This is Raleigh Gardiner.
How to start,
Raleigh is one of the few artists whose works I am inspired by and admire. I had the opportunity to share a class with her a few years ago and got a chance to witness her quiet yet prolific work ethic. Her works have always possessed an aesthetic and thematic fluidity with growth that exemplify a true sense of exploration, freshness and vibrance – I cannot get enough. The lines, the color, the harmony and lyric join in “investigation of the liminal, intermediary zones of human experience that exist at the thresholds between our perception of reality and our subconscious.” Her surrealistic scenarios or “mindscapes,” present vivid, microcosmic visions of the inner theaters of our psychological worlds presented through fantasy where the boundaries between subject and object, human and animal, creature and landscape, Self and Other, remain wholly undifferentiated.
There is something exciting about talent, only a few are blessed with these fragile gifts like messengers with a mission spewing gold from all orifices wherever they walk. Talent needs nurturing and the right platform to thrive, sometimes difficult to achieve in this rigorous current of an industry. But I am confident she will travel far far lands in life, and I hope more people will get a chance to see and share her work along.
Here are a few pieces from her latest series – Desire and Fantasy: the Conditions of Reality between the Self and Other.
This is Eric Lebofsky.
He creates color pencil narrative drawings of quirky and charming characters with a signature wry wit that permeates his triple threat of artistic production. Inspired by the likes of Rick James, his series of Superfreaks are “superhero’s whose powers are derived from character flaws and/or transgressive behaviors, distinguishable from their civilian counterparts only by ornate costumery and/or literal embodiment of their issues.” How wonderful it would be to exist in his world.
I miss my prismacolor pencils and the days of burning index finger dents.
This is Joseph Mcvetty.
He creates calm drawings with emotional tones that mirror magic, and cosmic collaboration.
ritual is discipline
the kid raised by trippers
photo and wifely vibe as creative process
working on the kitchen table, or a wall down in the basement
crystals and light and chakras and astral travel
psychedelic tradition and folklore
trendy imagery in spacial training and clean fun
the Arab Spring.
I follow Natasha Perova on Flickr, she’s great.
By way of no glue clever bind, Natasha’s sculptural constructions examine spacial reverberations, balance, and binary concepts by way of material juxtaposition and conversing power. Leaning against, leaning onto, the current, Communism…that poor one in the middle – its you. She uses techniques of stacking, stabbing, geometry and what appears like beautiful accidents to build simple interpretations of perfect dissonance.
This is Brad Philips.
I am infatuated with his honesty in darkness. With blades in place of fingers and tongue, he seems to employ the likes of satire and black humour as doorways into his psyche strung in tropes of suicide, sex and self-injury. Failing is winning. Most interesting is his play of sublimation and simulated watercolor text paintings, first person narratives and encircled behinds.
its cruel and you have to swim
im helping you to be strong
i understand her here
dont be scared, write
sing here and leave it
so much sadness dressed in flowers
they beat him hard, harder than anything else inside that tunnel
living drenched butter deep in cravings
from the grey forest, emerge
screams of black agony from every pore
tricks taught to be the rift between mind and body
nail bed against textured cement
resented rather than understood as an intricate language
ignored, the internal and spirit
how to translate these cravings?
taught to consider that perhaps we were eating something our bodies don’t
desires that appear to be honest
opposite of what we need to heal
cravings that appear with vulnerability
for the appeasement of
a self negating cage
yearning for butter, creamy, milky, meanings unable in themselves
a swollen tongue contoured and cotton on side. burned, barbecued, seasoned with old sugar
always attached these dry salamis, stitched black meat chunks on rust
physical spiritual practiced as another button
barricade resistance but flow acceptance
carry to think strength comes from hardness
from within flexibility, to find the strength in trust
the outside remains slightly changed or not at all while
inside thinking gets crusty and flustered
Dear Mathilde Corbeil,
I miss my computer.
Empty house, empty stomach.
bcbg is driving me insane—> turning into something unfamiliar.
I want to feel, I want to cry. I want to scream, I want to fuck.
Tall ceilings, hollow cup. bones protrude, acid ribs. pink blankets, grandma wine, ocean stares. wet skin, rooftop air, warm sun.
dirty people, the grime of bad energy, sweltry eroding
running after your foot. snakes around my ankles, snakes around my ankles.
I miss Alimaa egch.
Intrigued by confessionals, I might go this Saturday.
or the wizard
still trying for that.
The thing I want.
STOOOOOP, dont do anything about it.
I always like her better.
like this for example, maybe I’ll find something in it later.