy because I really wanted to be an artist but didn't think it was possible. Going back to your first question, I was a child who didn't want to be like other people. I suffer from reverse peer group pressure. That's stayed with me.

How much planning goes into your drawings and how much comes about organically as you work?

It's nearly all organic. I seldom pre-draw, I just have an idea and run with it. It's very liberating.


Your work on Stephen Fry's 100 Greatest Gadgets have integrated "Drainage Runnels" and "Perspiration Loons" into my vocabulary. How did you approach this project and how much of a collaboration was it with Mr. Fry?

Actually this was a quick job, which is why I resorted to collage. I had no contact with Mr Fry, simply a sentence for each of the 3 ideas which I had to illustrate. I had used the technique before for a range of cards, so I thought it would look just right and reflect his gentlemanly subversive character. The language was an important part of it, for me, although I'm not sure how much it came across on the TV. It was great fun to do.

What instigated the creation of We Meet in the Shadows and how did it develop?

A couple of years ago I decided I wanted to work bigger and with colour. Previously I'd been working tiny on my desktop so this was an attempt to loosen up a bit. It also reflected a return to architecture, in so far as I could dream up places again. The technique is to put on a wash of background colour – it's all acrylic paint and inks – then drop ink onto it and move it around with bits of plastic, straight edges, starting to form shapes. Next stage is to pick out black lines with the same straight edges, I also use a little wheel. After that I go in with the dipping pen and add more architectural detail. The final stage is to add figures and find a story in there somewhere, a theme. So the subject ends up being a response. This is very much the organic process I mentioned in the last question – I like to react.

"...I am trying to be entertaining and, this can sound trite but I don't believe it is, my work is also about bringing joy"

How would you describe your subject matter or the content of your work? 

The subject matter, well it's mostly stuff that's in my head. Be that visual art or writing or the two combined. In other words, I'm not an observational artist. But I am trying to be entertaining and, this can sound trite but I don't believe it is, my work is also about bringing joy. I think people really respond to that. I hate being asked what my work's like partly because it's not really like other people's work and also because it's very varied. I usually say “It's more like illustration, quite graphic and cartoony, mostly from my imagination”. That sort of covers it, but that really only describes the visual art, which isn't the whole of it by any means.

What was the last artwork to impress you and why? (painting, illustration, film, music, etc) 

The last to impress me. That makes it a bit easier. I've just downloaded the recent ATOM TM album and there's a couple of tracks on there that I can't get enough of. A couple of days ago I went to a talk at the Royal Albert Memorial Museum in Exeter about the BP Portrait Award exhibition which is on there currently. It was fascinating because I am interested in painting, but the winning portrait is amazing and I had quite an emotional response to it. It's called Auntie by Aleah Chapin.

It's a painting of a smile and it smiles at you in a most incredible way – to the extent that you hardly noticed she is an naked older woman.

"...there are artists earning millions from being up themselves, so they've a right to take themselves seriously I suppose."

Do you think the art world takes itself too seriously sometimes? 

The art world… it's so big it's about the same size as the real world, so it's hard to generalise. Some of it is shockingly up itself. On the other hand there are artists earning millions from being up themselves, so they've a right to take themselves seriously I suppose. You look at people like Damien Hirst and think it must be odd to make art that is really only ever about money now. He's like King Midas. To be honest I don't really see myself as part of an art world as my main interactions are with people who aren't in it, if you know what I mean. Just people who like my work or want to commission something or just tell me they like it. I didn't go to art school so I don't feel burdened by the need to explain myself. Artist's statements, by those who have been through the art system, are hilariously pretentious, homogeneous and meaningless. So, to be enjoyed at that level at least.

Are you working on anything at the moment or have any new projects in the pipeline? 

Lots of work comes about via Twitter these days. All sorts of interesting propositions. I'm just about to finish working on a project for Tate Britain – a family guide leaflet for their upcoming Lowry exhibition. It was a great privilege to be asked to contribute. I have various writing projects in the pipeline which may or may not come off. A new film to collaborate on, more walls to draw on, a big commission which desperately needs my attention, more fun to be had on Twitter and with Vine and Instagram, Oh bloody hell I've got so much to do I'd better get on

Thank you, Moose.


Links:
World of Moose
Moose Allain (Twitter)

INTERVIEW: Saddo

I was quite excited when I discovered Saddo's work but I reigned in my enthusiasm until after I had learned more about his work (having been let down in the past) yet with every piece of work I found, the same confidence and momentum was there. Disconcerting, fun, and puzzling, his works feel light yet are profound, the colours bright but staid; they're coils of contradiction that unapologetically straddle genres. I love them and I'm more than a little perplexed how he hasn't received even more attention than he already has.

Obviously, I immediately got in touch with him and put a number of questions to him which he answered with confidence, candour and a refreshing lack of ego.

You say in your bio that in your childhood, you "used to devour tones of horror and sci-fi movies and books". Which movies and books were most important to you?

Yeah, I used to read sci-fi books and watch sci-fi and horror movies indiscriminately, anything I could get my hands on. I started with Jules Verne, H.G.Wells, and then got into classic sci-fi like Asimov, Tolkien, Frank Herbert, Philip K. Dick, Arthur C. Clarke, Roger Zelazny, Robert Silverberg, Gregory Benford, stuff like that, any kind of sci-fi or fantasy, from adventure/action stuff, to space-opera, cyberpunk, and more conceptual stuff. One of the first books that opened my appetite for sci-fi was Dune, it was a present from my aunt. And then The Foundation, 2001 A Space Odyssey, Timescape, Ender's Game, Palmer Eldritch, Lord of the Rings, lots and lots of others.

And about movies, the same, I used to rent tapes of any sci-fi or horror movies from the '80s and '90s, from the first horror movies I watched when I was a kid were Evil Dead, and an obscure movie I've never heard about since, called Xtro.

"...it was super fun, fresh, we hung out together a lot, we worked together, and street art became the glue that brought us and kept us together."

I was a huge Star Wars fan, I saw the movies dozens of times, I used to draw the characters, the spaceships, everything. Alien, Predator, Terminator, Close Encounters of The Third Kind, E.T., Flash Gordon, Friday the 13th, Ghostbusters, Nightmare on Elm Street, Blade Runner, The Thing, and many many other classic, plus obscure cheesy cheap 80s-90s horrors with monsters and zombies - I was devouring all of them.

What did you learn from "street art" and why did you set up The Playground in Romania?

Street-art was something completely new and fresh for me, especially cause I "discovered" it in a time of my life, when I was a fresh graduate from the University of Art, and I found myself stuck, in a huge creative block and identity crisis which lasted for almost two years. And street-art slowly made me trust myself again, be able to get out there and express myself more free, without the constraints and pressure of academic life and high-brow art. And it made me realize, or remember that art should be fun. It was like when I was a sci-fi and horror kid getting enthusiastic about creature designs, details on spaceships, stuff like that. It was fun. But at the same time it also brought responsibility, cause suddenly street-art got into the attention of galleries, agencies, brands, etc. and this made me want to get better and better, and I got to work with many brands, participate in many group exhibitions all over the world, and basically to be able to do what I love, and live off it.

"Sometimes I really enjoy putting thought and research into a piece, and sometimes I just let it happen."

One of the great things about street art is the sense of community, and the possibility to meet other artists whose works you love and appreciate, and even paint with them.

At the time when I was living in Cluj ( the city I studied in), there really wasn't too much street-art going on there, Bucharest, the capital of Romania was much more active and energetic. So me and a friend of mine started doing stuff, at first small stickers and then we got to bigger paste-ups, we found three other kids who were doing this and we formed a group, and it was super fun, fresh, we hung out together a lot, we worked together, and street art became the glue that brought us and kept us together.

Would you choose one of your works and go through how it developed and what it means to you?

I usually have two different kind of approaches, depending on my mood. Sometimes I really enjoy putting thought and research into a piece, and sometimes I just let it happen.

For example the "Huginn and Muninn" piece - part of "The Garden of Good and Evil" series of shows I'll have this year, together with my girlfriend Aitch - is part of a series which explores the presence of animals in different myths and legends, this one based on characters and deities in Norse mythology.

Before starting working on the piece I did a bit of research on the meanings and symbolism of different animals in myths and legends, and then I read some stuff about Norse mythology, Odin, Huginn and Muninn, shamanic rituals, etc. And then I started sketching out the composition, the characters, and started painting on the actual canvas. The process itself is pretty straight and planned out, and it doesn't contain too many surprises.

And there's the second category which is a bit more fun to work on, cause it's more free, I don't have a very clear idea of how the piece would look, or what the meaning behind it would be. Take for example one my "Charmer" pieces - I started by putting some basic colors on a piece of wood, and then working those colors, make them more vibrant, adding textures, layers, abstract shapes, and then covering them again with more watery colors. Usually after I'm pleased with how the background looks, I just stare at it for a while, maybe start working on some new similar background for future pieces, to keep myself in that mood, and when I have two or three finished backgrounds I'm thinking about characters, shapes, postures, I look at a lot of bird images, and when I find something inspiring or think of some basic idea, I start sketching and then painting the character. And usually this kind of piece is much more free, I don't need to have everything planned out, the character can change while I work, different surprising details can pop up. And my favorite part is the final touches, when the character and everything is almost done, I add small fun, details, for example in this piece the cartoon hands of the character bring a fresh, fun feeling, or the dots eaten by the snake, making it look like a Pacman.

Which artists have been important to you in recent years and why?

Wow, there are lots, I mean I listen to lots of different music genres from classical to hip-hop, watch so many movies, follow the work of lots of artists and illustrators, I really couldn't say which one has been most important. A constant influence in my life and art is my girlfriend Aitch. I also love and am influenced by the work of Bosch, Walton Ford, Botero, and also young lowbrow artists and illustrators. I'm also super influenced by Renaissance portraits, Vanitas paintings, old illustrations of plants and animals, the prints of Ernst Haeckel, oriental patterns, cartoons, stuff like this.

What are you working on at the moment?

Right now I'm working on a small illustration on paper, part of a series of new pieces for the "Garden of Good and Evil" shows Aitch and I will have next month at "La Petite Mort" gallery in Ottawa, and "Parantheses" gallery in Halifax. We'll be there for the openings and we'll paint some murals with our friend Other.

Also, all the pieces we're working on now, will be printed in limited editions for a show at Atelier Olschinsky in Vienna, in September.

Links:
Saddo
Saddo (Behance)
Saddo (Flickr)
Aitch
La Petite Mort Gallery

INTERVIEW: Kelly Louise Judd

Full of allegory and whimsy and spiced with a touch of subtle menace, Kelly Louise Judd's illustrations seem reminiscent of Edwardian Era imagery from Central and Eastern Europe as well as pre-industrial wildlife documentation. Combining natural and fairytale elements, her creations are at once familiar yet mysterious. Adding to the natural element, her illustrations feel as if they've been crafted from wood and the colour palette is earthy and subdued.

Kelly Louise Judd recieved a BFA from the Kansas City Art Institute in 2002. She continues to live in Kansas City where she spends her time painting, illustrating, gardening, and playing the harp. She is deeply inspired by folklore, ghost stories, psychology, Victorian literature and art, Northern Renaissance art, and flora and fauna.

Very graciously, Kelly has agreed to answer a few questions and correct me on some of my misconceptions and provide some insight to her work. All images provided with the kind consent of Kelly Louise Judd.

How important would you say narrative and allegory are in your works?
It is very important to me. I feel most drawn to art that tells a story and holds symbolism. I’m interested in the underlying stories of life. The house may be quiet and the outside might feel still, but at the same time the house is full of ghosts, and just outside the window a hummingbird’s wings are flapping 50 times per second. Nothing is as calm as its surface, and this is often a starting point for me.

Would you pick one of your works and explain the process that went into its creation and the influences that went into it?
The Peacock and the Crane was inspired by the Aesop’s Fable of the same name. I’d been doing some other works that involved peacocks and cranes separately, so I felt like it was time to do a piece focused on the two together. I wanted them to be together in the painting, but also wanted it to feel as though they were going about in two different worlds. So, the peacock walks on roses, while the crane walks lower on a peacock tail rug.

From the name "Swanbones" to their appearance across a number of your works, birds play a significant role. What do birds signify to you and how would you say you make use of them in your work?
In my work I tend to think of birds as fragile messengers. They might have a warning to deliver or something that needs to be taken away when they leave.

What artists would you say you admire the most and have had the greatest influence on you and why?
I’ve spent a lot of time looking at the work of Dutch and Flemish Renaissance painters. Pieter Bruegel the Elder, Hieronymus Bosch, and Hugo Van Der Goes are a few of my favorites. I think they have most influenced me in the way I think about symbolism and also in my color palette.

I’ve also been very inspired by the Golden age of Illustration. I love the work of Edmund Dulac, Arthur Rackham, Helen Stratton, and Walter Crane, among so many others.

Which books, films or other media do you enjoy and inspire you?
I read a lot of Victorian literature, which always tends to bleed into my work. I like to read folk tales from all over the world. I’m also inspired by authors like Flannery O’Connor and Carson McCullers.

Sometimes while I’m working I’ll put on a documentary. The topics of these can be about anything from historical gardening to leprosy.

Links:
Kelly Louise Judd
Kelly Louise Judd (Etsy)
Kelly Louise Judd (Facebook)
Kelly Louise Judd (Art Out There)
Kelly Louise Judd (Beautiful Decay)
The Mythic Art of Kelly Louise Judd (eclectix)

INTERVIEW Guy Laramée

Seeing Guy Laramée's works, I was at once charmed by them and looking more closely, they bear the weight of further examination. I come from a point of ignorance in terms of this kind of work and it is through this lens that I hope I'll be able to encourage others to join me in my explorations. Mr. Laramée very kindly took time to answer a few of my humble questions and gave kind permission to use the imagery accompanying this post.

This is his artist statement:

The erosion of cultures – and of “culture” as a whole - is the theme that runs through the last 25 years of my artistic practice. Cultures emerge, become obsolete, and are replaced by new ones. With the vanishing of cultures, some people are displaced and destroyed. We are currently told that the paper book is bound to die. The library, as a place, is finished. One might ask so what? Do we really believe that “new technologies” will change anything concerning our existential dilemma, our human condition? And even if we could change the content of all the books on earth, would this change anything in relation to the domination of analytical knowledge over intuitive knowledge? What is it in ourselves that insists on grabbing, on casting the flow of experience into concepts?
When I was younger, I was very upset with the ideologies of progress. I wanted to destroy them by showing that we are still primitives. I had the profound intuition that as a species, we had not evolved that much. Now I see that our belief in progress stems from our fascination with the content of consciousness. Despite appearances, our current obsession for changing the forms in which we access culture is but a manifestation of this fascination.
My work, in 3D as well as in painting, originates from the very idea that ultimate knowledge could very well be an erosion instead of an accumulation. The title of one of my pieces is “ All Ideas Look Alike”. Contemporary art seems to have forgotten that there is an exterior to the intellect. I want to examine thinking, not only “what” we think, but “that” we think.
So I carve landscapes out of books and I paint romantic landscapes. Mountains of disused knowledge return to what they really are: mountains. They erode a bit more and they become hills. Then they flatten and become fields where apparently nothing is happening. Piles of obsolete encyclopedias return to that which does not need to say anything, that which simply IS. Fogs and clouds erase everything we know, everything we think we are.
After 30 years of practice, the only thing I still wish my art to do is this: to project us into this thick “cloud of unknowing.”

I wonder when looking at your work if you are either reverting your materials(books) into their previous state or simply altering them into something unexpected? Is your intention to revert the materials or push them toward something new?

That may sound presumptuous but I really feel I’m not doing anything. I’m rather done by a process that I really do not understand. Therefore, “intentions” get into the work through doors that are mostly unexpected and suddenly I notice that a given “idea”, “image” of feeling has been lingering for too long and that thus it is calling for attention.

“Newness” is part of the process, in the sense that there is always a freshness that accompanies the birth of pieces – well… the good pieces, because for the bad pieces, it is rather a feeling of staleness, but the bad pieces have to be done anyway…

This may sound like I don’t want to answer your question, but it is only that I think we really have – as a culture – to get out of the “maker” paradigm, something that might have been useful in the first days of the industrial era – seeing the poet as a worker – but we also have to remind ourselves that humans have always felt that inspiration came from somewhere else.

And really, I don’t feel I’m working with books. I’m working with feelings (not emotions, they are different to me). I’m glad that this limitation, this limit – books – can provide a channel for inspiration (one thing less to think about…) but it could be anything, really. I feel I’ve worked the same Romantic stuff with installations and painting.

But again, “The Mona Lisa is not a turnip” as Gerhard Richter said. I am pretty much aware of the metaphor – mountains of knowledge return to what they are : mountains – and also well aware that my gesture is a denial of content. But when I enter into a book with the chainsaw, all this is forgotten. I contemplate the birth of a mountain and like always in contemplation, I lose myself in the process. What a relief !

I find your work reminiscent of Haruki Murakami or Kafka in their transformative nature. What artists feed your imagination if not inspire?

Maybe Kafka but I would rather say Borges. Both authors share the same connection to the Fantastic, but Borges is more down to earth. More credible in a sense.

Generally speaking it is painting that inspires me. 19th century landscape painting more than anything. And very old Chinese and Japanese paintings too. It is the contemporary painter Gerhard Richter that made all this legitimate. We are not cut from the past, the past is in us.

You've previously described the euphoria you've felt when finding a beautiful book. To you, what makes a beautiful book and why are these attributes important to you?

I wish I could give you the recipe of beauty. I wish I could have it myself, then I would be rich…! Because really, life, beauty, oneness, all these are synonymous, aren’t they?
Some much have been written of the theories of harmony, what makes something harmonious. But really it is the mystery of it that makes it so appealing.

I currently prefer old books because they transpire dedication, care, etc. In the past, people made books as something which would last. The same with furniture. The spirit of someone who does something that should last long is not the same.
Today it is all rat race, carelessness, except for a couple of craftsmen who still understand what they get from work well done : calm, absorption, increased attention, vigilance, etc. All attributes that are not so far from spiritual practice after all…

One of my favourite works of yours is Tectonic which has a path or path-like thread winding its way through the landscape. For me, it pulled me right in and there I was on the path. What techniques do you use to draw the viewer into your works?

What techniques  do you use to fall in love? There are no techniques for anything.
Contemplation is the thing. If the artist really entered into contemplation, than there are good chances that the viewer will too. As I see it, contemplation is not even a “state” that you “reach”. It is the original soup in which we all soak. Going back to our contemplative nature – and it is really that ; a coming back to what we are – brings happiness. That’s all.

Would you describe a turning point or moment of revelation in your art and explain its significance and impact on your work?

There is turning point everyday Sir ! Otherwise there would be no art. It would be sheer reproduction. Everyday I feel I was mistaken and blind. Everyday I resent my mistakes and whish I should not fall in traps again. The trap of intellection for example. God, the amount of time I spent in this hell…! Thinking that I could make art with ideas, with my training in anthropology, etc. Gibberish.

“Happiness is when the “I” is not”, someone said. I just realized that this is really what I want : to disappear behind the work. Kabir said “ :If you were to free me, free me from myself”.

Links:
Guy Laramée
Guy Laramée (Pertwee, Anderson & Gold)
Guy Laramée (Jayne H Baum)
Guy Laramée (Cool Hunting)
Guy Laramée (Foster White Gallery)

HIERONYMUS BOSCH: Garden of Earthly Delights

The multiple interpretations of Hieronymus Bosch's surreal, strangely modern Garden of Earthly Delights make interesting reading. A high resolution image of the piece is available HERE for your own review and the Wiki entry provides a solid starting point for your own exploration of the work. As usual, additional links are listed at the end of this post.





Links:
Garden of Earthly Delights Wiki
Hieronymous Bosch Wiki
The World of Bosch (Smithsonian Magazine, 1988)
Boschwebsite.com

HARRY HILL's paintings

“The act of laughing is considered kind of a low-class, working-class activity — a form of entertainment — and you know, it’s not something you do in art museums,” says Sheri Klein, author of the book “Art and Laughter.” Because of this association, she says, the role of humor in art is “terribly misunderstood.”

-Sharon Mizota, This contemporary art really is laughable
LA Times

"I usually work from photos in magazines – Hello!, OK! – and the Daily Mail is a particularly good source. When I see a photo I like, I tear it out and put it in a folder, and when I fancy doing a painting, I go through the folders and find a good image. I’m very fond of the picture of a dog called Solomon. His owners were on holiday on the Isle of Wight and he went missing. He was found – after he had swum from the Isle of Wight to Southampton. These paintings are sort of what Solomon might have been thinking on that swim. "

-Harry Hill, Tate Etc.

Links:
Harry Hill: Paintings
Harry Hill, Occupational Therapy (Tate Etc)

OTTO DIX Portraits

Otto Dix(1891-1969), contrary to many portrait painters stressed the importance of first impressions preferring to paint strangers. He is quoted as saying, "You know, if one paints someone's portrait, one should not know him if possible." It's an interesting approach and in his portraits, there is exaggeration, miniaturisation, and caricaturisation of his first impressions enveloped in the style of the Old Masters.

"Everybody thinks they know what art should be. But very few of them have the sense that is necessary to experience painting, that is the sense of sight, that sees colors and forms as living reality in the picture. "

Links:
Otto Dix
Otto Dix (.org)
Otto Dix Wiki
Otto Dix (Mess.net)