sølve sundsbø: perroquet.

Inspired by nature documentaries and science photography, fashion photographer Sølve Sundsbø created “Parroquet”, a series of photographs and short videos exploring the sleek, mutli-hued avian beauty of the parroquet, a type of long-tailed parrot. Presented by SHOWStudio, the pictures are stunningly beautiful. Interesting how nature and evolution have created a palette of colour as gorgeous as, arguably more gorgeous than, any art created by human hands.

The only thing more beautiful that the photographs are the eight videos; little slow-motion epics of the perroquets in flight. The colours are so deep and brilliant it’s almost hard to believe that they’re only feathers.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Via Today and Tomorrow

kotama bouabane: melting words.

I’m loving the work of fellow Torontonian Kotama Bouabane. I dig how the iced words, already beginning to melt, echo the hollowness of the ostensibly genuine sentiments they spell out. Even the grandest words can slowly fade away…

Via Empire Collective

florence tétier + johan besse: the kings & the queens.

This is cool shit. “The Kings & The Queens” is a series of haunting new work for “Magazine” created by Switzerland-based collaborators Florence Tétier and Johan Besse.

Via Today and Tomorrow

brad troemel.

I’m totally digging the big line-up of projects American artist Brad Troemel’s got going on at his site. Multi-disciplinary and thinking outside of the box, Troemel’s projects are creativity let loose. And it’s crazy good.

In his series “Canvases”, he photographs frosting, sprinkles, and other confections on top of raw meat. I love the juxtaposition of the man-made toppings with the organic flesh underneath…

In a similar vein, Troemel mixes the synthetic and organic again in “Coexist”. This time he heads out into natural environments and emulates the environments with synthetic objects:

In “Greatest Ever” he takes a series of images from championship games and matches each with a quote from that game. The grainy RGB images are hot enough, but when layered with the piece of text each one takes on a whole new meaning. Similar to the text/collage work of one of my favourite artists, Paul Butler…

In his photo duo “Everything You’ve Ever Touched Was Temporary”, subtitled “Found Image and the Intentional Destruction of my Cell Phone” he pairs his own work, a vintage image, and a little social commentary…

There is tons of stuff to check out on his site, but my final fave is his series “Special. Basically, he hiked into the middle of a forest, shouted compliments for himself at a tree, then rode his bike to Wal-Mart and bought himself a trophy. It’s so totally random that you can’t not love it.

Via Love Life

s+c interviews: liz wolfe.

I’ve really pumped to announce the kick off to a whole new feature on shape+colour: s+c interviews. Whenever I write about artists and designers I always have way more questions than I can find the answers to. Since shape+colour itself is a dive into creativity, I want to find how these outside-the-box creative people find their inspiration, how they stay creative and vital, and how they feel about their own work.

I’m going to be tracking down (harrassing… possibly stalking) my favourite artists from the site to find out a bit more about what makes them tick. I’m aiming to dip more into the nature of creativity as seen by creatives themselves and to be inspired by the different routes people from all over the world take to one main goal: making something astounding and beautiful for the rest of us to be taken away by.

Yellow Shoes and Sardines © Liz Wolfe

I’m crazy happy to start s+c interviews with one of my absolute favourite photographers and frequent topic of conversation on shape+colour, Liz Wolfe…

Me: Tell me a bit about your background. How did you discover photography?

Liz: I’m originally from Saskatchewan. I was born there and spent most of my childhood there until I was 17. I first discovered photography when I was a child. My parents had a manual camera and were into printing their own family photos in the tiny darkroom they set up in a closet in our basement. Because our winters were so long and cold, my brothers and I were always going crazy trying to find stuff to occupy us. So it was only natural that eventually that mysterious room in the basement began to beckon. And it was there that we were introduced to the magic of black-and-white photography. My mom taught me how to use her camera and my dad showed me how to make prints. And that was it; I was in love.
As a teenager, I became totally obsessed with the medium, often driving into the middle of nowhere in -40 degree weather to get my “perfect” shots. It’s funny when I look at these photos because aesthetically the images are so different from the kind of work I am doing now. But the playfulness and the ridiculousness, those elements are definitely there.

Baby Octopi and Green Flowers © Liz Wolfe

Me: An on-going theme in your work is the visual interplay of things we commonly consider pretty – flowers, sugar, candy – with things we stereotypically consider “gross” – chicken feet, octopi, blood. What is it about this juxtaposition that inspires you so much?

Liz: I’m not entirely sure, but I think it has something to do with commercial imagery and the way our generation has been forced to adapt to the commercialization of every aspect of our lives. Possibly this is something every generation feels, but there is a part of me that thinks our generation is the first to experience commercialization in its totality.

Like many people, I am instinctively drawn to the allure of commercial imagery and find it almost impossible to resist. Yet there’s something undeniably repulsive about the gloss and the falsity of these images. It’s this darker side that I am interested in exploring, and for me it seems natural to do this through juxtaposition.

Me: Another element of your work is taking foods we normally associate with celebrations and happiness – cupcakes, popsicles – but then telling a visual story with them that, to me, leads us to believe that all is not as happy as it might seem. What is it about this multi-layering, of something sinister lying just beneath all that sugar and colour, that you find intriguing?

Liz: The images you’re referring to are part of a new series I am working on called “Happiness is Contagious.” The North American obsession with achieving that elusive state called happiness fascinates me. And this is, in a very general sense, what I’m delving into with these images.

When I’m working, I try to avoid over-thinking the concepts underlying the images (if these even exist), mainly because I am incapable of thinking and acting at the same time! But also because, for me at least, thinking about my images on an intellectual level negatively affects the process of creating them. Conceptually, I am more interested in starting conversations than participating in them. When I’m planning images, my goal is to turn my mind off and operate entirely on my instincts. It’s like wrapping myself in a dream, where bizarre associations suddenly make sense. There’s a lucidity I rarely feel when I’m thinking in the conventional sense, and this is pure freedom for me.

Happy © Liz Wolfe

Me: You recently re-vamped lizwolfe.com and introduced an online store. Though art is obviously priceless, some artists choose to charge higher prices for their work, excluding some fans from being able to purchase it. You’ve started some of the work in your store at very attainable prices. Is it specifically important to you that your work be available to a wider range of people? How do you balance the purely creative evolution of your work with the goal of making a sustainable business out of it as well?

Liz: The open edition prints on my website, I created these for people who aren’t into collecting art but who want something for their walls. I love the idea of mass production and making art as accessible as possible, especially for people who don’t have the money or the desire to invest in original art. When I issue limited-edition photographs, they are expensive, and this helps me to keep creating new work.

Me: You have a young son. Besides what I’m sure are some pretty crazy time management issues, has being a parent affected or inspired your work in anyway? Do you aim to foster creativity in him, and if so has that affected your own?

Liz: Having a son has affected my work in many ways: I work faster, plan more extensively and take full advantage of the time I have. Plus, it gives me the opportunity to hang out with someone who is more interested in discussing the aesthetics of cake than I am.

My son is only two, so right now I’m doing less in the fostering creativity department and more in the discouraging him from putting sandwiches into my film scanner department. My approach has been to let him explore his world without too much parental scrutiny. It’s possible that creativity will naturally develop in this type of environment, but it really doesn’t matter to me either way. I’ll be happy with whatever interests he develops and I hope he will feel free to pursue them with passion. And keep his sandwiches to himself.

Me: This is a pretty broad question, but I want to throw open the door and see what pops into your mind first. What inspires you?

Liz: The kind of things that inspire me, they generally have nothing to do with art or creativity or consuming culture. Geographic isolation inspires me; the feeling of insignificance that levels all humans under the weight of a prairie sky.

I’m also inspired by random encounters with people in the city, overheard conversations, spontaneous reactions, the micro-dramas of humans playing out in the streets.

I prefer rawness over sophistication, candy stores over art galleries, everyday occurrences over momentous events.

Me: If you could go anywhere in the world right now, without worrying about cost or family or personal commitments, where would it be and why?

Liz: I know it sounds crazy because there are so many incredible places out there, but I would go to my former home in the prairies to sit on the hill from my childhood and watch traffic passing on the freeway. Not as an exercise in banality or some sort of ironic act, but to experience the slowness and the incredible presence of the sky.

Me: Aside from the work you’ve already done, if you could photograph any person or thing, past or present, real or imaginary, what would it be and why?

Liz: I would love to create an entire human-sized world out of candy and photograph its slow decay. It’s one of the most beautiful things I can imagine.

Hand Punctured With Candy Stick © LIz Wolfe

Me: One of my favourite pieces, and the current image on your new homepage, is 2005’s “Hand Punctured With Candy Stick”. To me this image is a great embodiment of your style and the mood you create. I would love to know the inspiration behind this shot.

Liz: I created this image as a response to the way violence is portrayed in pop culture, especially in shows like CSI.

Me: After spending so much time working with candy, do you have a sweet tooth?

Liz: I used to, but now that I work with sweet stuff all the time I almost never eat candy anymore. It’s sad. I think I was a much more exciting person with large amounts of refined sugar rushing through my bloodstream.

dmitry maksimov.

I love beautifully shot landscape photography. I love cute little round-faced Kidrobot-esque alien characters. So, really, what’s not to double love about cute little round-faced Kidrobot-esque alien characters that  have been lovingly given a home inside beautifully shot landscape photography? It’s like a three way. Both are awesome on their own, but all together it’s a whole new experience. Yeah son.

Russian designer, painter, and illustrator Dmitry Maksimov takes photographs and inserts his own subject, creating a whole new world of experience and viewpoint. A field of grass is pretty, but once you notice the little aliens walking, almost tentatively, though it the story changes. His work is stellar. Each piece isn’t just an mixture of media and creators, but an enhancement. An elevation. He deftly gives a personality and mood to each altered photo, and each is imbued with a sense of discovery in the moment. Something is always being felt by these l’il creatures…

His site is entirely in Russian, but luckily for me, one of the designers in my office is from Russia. Spaceba Alina! Anyway – she read it over for me and apparently people send Maksimov photos they’ve taken for him to work on and when completed he posts them on his site. Sick looking results and an interactive experience with other artists. Done and done.

Via Design:Related via NOTCOT

andrea galvani.

Check out the haunting and sometimes almost absurdist work of Italian photographer Andrea Galvani. Lots of his shots capture a moment of stumbling upon, that split second where you’ve just realized you’re in the lion’s den but before the animals have turned to notice you. Each picture contains just a glaze of magic, but shot so beautifully and realistically that it’s almost unnerving. The eye responds first at the drama of the image, but then as the brain tries to figure out exactly what’s going on the feeling of surprise turns to wonder, or bewilderment, or, as in the case of the second shot, complete feline unease.

Via Lost At E Minor

levi van veluw: landscapes.

Behold the absolutely jaw dropping work of Dutch interdisciplinary artist Levi van Veluw. He’s evolved the idea of self-portrait into an inspection of the human body not just as subject, but also as medium. The ultimate one-man show, van Veluw designs, creates, models, and photographs all of his works on his own face. Blending photography, surrealism, physiology, and ecology, he creates images that are strikingly visual and that also re-imagine the extremes of the human face. Visceral and elemental, there’s obviously an emotional reaction and power to the way he mutates his own image, the work is impacting not just because it’s a face, but because the face is being used as the secondary element – not the primary.

With a sense of body morphing and physical modification similar to one of my favourite boundary-pushing duos, Lucyandbart, van Veluw’s images are both cerebral and shocking at the same time.

In his latest series, “Landscapes”, he creates an entire ecosystem and then turns it through the seasons. The mixture of humanity and ecology, their inter-connection, is obvious. But normally we’re used to seeing ourselves amongst nature, not nature literally spread across our own skins.

Equally haunting is how his face itself is devoid of emotion, not hinting towards any conclusion. We’re forced to decide for ourselves whether this organic wonder, this almost planetary sized combination of earth and ground and man, is evolved and gracious, almost a deity, or if he’s carrying, truly, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Perhaps it’s both.

In “Material Transfers”, he takes the idea of his facial form as mold even further. By covering himself in carpet, sterling wood, and pebbles respectively, this series seems less like a meeting of two entities than a man who’s been literally engulfed and morphed into another state of being. Almost an anti-Midas, where instead of the man turning whatever he touches into gold, van Veluw is being transformed into whatever he touches.

Some of van Veluw’s older work is just an interesting. In “Colours” and “Candystick”, he takes things we normally associate with joy and makes them seem almost like an affliction. The lines of colour have him bound and suffocated, and the candy seems to be spreading itself into his body more like a subcutaneous rash than a sugar hit. In both shots, the colour acts more as a invasion than a celebration.

Finally, in “Ballpoints”, he plays another universal act: doodling. Again, using his entire face as notebook he uses his face as notepad. I can’t imagine how long it takes for him to create each pattern on his face, and even more, I can’t imagine how long it must take him to wash them off. I hope he’s got some bad ass soap.

Via Yay! Monday!

erik boker: product dissections.

I wouldn’t imagine that anything so minty fresh could make me feel so queasy. In photographer Erik Boker’s “Product Dissections” he takes something as mundane as toothpaste and makes it organic and Frankenstein-ishly disturbing.

Crest Whitening with Scope – Citrus Splash

Colgate Juniour – Bubble Fruit

Dissecting the tubes with the same method as many of us experienced in Science class growing up, there’s a shiny sterility here that makes the crustacean-looking tubes seem almost more like victims of scientific experiments. There’s also something about the way their little caps are left on that look like heads to me… Perhaps they’re being dissected to find the secret of their tartar-fighting abilities.

Aquafresh Extreme Clean – Empowermint

Colgate Maxfresh – Kiss Me Mint

He’s also diligently labelled each photo with it’s appropriate toothpaste name, which for some reason makes it all the more weird. As if somehow knowing this glossy, dissected mint-insect used to be you average run of the mill tube of Aquafresh makes the transformation all the more unnerving.

Boker gets right into it in a statement on his site:

“This project is an on-going exploration of the roles of art, nature, the consumer, the institution, product, fabrication, reality, taxonomy, and our relationships with seemingly insignificant objects and materials that affect us daily. … I am continually inspired by the function and treatment of both nature and the unnatural in our environment, and I continue to explore our understanding of their roles, and the inherent beauty, humour, and horror that lies within them.”

Clockwise from upper left:

Colgate Total – Mint Stripe, Crest Whitening Expressions – Extreme Herbal Mint, Crest Baking Soda and Whitening, and Oral-B Magic – Bubble Gum Magic Disney Princesses.

Via Photo Shelter

phillip toledano: days with my father.

It takes a real artist to know when something is special enough to simply be documented, and not necessarily explored or extrapolated on. To give something room to breathe and hold it’s own based only on the fact that you’ve found the strength to share it. I don’t take it lightly when artists take their most personal moments and reveal them to me, trusting that hopefully the cycle of creator and receiver will nurture us both. There’s something delicate and tenuous in the act of letting your story go in the desire that it will mean as much to a stranger as it does to you.

That’s why my gratitude and love goes out to a favourite photographer of mine, and one I’ve posted about before, Phillip Toledano. In his latest project he’s taken photography, memoir, chronicle, and diary and evolved them together into a beautifully honest photographic journey. In “Days With My Father”, he tells the story of living with his father’s dementia following his mother’s sudden death.

Toledano writes simply and thoughtfully about his father’s condition, in ways both light-hearted and heart-breaking. Its loveliness is borne of its grace and truth; he’s not layering drama or trying to make anything seem like what it’s not. He’s sharing without adding any extra gild or lacquer, and sometimes that’s the hardest path of all.

My favourite of the series, the one that made me look inside myself the most, is the photo below. In the story with it, Toledano writes “I have so many memories of him listening to opera, sketching, sculpting. Although he doesn’t paint anymore, he still sees. He still has the artistic impulse. He was admiring the sunset, saying that he could make a ‘whole series’ of paintings around those wonderful colours… The urge is still there, even if the physical ability is not.”

The thought of this really cut to my core. And I wonder know what it would be like to have the will to write but not able to type. Or to know that inside myself I was holding so many wonderful words and could no longer remember how to open my hands and set them down.

Having read the whole story, I feel stillness and solitude. The kind of mini-metamorphosis you rise from after you’ve just had an experience that’s led to realization. My parents are still younger, but one day they will be old. One day I will be old. I see myself taking part in a loop, both familiar and alien, of childhood and manhood, of life and death, and of the parent becoming the child. I see myself on both sides of Toledano’s story. Maybe it’s also because I’m the son to a father, and perhaps one day I will have my own son. I wonder if my parents will ever need me in this way, and if I were to grow old will someone be there to give me as much love as Phillip Toledano gives his Dad.

Via Tim Yu @ Cool Hunting