10,000 faces cover a floor. You are invited to walk across them, and you do, even though they clang, bang, and stare up at you in pained expressions, making uncomfortable sounds that echo off the cement walls. Their grief is amplified, and you are its source. Or are you?
Tag Archives: art
I mean, come ON. Marco Brambilla, your work blows my mind. My friends, see for yourself, in three steps:
1.] Begin here, with Kanye West’s music video, Power:
2.] Then check out Marco’s ridiculous (in a good way) video installation, “Civilization, in the elevator of The Standard hotel in New York City (I am chastising myself for not having gone to see it in person when I was there last. I should know better. I learned about him first through this piece a few years ago.).
3.] And then go peruse his other work (my personal fav is “Ghost”).
I promise, your eyes and ears will say nothing but *delish* and *love*.
on the swing in my studio
Pic by Jenni Bregman.
My friend Kate Rutter (designer, artist, crazy intelligent, all-round awesome lady) and I christened my new art studio with a vision board exercise. We cut out, pasted, glued, drew, painted images and thoughts about the futures we want to create. Highlights of the day were sun prints and packing tape transfers. Oh, and homemade white Sangria.
It’s good to have a bona fide creative space to think in.
I just moved into a new place. A lovely loft with big walls that need filling. My friend (and sometimes creative cohort) Jenni Bregman helped me fill one barren wall with a thought I’ve been mulling over lately: intentional environments. I’m exploring what happens when individuals or groups of people predetermine the kind of energy they want to create in a project or relationship – and the specific acts they choose to support the manifestation of that energy. I know, I know…probably sounds like a bit of new agey voodoo. But there is something about the power of that kind of purposefulness that is in my brain right now.
Anyway, this is the beginning of a little practice I’ll be doing in my new home. Placing intentions/directions/suggestions on my walls, in various places, in a variety of formats, using different kinds of materials. Mini-art installations, if you will. I’ll post them here, from time to time.
You love Paul Miller (a.k.a. DJ Spooky that Subliminal Kid). Or, maybe you just don’t know you love him yet. But, trust me, you do. Your love for him is in you. Waiting to find its way out.
Whether you already love him, or don’t know you love him yet, there is a likely a burning question in your mind…one you’ve always wanted (or will want) to ask him. One that keeps you up at night (or will), that you mull over (or will) as you stare out the window while you’re being creative. It’s one of those annoying brain itches you can’t scratch with your short brain arms.
Well, my friends, relief has come. Think of me as your conduit, a portal that will deliver your question to the man himself. I can scratch your brain itch. Let me explain…
I’m excited to announce that Paul Miller, composer, multimedia artist and writer, will be a keynote speaker at this year’s UX Week (Adaptive Path’s conference for user experience design folk, for those of you not in the know). He’ll discuss his book, Sound Unbound, a collection of thirty-six essays from musicians, writers and artists like Brian Eno, Moby, Chuck D, and Bruce Sterling. These are reports from the front lines on the role of sound and digital media in an information-based society. In preparation for his talk at UX Week, I’ll be interviewing him and sharing our conversation on my blog and Adaptive Path’s blog later this month.
Paul describes music as a social network that is “not about individual creativity but a collective process”. In that vein, rather than crafting interview questions myself, I’ll be collecting questions from friends and colleges. I’ll take your questions, print them out, put them in a bowl and randomly select a handful, letting fate guide where the conversation goes.
So, send your questions to me at email@example.com by Tuesday, May 24th.
And to get a sense of the kind of things we might hear at UX Week, here's a snippet of him at SXSW last year.
UX Week is August 23-26 in San Francisco. Have a look at our speaker line up and register at the UX Week website.
Exciting week on the video art front! Puddle Song, a short art film I wrote/directed with the help of a fabulous crew + actors (via San Francisco-based film co-op Scary Cow) was selected for the following shows:
“Best Of” the Sans Souci Festival of Dance Cinema in collaboration with Ob-Art Collective
July 14, 2010
Punt Multimedia, Casa del Mig, Parc de L’Espanya Insutrial
Calle Muntades, 5 – 08014Â Barcelona
On The Wall
July 2, 2010
SchÃ¶nhauser Allee 73 / QuARTier 73, 2.HH
* In this curated series of films, each selected piece addresses one of 5 themes – location, sound, costume, movement, camera angle. ‘Puddle Song’ was selected for sound.
As I wander, I keep thinking about this poem I wrote a while back (the horns are the tie-in). I’m not sure yet if this poem is indicative of where the painting will end up, but for tonight at least, there seems to be a connection.
two bulls slamming heads, we are
i feign disinterest
backing away while looking over my shoulder
nostrils subtly flaring with your thick scent
it was up to me
to shift the battle
you would fight
long and hard
if i kept pawing at the dirt
your silent question
between gritted teeth, tensed muscles
and the stare of hard, black eyes
is if i will err on the side of trust,
that fit like a tough suit of skin
it seems i may have met my match
in this game
of egos and attraction
Creating the sensation of movement in a still medium is a real trick. But, Robert Longo knows how to capture that feeling…and in a drawing, no less. You can really feel the bodies bending, the push of air against their clothes, the pull of gravity. And then, there is the recognition: Wow. That’s charcoal.
Apparently others were inspired by Longo’s drawings, as well. The “Big Love” commercial below drew from his work – and you can really see the influence. When I watched it the first time, I thought, “Wow. I don’t see many works that make movement feel like something you can touch.”