Ben Tolman doesn’t hate the suburbs. Not exactly. He’s finally come to terms with the place where he grew up. It took him six months.
That’s how long Tolman, an artist from Washington, D.C., spent drawing his monumental exegesis, Suburbs, in 2012. More than six feel tall and four feet wide, Suburbs is Tolman’s interpretation of the Wheaton, Maryland, community he called his home as a kid. Composing the drawing took six months: five days a week, 14 hours each day, just ink and paper and repetition.
Suburbs was born out of a difficult time, the artist says. “That [drawing] came out of my dad dying, and my mom moving back to where she grew up. They sold the house I grew up in,” Tolman says. “That got me thinking about my experience growing up.”
From the foot of the snowy, picturesque massif that residents of Bergen, Norway, call the Seven Mountains, the Tubakuba looks like any number of modernly designed rural cabins. It’s a small cube of wood and glass, perched semi-precipitously upon a rocky incline: the sort of retreat that any writer would give his eyeteeth to call home. But it’s when you approach the Tubakuba from the back that the cabin truly takes your breath away: it’s got an entry portal that looks like a hole torn in space-time.