Today, it was officially announced that British artist Banksy has constructed a dystopian riff on Disneyland in a derelict seaside resort in Weston-super-Mare, England. Called Dismaland, the ambitious five-week project is sure to attract visitors eager for the artist’s brand of viral culture jamming and populist humor, but there’s a twist. Most of the art on display at Dismaland is not by Banksy — though he has contributed 10 new works — but by 58 artists invited to participate, including blue-chip names Damien Hirst, Jenny Holzer, and David Shrigley, and popular artists associated with street art like Espo, Escif, Bäst, and El Teneen. The scale of the project is impressive.
Nobuhiro Nakanishi
produces beautifully mesmerizing atypical landscapes. The Osaka,
Japan-based artist creates the works, which he called “Layered
Drawings,” by photographing a scene over a period of time. He then
laser prints each image and mounts it to acrylic. Subtle changes emerge
in each frame, and once they are layered they portray an untraditional
landscape. As a viewer walks passed the work he or she experiences, to
some degree, the passing of time within this particular place. via: beautifuldecay
I don’t often write much about my work, as I tend to want them to stand (or fall) on their own rather than be propped up by my words— however after sharing some thoughts and insight into my work in the last few weeks, I keep seeing the same question in different words show up in my inbox:
I like your work, but, what are you trying to do, what is it about, what inspires you?
put simply…
I am interested in in memory— I have a fascination with the way we are marked by time, they way that memory becomes the architecture of our identity and am passionate about exploring various ontologies of drawing. Many of my efforts revolve around variations of traditional concepts of drawing, where mark is deposited over time on to a flat substrate (a sheet of paper, a panel, window, sidewalk, etc). Other experiments seek to embrace the ‘mark deposited over time’ aspect of drawing differently— chalk, ink, ice, teabags, gold leaf, salt, powdered graphite and eraser tailings have all found their way into the works.
The drawings weather on paper, envelopes, temporary structures or bathroom walls are one way for me to explore these ideas. They allow me to: engage in drawing as an act, work with binary oppositions—black/white, full/empty, temporality/permanence, strength/fragility, to make drawings that are simultaneously obsessive, physically demanding, time consuming and embracing of chance.
For me the lines are simply a device, a means to an end. They are a way to mark a moment, to make a drawing that is a document of intention and attention rather than a drawing that is a picture of some ‘thing’ -instead these drawings are records.
Aside from a few simple compositional decisions like paper size, or where the first line will begin, the drawings are unplanned— they evolve extemporaneously and end whenever there is prolonged hesitation. The process is almost meditative, the lines are simply lines, they do not describe a boundary or an edge, they describe a series of moments. When the lines are repeated (each line drawn in response to the line that preceded it) the effect of their accumulation is the emergence of structure— a kind topographic rendering of time. With out any explicit effort the drawings begin to suggest volume and space, the use of repetition and accumulation of line alludes to both the passage of time and the processes of memory formation. The topographic structures that emerge conjure the feeling of waves, flowing fabric or landscape and mirror the way a series of minutes or seconds coalesce in our minds into one unified ‘moment’ or memory.
These drawings are conceptual in nature, despite their (sometimes) traditional materials. As this series began I hated every drawing that was being made— but I enjoyed the process and felt confident in the choices I had made to arrive at this place in my work so I kept making them despite my discomfort. They still make me feel uncomfortable, exposed, but I have come to accept them, and the feelings of vulnerability that accompany them. I’m continuing to pursue and move towards new facets of my work, embracing more physically demanding, performative, durational, site specific and installation based works…
Hemicycle, 1.2 mile durational drawing, made on hands and knees.
I’d like to extend a sincere thank you for the recent questions and comments— I am really enjoying connecting with more new people, feel free to keep them coming. Thanks to those of you who continually like, reblog and message me— your support, attention and interest have meant a lot to me.
Photographer’s saliva on family album archive. ‘The saliva replaces the seminal fluid in many cultures, used as magical element that can cure and fecundate through the single contact. Since it comes from the mouth and preserves the vital energy, it is often associated to the essence of the breath and the soul.’ (Craveri E. Michela,Intrecci di culture, 2008) The photographic archive is an element that always belongs to the past; it grows old with us, it is part of ourselves but it slowly builds up a gap between our memories and the present time.
The inclusion of saliva (a fluid certifying identity) on the photographic surface, creates a layer of contingent “presence”, intimate re-appropriation of the family archive, attempting to ‘cure’ the fallacious nature of memory and to 'fecundate’ its connection with our current time. Saliva is thus the glue that keeps together two dimensions: the motionless time of photography and the contingency of identity. (artist statement)
