a visual collective outlet of inspiration
was sending some pix to a friend and thought that sam surely deserves a post after all. never thought of it before, but tonight it reminds me of robert longos men in the city series in a glance! by xy
art
masao yamamoto
i went through an old issue of the great photography magazine “foam” and reminded how beautiful is the work of japanese photographer masao yamamoto. i actually own a book of his work but the other contributors of this blog keep an hand on it… more here
“masao yamamotois a japanese photographer who creates images that are essentially vignettes of nature and the human intersection with it, ruminating over the passage of time and memory. yamamoto has had solo as well as group exhibitions in europe and the united states. his work evinces a talent for combining virtuosity as a photographer with the fresh gaze of a child.”
by pp’
R.I.P. tobias wong: dies at the age of 35
artist/designer tobias wong
deadly rose: made of bolistic material was to save a loved one
deadly rose: made of bolistic material was to save a loved oneit was a sad day today. not only because the weather was gloomy and i had just gotten back from a nice time away, but because of the discovery of three great people’s deaths. artist tobias wong artist louise bourgeois, and that bastard actor dennis hopper. what a mess. i won’t talk about the activists deaths… that’s a whole ‘nother blog all together but this is criminal. at 35 tobias had so much left to do. although i never got to meet him, i was impressed by his humor and wit when kl first showed me the rose he had designed. his work was not only smart but never took itself seriously and that’s very difficult to do. i sometimes think why do great people die when there are so many terrible ones just cuing for hell, i can supply a list. in any case, i was thinking of him all day and i guess that’s all you can ask for when you go, for some to remember you for all the good that you’ve done, what ever medium it may have been, humanity, art, or just plain old kindness. we’ll miss ya man. by uh
all about kate
you could put the girl into art, but you can’t put the art into the girl… or something like that. by uu
stolen picasso: What would Inspector Clouseau do?
picasso’s stolen materpiece – the pigeon with the peas
humiliated police officers
wednesday night a lone robber entered the paris museum of modern art and stole five original painting, including a picasso, modigliani, and braque. the monetary damage is estimated to be around 100,000,000 euros. the lone robber entered the museum by breaking a window and smashing a pad lock. yes, as many of you may be thinking, what poor security for a place holding billions of euros worth of famous artwork. but leave it to the french. in their defense, somewhat, their security system was down the night of the heist. was this an inside job? wait, i almost forgot that three guards are on duty at all times and they “saw nothing.” once the robber was inside, undetected, he very carefully cut the five paintings out of the frames. reps from the museum were quoted saying that the burglar was obviously very well organized. that’s a thought… or the security system is obviously under par. but tomato tamato. i wonder what our favorite french inspector, jacques clouseau, would have to say about this? by nh
ed ruscha is burning
still a fan of ed ruscha’s artwork and very little reason that will change. so no need good reason to post some ed’s. of course the first one is well known but the second and third ones are a bit less known. putting the three together sounds relevant. the dates are respectivly 1963, 1966, 1968. ed is on fire! by pp’
hell x wool
painter christopher wool and poet/writer/singer richard hell teamed up together on a serie of drawings and a book called psychopts and presented at john mcwhinnie gallery a couple a years ago.
what is interesting there is that beside the visuals, the collaboration is about coming back to a roots for wool. the paintings that made him famous where based on hell’s words. there is this nice story about wool asking courteously to hell about permission to use his words when hell in a punkish way was assuming the words were not his own. just words together.
this one is for dd’
richard hell: i went over to christopher’s and saw his painting. on the original album cover i’m standing there holding my jacket open, and i don’t have a shirt on underneath. and in magic marker i have across my chest, in all caps: YOU MAKE ME ____. it was just a blank. an underscore. anyway, when i saw the painting, christopher had filled up its entire surface with “YOU” on top of “MAKE” on top of “ME.” and i said, “wait a minute. where’s the ‘blank’?” and he said, “well, how about i just leave a space at the bottom?” which is what he did. there’s an empty line below the last word. so it worked out great. i was impressed by how casually he was willing to make what seemed like a major change. it seemed gallant. and like . . . self-confident, and suave. the guy was a gentleman and an artist. by pp’
edward weston first nude
is it possible that a first of a kind outdo the followings? well to me this nude which is supposed to be the first edward weston took is my favorite. not that i don’t like the others but there is something more here. maybe what we call a “supplement d’ame” in french (a little extra soul) by pp’
hiroshi sugimoto – visions in my mind
hallelujah! this one is really something i have been wishing about secretly, a movie about the great hiroshi sugimoto. well, maria anna tappeiner finally made it. sugimoto is the kind of artist you can’t get enough of, if you know what i mean? i always feel frustrated about not finding more stuff from him. i guess that’s what makes him so great. hiroshi sugimoto / visions in my mind. trailer. by pp’
ogawa kazumasa – flowers
ogawa kazumasa is known as one of the pioneer in japanese photography. he came in the usa in 1882 when doing the trip from japan was not so common, there he learned the then new process of the dry plate as well as the collotype printing. upon his return to japan two years later, he opened the first photographic studio in tokyo and the first collotype business in japan few years later. even if he is widely known for the pictures he took as an assignment of tokyo’s 100 most attractive geishas, the flowers i discovered a week ago are to me, his one masterpiece, if you consider they were shot in the 1890’s then perhaps mapplethorpe, penn, blossfeldt and friends can consider him as their “papa”, love it! by pp’
robert longo for brooklyn surfer
“I developed the Brooklyn Surfer logo from a memory I had of being at the beach near Rockaway in Brooklyn. It was late in the day, the sun was bright, hanging low in the sky. As I looked west, down the shoreline into the setting sun, I saw in the distance the sharp silhouettes of surfers holding their boards checking out the surf. This image was burned into my brain. Rockaway is Brooklyn. Brooklyn may sound like an unlikely location for a surf spot, but in reality it is a real location with a decent break and at times some serious swells. It is a unique surfing experience. An extraordinary collision of urban and surf cultures. Not far form the beaches are the basketball black tops of city legends and the subway stations where many of the surfers arrive coming off the trains with their boards heading for the beach and the breaks.” i personally always thought that new york and surfing were kind of an absurd duo but whatever dude. by dd
ruscha x kerouac
in 1951, jack kerouac wrote “on the road” on his typewriter as a continuous 120 foot-long scroll. few years later, in 1966, ed ruscha photographed “every building on sunset strip” and presented it on a 27 foot-long scroll. ruscha since confessed his obsession for his road heir in a book released by the great steidl in association with gagosian gallery.
“over the last couple of years, ruscha has turned his attention to on the road, resulting in his own version of kerouac’s beat bible. kerouac’s entire text appears accompanied by black and white photographic illustrations that ruscha has either taken himself, commissioned from other photographers, or selected from found images to refer closely to the details and impressions that the author describes, from car parts to jazz instruments, from sandwich stacks to tire burns on a desert road.”
the leather-bound book comprises 228 pages, signed and numbered by the artist in an edition of 350 and presented in a slip-case. we won’t write the price because it’s depressing… by pp’
