Still Life of Flowers with Fruits and a Bird Nest, 1815. Detail.
“Kitties and Kush” Nihonga painting on traditional scroll 22 ¾ x 68 inches 2017
One of the new paintings for our next exhibition, “The Golden State”, opening at Gregorio Escalante Gallery in Los Angeles’ Chinatown on September 2nd, 2017. The show will include paintings, drawings, and ceramic sculptures using traditional Japanese painting techniques with subject matter influenced by our own California experience. The exhibition will also include a separate installation of nearly 100 new handmade “bunny primitive” sculptures!
Contact the gallery if you would like to be added to the online preview list to see all the work from the exhibition.
Also - we will be releasing a print of this image that will be available for pre-order for the duration of the exhibition.
The Arrow of Time, Diego Goldberg
Every year on June 17 — that’s his anniversary with his wife — Goldberg takes a portrait of everyone in his family, and adds it to this project. There are no formal preparations, so the photos reflect the way each person looked on that day. There is no fancy equipment either. Goldberg uses his Nikon — at first he used film, but now he shoots with digital — to take the pictures. “Even if everybody has a camera, and anybody can do it, nobody thought of such a simple idea.” But, he adds, “sometimes the simplest ideas are the best.”
Diego says he gets mail every day from all over the world, and viewers express one of two things: “I will do it when I form a family” or “How come I didn’t think of it?” In response, Diego says: “Find your own angle and stick to it. After a couple of years you’ll see it was worth the effort.“
Source: zonezero.com
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The Adventures of Guille and Belinda and the Enigmatic Meaning of their Dreams by Alessandra Sanguinetti
I spent my childhood summers at my father’s farm outside Buenos Aires. After the long highway drive and dusty dirt road, as soon as we arrived, I would run to the front of the car and begin the delicate process of unsticking the crushed butterflies from the still hot radiator. Most of them would be terminal, but one or two would cling to my finger, slowly regain center, revive and eventually fly away, always leaving behind some dust from their wings.
I have two older sisters, but when I was nine, they were teenagers, existing in another dimension, so I would wander pretty much alone around the corrals, the sheds and the fields, talking to the horses and the cows, feeling sad for the perpetually frightened sheep, following my father as he made his rounds, chatting with the foreman’s wife Isabel, looking for snake skins on tree branches, turning beetles right side up, and flying kites made from newspapers. In the evenings I cut up old New Yorker magazines my mother brought back from her trips to the US, and with those pictures I illustrated my own journal, “The Bumble Bee”, which I would sell to my parents for one peso.
At night we would set up chairs outside and wait impatiently for UFOs to appear, and count falling stars. The only trips we would take were to Doña Blanca’s place, where my father would bring tires to be fixed, and buy eggs, cheese and homemade jam. She had packs of dogs and puppies that would greet us jumping and clawing; sheep, goats, rabbits, ponies roamed loose, and heaps of animal bones, scrap metal, and old furniture were all in chaotic display. In the country, most places go from a dull quietness to an eruption of movement and noise when visitors arrive, so I assumed back then that at Doña Blanca’s something out of the ordinary was always about to happen.
My parents sold that farm in 1981, and it would be a long time until I returned to the countryside. When I did, it was to his new smaller farm to the south of Buenos Aires, and I was older, just back from a year studying photography in New York. One day my father took me along for a short drive to have someone fix his broken windmill pump. We drove a few kilometers and slowed down near a group of trees. A pack of wild looking dogs rushed out, jumping and scratching at the pick-up truck doors, and a round woman opened a flimsy wire gate and walked towards us, both smiling and shrieking at the dogs to shut up. It was Juana. I spent the next few years visiting Juana constantly, photographing her animals and listening to her tales of days long gone, her musings on life and on the Bible. She would tell me all her animals’ names, their histories, and, while gutting a freshly killed boar that she had raised, insisted that if you paid enough attention to animals you would be able to understand and see that each one is singular.
There were always many visitors at Juana’s, and most of them would sit silently sipping mate and leave without saying a word. Once every couple of hours a car would drive past, or a man on horseback would ride by and tip his hat in salutation. The most regular visitors were her grown daughters Pachi and Chicha, who lived nearby with their own families. They’d come over with their youngest daughters Belinda and Guillermina, and chat as they prepared sweet fried bread and sipped mate. Beli and Guille were always running, climbing, chasing chickens and rabbits. Sometimes I’d take their picture just so they’d leave me alone and stop scaring the animals away, but mostly I would shoo them out of the frame. I was indifferent to them until the summer of 1999, when I found myself spending almost everyday with them. They were nine and ten years old then, and one day, instead of asking them to move aside, I let them stay.
Street Errands, KangHee Kim
Brooklyn-based photographer KangHee Kim goes about digital manipulation in a completely unique way: instead of covering up the manipulations, she illuminates them. With her ongoing series Street Errands, KangHee asks, “what determines the “reality” of a photograph”?
The Art of Will Martyr
The seductive Utopian views constructed in Will Martyr’s work conjure a timeless sense of elegance and nostalgia, as Martyr marries together found images with remembered places.
Follow the Source Link for images sources and more information.
Source: architectureatlas.wordpress.com
Undeniable faces at Afro Punk, 2016, Brooklyn, NY
Photographer: @brklynbreed // IG: @brklynbreedphoto
Source: instagram.com
This is AMAZING. The teacher’s rebuttal:
I just commented this on a transphobic post that was all like, “In a sexual species, females have two X chromosomes and males have an X and a Y, I’m not a bigot it’s just science.” I’m a science teacher so I responded with this.
First of all, in a sexual species, you can have females be XX and males be X (insects), you can have females be ZW and males be ZZ (birds), you can have females be females because they developed in a warm environment and males be males because they developed in a cool environment (reptiles), you can have females be females because they lost a penis sword fighting contest (some flatworms), you can have males be males because they were born female, but changed sexes because the only male in their group died (parrotfish and clownfish), you can have males look and act like females because they are trying to get close enough to actual females to mate with them (cuttlefish, bluegills, others), or you can be one of thousands of sexes (slime mold, some mushrooms.) Oh, did you mean humans? Oh ok then. You can be male because you were born female, but you have 5-alphareductase deficiency and so you grew a penis at age 12. You can be female because you have an X and a Y chromosome but you are insensitive to androgens, and so you have a female body. You can be female because you have an X and a Y chromosome but your Y is missing the SRY gene, and so you have a female body. You can be male because you have two X chromosomes, but one of your X’s HAS an SRY gene, and so you have a male body. You can be male because you have two X chromosomes- but also a Y. You can be female because you have only one X chromosome at all. And you can be male because you have two X chromosomes, but your heart and brain are male. And vice - effing - versa. Don’t use science to justify your bigotry. The world is way too weird for that shit.
Variscite with Crandallite and Wardite - Little Green Monster Variscite Mine, Clay Canyon, Fairfield, Oquirrh Mts, Utah Co., Utah
Source: exceptionalminerals.com
