Three years ago Swedish artist Anders RamÂsell creÂatÂed this 35 minute conÂdensed verÂsion of Blade RunÂner, frame by frame, using waterÂcolÂors. Blade RunÂner: The Aquarelle EdiÂtion conÂtains 12,597 impresÂsionÂisÂtic works on waterÂlogged artist paper that togethÂer present, if not a faithÂful repÂreÂsenÂtaÂtion of RidÂley Scott’s film, then a rememÂbrance of the film.
It’s as if you bootÂed up a repliÂcant film fan and had them try to reconÂstruct Blade RunÂner from memÂoÂry. (RamÂsell himÂself calls it a “paraÂphrase” of the film.) It’s recÂogÂnizÂable, but due to the lightÂness and fuzzy lines of waterÂcolÂor, there’s also a magÂic to these images. (This is also due to the small size of each frame, 1.5 x 3 cm.)
The film is a jump forÂward from Ramsell’s othÂer works. Before 2011, he was dabÂbling in varÂiÂous media: nudes in ink on canÂvas, abstract acrylic splotchÂes, surÂreÂal drawÂings that explore horsÂes and pregÂnanÂcy. DivÂing into Blade RunÂner and the amazÂing amount of work to proÂduce this film did the trick. RamÂsell has takÂen on this techÂnique as worÂthy of furÂther exploÂration and made a newÂer film, GenÂderÂness, which explores transÂsexÂuÂalÂiÂty, and feaÂtures a narÂraÂtion by none othÂer than RutÂger Hauer, who decidÂed to work with RamÂsell after seeÂing, Blade RunÂner: The Aquarelle EdiÂtion. Watch it above.
Ted Mills is a freeÂlance writer on the arts who curÂrentÂly hosts the artist interÂview-based FunkZone PodÂcast. You can also folÂlow him on TwitÂter at @tedmills, read his othÂer arts writÂing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.
On a road trip across AmerÂiÂca last year, I made a stop in SanÂta Fe, New MexÂiÂco, and thus had the chance to visÂit the GeorÂgia O’KeÂeffe MuseÂum. Though I’d already known someÂthing of the influÂenÂtial AmerÂiÂcan painter’s life and work, I hadÂn’t underÂstood the depth of her conÂnecÂtion to, and the extent of the inspiÂraÂtion she drew from, the AmerÂiÂcan SouthÂwest. “This is O’KeÂeffe counÂtry,” says Gene HackÂman, narÂraÂtor of the thirÂteen-minute docÂuÂmenÂtary GeorÂgia O’KeÂeffe: A Life in Art that screens perÂpetÂuÂalÂly at the museÂum but which you can also watch just above, “a land the painter made indeliÂbly her own. NorthÂern New MexÂiÂco transÂformed the artist’s work and changed her life.”
“As soon as I saw it, that was my counÂtry,” says the artist herÂself. “I’d nevÂer seen anyÂthing like it before, but it fitÂted to me exactÂly. There’s someÂthing in the air; it’s just difÂferÂent. The sky is difÂferÂent, the stars are difÂferÂent, the wind is difÂferÂent.”
I have to agree with her; my own great AmerÂiÂcan road trip showed me not only that the states realÂly do look difÂferÂent from each othÂer, but that New MexÂiÂco — which at first struck me as a Krazy Kat landÂscape come to life — looks most difÂferÂent of all. O’KeÂeffe first went to New MexÂiÂco for a year and a half in 1929, in her earÂly forÂties, and returned each year over the next two decades, movÂing there perÂmaÂnentÂly in 1949 and dying in SanÂta Fe in 1986, at the age of 98.
Though she remains best known in art hisÂtoÂry for her paintÂings of flowÂers that make their viewÂers see them in a way they’ve nevÂer seen flowÂers before, New MexÂiÂco introÂduced a whole new senÂsiÂbilÂiÂty into O’KeÂefÂfe’s body of work. This holds espeÂcialÂly true of her time at Ghost Ranch, whose locaÂtion in an area called Piedra LumÂbre, or “ShinÂing Rock,” proÂvidÂed the painter with the strikÂingÂly colÂored cliffs and othÂer almost unreÂal-lookÂing natÂurÂal forms that made their way into her equalÂly subÂlime landÂscapes. “The best place in the world,” she called it, and if we can meaÂsure places by what they move human beings to creÂate, her words hardÂly sound like an exagÂgerÂaÂtion.
When I first saw what was then the height of motion capÂture in 1999—TheMatrix’s “bulÂlet time” and kung fu sequences—I was suitÂably impressed, and yet… the extreme manipÂuÂlaÂtion of the real (which couldn’t have hapÂpened in a more approÂpriÂate film, grantÂed) also seemed a litÂtle like a cheat. In the days before comÂputÂers renÂdered 99% of speÂcial effects, part of the fun of watchÂing an effects film was spotÂting the seams. The short “Kung Fu VisuÂalÂizaÂtion” above, from GerÂman digÂiÂtal artist Tobias GremmÂler, deftÂly comÂbines both of these aesÂthetÂic inclinations—the love of artiÂfice and the awe of liqÂuid-smooth digÂiÂtal motion—in rustling, swirling, shimÂmerÂing aniÂmatÂed art that paraÂdoxÂiÂcalÂly shows us the seams of fluÂid moveÂment.
RecallÂing MarÂcel Duchamp’s famous nude or the dynamÂic sculpÂture of UmberÂto BocÂcioni, GremmÂler aniÂmates these modÂernist dreams using graceÂful motions capÂtured from two Kung Fu masÂters. Each sinÂuÂous marÂtial arts rouÂtine is renÂdered with a difÂferÂent mateÂrÂiÂal texÂture, with accomÂpaÂnyÂing sound effects and draÂmatÂic music. “VisuÂalÂizÂing the invisÂiÂble is always fasÂciÂnatÂing,” writes GremmÂler, “and motion visuÂalÂizaÂtions have been creÂatÂed even in pre-digÂiÂtal times with light, phoÂtogÂraÂphy, cosÂtumes or paintÂings.” (NorÂman McLaren’s 1968 “Pas de deux” offers a strikÂing hisÂtorÂiÂcal examÂple.) GremmÂler’s stunÂning aniÂmaÂtion was comÂmisÂsioned for a Hong Kong Kung Fu exhiÂbiÂtion and “focusÂes on the legaÂcy of HakÂka marÂtial arts in Hong Kong.”
Gremmler’s film may show us process in motion, but he remains coy about his own techÂnoÂlogÂiÂcal means (unless, preÂsumÂably, you buy his book.) AnothÂer motion capÂture masÂterÂpiece, “AsphyxÂia,” above, uses humÂble, yet highÂly advanced methÂods unimagÂinÂable in 1999, “two inexÂpenÂsive Xbox One Kinect senÂsors,” writes This is ColosÂsal, “to capÂture the moveÂments of dancer ShiÂho TanaÂka.” FilmÂmakÂers Maria Takeuchi and FredÂeriÂco Phillips then “renÂdered the data inside a near phoÂto-realÂisÂtic enviÂronÂment,” makÂing creÂative use of lowÂer-res tics and glitchÂes. ComÂbined with a loveÂly elecÂtronÂic score from Takeuchi, the resultÂing video’s visuÂal poetÂry is imposÂsiÂble to adeÂquateÂly conÂvey in words.
What “AsphyxÂia” does show us is a scalÂing back of techÂniÂcal wizÂardry that reveals a deep levÂel of gesÂturÂal sophisÂtiÂcaÂtion underÂneath. “The project,” write the filmÂmakÂers, “is an effort to explore new ways to use and/or comÂbine techÂnoloÂgies… withÂout many of the comÂmerÂcial limÂiÂtaÂtions. The perÂforÂmance is cenÂtered in an eloÂquent choreÂogÂraÂphy that stressÂes the desire to be expresÂsive withÂout bounds.” Although “AsphyxÂia” is obviÂousÂly a lower-quality—digitally speaking—work than Gremmler’s Kung Fu VisuÂalÂizaÂtion, it is none the worse for it. Both use motion capÂture techÂnolÂoÂgy in innoÂvÂaÂtive ways that foreÂground the artistry, rather than the mimÂicÂry, of digÂiÂtal aniÂmaÂtion. (SomeÂwhat like the much-praised digÂiÂtal stop-motion Kubo and the Two Strings.) If you want to see how the makÂers of “AsphyxÂia” creÂatÂed their experÂiÂment, watch their makÂing-of film below.
We’ve feaÂtured the work of SpanÂish filmÂmakÂer CristĂłbal Vila before: His short film “InspiÂraÂtions” celÂeÂbratÂed the mathÂeÂmatÂiÂcal art of M.C. EschÂer. “FallingÂwaÂter” aniÂmatÂed one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s finest creÂations. And “Nature by NumÂbers” showed us geoÂmetÂriÂcal and mathÂeÂmatÂiÂcal forÂmuÂlas found in nature.
Today, we bring you Vila’s latÂest “Wabi-Sabi: A HandÂful of MemÂoÂries from TraÂdiÂtionÂal Japan.” As he notes on his site, the aniÂmaÂtion capÂtures the “aspects that interÂest me the most about traÂdiÂtionÂal Japan,” feaÂturÂing “scenes inspired by nature, garÂdens, archiÂtecÂture, inteÂriÂor scenes, etc.” And it attempts to “creÂate a calm and balÂanced atmosÂphere through the use of light, comÂpoÂsiÂtion, mateÂriÂals, moveÂment… and the choice of the motifs themÂselves.”
Above, you can watch “Wabi-Sabi,” a JapanÂese term that refers to “the [aesÂthetÂic] beauÂty of the imperÂmaÂnent, the imperÂfect, the rusÂtic, and the melanÂcholy,” as explains The School of Life video below. If you’re entranced by Vila’s short film, also watch the “MakÂing of” video (midÂdle).
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If we can conÂsidÂer some cooks artists, sureÂly we can conÂsidÂer some artists cooks. Madeleine ConÂway and NanÂcy Kirk sureÂly operÂatÂed on that assumpÂtion when they put togethÂer The MuseÂum of ModÂern Art Artists’ CookÂbook, which colÂlects 155 recipes from 30 such figÂures not priÂmarÂiÂly known for their culiÂnary acuÂmen as SalÂvador DalĂ, Willem de KoonÂing, Louise BourÂgeois, Andy Warhol, Helen FrankenÂthaler, Roy LichtÂenÂstein, and ChrisÂto and Jeanne-Claude. (“StrangeÂly,” write the wags at Phaidon, “there are no wraps.”)
PubÂlished in 1978, the Artists’ CookÂbook has long since left print, though pricey secÂond-hand copies of the MoMA-issued ediÂtion and someÂwhat more affordÂable copies of the spiÂral-bound trade ediÂtion still cirÂcuÂlate: Nick Harvill Libraries, for instance offers one for $125.
“SimÂplicÂiÂty is a recurÂring theme,” says their site of the recipes conÂtained withÂin, which include DalĂ’s red salÂad, de KoonÂing’s seafood sauce, BourÂgeois’ French cucumÂber salÂad, Andy Warhol’s perÂhaps preÂdictable boilÂing method for CampÂbelÂl’s canned soup, FrankenÂthaler’s poached stuffed striped bass, LichtÂenÂstein’s not entireÂly seriÂous “priÂmorÂdial soup” (involvÂing “8cc hydroÂgen” and “5cc ammoÂnia”), and ChrisÂto and Jeanne-Claude’s comÂplete “quick and easy filet mignon dinÂner parÂty.”
TakÂen as a whole, the project capÂtures not just a disÂtincÂtive moment in AmerÂiÂcan culÂture when you could pubÂlish a cookÂbook with pretÂty much any theme — we’ve preÂviÂousÂly feaÂtured DalĂ’s own, which came out in 1973, and the rock-star-oriÂentÂed Singers & Swingers in the Kitchen, from 1967 — but an equalÂly disÂtincÂtive moment, and place, in AmerÂiÂcan art. MoMA, as you might expect, brought in the artists with whom they had the closÂest conÂnecÂtions, which in the mid-1970s meant a parÂticÂuÂlarÂly influÂenÂtial couÂple of genÂerÂaÂtions who mostÂly rose to promiÂnence, and stayed in promiÂnence, in New York City.
That’s not to say that the conÂtribÂuÂtors to The MuseÂum of ModÂern Art Artists’ CookÂbook were born into the art world. Brain PickÂings’ Maria PopoÂva quotes excerpts of the book’s interÂviews with the artists about their earÂly culiÂnary lives: BourÂgeois rues the “wastÂed hours” spent cookÂing for her father (“in those days a man had the right to have his food ready for him at all times.” De KoonÂing recalls his childÂhood in poverÂty in HolÂland where, “when you had dinÂner, it was always brown beans.” DalĂ and Warhol put their eccenÂtricÂiÂties on disÂplay, the forÂmer with his all-white table (“white porceÂlain, white damask, and white flowÂers in crysÂtal vasÂes”) and the latÂter with his decÂlaÂraÂtion that “airÂplane food is the best food.” De gustibus, as they say in food and art alike, non disÂputanÂdum est.
The great JewÂish philosoÂpher Baruch SpinÂoza, it is said, drew his conÂcepÂtions of god and the uniÂverse from his work as an optiÂcian, grindÂing lensÂes day after day. He lived a life sinÂguÂlarÂly devotÂed to glass, in which his “evenings to evenings are equal.” So wrote Jorge Luis Borges in a poetÂic appreÂciÂaÂtion of SpinÂoza, of which he latÂer comÂmentÂed, “[SpinÂoza] is polÂishÂing crysÂtal lensÂes and is polÂishÂing a rather vast crysÂtal phiÂlosÂoÂphy of the uniÂverse. I think we might conÂsidÂer those tasks parÂalÂlel. SpinÂoza is polÂishÂing his lensÂes, SpinÂoza is polÂishÂing vast diaÂmonds, his ethics.”
The polÂishÂing of lensÂes, and work in optics genÂerÂalÂly, has a long philoÂsophÂiÂcal pediÂgree, from the experÂiÂments of RenaisÂsance artists and scholÂars, to the natÂurÂal philosoÂphers of the SciÂenÂtifÂic RevÂoÂluÂtion who made their own microÂscopes and ponÂdered the nature of light. Over a cenÂtuÂry after Spinoza’s birth, polyÂmath artist and thinker Johann WolfÂgang von Goethe pubÂlished his great work on optics, just one of many direcÂtions he turned his gaze. Unlike SpinÂoza, Goethe had litÂtle use for conÂcepts of divinÂiÂty or for sysÂtemÂatÂic thinkÂing.
But unlike many freeÂthinkÂing arisÂtoÂcratÂic diletÂtantes who were a fixÂture of his age, Goethe–-writes poet Philip BrantÂiÂngÂham—“was a uniÂverÂsal genius, one of those talÂents whose works tranÂscend race, nation, lanÂguage-and even time.” It’s a datÂed conÂcept, for sure, but when we think of genius in the old RomanÂtic sense, we most often think of Goethe, as a poet, philosoÂpher, and sciÂenÂtist. When he turned his attenÂtion to optics and the sciÂence of colÂor, Goethe refutÂed the theÂoÂries of NewÂton and creÂatÂed some endurÂing sciÂenÂtifÂic art, which would latÂer inspire philoÂsophÂiÂcal iconÂoÂclasts like WittgenÂstein and expresÂsionÂist painters like WassÂiÂly KandinÂsky.
In the case of Goethe’s TheÂoÂry of ColÂors (1810), we get a high-qualÂiÂty look at the images in what the author himÂself conÂsidÂered his best work. “Known as a fierce attack on Newton’s demonÂstraÂtion that white light is comÂposÂite,” writes the HagerÂstromer Library, “Goethe’s colour theÂoÂry remains an epochmakÂing work.” Goethe’s illusÂtraÂtions came directÂly from “a large numÂber of obserÂvaÂtions of subÂjecÂtive colour-perÂcepÂtions, recordÂed with all the exactÂness of a sciÂenÂtist and the keen insight of an artist.” It’s partÂly the bridgÂing of sciÂences and the arts—of EnlightÂenÂment and Romanticism—that has made Goethe such a remarkÂable figÂure in EuroÂpean intelÂlecÂtuÂal hisÂtoÂry. But as many of the fineÂly illusÂtratÂed, careÂfulÂly observed texts at the HagerÂstromer MedÂical Library show, he wasn’t alone in that regard.
In addiÂtion to these clasÂsic texts, the HagerÂstromer also hosts the WunÂderkamÂmer, an eclecÂtic archive of (often quite bizarre) natÂuÂralÂist images and illusÂtraÂtions from the 16th to the 20th cenÂturies. One MetaFilÂter user describes the colÂlecÂtion thus:
Through the darkÂness of future’s past, the magiÂcian longs to see…
The incanÂtaÂtion that kicks off DetecÂtive Cooper’s dream vision in Twin Peaksis part abstract clue and part divÂinaÂtion, and occult eleÂments reocÂcur through the David Lynch-Mark Frost creÂatÂed series. So it makes sense that pop artist BenÂjamin MackÂey would look at comÂbinÂing charÂacÂters from the show with the designs of the well known and well loved RidÂer-Waite-Smith Tarot deck from 1910.
IniÂtialÂly, MackÂey creÂatÂed just the 22 Major Arcana from the deck and sold them as prints. DetecÂtive CoopÂer is the MagiÂcian, SherÂiff TruÂman is JusÂtice, the Log Lady is the High PriestÂess, BenÂjamin Horne is the EmperÂor and so on. (Guess who the DevÂil is!)
Not too surÂprisÂingÂly conÂsidÂerÂing the show’s devotÂed fan-base, the Twin Peaks Tarot was a hit, and MackÂey focused on comÂpletÂing the full deck of 78 tarot cards (view them all here), riffÂing on the RidÂer-Waite-Smith deck’s penÂchant for enigÂmatÂic and mysÂtic tableaux. And now, 10 months latÂer, he’s offerÂing the entire deck for sale through an Indiegogo camÂpaign for what looks like a very affordÂable price.
The iniÂtial camÂpaign ask of $5,000 was reached withÂin days, and now is headÂing towards $50,000. There are also extra goodÂies too for those who want to give more, includÂing a bookÂlet and an origÂiÂnal sketch.
The Minor Arcana shows Mackey’s deep love for the teleÂviÂsion show and film, and gives a chance for even minor charÂacÂters to have their own card, from Lili with the Blue Rose to DonÂna Hayward’s sisÂter HarÂriÂet.
“The MagiÂcian Longs to See” decks are schedÂuled to arrive by DecemÂber, just in time to help you tell your friends’ forÂtunes while readÂing the upcomÂing Twin Peaks book, waitÂing for the new series, or drinkÂing some damn fine cofÂfee.
Ted Mills is a freeÂlance writer on the arts who curÂrentÂly hosts the artist interÂview-based FunkZone PodÂcast. You can also folÂlow him on TwitÂter at @tedmills, read his othÂer arts writÂing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.
NevÂer meet your idols, they say. It can put a cramp in your appreÂciÂaÂtion of their work. There are always excepÂtions, but maybe Bill MurÂray proves the rule. On the othÂer hand, you should always learn from your idols. There’s a reaÂson you admire them, after all. Find out what it is and what they have to teach you. In the series we feaÂture here, Advice to the Young, many an idol of many an aspirÂing artist and musiÂcian offers some broad, exisÂtenÂtial advice—ways to absorb a litÂtle of their process.
LauÂrie AnderÂson, above, tells us to “be loose.” Widen our boundÂaries, “make it vague,” because “there are so many forces that are tryÂing to push us in cerÂtain direcÂtions, and they’re traps…. Don’t be caught in that trap of defÂiÂnÂiÂtion. It’s a corÂpoÂrate trap…. Be flexÂiÂble.” Good advice, if you’re as eclecÂtic and loose as LauÂrie AnderÂson, or if you seek artisÂtic libÂerÂaÂtion ahead of sales. “I became an artist because I want to be free,” she says.
Just above, Daniel Lanois, superÂstar slide guiÂtarist and proÂducÂer of Bob Dylan, Neil Young, U2, Peter Gabriel, and EmmyÂlou HarÂris, tells us what he learned from workÂing with BriÂan Eno. His advice is impresÂsionÂisÂtic, alludÂing to the imporÂtance of atmosÂphere and enviÂronÂment, as one might expect. It’s about appreÂciÂatÂing the process, he sugÂgests. He does get conÂcrete about a difÂfiÂculÂty nearÂly every artist faces: “if you have a finanÂcial limÂiÂtaÂtion, that might be okay. You don’t have to have everyÂthing that the othÂer peoÂple have. I think a finanÂcial limÂiÂtaÂtion or a techÂnoÂlogÂiÂcal limÂiÂtaÂtion may free up the imagÂiÂnaÂtion.” In an age of home stuÂdios, that’s always welÂcome news.
David Byrne has always told it straight, in his culÂturÂal critÂiÂcism and songÂwritÂing, and in his segÂment, above, he steers hopeÂful musiÂcians and artists away from the dream of Jay Z‑level fame. “Often the artists who are very sucÂcessÂful that way” he says, “they don’t have much flexÂiÂbilÂiÂty. In achievÂing sucÂcess, they lose a litÂtle bit of their creÂative freeÂdom. They have to keep makÂing the same thing over and over again.” Byrne’s advice solidÂly underÂlines AnderÂsonÂ’s. If you want creÂative freeÂdom, be preÂpared to fly under the radar and make much less monÂey than the stars. EndÂing on a starkÂly realÂist note, Byrne admits that in any case, you’ll probÂaÂbly need a day job: “it’s very, very hard to make monÂey in the music busiÂness.”
PatÂti Smith, comÂfortÂably addressÂing an audiÂence from an outÂdoor stage, urges them to “just keep doing your work” whether anyone’s lisÂtenÂing, readÂing, etc. To those peoÂple who critÂiÂcize her sucÂcess as sellÂing out her punk rock roots, Smith says, to laughs, “fuck you.” She then transÂmits some advice she received from William S. BurÂroughs: “build a good name. Keep your name clean. Don’t’ make comÂproÂmisÂes, don’t worÂry about makÂing a lot of monÂey or being sucÂcessÂful; be conÂcerned with doing good work.”
Easy perÂhaps for BurÂroughs the adding machine-heir to say, but good advice nonetheÂless, and conÂsisÂtent with what each artist above tells us: do it your way, don’t get pigeonÂholed, work with what you have, don’t worÂry about sucÂcess or monÂey, keep your expecÂtaÂtions realÂisÂtic.
You can watch more interÂviews with MariÂna Abramović, Wim WenÂders, Jonas Mekas, and many more on this Advice to the Young playlist assemÂbled by The Louisiana ChanÂnel. All 21 talks in the series can be viewed below:
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