netalula

September 3rd, 2010

Netalula’s iden­tity might be an enigma wrapped in a rid­dle (Sein­feld ref­er­ence, any­one?), but her illus­tra­tions are sim­ply won­der­ful. Sightly more tra­di­tional in terms of com­po­si­tion and for­mat, there is still a bit of mystique.

I love Netalua’s paint­ings, and how they actu­ally look like cut out pieces, with the stark con­trast and heavy empha­sis on shape. It painterly, but also feels designed. The point of view is an inter­est­ing one, and also con­sis­tent. Netalula has abstracted and obscured our view­point to have us look­ing over each activ­ity and sit­u­a­tion that her char­ac­ters par­take in. We are a voyeur, and at time it feels like her sub­jects know this. There is a cer­tain shy­ness to them, in terms of pos­ture and gaze.

All images via her Flickr.

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kristin farr

September 2nd, 2010

I am a huge fan of art (and art-related things) that exist out­side the realm of a gallery, mag­a­zine, or blog. While perus­ing Twit­ter, I came across the tweet by Meighan of My Love For You is a Stam­pede of Horses with a link to her new post about Kristin Farr’s very newest work.

I must say, I was pretty excited to see that and more of Kristin’s work. Being a fan of color and shape, Kristin takes it there. She also takes it a step fur­ther by installing her work in three dimen­sional forms in set­tings out­side a pic­ture frame or gallery.

I always love reoc­cur­ring forms and ele­ments in a work. It’s some­thing inescapable, and I think that a lot of us have the ten­dency to make the same kinds of shapes, draw the same types of things, and be attracted to sim­i­lar col­ors. It’s innate. Kristin has touched upon this, explor­ing the same form, but plac­ing it in dif­fer­ent set­tings. From here, it retains some of its orig­i­nal mean­ing, but also takes on a life of its own, depend­ing on context.

All images via Kristin’s Flickr.

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eleanor taylor

September 1st, 2010

Eleanor Tay­lor is an illus­tra­tor study­ing at the Royal Col­lege of Art. Her work utl­izies a lot of draw­ing, but also incor­po­rates some paint­ing and col­lage as well.


There is an empti­ness and iso­la­tion to Eleanor’s work. It’s not exactly com­fort­ing, and at times extremely vul­ner­a­ble. I think that’s where the suc­cess in her work lies. Her illus­tra­tions expose a prim­i­tive feel­ing, in both style and exe­cu­tion of media. I see ref­er­ences to Medieval and Byzan­tine paint­ings with the flat por­trai­ture, as well as even a cubist feel with the flat, planed shapes.

There’s some­thing to take note of — it’s the nudity of some of her fig­ures. She puts them in dan­ger but giv­ing them no armor to pro­tect them­selves against the ani­mals and of the vast land she’s cre­ated. They must fend for them­selves, and do a pretty keen job at it (so far!).

All images via her Flickr.

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time travel tuesday: anni albers

August 31st, 2010

If you are famil­iar with color the­ory at all, you are prob­a­bly famil­iar with the work of Josef Albers. Dur­ing my foun­da­tion year at art school, we went through his book, Inter­ac­tion of Color, and I was really blown away by color relationships.

But, I digress. It is not Josef Albers I am here to talk about. For this week’s Time Travel Tues­day, I will be focus­ing on the work of Alber’s wife, Anni Albers.

Best known for her tex­tile work, Anni started her career as a painter, study­ing under an impres­sion­ist painter and later hav­ing an dis­cour­ag­ing meet­ing from artist Oskar Kokoschka, who asked her, “Why do you paint?” upon see­ing her work. Anni even­tu­ally made the deci­sion to attend art school, only attend­ing two months. She then made her way to Bauhaus in Weimar, Ger­many. There, women were barred from cer­tain dis­ci­plines, such as archi­tec­ture, and Anni reluc­tantly took up tex­tiles. She soon fell in love with the tac­tile chal­lenges that weav­ing pre­sented and empha­sis was on pro­duc­tion rather than craft. She exper­i­mented with tex­tiles that com­bined prop­er­ties of light reflec­tion, sound absorp­tion, dura­bil­ity, and min­i­mized wrin­kling and warp­ing tendencies.

I love the design of these tex­tiles, as well as Anni’s mate­ri­als — she incor­po­rated jute, paper, cel­lo­phane, among other mate­ri­als to cre­ate unique and unex­pected effects.

All images via The Josef and Anni Albers Foun­da­tion.

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half step back

August 30th, 2010

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I tweeted about this yes­ter­day, but I will be spend­ing the next two weeks in John­son, Ver­mont at the Ver­mont Stu­dio Cen­ter, mak­ing work, meet­ing other artists, and enjoy­ing the land­scape. Dur­ing this time, I’ll still be blog­ging, but only writ­ing one entry per day, to allow myself advan­tage of all the time I have in this beau­ti­ful place.

Brown Paper Bag will be back in full start­ing Sep­tem­ber 13. I have some excit­ing things planned for the blog, and I can’t wait to share them with you!

PS — I’ll still be on twit­ter! Fol­low me!

art together: ana benaroya

August 30th, 2010

It might have been a lit­tle while, but the sec­ond install­ment of Art Together is here! If you aren’t famil­iar with the for­mat of Art Together, it has two dif­fer­ent com­po­nents. A col­lab­o­ra­tive piece is cre­ated between myself and another artist. Based on the fin­ished piece, and con­ver­sa­tion is had about what’s been cre­ated. My hope is to to get to know oth­ers in the cre­ative com­mu­nity a bit bet­ter, and to col­lab­o­rate on some­thing we all care about. You can check out the inau­gural post with Thereza Rowe.

Ana Benaroya is an artist and illus­tra­tor liv­ing in New Jer­sey and the next par­tic­i­pant in Art Together. Here’s what I sent her to work with:

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What I received from Ana were two ver­sions of the same piece. While they uti­lized the same piece, Ana manip­u­lated the color and con­trast, giv­ing them fla­vor and feel­ing over­all.

Her response, ver­sion one:

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You and I both know that you are an illus­tra­tor and design liv­ing in New Jer­sey, have worked with scads of free­lance clients, and are the co-creator of Egg on Bread along with Ahu Sulker. What else would you like for the inter­webs to know?

Hmmmm, well I pre­fer to remain dark and mysterious…haha, just kid­ding! Basi­cally just that I am a worka­holic and I love what I do. I hope I am lucky enough to be able to keep mak­ing art till the very end!


I enjoy see­ing two dif­fer­ent ver­sions of the same piece — one takes advan­tage of the dif­fer­ent papers and tex­tures (and seems to work on sub­tleties), while the other is visu­ally elec­tric and a bit more in your face . Do you have a favorite? Also, do you feel that one is more akin to your body of work?

I do not have a favorite, I enjoy both for dif­fer­ent rea­sons. But I def­i­nitely believe that The Red War­rior is closer to the style of the rest of my work, which tends to be brightly col­ored and graphic. I believe that they are more suc­cess­ful when shown together, rather then separately.


It’s inter­est­ing look in the way you ori­ented the piece. When I cre­ated my part, I had orig­i­nally ori­ented every­thing with the tri­an­gles on bot­tom. Was there a spe­cific rea­son you chose to cre­ate piece from this way?

Inter­est­ing! Well, to me I guess the blue area seemed more like the ground and the brown area seemed more like the sky (I know, seems counter-intuitive, but I can’t explain). I liked the idea of the tri­an­gu­lar shapes push­ing down on the back of the man. To me, it kept my eye mov­ing up and down within the piece.

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Do you think by adding text (and dub­bing them each piece the “blue war­rior” and “red war­rior”, respec­tively) do you see the two men engaged in a con­flict or bat­tle?

I think by adding the text I tied the two pieces together on another level (beyond the fact that they are vari­a­tions on the same image). It cre­ates an abstract nar­ra­tive that can be taken in either a light-hearted or seri­ous man­ner. The men could be two dif­fer­ent indi­vid­u­als or they could be one and the same. The image itself is a soli­tary one (with only one human within the com­po­si­tion) — but by call­ing the man a war­rior it implies a world out­side of himself.


You have par­tic­i­pated in many col­lab­o­ra­tions over time. How was your approach to this project the same or dif­fer­ent from other endeav­ors in the past?

I actu­ally believe this to be my most suc­cess­ful col­lab­o­ra­tion. Often­times I think the result of a col­lab­o­ra­tion is a piece that nei­ther artist would like to call their own. The unique voice of each artist is lost and the result is some mutant mish-mash that belongs on another planet. Maybe you feel dif­fer­ently? I don’t know if you would like to call this yours anymore.

I don’t know if my approach was dif­fer­ent this time around, but I was try­ing to remain respect­ful of what you cre­ated and add some­thing that was my own voice that could live within your world. So I guess The Blue War­rior would be more suc­cess­ful in that aspect. The Red War­rior is def­i­nitely closer to my style.


And finally: Where do you think your love of draw­ing mus­cu­lar men comes from?

It prob­a­bly comes from my tomboy­ish child­hood love for super­heroes and action fig­ures. I had a col­lec­tion of over two hun­dred! No Bar­bie dolls for me. From the day I was born I was obsessed with being able to draw mus­cles accu­rately and I would copy anatomy books over and over again. I guess this obses­sion stuck with me. I think child­hood obses­sions and inter­ests always stick with us.

Or maybe deep down inside my sub­con­scious I secretly desire to be a mus­cu­lar man. We may never know.

Thanks, Ana! And, for the record, I am very happy to call this col­lab­o­ra­tion mine.

santiago salvador

August 27th, 2010

San­ti­ago Salvador has cre­ated some paint­ings that I really enjoy!

His paint­ings have all the ingre­di­ents, but aren’t mixed together. Things exist beside each other, but don’t nec­es­sar­ily inter­act the way you’d expect them to. It chal­lenges the amount of depth that each piece has, despite the moun­tains that are present in many of his paint­ings.

Look­ing at Santiago’s paint­ings, I get the feel­ing that every­thing mat­ters, and noth­ing at the same time. Aside from the land­scape, the fig­ures and objects dot his paint­ings and feel small. At the same time, their lack of space and depth puts every­thing on the visual hierarchy.


All images via his Flickr.

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bárbara malagoli martino

August 26th, 2010

Both humor­ous and mor­bid, Bár­bara Malagoli Mar­tino illus­trates girls and women, in a sort of cross between Japan­ese Hara­juku and a Lolita.

I like the spin that’s put on Bárbara’s illus­tra­tions. They depict exu­ber­ance and super­flu­ous­ness, using pas­tels and col­ors so sweet that it’s sac­cha­rine. Out­fit­ted with lace-up boots, cups of tea and pal­ing around with uni­corns, there is, at the same time, a sense of dis­ap­point­ment or some­thing awry. Dis­mem­ber­ment, black tears, skulls — all of these things are also present amongst the sweet.


A lot of draw­ings that I like are done in a Mole­skin, to which I say “great job!” to Bár­bara. My sketch­books are never that com­posed. Her port­fo­lio also includes shoe design, street art, apparel and acces­sory design. These things are a bit more unas­sum­ing than her draw­ings and paint­ings, but still delight­ful nonethe­less. I love her painted shoes!

All images via her Flickr

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eric shaw

August 26th, 2010

Eric Shaw’s work puts me between eras. While it’s mod­ern, he tends to strad­dle the line between futur­ism and sur­re­al­ist move­ments. His draw­ings seem auto­matic and seem to come from the subconscious.

His shapes are exag­ger­ated arms and legs, and his paint­ings flesh-toned tow­ers. In the grand scheme of his work, there is a very struc­tured and at archi­tec­tural feel to it. Not only the del­i­cate lines give way to this, but the mon­u­men­tal­ism of his fig­ures as well. They tower in envi­ron­ments, unwa­ver­ing and not intimidated.

There is a sense of secu­rity that I draw from Eric’s work. Every­thing seems very con­tained; shad­ing does not ven­ture out­side the realm of its intended shape, and the col­ors are even and strong, despite the chaotic nature of its content.

All images via his Flickr.

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colin stewart

August 25th, 2010

Colin Stew­art is a very recent col­lege grad­u­ate; the lat­est entry on his blog details pic­tures of a sum­mer degree show at his school. I love the approach of his col­lages. They are frag­mented and visu­ally jarring.

The flow and rhythm to Colin’s work is really what attracted me to it. Through his blog, you can see a bit of his process — he seems to assem­ble some parts of his of his col­lages, but also gives him­self the free­dom to arrange and add sup­port­ing pieces if necessary.

Peo­ple in Colin’s work aren’t “pretty” per say– their abstrac­tion exag­ger­ates their fea­tures and dis­torts their body parts. There is some­thing beau­ti­ful about it — it’s all in the shapes Colin has used and the way they have their own role in defin­ing his lan­guage. The same can be said about his choice of paper. Each paper cor­re­sponds with a func­tion within the com­po­si­tion — whether it be per­son, place, or thing.

All images via his website/blog.

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