The Art of Illustration: Four Illustrators Introduce You to the Awe-Inspiring State of Their Art

Con­tem­pla­tive types used to los­ing them­selves in an image may wish to have a motion sick­ness bag on hand when view­ing The Art of Illus­tra­tion, the lat­est entry in Off Book, a PBS web series explor­ing cut­ting edge art and inter­net cul­ture. The edit­ing seems even more ver­tig­i­nous than in episodes devot­ed to indie video game design­ers and glitch artists. The score recalls R. Crum­b’s exis­ten­tial hor­ror inside a mod­ern night­club.

Watch it any­way, for the inter­vie­wees thoughts on the state of illus­tra­tion.

Pro­fes­sor Steven Guar­nac­cia of the The New School’s Illus­tra­tion Pro­gram describes how illus­tra­tion’s cre­ative poten­tial explod­ed once pho­tog­ra­phy became the prime way of doc­u­ment­ing celebri­ty appear­ances and oth­er such news­wor­thy visu­als.

Edi­to­r­i­al Illus­tra­tor Yuko Shimisu inter­nal­izes those obser­va­tions, throw­ing shade on any idea she feels would look bet­ter in pho­to form. Shimisu, like all of the artists fea­tured in the short video, uses tra­di­tion­al media to make her draw­ings, but col­ors them dig­i­tal­ly. The form may pre­date pho­tog­ra­phy, but Shimisu implies that any prac­ti­tion­er unwill­ing to embrace the trend toward new media will find them­selves going the way of the dodo, as edi­to­r­i­al gigs migrate onto tablets and even small­er dig­i­tal devices.

Mean­while over at DC Comics, Sean Mur­phy has yet to dis­cov­er a super­pow­er capa­ble of speed­ing up the work that goes into ren­der­ing a sto­ry in com­ic book for­mat. The facial expres­sions, grand per­spec­tives, and moody light­ing that are his stock in trade could the­o­ret­i­cal­ly be cap­tured with a shut­ter click, but at what cost to the over­all nar­ra­tive?

And then there’s the inim­itable Mol­ly Crabap­ple, pur­vey­or of Vic­to­ri­an-fla­vored kink and founder of Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School, whose Occu­py Wall Street posters chal­lenged the visu­al bound­aries of activist art. Find­ing a per­son­al style one can blow up into a brand is not just a choice, she implies. It’s one’s best hope of sur­vival in a sea flood­ed with com­peti­tors.

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day pub­lish­es her illus­trat­ed zine, The East Vil­lage Inky the old fash­ioned way, then pro­motes it across all man­ner of dig­i­tal plat­forms, includ­ing @AyunHalliday.

Salvador Dalí Gets a Screen Test by Andy Warhol (1966)

The Sur­re­al­ist is ready for his close up, Mr. Warhol. Are you ready for him?

As pre­vi­ous­ly not­ed on this site, Andy Warhol filmed near­ly 500 “screen tests” in the mid-60s. He was­n’t look­ing to dis­cov­er unknown tal­ent or cast an upcom­ing movie. His inter­est seemed to stem more from voyeurism, the col­lec­tor’s impulse, and his fix­a­tion with glam­our. The major­i­ty of his cel­e­brat­ed sub­jects, obey­ing Warhol’s instruc­tions, refrained from ham­ming it up on cam­era.

Report­ed­ly, Bob Dylan was a bit of a diva.

But it was not until Sal­vador Dalí faced the lens that the mak­er met his match…twice. The Muse­um of Mod­ern Art doc­u­ments the Span­ish artist’s fla­grant dis­re­gard for Warhol’s stric­tures, while also spec­u­lat­ing on Warhol’s response.

And yet, some­thing soul­ful does come through in the clip above. Is Dalí emot­ing? Or is the shim­mer­ing back­ground melody by Arman­do Dominguez the inspi­ra­tion for Des­ti­no, a Dali-Dis­ney ani­mat­ed joint that took 57 years in the mak­ing?

Relat­ed Con­tent

Sal­vador Dalí Reveals the Secrets of His Trade­mark Mous­tache (1954)

Des­ti­no: The Sal­vador Dalí – Dis­ney Col­lab­o­ra­tion 57 Years in the Mak­ing

Andy Warhol Dig­i­tal­ly Paints Deb­bie Har­ry with the Ami­ga 1000 Com­put­er (1985)

Andy Warhol’s ‘Screen Test’ of Bob Dylan: A Clas­sic Meet­ing of Egos

Ayun Hal­l­i­day will let you know if she makes it to Pitts­burgh for her screen­test if you fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Artist Nina Katchadourian Creates Flemish Style Self-Portraits in Airplane Lavatory

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The work of artist Nina Katchadouri­an is high­ly acces­si­ble. So much so that it’s like­ly her fault if the line for the bath­room on your next flight stretch­es all the way from tail to the cock­pit. Such is the pow­er of Lava­to­ry Self-por­traits in the Flem­ish Style, the best known seg­ment of her ongo­ing Seat Assign­ment project. How can pas­sen­gers pass up the oppor­tu­ni­ty to recre­ate Katchadouri­an’s wide­ly dis­sem­i­nat­ed images, know­ing that the orig­i­nals were shot in the mir­ror on an iPhone, using props like dis­pos­able seat cov­ers and an inflat­able neck pil­low?

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There goes the Mile High Club.

Shy and/or civic-mind­ed types who don’t rel­ish the impli­ca­tions of tying up the john­ny at high alti­tudes should have a go at restag­ing the oth­er aspects to Katchadouri­an’s inflight work, on dis­play above.

(Hint: book a win­dow seat and exer­cise restraint when the fight atten­dant hands you your com­pli­men­ta­ry bag of mini pret­zels.)

Hon­est­ly, much of what you’ll see, from the unnerv­ing­ly named Dis­as­ters to the genius of Sweater Goril­las, can be accom­plished with­out leav­ing the ground. Though it may prove more cre­ative­ly reward­ing to delay until the only palat­able alter­na­tive is an unreg­u­lat­ed amount of real­i­ty TV screen­ing on the seat back ahead of you.

Ayun Hal­l­i­day has an inflight Peanut for you. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Meet “Father Philanthropy”: America’s Most Prolific and Unlikely Master Art Forger

Close your eyes and pic­ture a phil­an­thropist.

Like­ly you envi­sioned a fat cat with a design­er check­book. It’s the accept­ed image, but not every bene­fac­tor fits the mold.

Take Mark Lan­dis, a gen­tle soul who’s spent three decades sur­pris­ing the staffs of small Amer­i­can muse­ums with art­work pre­sent­ed out of the blue. Not just any art­work, and cer­tain­ly not the nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry orig­i­nals they were rep­re­sent­ed as—in every case, donor Lan­dis was even­tu­al­ly revealed to be the artist.

In Ter­ri Time­ly’s doc­u­men­tary glimpse, “Father Phil­an­thropy” (above, with a delet­ed scene below), Lan­dis oblig­ing­ly guides view­ers through the mul­ti-step process by which his forg­eries are cre­at­ed, but he reveals lit­tle about his moti­va­tion, beyond a desire to hon­or the mem­o­ry of his par­ents (Moth­er looms large here.)

His fakes don’t add up to a grand con­cep­tu­al piece, a la artist  J. S. G. Bog­gs’ incred­i­bly detailed, far-more-valu­able-than-the-items-they-were-used-to-pur­chase ban­knotes. He seems indif­fer­ent to the pos­si­bil­i­ty of high pro­file, if ill got­ten, pres­tige. He is, quite sim­ply a giv­er. His gifts cost the recip­i­ents pro­fes­sion­al pride and unex­pect­ed fees asso­ci­at­ed with fer­ret­ing out the truth, but they seem mal­ice-free. “About all I’ve got is an abil­i­ty to draw and paint,” he states, “So nat­u­ral­ly it led me to give away draw­ing and paint­ings.”

via The Atlantic

Relat­ed Con­tent

Art for the One Per­cent: 60 Min­utes on the Excess & Hubris of the Inter­na­tion­al Art Mar­ket

Art Lovers Rejoice! New Goya and Rem­brandt Data­bas­es Now Online

Ayun Hal­l­i­day keeps things real @ayunhalliday

Join Cartoonist Lynda Barry for a University-Level Course on Doodling and Neuroscience

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Car­toon­ist Lyn­da Bar­ry, who has helped legions of adults grope their way back to the unself­con­scious cre­ativ­i­ty of child­hood, is teach­ing at the uni­ver­si­ty lev­el. Bar­ry’s Unthink­able Mind course is designed to appeal to stu­dents of the human­i­ties.  Also hard­core sci­ence majors, the sort of lab-coat­ed spec­i­mens the first group might refer to as “brains.” The instruc­tor describes her Uni­ver­si­ty of Wis­con­sin spring semes­ter offer­ing thus:

A writ­ing and pic­ture-mak­ing class with focus on the basic phys­i­cal struc­ture of the brain with empha­sis on hemi­spher­ic dif­fer­ences and a par­tic­u­lar sort of insight and cre­ative con­cen­tra­tion that seems to come about when we are using our hands (the orig­i­nal dig­i­tal devices) —to help us fig­ure out a prob­lem.

The twen­ty-one grads and under­grads accept­ed into Pro­fes­sor Bar­ry’s course have been warned, via the illus­trat­ed let­ter above,  hand­writ­ten on legal paper, that the work­load will be heavy.

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You should be warned as well, if you elect to audit this course from home. Enroll­ment is not nec­es­sary. Pro­fes­sor Bar­ry will be post­ing her week­ly assign­ments and cur­ricu­lum mate­ri­als on her tum­blr, a forum where her abid­ing inter­est in sci­ence is as appar­ent as her devo­tion to undi­rect­ed doo­dling. Your first assign­ment, post­ed above, requires a box of crayons, the col­or­ing pages of your choice, down­loaded to four types of paper, and a sig­nif­i­cant chunk of time set aside for brain-relat­ed arti­cles and vin­tage videos star­ring Cog­ni­tive Neu­ro­sci­en­tist Michael Gaz­zani­ga and astronomer Carl Sagan. You should also be com­mit­ted to keep­ing a four-minute diary and serv­ing as your own guinea pig.

Who’s in?

A big H/T @kirstinbutler

Relat­ed Con­tent

Car­toon­ist Kate Beat­on Plays on Lit­er­ary Clas­sics — The Great Gats­by, Julius Cae­sar & More

Steven Pinker Explains the Neu­ro­science of Swear­ing (NSFW)

Carl Sagan’s Under­grad Read­ing List: From Pla­to and Shake­speare, to Hux­ley and Gide

- Ayun Hal­l­i­day ‘s most recent book is Peanut.

Watch Philip Glass Remix His Own Music—Then Try it Yourself With a New App

We told you in the fall about the album released by Beck and a troupe of oth­er musi­cians to cel­e­brate com­pos­er Philip Glass’s 75th birth­day. Rework—Philip Glass Remixed is a col­lec­tion of Glass works by artists includ­ing Beck, Tyondai Brax­ton, and Cor­nelius. Turns out that Glass him­self was pret­ty turned on by the results. In the above video, Glass plays around with his own music using an inter­ac­tive “Glass Machine” app, designed to com­ple­ment the album.

You can almost see the wheels in Glass’s head turn­ing as he swipes and taps away on the screen, cre­at­ing new loops with phras­es from his own music.

The app that Glass enjoys so much is avail­able to any­one with an iPad, iPod touch or iPhone (3Gs or new­er) and $10. The Rework app was designed by Scott Snibbe, who also cre­at­ed the inter­ac­tive galaxy in Bjork’s Bio­phil­ia app.

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The app includes eleven inter­ac­tive visu­al­iza­tions of remixed songs from the Rework album (exam­ple on left) and a Glass Machine, allow­ing users to cre­ate their own Glass-inspired music.

As Glass him­self said, while play­ing with the Machine, “the user has become the artist.”

Relat­ed Con­tent

Philip Glass, Seen and Heard Through the Cin­e­mat­ic Mind of Peter Green­away (1983)

‘The Bal­lad of the Skele­tons’: Allen Ginsberg’s 1996 Col­lab­o­ra­tion with Philip Glass and Paul McCart­ney

Kate Rix writes about dig­i­tal media and edu­ca­tion. Read more of her work at .  

Watch Moving Short Films of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera at the “Blue House”

Fans of Mex­i­can painter and pro­lif­ic self-por­traitist Fri­da Kahlo have one des­ti­na­tion above all oth­ers: the Blue House, her 1904 home, eas­i­ly iden­ti­fi­able by col­or, at the cor­ner of  Lon­dres and Allende in Mex­i­co City’s Coyoacán bor­ough. I myself dropped in a cou­ple years back, impressed at the atten­tion to detail in con­vert­ing the build­ing and its court­yard into the Fri­da Kahlo Muse­um. (It repaid the time spent in a line that, even in the mid­dle of a week­day, stretched down the block.) Oth­er vis­i­tors, clear­ly lovers of Kahlo’s work, walked the grounds try­ing to sense how much of the artist’s spir­i­tu­al pres­ence remained. Just above, you can see film of the Blue House in its pre-muse­um years, fea­tur­ing the liv­ing pres­ences of both Kahlo and her mural­ist hus­band Diego Rivera. Though the artists them­selves have long gone, the effort to pre­serve their domi­cile has clear­ly suc­ceed­ed; gift shop aside, these parts of its grounds look much the same today.

“Nobody will ever know how much I love Diego,” says a nar­ra­tor read­ing Kahlo’s words as the cam­era cap­tures her and Rivera togeth­er:

I don’t want any­thing to hurt him, noth­ing to both­er him and rob him of the ener­gy he needs for liv­ing — for liv­ing as he likes, for paint­ing, see­ing, lov­ing, eat­ing, sleep­ing, being by him­self, being with some­one. But I’d nev­er want him to be sad. If I had good health, I’d give him all of it. If I had youth, he could take it all.

The footage above was shot by a simul­ta­ne­ous­ly sig­nif­i­cant man in Kahlo’s life, the pho­tog­ra­ph­er Nick­o­las Muray, who put in a ten-year shift as her man on the side. Yet she pre­ferred Rivera to Muray as hus­band mate­r­i­al, divorc­ing and re-mar­ry­ing Rivera even as she spurned Muray’s pro­pos­als. But then, bohemi­an artists have always had their own way of han­dling mar­ried life; I recall one par­tic­u­lar framed Mex­i­can news­pa­per clip­ping dis­played at the Fri­da Kahlo Muse­um, a sto­ry about how, despite his rep­u­ta­tion for ugli­ness, Rivera nev­er once had to suf­fer in the female depart­ment.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Fri­da Kahlo and Diego Rivera Vis­it Leon Trot­sky in Mex­i­co, 1938

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

David Bowie Celebrates 66th Birthday with First New Song in a Decade, Plus Vintage Videos

Note: If this ver­sion does­n’t play for you, find an alter­nate ver­sion here.

We can thank many of Rock ‘n’ Roll’s roy­al­ty for show­ing us how to age with style. Mick Jag­ger is still a pro­fes­sion­al rock­er, as dis­ci­plined and out­ra­geous as ever. Now David Bowie has intro­duced a new album—his first in a decade—on the day he cel­e­brat­ed his 66th birth­day.

Bowie’s new album The Next Day comes out in March, but a sin­gle, “Where Are We Now?,” is avail­able to down­load on iTunes. The song is love­ly and melan­choly, as is the accom­pa­ny­ing video, shot by artist Tony Oursler.

Bowie, offi­cial­ly in his late 60s, is in a nos­tal­gic mood. The video is set in a clut­tered artist’s stu­dio dom­i­nat­ed by pro­ject­ed images of Berlin in the late 1970s. The video is alter­nate­ly inscrutable (who is the woman whose face shares the two-head­ed pup­pet with Bowie while he sings?) and reflec­tive. The old Berlin footage, it turns out, is from Bowie’s old neigh­bor­hood where he once shared an apart­ment with Iggy Pop. Bowie moved to West Berlin in 1976 and record­ed his Berlin tril­o­gy—Low, Heroes and Lodger—with pro­duc­er Tony Vis­con­ti.

The Next Page was also pro­duced by Vis­con­ti, and that’s no coin­ci­dence. Bowie seems to be tak­ing stock of his musi­cal life, and that’s a lot to inven­to­ry. The con­ti­nu­ity between the new album and one of the rich­est peri­ods of his career bodes well for this lat­est work.

Bowie has also re-launched his web­site as part of the birth­day cel­e­bra­tion. He offers a new col­lec­tion of videos—some nev­er before broadcast—from his stel­lar stage career. As his audi­ence we get a chance to appre­ci­ate his breadth as an artist and the amaz­ing arc of his career. Dig the red boots in 1972’s Queen Bitch. This song endures after more than forty years. One of the best videos is an alter­nate take of Oh You Pret­ty Things from 1972. Bowie is young and brash at the piano in full Zig­gy Star­dust regalia. Look Back in Anger from 1979 shows the man at his rock­ing, oper­at­ic best. Even the less-than-stel­lar Let’s Dance from 1983 looks bet­ter now than it did at the time.

Watch­ing him per­form over the decades high­lights just how authen­tic Bowie’s artistry has been and con­tin­ues to be. When he flips his blond mop and croons into the micro­phone, he’s no poseur. He’s the real thing: a man try­ing on all the masks he can as a way to show all of him­self to the world.

This is one birth­day that won’t go for­got­ten. Thanks, David, for the ter­rif­ic par­ty.

Kate Rix writes about dig­i­tal media and edu­ca­tion. Read more of her work at .

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