Erratic Phenomena

Erratic Photography: Alvaro Sanchez-Montañes

2012-02-13T00:05:00.000-08:00

Today I'll show you a photographer from Barcelona named Alvaro Sanchez-Montañes.

A couple of years ago, after hearing about Namibia's spent diamond mines, he went there to document the vacant homes that were being reclaimed by the desert. He captured a haunting, poetic reminder of the impermanence of all things, or as he puts it, "the beauty in the abandoned, of the useless, or the time passing by."

He also has an evocative series of landscapes he photographed in Iceland entitled "Landnemar," which is Icelandic for "The Settlers."

Andrew Hem: Dreams Towards Reality

2012-02-06T22:59:00.000-08:00

So I've been hinting about a project I've been working on of late that has forced me to take a brief hiatus from posting interviews — and here it is. I've been writing and editing a book of my dear friend Andrew Hem's work, a gorgeous monograph which will be released this summer by Zero+ Publishing.

Dreams Towards Reality is an exploration of the work of Andrew Hem, whose introspective, otherworldly paintings describe realities one step away from our everyday waking life. What if our thoughts flickered across the surface of our skin like ephemeral silent movies? What if spirits walked among us, trying to find their path? What if there were no racism, and even the most outlandish people were accepted? What if the children of his native land had been allowed to live in peace and thrive?

In addition to a survey of Hem’s recent paintings, this volume includes selections from his early work, graffiti, sketches, murals, sculptures and collages, as well as photographs from the extensive travel in Southeast Asia and South America that has informed his vision. With an in-depth essay by Amanda Erlanson that examines how Hem’s Cambodian heritage, urban upbringing and innate empathy merged to open his unique window into the invisible territories of the human spirit, this beautifully produced monograph is a fascinating view into the soul of an artist.

Erratic Photography: Jonas Bendiksen

2012-02-06T00:05:00.000-08:00

Today I will show you the work of Jonas Bendiksen, a Norwegian photographer who has spent the last decade or so traveling to far-flung places to photograph people who live on the margins of society.

"Villagers collecting scrap from a crashed spacecraft, surrounded by thousands of white butterflies, Russia, Altai Territory."

I bought his book Satellites when it came out in 2006, and the volume has since become quite sought-after and valuable. At the age of 20, Bendiksen set out to photograph life in the outlying areas of the Former Soviet Union. More recently, he has visited slums around the world to document the surprisingly rich lives of the people who live there, and collected the photographs in a book entitled The Places We Live. He says, "I love working on stories that get left behind in the race for daily headlines — journalistic orphans. Often, the most worthwhile and convincing images tend to lurk within the hidden, oblique stories that fly just below the radar." You can read more about him here.

"Scrap-metal dealers wait for a rocket to crash, Kazakhstan."

"Abkhazia, Black Sea beach."

"Santosh Lohar home, Mumbai."

"Wedding lights, Dharavi slum, Mumbai."

Save Ludwig!

2012-02-03T11:13:00.000-08:00

Achtung! Allison Sommers' beloved hedgehog Ludwig is in need of an operation to save her life.

She has a tumor that is blocking her digestive system, and Allison is desperate to save her.

If you would like to help, there are a few ways you can go about it. On her blog, she has listed several original artworks she has on hand and is offering at discounted prices. If you buy one of the available pieces that Allison has at Thinkspace, they will give 100% of the proceeds to Allison. You can buy a print or a copy of her book of sketchbook drawings, Flotsam. And if you just want to chip in a few bucks, you can do so at the donation site one of her friends set up, Save Ludi. See if there's anything you can do, even if it's just to spread the word — the little fella is Allison's muse and she would be lost without her.

UPDATE: We've raised the funds for Ludwig's operation! Best of luck to Allison and Ludi!

Dabs Myla's Rooftop Romp

2012-02-01T23:11:00.001-08:00

Last winter, Dabs and Myla spent a week at my office turning our ugly rooftop enclosure into a cartoon wonderland. Here's a time-lapse video we made of the dynamic duo at work.

Erratic Photography: Todd Hido

2012-01-23T00:05:00.000-08:00

Today I'll show you an American photographer named Todd Hido. I saw his new book, A Road Divided, at the Photo L.A. art fair a couple of weeks ago.

His work speaks of longing and loss, of family and his own complicated childhood. He likes to drive around on dark, atmospheric days and take pictures as he finds them, with no fuss and no artificial art direction or lighting. He says, "Shooting through the window started by accident. It was raining one day when I was taking pictures in the suburbs, and I stopped at an intersection. All the water rushed off the roof of the car and poured down the windshield, making this wonderfully expressive scene in front of me. I quickly snapped the shot and moved on." You can read a short interview with him here.

Dabs Myla & The Spirit of Christmas

2012-01-21T14:17:00.000-08:00

Late last month, my buddies Dabs and Myla painted a huge mural on the street art complex that Branded Arts has been organizing at Washington and National in Culver City. Finishing up on Christmas Eve, they then took photographer Carlos Gonzalez with them as they went about their annual holiday ritual, which their mural celebrates.

Take a stand against PIPA and SOPA today.

2012-01-18T10:49:00.000-08:00

Go here to email your senators and congressmen today, and let them know that we must stop the Senate's Protect IP Act (PIPA) and the House's Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) from ending the internet as we know it.

Erratic Photography: Nobuyoshi Araki

2012-01-16T00:05:00.000-08:00

Here is another photographer I think is really interesting, and whom I see a lot at art fairs, Nobuyoshi Araki. You have probably seen his work before.

He is very influential on many of the painters I know. A lot of his work is kind of kinky, but also can be playful and whimsical. He says that many his photographs are like foreplay, but that the really good ones are orgasms. Here is an interesting interview he did years ago with Nan Goldin.

Erratic Photography: Simen Johan

2012-01-09T00:05:00.000-08:00

For reasons that are too complex to get into right now, I've been spending a lot of time looking at photography lately, so I decided to start a new feature here, a weekly mini-profile of photographers I find interesting.

I saw this photograph by Simen Johan at the Pulse art fair in Miami. It was kind of confounding. It couldn't possibly be real, but it felt very alive. It reminded me very much of the paintings of Walton Ford.

I realized when I got home that I actually own Simen Johan's first book, Room to Play, which was published in 2002. It's very different... dark creepy photographs of children, mostly.

He says, "In my animal images, there's an escape and denial going on, where the actions taking place seem to emerge from this very need to forget or escape the unknowability and transience of life.”

Allison Sommers' "Potter's Field"

2012-01-07T09:33:00.001-08:00

Tonight at Thinkspace will see the opening of Allison Sommers' latest body of work, "Potter's Field." A fascinatingly noxious layer cake of bestial warfare, medieval tortures, meaty inspections and rough beasts slouching toward their doom, her work simply must be seen in intense proximity to be believed. You can learn more about Allison's visceral underworld from this revealing conversation we had a couple of years ago. For a little lagniappe, Esao Andrews' spooky yet sensuous exhibition "Nowhere" will also be on view in the main room.

"The Second Passage"

"Brass Tacks"

"Base Camp"

"Perennials"

Andrew Hem's Blue Mood

2012-01-07T09:13:00.000-08:00

Don't miss your opportunity to see the latest piece from Andrew Hem tonight at LeBasse Projects' preview show. Though set in a dim blue gloaming, it bursts with energy and animal magnetism.

A Room to Read in Cambodia

2011-12-12T00:05:00.000-08:00

And now for something completely different. This one's going out to my dear friend Andrew, whose devotion to his own heritage kindled my fascination with Cambodia a few years ago.

If you're feeling generous this holiday season, you might consider donating a few bucks to Room to Read to help kids in Cambodia who desperately need an opportunity to lift themselves out of poverty. Room to Read is an top-rated non-profit organization devoted to providing access to literacy for kids in impoverished countries.

Over the past 11 years, Room to Read has built more than 12,500 libraries that offer the world's least privileged children the opportunity to learn the vital skills that lead to literacy. Where there are few books for children in the local language, Room to Read publishes and distributes picture books in collaboration with local writers and artists.

They also focus on gender equality in education, allowing thousands of deserving girls who would otherwise be kept at home to stay in school. Girls who complete their secondary education grow up to have smaller, healthier families, earn more money and teach their own children to read and write, breaking the cycle of illiteracy in a single generation.

Although there are many needy countries — given that almost 800 million people in the world are illiterate — Cambodia is a special case. Because the anti-intellectual focus of the Khmer Rouge genocide resulted in the decimation of Cambodia's entire educated class between 1975 and 1979, there were few left alive who could teach the youth of the next generation, who grew up largely illiterate, unable to show their own children how to read and write. As a result, Cambodia is still wallowing in a mire of ignorance, corruption and dire poverty, more than 30 years after the horrors that set the country back so profoundly.

Today, the leaders of Cambodia take a laissez-faire attitude toward their people, looking out only for themselves and providing absolutely no support to their millions of impoverished, starving citizens, most of whom are illiterate. But perhaps their excuse could be that they don't know any better — for even the prime minister is said to have achieved only a third grade education. Not long ago, the Ministry of Education announced that 55% of Cambodian primary schools had libraries, neglecting to mention that many of these "libraries" contained no books at all. Some schools only have two or three books to share amongst all of their students.

What Cambodia needs more than anything is the resources to raise a new generation of young people with the intellectual skills to lead themselves out of the darkness. To grow crops more efficiently, to manage resources more wisely, to design better systems of governance, to raise children with a sense of hope. Knowledge is power, after all.

The most empowering thing we could do to help is give these kids the opportunity to lift themselves up. So through Room to Read this holiday season, I will sponsor a Cambodian girl's secondary education for a year, and the company I work for will sponsor the establishment of a library that will allow hundreds of kids starved for knowledge to change their lives for the better. When I was a kid, reading was as integral to my happiness as eating and sleeping, and having unfettered access to books made me the person I am today. You could change someone's life, too — maybe even your own. Happy holidays from Erratic Phenomena!

All photographs are courtesy of Room to Read, aside from the first one, which was taken by Andrew Hem.

Graffiti Bacchanal Miami

2011-12-04T22:55:00.000-08:00

Having just returned from the humungous art jamboree that is clustered around Art Basel Miami, I thought I would share a few of my favorite things, most of which were centered around the graffiti zone in Wynwood, which was a hive of activity all week. Hundreds of graffiti and street artists from around the world came and embellished walls, some legally and many working catch as catch can, getting up by any means necessary. For a wider angle view on the festivities and fairs, including a lot of cool stuff I saw and neglected to take a picture of, see my buddy Jack's extensive coverage at Daily du Jour.

First off, Dabs Myla were up to their usual tricks on 25th Street just west of 2nd. Their zesty tiger tipped its hat to their piece in the Underbelly Project Show, which opened its doors just a block down the street.

The legendary Martha Cooper stopped by and was game to let 7th Letter photographer Willie T mount a POV camera on her head to catch some first-person footage of her shooting the dynamic duo at work.

Just across the street, Dabs Myla's friend Witnes was dreaming up a gorgeous mass of billowing flesh woven through a letter skeleton, working entirely freestyle.

On the third day, as twilight closed in, Dabs and Myla finished their piece across the street and came over to add some flanking elements to Witnes's incredible concoction.

Check out Willie T's video of the action.

Meanwhile, just down the street at 25th and 3rd, Zed One from Italy was working on his second piece...

...after completing his first effort in a nearby vacant lot...

...with a few new friends looking on...

....and the inspiration of a splendid holdover from years past.

Heading east on 25th toward Miami Avenue, this police impound lot was getting a makeover...

...and as we turned the corner, we got an eyeful of Rime conjuring up an incredibly ambitious cast of characters along its east wall.

You can see an update on this wall at Daily du Jour, since Jack stayed a couple of days longer than I did. He says Rime's in the home stretch.

(Update: Check out Rime's post explaining his methods and motivation, including a panoramic picture of the entire 50-character wall.)

Not far to the east by the train tracks on 27th, Roa recently bisected this manatee on the side of a warehouse. You should also check out his installation for White Walls at Scope, which adds more dimension to his body of work.

Last but not least, Angry Woebots was in his usual fine fettle, roaring at the world.

Did I forget Pez? He always makes me smile. And that's that!

Mark Ryden's "Pinxit"

2011-12-01T00:05:00.000-08:00

This one's going out to all you lovers of fine art books. Today, December 1st, will see the release of the collector's edition of Mark Ryden's new book Pinxit, in conjunction with the opening of Miami Art Basel.

This definitive 366-page monograph from Taschen is a 20-year retrospective of Ryden's remarkable body of work, and contains a series of essays translated into three languages, including my essay, "Searching for the Mystical in the Physical."

In our recent interview, Ryden mentioned that the title Pinxit playfully references both the preponderance of pink in his work and the Latin word meaning "he painted this," which artists like Ingres and Rubens once appended after their signatures.

This initial release will be a Collector's Edition of 1,000 and an Art Edition of 50, bound in calfskin in an clamshell box, and stupendously large at 20x15 inches, but a more modestly sized trade edition will be released next year. “There is a physical scale to this book that is truly impressive,” Mark told me. “There are four-panel foldouts that will be a full five feet wide. I have always had a great passion for books, and it is very exciting to have a book of this enormity made of my own art.”

Dabs Myla take on Miami

2011-11-29T00:05:00.000-08:00

For the art world bacchanal in Miami this week, the shadowy figures behind last year's remarkable subterranean revelation, The Underbelly Project, have curated an exhibition that includes my friends Dabs Myla. They will be exhibiting their work alongside graffiti luminaries like Revok, Haze and Saber and street art pioneers including Swoon, Dan Witz and Ron English. The Underbelly Show opens on Friday, December 2nd in the Wynwood area of Miami.

Also, if you're wandering through the Wynwood area, you might be lucky enough to catch Dabs and Myla painting a wall with their pal Witnes. Make sure to stop and say hello, they're good people.

Andrew Hem at Pulse Miami

2011-11-27T00:05:00.000-08:00

If you're in Miami this week for the art world festivities, make sure to stop by and see Andrew Hem's latest work at the LeBasse Projects booth in the Pulse Miami Art Fair, alongside work by Seonna Hong. You will have the opportunity to see one haunting painting rendered in the deepest of twilight blues, alive with animal magnetism and uncoiling psychic energies, as well as number of moleskine sketchbooks that unveil the spirits in the landscape.

Edwin Ushiro takes Hong Kong

2011-11-20T15:06:00.000-08:00

This Friday, November 25th, my good friend Edwin Ushiro will take part in Arrested Motion's curating debut, a group exhibition entitled "East West Connect" at Above Second Gallery in Hong Kong. With artists the likes of Brendan Monroe, Shepard Fairey, Tomokazu Matsuyama and Yoskay Yamamoto participating, this show will introduce Hong Kong to a wide variety of perspectives from some of the most popular artists in the scene today. If you're in the area, don't miss this rare opportunity to view their work in person.

Mark Ryden's Nostalgic Alchemy

2011-11-13T00:05:00.000-08:00

I won't be posting an interview this month, because I'm buckling down on a big book project for a little while (more on that soon), but if you're in the mood for some reading, pick up this month's Juxtapoz and check out my cover feature essay, "Mark Ryden and the Transfiguration of Kitsch."

"Dark Water"

2011-11-06T00:05:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, November 12th is the opening night for "Dark Water" at Copro Gallery, a remarkable group exhibition curated by artist Martin Wittfooth. With legends like Phil Hale, Jeremy Lipking and Marshall Arisman involved, as well as Erratic Phenomena favorites like Andrew Hem and Aron Wiesenfeld, the quality of the work in this show will far exceed expectations. Make sure to come out and meet Martin, as well as a great many of the other artists involved.

Andrew Hem "Watch Your Back"

Aron Wiesenfeld "Winter Cabin"

Brad Kunkle "Reclamation"

Dave Cooper "Mermaid"

Alyssa Monks "Reserve"

"The dullest soul cannot go upon such an expedition without some of the spirit of adventure; as if he had stolen the boat of Charon and gone down the Styx on a midnight expedition into the realms of Pluto... The silent navigator shoves his craft gently over the water, with a smothered pride and sense of benefaction, as if he were the phosphor, or light-bringer, to these dusky realms, or some sister moon, blessing the spaces with her light." – Henry David Thoreau

João Ruas' "Yore"

2011-11-01T00:05:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, clear the decks for the opening of João Ruas' largest exhibition to date, "Yore." In this latest body of work, he has allowed his world to grow more confused and abstracted, evoking emotional turmoil and otherworldly realms of the spirit. In addition to 20 paintings, 5 etchings, and several pieces painted on ostrich eggs, this remarkable show will feature a mural installation, a print, an exhibition catalog and his recently released book of sketches, Minion. You can immerse yourself in João's ethereal mythos at Thinkspace on November 5th.

"Nymphs V"

"The Two Tempting Heracles"

Tessar Lo's "The Dying Wishes,"

2011-10-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

This coming Saturday, October 22nd will mark my dear friend Tessar Lo's first European solo exhibition, "The Dying Wishes," at Jaski Art Gallery in Amsterdam (which frequent readers might remember as the gallery that represents Chris Berens). Tessar's dreamlike, introspective take on spontaneous primitivism likely holds a certain appeal for a fine art gallery that has long specialized in avant-garde abstraction, particularly the work of artists associated with the mid-century CoBrA movement. For Tessar, the prospect of showing his work in such a venerable gallery has provoked a flood of creativity, generating his most powerful body of work to date. On the eve of our departure for the Netherlands, Tessar sat down and gave me his thoughts on what is moving him these days and where those inspirations are taking him.

"after the blur, chaos and guardian face"

Erratic Phenomena: When you were just four years old, your family emigrated from Indonesia to North America, looking for a better life for you and your sister, who needed to attend a school for the deaf. Soon you were living in Scarborough, on the outskirts of Toronto, where you displayed an artistic bent early on, and had the opportunity to enroll in a secondary school for the arts. Tell me about the landscape of your childhood, and some of your earliest artistic experiments. When did you first realize that mark-making was what you needed to do with your life?

Tessar Lo: Early on, I was very introverted. Something happened when I started school in Canada that shifted me. I grew up with a lot of space and freedom, giving me room to play and learn on my own. My parents trusted me and the world we were in, despite the fact we had just arrived. Every kid draws pictures, and I was no different – I felt a sense of worth in it. I drew page after page of Ninja Turtles in my scrapbook, somewhat fascinated by how I could make it better each time. I was also very active, playing in the dirt, running around. Being outside so much, my eyes were open to the world. That, and my family not having so much money, forced me to use my imagination to stay entertained. (I made contraptions and dioramas for the toys I had, used a broomstick to fight crime.)

When I turned nine, we started moving quite a bit. Those years were a bit of a blur, but I remember feeling a sense of displacement every time. Even so young, I knew what it meant to yearn for something you once had, because often I didn't get to have it for so long. But I also learned to adapt quickly, embrace discovery of the new worlds. Looking back, I think my happiest times were being outdoors, making drawings and listening to stories. I grew up in a family of storytellers, and I was fortunate to hear so much of the world beyond just Scarborough. Communicating with my sister was and is still an adventure for me as well — she has continually inspired and intrigued me.

As for realizing what I needed to do with my life, I’m not sure of the exact moment, since I’ve always been happy making things with my hands, discovering new things and trying to be a part of them.

"the breaking crown, or akin to the blackness"

EP: Your father is a photographer as well as a karate instructor, and he passed both disciplines on to you. How do you think his guidance influenced your creative development? Were there other people whose encouragement gave you the confidence to take the path you've chosen?

Tessar: The most important things I got from karate are spiritual and mental. I learned to be aware and sensitive of the things around me. Many years into my practicing, my dad put a large focus on imagination, to hone the knowledge I had into greater application. These things go beyond martial arts, it's a developing of craft and life-long learning. There is a lot of expression in karate, using only your body and form — very much like dance. Like dance, and any other art, unless you submit wholly and honestly to the craft, you get little in return. That’s a pretty big lesson. My dad gave me all these things, taught me to be still, knowing when to stop, when to go, rhythm. Without my growing up with karate, I doubt I would be able to do what I do today in the same way. Through karate, I was taught to listen to myself, and also discipline, patience and scope.

My mom, as sort of an opposite, taught me a lot in just being. She is reckless with emotion and blind when it comes to knowing limitations. She has an extraordinary belief in herself, grounded in something that is still very mysterious to me. This bravado, an uncaring, unsettling energy, is also a big part of my process of creation.

"in contrast to the bright orange sky just 1000 hopes ago"

EP: Early on, you admired the work of Gauguin, which likely primed you to appreciate other approaches to spontaneous abstraction, such as Fauvism, CoBrA and art brut. Tell me a bit about your first encounters with ostensibly naive approaches to painting. Did you connect with that form of expression immediately, or was its intent puzzling at first? How did your relationship with those images evolve over time?

Tessar: My high school had a pretty extensive art history curriculum. I was aware of the expressionists and abstraction then, but it didn't appeal so much to me. Emotionally, spiritually, I wasn't ready for the depths of these works. I was more fascinated with realism, the Renaissance and later, post-impressionists. Gauguin’s adventure in escapism and the paradise he had seemingly found was something so enchanting and otherworldly. I still am very much in love with Gauguin, but I’ve found that a lot of what Gauguin yearned for in another physical place could have been found in the materials before him.

I looked to the spontaneous, instinctual quality of the act and surface of painting and saw a glimpse of a different kind of paradise in it. Gauguin had turned me on to primitivism, and it led me to dig deeper internally, looking for truth and truth in nature. It was then that I started to realize my kinship with the fauvist and expressionist movements, a desire to capture the universe with painting as a portal, not just a destination or depiction. My current way of working is maybe a combination of those ideals, allowing me room for discovery, with a respect for recording and a surrender to nature.

"some things to consider, before you, turning white"

EP: Matisse, the father of the Fauves, maintained that "You study, you learn, but you guard the original naiveté. It has to be within you, as desire for drink is within the drunkard, or love is within the lover." Are you able to let yourself succumb to that primal gesture completely, in the way that Matisse describes? Does that surrender transport you into another state of mind?

Tessar: It would be really nice to know if I’m reaching into the truest of my being. I’d like to think that at times — at my best — I slip into it momentarily. Painting gives me a chance to return to nature, striving for it, bit by bit. But I don't think this is something that I could know for sure. It’s not rare to get lost in painting, in a specific gesture, meditating on it, reforming, but truly succumbing to primal gesture completely might be what happens in the moments before you die.

"in the dark we danced and your hand became a plane that took us high and far away"

EP: In recent years, you've been increasingly giving way to instinct in order to access the unconscious, to stop painting from memory and instead to intuitively respond to experience, desire and dreams. Do you find yourself perpetually surprised by where a painting has taken you, or do you generally have a destination in mind? Is there a romance in the endless pursuit of something you could never quite quantify in words?

Tessar: You can never take memory out of the equation. This is something that's a big part of anyone's being — a major factor in what you'd deem important presently, and what will spark your interest in the future. It’d be better to say that I don't focus on memory as much, since it will always be there. Intuition and risk have been a growing part of my process instead — making way to not only accessing desire and dreams, but living them immediately.

Every painting is different in character — I’ve learned that outside of myself, so many factors dictate what actually happens over the course of the painting. Sometimes it takes many unexpected turns, and sometimes it comes so readily, as if it was waiting for me there the whole time. While I do think of images, it's probably only half the time. The other half, I’m trying to recognize cues. The most important thing is affect — I’m trying to feel outside of the process, while being immersed in it. There is definitely romance in the mystery and elusiveness of the work, how your being and everything outside of you will decide to work that day, or not work.

EP: Cy Twombly once said, "My line is childlike but not childish. It is very difficult to fake... to get that quality, you need to project yourself into the child's line. It has to be felt." How would you interpret that distinction, "childlike but not childish?" Do you think becoming skilled at traditional drawing and composition is essential to letting go of those strictures and breaking the rules in interesting ways, or would a genuinely naive approach be equally productive?

Tessar: The idea that one needs to technically learn drawing and painting to execute an idea or inspiration well is becoming more and more unlikely to me. Life is out there to be handled and taken in, then output in the very unique way of each individual, despite the level of his or her formal training. What counts more than anything is the sincerity of the creator and the significance of the idea or experience created. That being said, I do believe formal training can help exercise the mind, teaching control and general knowledge of traditional materials. Having strong fundamentals would probably help you get to where you need to go more efficiently. Personally, I’ve felt it beneficial to have a foundation in some formal education and training. Out of that, sometimes knowing what you don't want can show you what you do. Anyway, I’m sure someone who's earnest in making their work will want to dig deep into their history and seek to better themselves in the best way possible.

EP: When you begin to paint, you generally work with confidence and speed. Do you spend most of your time between paintings looking and thinking? Or do you constantly engage yourself in exploration of different processes and elements that ultimately come together on the canvas?

Tessar: I earnestly try to think less about everything these days. I’d rather feel present in the world, absorbing as much of it as I can, then painting or drawing or making something out of the moments and truths. I’m always playing in the studio, but I think the real exploration is in living and seeing things carefully in your life, specifically the relationships you have with people, your environment and even inanimate objects. When I get to actually making something, I don't think about anything too much. Ideally, I’m creating purely, as a response to every part of me and the world.

EP: You enjoy painting on a hard surface — a wall, a floor — which allows you to get nearer to the work, sometimes almost inside it. Stapling a large canvas to the wall also lets you be much more physical with a painting, using the entire gesture of your arm and allowing you to smear, scribble and scrape with abandon. Tell me about how it feels to paint in this way, and how far you would take it, if you had the time and resources.

Tessar: I’m pretty happy with being able to paint with my body. It sometimes feels like I’m dancing as I’m painting. For me, being able to gesture freely is a bigger, more important experience than using only my wrist, rested on a table. I’m pouring a lot more of myself into the work because often my body is almost entirely physically engaged in the act. What I love about painting is getting lost in it, and the way I work these days makes me feel like I can really do that. With more resources, I’d probably want more space so I could have more projects happening simultaneously, but really I’m very lucky with the space I have now, and I try my best to use it completely.

EP: Painting, like life, is often a process of mistakes made over mistakes made over mistakes — wantonly changing, destroying and recreating, eventually resulting in sumptuously layered textures and patterns. You enjoy playing with layers and levels, building a stratified surface with multiple meanings. Recently, you've spoken of pursuing something you call "biocartography," which seems to have something to do with the processes of wear and tear on physical forms. Would you say you're trying to replicate that feeling of time and history in the layers and tactile surfaces of your paintings?

Tessar: We live for nothing if we don't see and understand ourselves truly. Art is a record of our experiences and acts as inspiration and sometimes even guidance. Biocartography is my definition for living entirely in a way where one can absorb everything with a naive and open mind and then attempt to communicate it as record. In my paintings, I build layers mostly due to discovery and mistakes in the process, so when I see my work, it's a recording of those moments. There's a little bit of sentimentality and marking of a specific place and time when I look at older works. You're right to mention the processes of wear and tear, and the time and history, but these things happen sometimes without us knowing. So I’m not sure if I can consciously or purposely replicate that in my paintings — it must be that it just happens in spite of me.

EP: You've said you're trying to not only paint about, but paint in that nebulous state between waking-reality and dreaming-reality. You once told me, "We all share in this place and time that is neither a place nor a time, and I think we all just want to be able to be there every once in a while. Oddly enough, I think the separation from the so-called ‘real world’ is what ultimately can bring us together." This idea of the unconscious as an ocean that can be plumbed for enlightenment is familiar from Jungian psychology, and is at the root of many indigenous belief systems, in which shamans treat sicknesses of the body by mending the soul. Do you see this restoration of balance between the rational and irrational realms as one of the most important functions of the artist in our increasingly secularized society? Can art heal hearts and minds, or even restore the will to live?

Tessar: Speaking for myself, I see the value of recognizing the things outside of what we think we know and investigating them. Sometimes art can be a channel for this. It can inform us and it can definitely heal, for those that want to believe in it. It carries a spirit and breadth of emotion that fill the cracks of our lives and help us understand why things are. But those things aren't visible to doubters or the disinterested, simply because they won't engage. Art works as a conversation, and the ability for it to move someone has to a lot to do with trust and vulnerability, in the creator and the viewer. Many people are fearful of what they will find when they look within — and that's why so many don't. But the very same things one gets from being honest and confronting oneself are what will make one realize all that is meaningful. We spend enough time with the concrete realities of day-to-day living, that balance from the opposite of that, "the irrational," is definitely necessary. At the same time, the spirit of those worlds can be a strong and heavy thing. As much as I believe in the good of it, I tread lightly, and respect it, even somewhat fearfully.

EP: In your most recent work, you've been trying to convey something very complex and elusive — the idea of eternity or the hereafter as a door that opens into our unconscious, into the same place we journey through in our dreams — almost as if we die in our sleep every night. Or perhaps our souls leave our bodies and travel into this other realm while our bodies rest, and sometimes our souls choose not to return, or lose their way. As Haruki Murakami wrote in Sputnik Sweetheart, "The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time." This pursuit could cast you in the role of psychopomp, the mediator between the conscious and unconscious realms, as well as the spirit guide which shows the deceased the way into the afterlife. Do you think it's possible to bring back insights into the eternal mysteries from traveling in the borderlands? Do your discoveries there sometimes overwhelm or even frighten you?

Tessar: I can't claim to know anything about what you call the borderlands, but I know what it feels like. There's a strong curiosity and wonder that I’ve always had for this place that we visit nightly, and then the next day pretend that it doesn't exist. Though it can be frightening or overwhelming, mostly I wonder if there's something there speaking to us, trying to show something special or telling. And while it's impossible to convey what there is out there in a painting or drawing, I can try to capture the weight of it. These days, I’m finding a lot of the enlightening and surreal "out there" is also actually right in front of us, in our waking reality. We just have to open our eyes and be ready for them. I just try and make sense of it in a way that works for me, through traveling, collecting and recording.

EP: Lately, you've taken to making small pieces of art and biking around the city to leave them in random locations for the public to discover. Tell me a bit about your motivations for this pursuit. Do you think unexpectedly encountering art in everyday life can change people, or open them to a new way of seeing?

Tessar: The original inspiration for me leaving art around Toronto was to affect people and their environment, and a practice of letting go. It kind of developed into a mystery of not knowing where the small pieces would go — if someone would take it home, gift it, throw it out, draw on top of it — that ended up making it more exciting for me. The sense of possibility is what ultimately kept me doing it, just wondering if it could sway someone. I really do hope that encountering art casually can make people more curious, that's what I’d want more than anything. If it's the catalyst for even a, "Why is this drawing here?" it's done more than enough already.

EP: Is there an underappreciated artist working today whom you wish would get more attention?

Tessar: My brother Edwin Ushiro deserves way more attention and respect than I think he gets. He is a great person and mind, full of inspiration always. We are also going to start a manzai tour of the world in 2013, so look out for that.

EP: Is there anything else you're finding really inspiring right now?

Tessar: Music and film have always been big things for me — it's never-ending, what I can discover, both in the contemporary, looking back, and even the repeating of the music I’ve already come to know and love. Mostly, I think about the atmosphere and tone of everything around me, in the books I read, the things on my table, sometimes even the food I eat.

EP: Tell me a bit about the work you'll be presenting at your upcoming solo exhibition at Jaski Art Gallery in Amsterdam, which opens on October 22nd.

Tessar: The work I have for “The Dying Wishes,” started as an investigation of purpose, then ventured into ideas of religion and spirituality and finally coming back out in speculation. I had made the error of looking for answers and as usual, was finally met with more questions. But in a way, this makes me feel like I’m making the right work for me at this moment. Both directly and indirectly, I’m trying to paint the tension of the idea of the place after everything is done (to our knowledge). I’m always feeling a bit like this is our current state, like end times, 2012, and all that. My time with these thoughts resulted in painting the desires I have of what's to come after my time here, coupled with maybe some of the things I (or maybe all of us) would inevitably have to deal with.

EP: Who do you make your paintings for? Why do you need to make them?

Tessar: Any work I make is firstly for me. It's the best way to learn and process all the complicated and sometimes difficult things encountered in life. Creating also lets me see the beautiful in something that I might start off thinking poorly of. The process is the most exciting thing for me, the possibility of some humble mediums and the recording of history as I go along. But I also make my work with hopes of interacting with those who see it, bringing something special or at the very least, something worth thinking about into that moment in their lives. I need to make stuff because it's the only way I can cope in this life — both with the good and bad. I need to channel the things inside me and keep discovering in order to stay sane and willing.

Tessar Lo's "The Dying Wishes," opens on Saturday, October 22nd at Jaski Art Gallery in Amsterdam. Tessar and I will both be there, hope to see you, too!

How & Nosm's "Achtung!"

2011-10-12T00:05:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, October 15th, How & Nosm will be presenting their first solo show, "Achtung!" at Los Angeles graffiti headquarters, Known Gallery. Comprised of 50 seamlessly intricate pieces that showcase their relentless drive and darkly comic vision, this show is destined to up the ante for graffiti-related shows for years to come.

"Orchid"

Identical twin brothers, How & Nosm were born in the Basque region of Spain, grew up in Düsseldorf, and began hitting walls and trains worldwide in their teens, eventually leaving their mark in more than 50 countries. In 1997, on a visit to New York, they were invited to join the highly respected Tats Cru. Since then, the twins have relocated to the Bronx and have become legendary in their own right for their swift, flawless execution of incredible murals.

Make sure to check out their latest effort, "Heartship," a massive wall located at 900 Traction Avenue in the downtown Arts District. I swung by there on Saturday and took a few pictures of the twins putting the finishing touches on their six-day labor of love.

Andrew Hem sweetens Hi-Fructose!

2011-10-10T00:05:00.000-07:00

Make sure to grab a copy of this month's issue of Hi-Fructose, as the cover article features the always revelatory Andrew Hem. Though I don't agree with most of the writer's insights, there are some interesting quotes from Andrew and a lot of gorgeous images to enjoy.

While you're here, I'd like to give you another chance to check out this video of Andrew's most recent mural project, which transports the children of his father's village in Cambodia to the once-mean streets of Culver City.

Andy Kehoe's "Arise, Feral Night"

2011-10-08T13:25:00.000-07:00

Andy Kehoe's next show, "Arise, Feral Night," will be opening at Roq la Rue in Seattle on October 14th. In Andy's autumnal spirit world, darkness has finally fallen and the eldritch creatures roam beneath the nebulous heavens, going about their mysterious business. If you're new to Andy's work, you can get to know him better in our interview from a couple of years ago.

"All Turns to Brilliance"

Chris Berens' "Mapping Infinity"

2011-09-09T18:30:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow night marks the release of Chris Berens' latest book, Mapping Infinity, which he asked me to collaborate with him on writing. It is exclusively available from Jaski Gallery in Amsterdam. The book will be released in a limited edition of 750, along with with 50 special editions which will include an original drawing, several of which you can enjoy below. These remarkable little process explorations, much like the verso pieces on his paintings, shed a great deal of light on his mysterious methods.

David Jien's "The Plight of the Who"

2011-09-01T00:05:00.000-07:00

Forewarned is forearmed — you don't want to miss David Jien's debut solo exhibition, "The Plight of the Who," which opens at Richard Heller Gallery on Saturday, September 10th.

"The Plight of the Who"

The show will feature a plethora of new drawings, each one a glimpse into a fantastic existential narrative based on David's perspective on the world we live in. He characterizes this body of work as the first chapter of an epic chronicle in which all the characters are essentially versions of himself, and the events that unfold echo his own struggles with self and his own desires.

"The Plight of the Who" (detail)

David was born in 1981 on the Westside of Los Angeles, and was soon immersed in his own world of Nintendo, Legos, puzzle toys and manga. Obsessed with drawing animals and monsters as a child, he later transferred that passion to graffiti, and spent many years bending, melting and transforming letter forms upon the walls of the city. After the graffiti lifestyle turned complicated, he enrolled at Art Center College of Design, graduating in 2009 with a BFA in Illustration. He initially focused on graphite drawings of metamorphosis, alphabets, rubbery forms, alien biology and geometric psychedelia, establishing the setting of his narrative landscape and evolving his own folklore about the dawn of time, when mythological beings still walked amongst men.

"Top Wizard"

More recently, he began working in colored pencil to develop an allegorical future history about a power struggle in which human and anthropomorphic beings fight against a race of balloon-headed creatures and the cold-blooded reptilian overlords who seek to control everything. In the past year, his work has been enthusiastically received at the Pulse Miami Contemporary Art Fair and at The Armory Show in New York.

"The Plight of the Who" (detail)

Though he is still determinedly at work putting the finishing touches on this body of work, he was generous enough to give me some of his time for an in-depth conversation about his motivations and inspirations.

"RUOK"

Erratic Phenomena: You were raised in West L.A. on a fertile mixture of Nintendo, anime and manga. Tell me a bit about the landscape of your childhood. What ideas, images and toys did you encounter early in life that may have embedded themselves in the arsenal of your imagination? Were you the kind of kid who was always drawing, or were you more interested in building things and manipulating shapes?

David Jien: I spent a lot of time playing with Legos, and my folks took me to the zoo and aquariums. I watched a lot of Animal Planet with my mom, played lots of Nintendo, and read Dragonball manga. I drew often, mostly animals and monsters and basketball players. My parents liked to buy me educational toys, so I had this really cool snake toy — I think it's called Magic Ruler Twist Rubik’s Snake Rubik Cube Puzzle. I had a pretty crazy-active attention deficit disorder when I was young, and I remember the only thing that I could do for an extended period of time was drawing. Maybe that was why my parents were so encouraging of it.

EP: What originally compelled your family to leave Taiwan and come to the U.S.? Was your upbringing fairly traditional, or did your family choose to assimilate into the California lifestyle? Did they understand your urge to make art, or would they have preferred you to become a dermatologist or a banker? Was there someone in particular who nurtured your creative urges when you were young?

David: They left Taiwan to seek the American dream. I was born in Los Angeles with a fairly traditional upbringing. They were always supportive of my creativity. There was a family friend who was an interior designer — he was a great designer and a great draughtsman, and he encouraged me to keep drawing and painting. He would hang my animal drawings in his home. He told me that I should apply to Art Center for college, because it was the best school. I was in middle school at the time, so I sort of just brushed it off, but I did end up going and graduating from Art Center. I guess it was always in my subconscious.

"Cloer"

EP: You've mentioned the macabre and sometimes ribald writer Roald Dahl as one of your inspirations, and Dahl's dark, rubbery Vermicious Knids from Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator certainly appear to have crept into the landscape of your imagination. Dahl felt that he was "conspiring with children against adults," who were "the enemy of the child – because of the awful process of civilizing this thing that is born as an animal with no manners, no moral sense at all.” Which other artifacts of Dahl's imagination made an impression on you, and how do you think his viewpoint influenced the direction you took in life?

David: Dahl was my favorite author, he was so descriptive. I liked all of his novels, but my favorites were his short stories. I had a short attention span, so those were perfect for me. I loved how dark his stories were, and how when I read his novels I was transported to another world.

EP: How did you first become fascinated with the idea of naming, of investing people or things with their own unique moniker that defines them as individuals? Why do you think naming holds such power for you?

David: I like that you call it investing. It's really true, though! I love this idea of individuality, and naming something is just a natural way to give something importance and identity. Once you give something/someone a name, it grounds it into existence. It's like an idea is found and is recorded in time. Like worthy knights back in the day were dubbed with a new title.

EP: For many years, you painted graffiti as part of the D2R (Down 2 Rock/Dreams 2 Reality) crew. Since then, you and several other members of your crew have gone on to study at Art Center College of Design and become respected gallery artists. To what would you attribute the remarkable success of so many of your crew members? Was there a mentality or mentorship in D2R that encouraged you to set your sights higher, or was it simply a pocket of remarkable talent?

David: D2R was the catalyst for my personal art growth. D2R is a family, and we all want our brothers to do well. With that said, we all pushed each other to make the best burners, or hit the craziest spots. When I first joined the crew, there were so many talented writers, and I was just blown away with all the crazy styles and the technical skills everyone had.

Dzeas and Mers were the ones who schooled me to the game. Cyte and Rek2 were my best crime partners, since we all lived on the West Side of L.A. I wanted to get good, so they would want to paint with me. Things have changed since then, but the principle remains the same. It just so happened that a few of us attended the same art school. I remember while preparing for my entry portfolio, Cyter and I were attending Santa Monica City College, and he was already in Art Center at the time, and I just saw how hard he worked and how good he got. Plus we were always throwing ideas around. It was so inspiring, because he was always good, but he got REAL good. I wanted that too. I met Ween and Whoelser later on, and we encouraged each other to get better. So the capacity was always there, but the work ethic was key.

EP: A diminutive simian creature with a pencil mustache makes an appearance in a few of your earlier drawings. He shivers nakedly when caught amidst a crowd of imposing TRG and Azn Boyz dragons in the shower room of the county lockup, and longingly attempts to draw a girl's portrait over and over again while alone in his cell. I sense that there may be a personal narrative behind these images. Is that story one you can tell me?

David: Those are illustrations I made based on my experience of county jail. I was busted for graff and had to do a little time in the big house. It was gooner central, all kinds of hoodlums and thuggery going on in there, and it was pretty scary, to say the least. Good thing I knew how to draw a little bit, or at least better than the guys I shared a cell with. I made friends with the inmates by drawing portraits of their girlfriends and making dragon drawings for tattoos. It was all right after that. During shower time, however, everyone would go to the main hallway, so it was like a few hundred fools all packed in this one narrow hall, and half of those guys would be butt-naked and wildin' out and like giving me weird stares and stuff. So it was a bit unnerving.

EP: Much of your graffiti work had a propensity for bending, melting and transforming, and a playful or even risqué tone. You carried that sensibility forward into your early graphite drawings, which focused on naming, alphabets, rubbery forms, metamorphosis, alien biology and Escheresque optical illusions. What did you learn from graffiti that you took with you into your work on paper? How different do you think your work would be if you hadn't devoted all those years to manipulating letters to your will? Do you still feel the same compulsion to draw that you felt to get up back in the day, or do you now find yourself impelled by a different kind of drive?

David: When I started writing, I developed a simple and pure love for the alphabet. I filled many sketch books with all types of different letterforms. I discovered that with every new form you make, you can take that and make three new forms based on that one form. So the possibilities were limitless. In art school, I made lots of work but most of it was just to fulfill the assignment. I took a term off and decided to just make drawings of letterforms as monuments. I wanted to do something more personal.

It's very different though. With graff, it's about the moment — you make it fast, speed is the key, you do it and you leave, maybe you get a picture of it and all you have is this 4x6 photo. Sometimes you'll never see it again. It's very ephemeral. With the drawings, they are made slowly. There is a sense of duration, instead of a fleeting moment. Also, graff is made to be big and public, the drawings are much much smaller in scale, which gives then a intimate sensibility.

"Morphabet"

EP: One of your earliest visual influences was Nintendo, which is where you were introduced to isometric perspective, as opposed to the linear perspective that is taught in most western drawing classes. Isometry depicts things as they are perceived by the mind, rather than the eye. For example, parallel lines are parallel, and as such, they never meet at some imagined vanishing point on the horizon. In isometric perspective, the viewer hovers in an indeterminate viewpoint while the world is laid out before them with each dimension in the same scale, regardless of its distance from the viewer. Isometric perspective has for millennia been a feature of scroll painting in China, where it is known as dengjiao-toushi, or "equal-angle see-through." Even today, it is commonly used in CAD architectural renderings. When do you think you first recognized that Nintendo's isometric view allowed you to see things differently than they are seen by the eye? Did you find yourself drawing in that perspective before you even knew what it was? How does the almost omniscient viewpoint of isometry "read" for you on an emotional level?

David: My grandparents had wonderful Chinese scroll paintings in the house, and I admired them even as young child. Then in grade school, I played lots of role-playing games on my Nintendo. Also, all the Lego instructions were drawn with isometric perspective. It made sense to me and it felt normal to make art this way, to organize information this way. For as long as I remember, I have always made my drawings in this format. I've made art with single point perspective too, but only when I started art school.

"Group at Level 3"

EP: You've characterized your work as an existential narrative founded in your view of the world we inhabit, and your place in it. While your earlier drawings establish a setting and explore the folklore of the dawn of time, in which mythological beings still walked amongst men, your more recent work concerns a later power struggle between humanoid creatures and a race of balloon-headed aliens. Do you envision this narrative taking place on an alternate plane of reality, as if we have been allowed to see into a secret level of existence? Or is it an allegorical perspective on our human frailties and the precariousness of our civilization? Where do you place yourself in this epic showdown between good and evil?

David: I realized after completing the first few drawings that most of the characters in my work act as self-portraits. That through the work, I was able to express all my deepest ambitions, desires, fantasies, regrets and concerns, and bring these things to light. I feel that everyone at some point in their lives has to deal with an inner struggle, and that this universe is perfectly designed to give human beings the optimal conditions under which the choice between good and evil can be made. My drawings are my inner struggles manifested through a cast of characters. I am a whorider, I am a lizardman.

"Hurrah 4 Us! Birth of the Chosen One"

EP: Chinese hand scrolls, which generally depict various stages of a single scenario, take the viewer on a journey through both space and time in a continuous picture which is constantly being unrolled on the one hand and rolled up on the other. Much of your work could be seen as a glimpse into a continuing narrative of this sort, especially pieces like "The Who Riders" and "Hurrah 4 Us! Birth of the Chosen One." Do you sometimes envision your work in this way, as if time passes from right to left in a constant unfurling story, perpetually revealing itself and then passing into obscurity as the next scene slides into view?

David: Yes, all the pieces are connected somehow, so to show this, I made them read from left-to-right or right-to-left, open-ended on both sides, very much like in side-scrolling video games (Metroid, Contra, etc.) and Chinese silk scroll paintings. It's a tool used to show time passing.

"Ride or Die"

EP: Your recent piece "Ride or Die" appears to be a tribute to the great graffiti writer-cum-contemporary artist Gajin Fujita. Raised by a painter and an art conservator, Fujita had the ideal grounding to marry the graffiti stylings of his East L.A. K2S graffiti crew with the traditional chrysanthemums, goldfish, geisha and samurai of his Japanese heritage. Was seeing the fine art world embrace the work of an Asian graffiti artist who grew up in the barrio one of the things that encouraged you attempt to make that leap yourself? Could you tell me a bit about the inspiration for your own "Ride or Die"?

David: Gajin Fujita is a wonderful painter, and I admire him and his work a lot. However, "Ride or Die" has nothing to do with Gajin or his art. "Ride or Die" is simply a scene within the grand narrative. The rider's name is Deca, and she is riding to save the child. I do use some graffiti tools as weapons in my art. My characters will often wield spraycans or scribers as weapons. Right now, my pencil is my rifle.

"Yellow Fever"

EP: Recently you began making some rather explicitly erotic work that carries echoes of the same traditional Japanese erotic prints or shunga that Gajin Fujita draws from in his work. Your recent piece "Yellow Fever" touches on your dissatisfaction with the current state of sexual inequity between Asians and whites, depicting a highly formalized interspecies orgy with some darker undertones. Tell me a bit about the inspiration and motivation for that piece. When did you first encounter a piece of erotic art, and what was your reaction to it?

David: It first occurred to me in high school that all the Asian girls were going out with white dudes, including many of my friends, and that hardly any white chicks were dating Asian guys. I was like, why are all these white guys stealing all my women away from me? It was frustrating! And I felt bad feeling this way, 'cause these were my homies. Well, I know now that it has a lot to do with the media and how Asian men, white males and Asian females were and still are portrayed. Also, I found a really cool eastern art pillow book at an old book store, and all the people in it were doing it in all these crazy positions and stuff, and I thought it would be fun to make my own sex drawings. So the "Yellow Fever" drawing was made out of frustration and my wanting to make a erotic drawing. I didn’t know it at the time, but all the characters in the "Yellow Fever" drawing are me in my desire for all the Asian girls. But it made me feel like a cold-blooded lizard man. Weird, huh?

"Collector, Dog and Several Gold Objects"

EP: You've recently completed a series of rather similar pieces which depict collectors standing alone, with just with a pet and the mysterious shining objects they have acquired, each rendered in a different metallic leaf. What inspired that series? Are they a commentary on greed and the isolation it brings? Why did you decide to make three of them?

David: I made more than three of them. The objects in the drawings are important, because they will be used for something grand in the future. I will reveal this maybe in my next show.

"Collector, Cockatoo and Several Copper Objects"

I have this crazy obsession with collecting Japanese vinyl toys. I want all of them and I spend my time and money to get them and I don’t want to share. Lots of people like to collect different things. Good collectors specialize in collecting specific things. These collectors in my art are very passionate collectors, and they are also very wealthy. They are out to acquire certain precious objects. It's a solo love affair, and it can leave them quite isolated, but it's important that someone cares enough to build this great collection and preserve them and care for them.

"Collector, Cat and Several Silver Objects"

EP: A year or so ago, you set aside graphite and began working in colored pencil, a move which appeared to precipitate an obsession with tiny, intensely rendered patterns. I understand that much of your work is drawn under a magnifying lens, and that your larger pieces can take up to three months to complete. Why do you think you have such an interest in pattern? What sustains your attention while you're working within such rigid strictures? Is there a sort of self-hypnosis element to it, as if rendering pattern functions as a sort of mantra?

David: I like detail, I like looking at detail. When you go to an art show, there is always that guy who has his nose right up to the art. 99% of the time, that's me. The patterning is just another detail, and it's a great way to break up space. And it can be very beautiful! I guess I just have a high tolerance for tedium. I'm always trying to push it to get finer. The details are a way to suck the viewer in and to get them to stay in my world. It's time-consuming, but it's time that I treasure. What pushes me to do it is the result — to see it all finished. I use magnifying lenses and fine lead pencils, which I sand to an ultra-fine tip when I need to, like when I draw hair or fingernails.

"Tombstone #1"

EP: You've occasionally been plagued by comparisons to Paul Noble's obsessive font-based drawings of a utopian city development gone depressingly awry, which is one of the reasons you've evolved your vision toward a more colorful narrative direction. Of course, to quote Ecclesiastes, "there is nothing new under the sun," and I'd say it's almost inevitable that anyone making graphite drawings of landscape in isometric perspective will end up with some correlations. What do you think of Noble's work, and what would you say to those who would make that invidious comparison?

David: To be compared to Paul Noble is a compliment. The man is a masterful draughtsman. I admire his work ethic and his superb attention to detail. I mean, the guy spent eight years working on his project! There is definitely something to be learned from that! With that said, I had not known about him when I made my pencil drawings. It was only afterward that someone showed me his stuff. I was like, "WOW! This guy is off the chain!" My changing of direction was necessary because there were other things I needed to explore — color and narration, specifically.

"Army of Meadjs" a.k.a. "The Who Riders"

EP: I'm more intrigued by some synchronicities between your work and the uneasy dystopian futurescapes of Torsten Slama, which also reference Chinese landscape painting, and sometimes employ isometric perspective as an artifact of their allusions to architectural renderings. Slama's universe is much less coy and self-absorbed than Noble's, and appears to be offering allegorical glimpses into an alien-industrial future. He speaks of "an ever-expanding ecological consciousness that has turned into a form of Malthusian misanthropy, where many believe the world would be better off without people." Do you think perhaps you and Torsten Slama share some of the same motivations or influences?

David: Torsten, another great artist. His work is highly legitimate. But again, very different motives in my work. I see my work more in the stem of Henry Darger or Trenton Doyle Hancock. It's mythology-driven. I still have hope in the human race. Aesthetically, Slama and I have many similarities (Chinese painting, isometric viewpoints, colored pencil).

"Destine 2 Rise/Alvaro Sanz"

EP: Who are a few of your favorite artists, and what do you find most profound about their work?

David: Al Trigo Sanz for his courage

Devin Strother
Nobuyoshi Araki for his honesty
Philip Guston for his honesty and boldness
Pablo Picasso for his vision

Trenton Doyle Hancock
Vermeer for his sensitivity to pictorial design
Marcel Duchamp for his questions about art
SENTO FTP for his style mastery
Howard Finster for his boldness and encouragement
Joseph Cornell

David Altmejd for his imagination

Keegan McHargue
Van Gogh for his color
Henry Darger for his stories
all my D2R peeps

and the Kohga ninjas.

"King"

EP: Is there an underappreciated artist working today who you wish would get more attention?

David: My good friend Leo Eguiarte makes some amazing paintings! Like some real cyberdelic next level stuff! Like if the Species chick and Megaman had sex, the bastard child would be Leo's work. Super inspiring! The dude is out there!

Also Mike Alvarez, he does those awesome portraits, like straight up on some nostalgic miasma mode. So good!

And this guy Andrew Ho, he's on the comeup, the dude can draw with the best of 'em.

I like David W. Chace, because he’s doing it for all the right reasons.

"Clue"

EP: If you could have just one classic piece of art hanging on the wall of your studio, what would it be?

David: "The Garden of Earthly Delights" by Hieronymus Bosch.

"Trey OG Level Up!"

EP: Is there anything else you're finding really inspiring right now?

David: Daily life, my friends, my fam, and this really cool band Yellow Magic Orchestra.

"ODB"

EP: Tell me a bit about the work you'll be presenting at your debut solo exhibition at Richard Heller Gallery, which opens on Saturday, September 10th.

David: This show, "The Plight of the Who," is the jumpoff to my story. I am using this body of work to establish the setting and introduce some of my main characters and their motives. It's the first part of an ongoing narrative, the first chapter. Blue egg-headed creatures (the charis) and cold-blooded reptilian humanoids and other anthropomorphic characters inhabit this world with the humans. Lizard men hold position and power. They are evil creatures with no moral code or standard. They live as they wish, completely carnal and hedonistic. They live for all the pleasures this world has to offer and will do anything to attain them. Our heroes, the whoriders, are protectors of freedom, love and righteousness. They ride for truth and virtue. I like the new work I'm making. I'm incorporating some new elements, such as collage and air brushing. It has been a lot of fun making the work. I hope to take the viewers to the 8th dimension.

"Wildstylin' at Bat Mountain"

EP: Hopes, dreams, plans for the future?

David: Go see my good friend in Chile and make more art.

"Snake"

Oh Yes Indeed, It's Fun Time!

2011-08-31T00:05:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd remind everyone one last time that this Thursday, September 1st at Launch LA, we will be having the big book release party for Heroes & Villains. I've been told that more than 30 of the featured artists will be present for signing and whatnot, and I hope to see you, too.

As long as I'm here tooting my own horn, I figured why not include a little excerpt from a stupendous review of the book that was just posted on Ektopia? (Which, incidentally, is one of my very favorite blogs.) So here you go.

"The quality of the photography is spectacular. Of the artists I feel that I know through their art, the images speak volumes about their character. Tatiana and Roman seemed to have been able to capture their spirit, and that can’t be an easy thing to do… in fact, it must be nearly impossible. This is the first reason for thinking that this book is so remarkable; these portraits speak.

But as I mentioned earlier, it’s not all about the portraiture; there are the interviews too. Now, first of all, not all the artists are interviewed. What we have here are fourteen interviews that are handled with such sophistication and depth that you don’t miss the omissions. Tatiana and Roman are photographers, though, and that’s where their expertise lies. For sophisticated interviews, you need a sophisticated interviewer, and they don’t come much more sophisticated than Amanda Erlanson.

I happen to think that Amanda is one of the greatest writers on the art-scene. I’ve been following her personal website, Erratic Phenomena, since its early days. I simply don’t have the words to describe her writing style without saying that it’s engaging, has the perfect momentum and is always interesting in content and the language that she’s obviously so adept in. So, who better to ask the questions? I would say that no one is more qualified for the job, and she proves it in the interviews. Each of the interviews is put together with thoughtfully composed questions and is placed to elicit an equally thoughtful answer. This is exactly what she gets in return for her trouble. Each question is well researched and tailor-made for its intended recipient, and the artists open up, dig deep and reflect on their past and also discuss their future plans. I’ve wanted to interview artists on Ektopia for years, but have never been able to come up with suitable questions (apart from the normal boring stuff), and reading Amanda’s questions has confirmed for me that it’s an art-form in itself. In the same way that Tatiana and Roman are at the top of their game, Amanda is too.

As well as the interviews, Amanda also handles an introductory essay, and she does this in the same manner as she interviews. Gracefully, informatively and eloquently. I wondered how these particular artists were intertwined… what makes them a collection of artists that should be studied together. These are outsider artists and they neatly fit together, and Amanda explains this in depth with ease."

Chris Berens: 800 Books & One Painting

2011-08-23T20:59:00.000-07:00

Next month will see the release of the latest compendium of Chris Berens' work, a massive volume entitled Mapping Infinity. Once again, I had the honor and pleasure of collaborating with Chris on the writing of the book, which details the past four years of his work.

The limited edition of 800 will be released on September 10th at Jaski Gallery in Amsterdam, with 50 special editions which include an original artwork. Also on view at the opening will be Chris' most recent painting, the astonishing magnum opus which gives the book its name.

"Mapping Infinity"

Erato

2011-08-20T00:05:00.000-07:00

"In love, there is one who kisses and one who offers the cheek." — French proverb

Untitled, Nobuyoshi Araki

Kelly Vivanco's "Where Colors Grow"

2011-08-18T00:05:00.000-07:00

Get ready for Kelly Vivanco's next solo exhibition, "Where Colors Grow," which opens on September 1st at Flatcolor Gallery in Seattle. Once again, she has brought forth an intriguing cast of characters — conjuring gardeners, dapper toads, intrepid collectors and sleeping beauties, all very much at home in a burgeoning twilit forest.

Heroes & Villains Release Party!

2011-08-15T16:53:00.000-07:00

Well, it's finally happening – on Thursday, September 1st there will be a book release party for Heroes & Villains. Come on downtown to Launch LA and say hey to me, Tatiana and Roman, and also meet a bunch of the artists portrayed in the book!

Rob Sato's "The Open End"

2011-08-11T00:05:00.000-07:00

Make sure to shoot over to Copro Gallery this Saturday, August 13th to witness the wildly talented Rob Sato's latest exhibition, "The Open End."

"Ghost Ride"

There you will converge with his absurd, dystopian visions of an energy-sucking society run dry, his fecund frankensteinian amalgamations of humanity, technology and the natural world, and his intoxicating maelstroms of mechanical viscera enmeshed in organic decay.

"Asleep at the Wheel"

Edwin Ushiro in the Big Apple

2011-08-07T00:05:00.000-07:00

If you're in New York City this week, you're in for a treat, as Jonathan LeVine's annual summer invitational is opening on Wednesday, August 10th. It will feature an exciting lineup of artists new to the gallery, including three works by the incomparable Edwin Ushiro. Take an evening stroll to the end of the High Line and say hello to the man himself.

"The Makamakaole Gulch Man"

Dabs Myla's "The Best of Times"

2011-08-01T00:05:00.001-07:00

Unless you missed the profile I ran about the amazing Dabs Myla a few weeks ago, you need no introduction to their playful graffiti wonderland. As promised, the two of them sat down and answered a few questions for me about their view on the world and their upcoming show, "The Best of Times," which opens at Thinkspace on August 13th.

Erratic Phenomena: Dabs, you grew up in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne. Tell me a bit about what you most liked to do when you were a kid. Were you a risk-taker, or a schemer? Did you like building things, or destroying them? What did you like to draw?

Dabs: As a young kid, I was really interested in drawing, I used to spend a lot of my time watching old cartoons and trying to re-draw the characters. Cartoons really appealed to me, and my uncle was pretty deep into illustration, comic art and animation. I could go to his house and he had a massive catalog of different cartoons on VHS and a really big library of animation, illustration and art books — from Disney and Warner Bros. through to old Tex Avery.

As I got a bit older though, towards the end of primary school, I started to find myself with an appetite for things other than drawing and cartoons. By the time I was 13, I had pretty much stopped drawing, I had no interest in art. I had kind of made a conscious decision to start looking for trouble. I couldn't wait to start high school (which I think in America is the equivalent of junior high) and find some other kids to cause trouble with. I was definitely more of a schemer than a risk-taker. I was totally a shifty little bastard, and much more interested in destroying things than building things. I never really had any interest in building shit, I hated stuff like that.

EP: Myla, while Dabs was running around looking for trouble, you were growing up nearby in the northern suburbs of Melbourne. What was your life like as a girl? When did you realize you wanted to be an artist when you grew up?

Myla: Melbourne is a very spread-out city, and I grew up on the opposite side of it as Dabs, in a suburb called Diamond Creek. I went to a state girls' school in Preston, which was pretty far from where I lived. I had a great time going to school, even though I was pretty dumb and never really got great grades or anything, I just liked hanging out with my friends when I was there. I was always kinda girly and loved drawing, my friends, music and boys! Ever since I was a young kid, my Mum always encouraged me to make things and to draw — I'm so happy she did! But I think some of this encouragement came from the fact that we were pretty poor and creating things at home didn't cost a thing.

I never really thought it would be possible to make a career out of art — I guess that comes from a whole society of people thinking that artists are slack and broke and an artist making a living from what they do is impossible. But I have considered myself as an artist since I was about 15.

EP: Dabs, you started painting letters in 1995, when you were just a kid. Four years later, you were invited to join one of Melbourne's most respected crews, SDM (Size Does Matter/Sleep Deprived Maniacs). Tell me about the course of your evolution, who you learned the most from and what lessons were important to making you the writer you are today.

Dabs: A few years into high school, when I was about 14, I started hanging out with some kids a few years older than me, who were all bombing pretty hard at the time — DEA and PMM crew, a pretty infamous bombing crew around the eastern suburbs in the early '90s. Real nasty little turds. I wasn't very familiar with graff at that time, had never really paid too much attention to it. But because these guys were all doing it, I started to learn, and from there started bombing myself, and then worked my way towards piecing and learning about letters.

As I got more serious about graff and was developing a little bit as a style writer, I started painting with a friend of mine who was a bit older and had been piecing for a few years already. He wrote METHOD and was a big inspiration to me. He was already far ahead of me, and was really pushing himself as a writer. He took me out and showed me a lot about painting and the scene. It was through METHOD that I met some of the other members of SDM — DSCREET, TRIM and JUMBLE, who were all doing some really amazing stuff at the time. They were all really motivated, had good attitudes and were really pushing new styles. All those guys really made me up my game, get off my ass and paint more and experiment with my style.

EP: Myla, after high school you started traveling — around the coast of Australia, through Europe for six months, and through Asia for eight months. There, you became inspired by the cluttered cityscapes which eventually found their way into your work as photorealistic architectural renderings. Could you tell me about your favorite places, or your most interesting adventures?

Myla: I really loved visiting Nepal and India. They are the amazing and beautiful places which seemed to enter my mind the most. When I was in Nepal, I trekked in the Himalayas, staying in tiny villages along the way. I loved Kathmandu, the temples, the tea and of course the Nepalese people! I loved the chaoticness and strangeness of Nepal and India — how different the lifestyle is for the people that inhabit these countries, compared to how I was brought up and how Australians live. I would love to go back and visit these places again.

EP: It seems to me that a lot of graffiti artists go through a phase where they aspire to become architects. Did either of you ever feel that impulse?

Dabs: No way. I suck hard at using rulers, angles and all those drawing implements! I would make the world's worst architect!

"Best of Times" installation pieces via Juxtapoz

EP: Dabs, you've said that as a kid, you weren't very focused on education — you were only interested in what you could accomplish with a spray can. Before you went to art school, you had never sent an e-mail or even used a paint brush. Was there a catalyst that convinced you to go to art school?

Dabs: It's true, I was a total dropout at school, and pretty much always failed all my art classes. I guess it just wasn't the right time for me to focus on it. But the deeper I got into graffiti, the more I became interested in drawing, and I started falling back in love with cartoons and illustration. The main reason I ended up returning to art school to study was to just try and improve my graffiti. I had been painting walls for a good amount of time by this point, and although I had improved a lot from my beginnings, I definitely wasn't getting to the point I wanted to be style-wise, so thought maybe I might need to actually go to school and learn about design and whatnot.

But as I went through school, I started to care less about graffiti, and really started to fall in love with painting with a brush. Now, being a fine artist is probably more important to me than painting in the street. We had a few really amazing teachers, but the most important things I learned while studying were color theory, rendering, medium techniques and learning how to use a computer! I was mad computer illiterate before that, I don't think I had even been on the internet before! Now, I can't even go a day without it!

EP: Myla, you began learning to paint graffiti from Dabs when you were 25. Since you got such a late start in graffiti, you were forced to improve your technique incredibly rapidly to overcome the humiliation of painting clumsily alongside such seasoned writers. What were the most important lessons you learned along the way?

Myla: Only over the last year have I felt more comfortable with painting, and I know I have a long way to go before I am truly happy with how I paint graffiti. In the very beginning, I would feel so frustrated at not having any can control at all. I had been painting with a brush for many years before this, and felt like I had control with a brush — and then to not have any control with a spray can felt really weird and annoying! It was also embarrassing, painting on walls with guys that had been painting for ten years or more. I just always tried to improve my can control and letters with every piece I did. I'd always listen and ask for advice whenever I felt confused or stuck with how things were going with my pieces. This past year or so, I feel like I have taken all the advice from Dabs and the other writers who have helped and inspired me over the years, so when I feel confused I have a whole bunch of great advice in my mind which I can draw from.

EP: Each city has its own history and style of graffiti. Writers are forever identified with a particular region of the urban landscape, even if they eventually leave their neighborhood and seek fame around the world. How would you characterize the style and flavor of Melbourne graffiti, specifically?

Dabs: Well... when I was growing up, I feel that there was a definite 'MELBOURNE STYLE.' It's hard to explain it, but I guess it had come from the small amount of influences that were available to us. Like everywhere in the world, all styles start from a seed that is the early New York styles via Subway Art, etc., and from there they grew into something new. I feel that Melbourne definitely had that. But once the internet landed, this has become less and less the case, all over the world. Now every writer everywhere has so much to be influenced by, so it really changes things. In a way, it's kind of a shame that this has been lost. For the first five years I was into graff, I only had a few reference points to work with. So it gave me space to work at the basics of graffiti and then start to experiment with my own style after that. For writers coming up now, I imagine it would be hard. You have seen so much from everyone, you could be left with too many styles swimming inside your head. I imagine that could make it hard to find your own voice.

EP: Graffiti-inspired art often loses its luster and energy when isolated on a white wall. One of your trademarks is the way your installations engulf and transform the gallery space. Aside from using brushes instead of spraycans, what are the differences in your approach to an indoor installation, as opposed to a wall on the street? Does it sting a bit to know that your painstakingly rendered environments will be painted over in just a few weeks, to bring in the next show?

Dabs & Myla: We like that the exhibition and installation is only up for a brief time. It feels amazing to know that you are creating something that can only be viewed for a few weeks! Preparing for our installations is one of the most exciting times of the exhibition for us. It's when we can draw on all our ideas that we have been having whilst making the paintings for the show, and grow it into an engulfing installation to hold the work. We view the installations a little like a wall in some ways, with them both being semi-permanent — but creating an installation inside is much different from painting a wall. For the last couple of exhibitions, we have been creating parts of the installation inside our studio to bring them into the gallery, as well as painting on the walls. The whole exhibition space is carefully planned out weeks before the installation is put together in the gallery. So far, we have never planned a wall out as much as we have planned for an installation inside, but maybe in the future things will change and we could start using the inspiration of the installation pieces on outside walls.

EP: You guys are known for your ferocious work ethic, which you attribute in the fact that your work is what you most love to do, and you love to do it together every day. What advice could you give to other creative partners on how to collaborate harmoniously?

Dabs & Myla: I think it works so well for us for a few reasons. I think a big part of it is because of the absolute trust and respect that we have for each other. It would be really hard to collaborate with someone that you don't have a trust in their abilities. Also, the fact that we are both really easygoing people. We never push each other too far! There has never been a fight between us about our work — actually, there has never been a fight between us, period! Which is pretty crazy, but it's just the kind of people we are.

EP: In most of your paintings, you include yourselves among the characters in the narrative, which is usually set in a place you've recently visited. Though the stories seem to be pretty cute on the surface, they almost always have a darker layer, underneath. Do you both find yourselves constantly being struck with ideas for new paintings, or does it take sitting down together and hashing it out to come up with a new concept?

Dabs & Myla: A lot of the time we will be sitting there working, or out running errands or whatever, and one of us will have an idea for a painting. We will sketch out a quick thumbnail for it and stick it to the wall so we don't forget it. When it comes time to start that painting, we will sit together and refine it, adding extra ideas that have built off the original idea until it's ready.

EP: Though you are both pretty sparing eaters, you love food and feature it in many of your paintings. Tell me a bit about the roots of your love affair with food. Where in the world do they have the best food, do you think? What foods are the most fun to paint, and why?

Dabs & Myla: We both love food, and both get pretty excited about food! It may seem like we eat sparingly, but we eat a lot throughout the day. Because we are in the studio working pretty much all the time, and the kitchen is right next to the studio, we graze all throughout the day. We love so many foods, so we prefer to eat little bits of lots of foods, rather than a few big meals.

"Unicorn Thrill on Hotdog Hill"

It's hard to say where the best food is, but Los Angeles would most definitely be in the running for the winner! It's amazing how much great food there is here, and how many great places there are to find! We LOVE donuts! I think that the best donuts we have ever had have been in San Francisco and Japan. There is something about the donuts in both these places that's just got it going on! Always fluffy, and great selections!

"Best of Times" installation pieces via Juxtapoz

We love to paint donuts. This came from the love of the donut. They are just always on our minds, so it makes sense to paint them. In this new series of work, there are a lot of donuts and hot dogs. But this is more in relation to representing MALE and FEMALE... get it?

EP: Lately, your walls have taken on a bit of a ribald tone, with lots of blushing boobs and perky penises. Could you tell me why you're feeling so frisky at the moment?

Dabs & Myla: We are just trying to use dicks and boobs in our artwork to try and slowly ease the public into it, so that when we self-leak our own sex tape when we get mad famous, it won't be such a shock!

EP: If you could come across any writer in the world piecing next to you on a wall, who would you want it to be?

Dabs: Seen.

Myla: Askem. He's one of our bestest friends, and we always have SO much fun when he is around. If he was painting next to us, it would probably mean that he's here on vacation, or we are in Melbourne painting with him, and thats pretty awesome!

Dabs: Now I feel like a dick for saying Seen. Scratch that — changing my answer to Askem, too!

EP: Are there some underappreciated writers who you wish would get more attention? Why do you think their work deserves a second look?

Dabs & Myla: SURGE MDR from San Diego. He has been around for ages and has a really fresh and unique style. DVATE from Melbourne, Australia is one the best graffiti writers in Melbourne. He gets mad props in his city, but deserves the attention of the whole world! Super talented and one of the most dedicated and hard-working writers out there! He lives, eats and sleeps spraypaint.

"Best of Times" installation pieces via Juxtapoz

EP: Tell me what we can look forward to at your upcoming Thinkspace exhibition, "The Best Of Times," which opens on Saturday, August 13th.

Dabs & Myla: Our hopes for the "Best of Times" exhibition is that it will be an in-depth look at how we have experienced and viewed the past two and a half years living in California together. The installation we are creating in the gallery, as well as all the paintings we have made, will hopefully make people feel like they are stepping into the world and imagination of Dabs and Myla.

Dabs Myla painting at Primary Flight Miami 2009 via Fecal Face

Andrew Hem's "Cold Water"

2011-07-15T18:30:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, July 16th, my dear friend Andrew Hem will be opening his third Los Angeles solo show at LeBasse Projects in Culver City. "Cold Water" explores those dark, empty spaces in the heart that form when those we love and trust are torn from us by circumstance or betrayal, and how we find our path through those cold places to emerge into the light again. In addition to the 10 paintings in the main exhibition, there will be a spectacular project room installation of grouped panels painted in Andrew's loose, intuitive mural style.

"It Takes Time and Patience, But You'll Get There"

While Andrew was painting his most recent mural two weeks ago, he sat down with me for a few minutes to talk about where he came from and what's been inspiring him lately. Here are a few of the things he told me.

Andrew Hem: The title of my upcoming show is "Cold Water." It deals with a lot of cold places — you know, everybody goes through troubled waters. I wanted to show that cold environment to get that mood across... a lot of snows and waters and that dark place, that monochromatic kind of feeling. I’ve always done every show around culture and what inspires me and what I’m fascinated with. Recently, there have been a lot of things going on in my life, and I just wanted to put my heart on my sleeve and paint what’s been bothering me.

"Friend or Foe"

I think that in graffiti, you always gotta have this kind of rapper’s mentality, where there’s always gonna be beef and there’s always gonna be rivalry with somebody. I feel like when beef happens, you always rely on your crew to back you up. But lately, there’s been a lot of crazy stuff going on, and it’s hard to get your friends to back you up, when one of your good friends got deported, and then you lose another one... and then you’re starting to feel that there’s a shortage of crew members, and slowly, a lot of them shift away.

"It Will Eventually Drift"

I’ve been including a lot of water in the paintings, because water, it never stays still. People always drift away. I would like for it to be the same as when you were younger, when you have this tight bond with all your friends. There are certain things I like about graffiti, but I would like for it also to be more like it is with artists in the art scene, where there’s no rivalry, there’s no beef, there’s no tension, there’s just everybody loving doing art. That’s one thing I really hate about graffiti, that there’s always beef involved. When rappers beef, you don't know if it’s just hype, you feel like it’s kind of promotion, that it helps them. I don’t know why graffiti artists beef, to tell you the truth. This year, there’s been a lot of negativity and beef that’s been going on in my life, and it’s been hurtful and it’s been hard for me to even paint. So I just wanted to show that.

"Oner"

In the beginning of the process of these paintings, I was in that crazy place, but towards the middle of it, I started making new friends, which was kind of crazy, and towards the end, I met a girl, and she’s helped me a lot. At the end, in the last piece in the show, it has the most dramatic lighting — it’s like walking through a tunnel and into this ray of light. It’s called "At the End of the Tunnel." But I didn’t realize that then, when I was painting it. When I put my paintbrush down, I was like, "Holy crap, this is my last one, and it’s the only one with a light source." So it’s like a finishing touch to the whole show. And now I feel I’m over that stage in my life, and I can move on. I’m not thinking about it any more. It bothered me a lot for the whole painting process. I had about 20 nightmares about tension and this whole beef and the situation that’s been going on, and now I haven’t had any more dreams, so I think I’m over it now. Hopefully.

"End of the Tunnel"

We’re in Culver City right now, and this is my biggest wall ever attempted. I always wanted to do something this big, and it’s great that I did it in my hometown. It feels like Culver City’s changed so much since I’ve grown up. It was really gang-infested, you couldn’t walk anywhere without being hit up where you were from, and now it’s kind of become this art district, which is amazing, to see that transition. I love where it’s headed now, and I hope it continues to go more artsy, rather than the whole gangster lifestyle. It was hard growing up in Culver City, but now I love it. It’s a beautiful place. I can’t picture myself living anywhere else, to tell the truth.

I got an early start in graffiti, mainly through seeing my uncle’s sketches and seeing the graffiti on the walls, the gangster writings, the Culver City gangster letters. And then meeting friends in high school, like my friend Alvaro Sanz, who really took it to the next level. I was just a freshman, and he was around 18 or something, and no one I knew besides him had a car at that time. He kind of took me around. I always took it into the sketchbooks, and he was the first person who gave me a spray can and said, "Hey, take what you’re doing in your sketchbook and let’s take it to the walls." And then I was doing a blockbuster and then taking it to the next level and designing alphabets and creating something out of it. Graffiti really helped me out, it helped me meet people. I met a lot of my friends through graffiti. You know, at a young age, either you’re going to get into that gangster lifestyle or the graffiti lifestyle — there wasn’t any other outlet other than that. This was my neighborhood at that time, and I picked graffiti.

My parents came here from Cambodia when I was four months old, and I never went back there until two years ago, and that’s when I met all these family members that swear they know me, they recognize me, I guess because I look so much like my dad. So I just wanted to bring some of that here, some of that love that was shown to me over there. And now people from Culver City will see that. This mural is inspired by the portraits I took while in Cambodia of family that I met for the first time. So it is a little bit of a family portrait thing. It’s cousins and aunts I met for the first time, and my mom’s side of the family and dad’s side of the family. It was amazing going there, and everyone coming up to you saying, "Hey, I’m your family, I’m your family." And you’re like, "Whoa, who are you, I never met you before." There was a whole town that was like that. They were related to me somehow. And I don’t have that many family members here, just a couple of cousins in Long Beach, and when we got over there, there was this huge family, so I wanted to document that, how happy I was over there, and try to bring it over here. You know, close family is something that I don’t have much of, and now they’re here, on this wall.

So a lot of graffiti crews have these names of their crews, like we’re the baddest, we’re the toughest, we're the most skillful in L.A., which we couldn’t claim, because it was totally not us, we were kind of the opposite of that. Our crew originally started as Down 2 Rock, and we started writing that for a while, but we realized that Dreams 2 Reality fit us better, that we had all these dreams that we wanted to accomplish. We were just young guys growing up in West L.A. and Pomona, and we had such high hopes. We wanted that voice heard. We wanted so much for people to see our work, and we thought that was impossible, because we came from such tiny places and the art world seemed so huge. But we didn’t want to give up, so we started thinking, "Hey, Dreams 2 Reality would better suit us," and we started pushing that pretty hard, and it’s been stuck with me ever since. No matter how old I am, I’m still gonna continue to push Dreams 2 Reality. I feel that slowly but surely, we’re taking steps to making our dreams come true. Still far from it, it’s gonna be a long path, but it’s getting there, slowly but surely.

Andrew Hem's solo exhibition "Cold Water" opens on Saturday, July 16th at LeBasse Projects in Culver City from 7-10pm. Come a little early to allow for Carmageddon delays and check out Andrew's new mural, just down the street at Washington and National. Also, if you get there early, you can take a look at Tran Nguyen's show next door at Thinkspace, which will be open from 5-8.

Tran Nguyen's Soul Medicine

2011-07-10T12:29:00.000-07:00

Taking the less-traveled path as an alternative to pursuing a career in medicine, emerging artist Tran Nguyen aspires to heal hearts and souls through her enigmatic imagery. With a nod to turn-of-the-century fairy tale illustration and the spare, muscular paintings of Phil Hale, she creates compelling images meant to stir the depths of our psyches and compel us to confront the unresolved questions within us. Though her next solo show, "The Synapse Between Here & There," opens on Saturday, July 16th at Thinkspace, she carved out some time last week to answer a few questions.

"Treading Through an Untrimmed Memory"

Erratic Phenomena: Your parents grew up in Cần Thơ, a city in Vietnam's Mekong Delta region, with conflicts between the Viet Cong, the Khmer Rouge, the North and South Vietnamese military and the United States raging across the landscape for much of their childhood. By the time you were born in 1987, life was quieter in Vietnam, but still economically challenging. When did your family emigrate to the United States, and what finally drove them from their homeland? Do you have any childhood memories of Vietnam?

Tran Nguyen: My parents had a very harsh life, living in poverty from birth to adulthood. When my brothers and I were born, we lived in a small shack with dirt floors and had very little to eat. In 1990, my family was given the opportunity to migrate to the States. To the Vietnamese, the U.S. is a land of opportunity, so naturally we sold everything we had (our land, clothes, and house) to pay for the plane ride over. We literally came to the States with nothing, but with the help of the American government, donations, and my parents' hard work, we went from having nothing to having the finances to send me to Savannah College of Art and Design (which costs an arm and a leg). Unfortunately, I was three when we left, so I can't recall any early memories.

EP: Tell me a bit about your experience of growing up in Augusta, Georgia. How did your family cope with the transition to a new culture? What activities did you find most satisfying when you were young?

Tran: My parents deserve the utmost respect for having the courage to care for four rambunctious kids in an absolutely unfamiliar country and language. As everyone does, we adapted to the culture via trial and error. Timid in the new environment, my parents decided to situate the family in the countryside, which is probably why I'm more of the adventurer — being stuck in the middle of nowhere is exhausting. I was a rowdy kid, so I would climb trees, transformer boxes, fences and houses, as well as falling off of them, head-first. Oh, and I loved traveling, even if it was to the Walmart Superstore. To me, anywhere was somewhere.

EP: One of your brothers was also artistic, and encouraged your creative instincts. Could you tell me more about your siblings, and the influence they had on the development of your persona and your vision?

Tran: My oldest brother, Minh, was the one that sparked my interested in art. He drew these amazing renditions of Spawn, and like any kid sister, I wanted to be just like him. So, I made my own renditions of Sailor Moon, Rainbow Brite, and Care Bears. Unfortunately, my brother never pursued art, but fortunately, I did. My brothers and I were/are tightly knit. They're the catalyst in my endeavor to become an artist... I think I would have been a doctor if it wasn't for them.

"The Man with the Occupied Hands"

EP: A few years ago, your interest in psychology led you to read Bruce Moon's book Art and Soul, which brought you to a bit of an epiphany and focused your direction in life. Moon believes that art can help us contemplate our place in the universe, confront existential emptiness and search for understanding in the face of death. He concentrates on the therapeutic effect of making art, and teaches that stimulating the imagination fills the spiritual void and creates meaning in life. Could you tell me a bit more about the realization you came to when you first read Art and Soul?

Tran: I've always wanted to help others, but with art, I didn't know how applicable it could be. Moon's writings elaborated on the whats and whys of art for the mind and spirit, laying out the principles of therapy through visuals. With that, I became more insightful with my ideas in creating imagery for the sake of the viewer, making sure my paintings were personable yet unspecific, aesthetically pleasing yet discomforting.

"When You Leave Behind a Fragmented Memory"

EP: There is a school of thought that maintains that artists can serve a function similar to that of shamans in indigenous cultures, mediating between the physical and spiritual realms, healing sicknesses of the spirit and guiding people toward their true path. Do you see yourself purposely attempting to guide people in their encounters with their inner world and the collective consciousness?

Tran: Yes, it's to evoke introspection. I paint what I paint to target the inner depths of the psyche. I'm interested in rattling the unsettled emotions that we subconsciously keep in the very back of our minds, which in time will fester. Sooner or later, we'll have to tend to these unresolved emotions to sustain an able mentality. This is where (I hope) my imagery can be of use.

EP: Why do you think you are so drawn to the idea of helping people through art? Could your impulse toward healing be partly motivated by the emotional trauma your family experienced during the years of conflict and deprivation in Vietnam, and their difficult transition to life in another culture?

Tran: It's quite the opposite. Yes, my family had its share of hardship, but so have others. It's actually the compassion they've shown me that's fueled my use of art as a vehicle to help others. I've been very fortunate in life thus far, and I want the rest of the world, particularly the less-fortunate, to experience what I've experienced, learned, and loved.

EP: Did you ever experience any racially charged situations when you were young, and if so, how do you think that conflict affected your outlook on the world, and your approach to your art?

Tran: In the '90s, there were several incidents involving nasty racial slurs, but luckily, it wasn't an everyday obstacle. Since it was minuscule, there weren't significant dents made to my perspective as a person or an artist.

EP: Though you are Vietnamese, most of the people you depict in your work appear to be Caucasian. Why do you think you make this choice?

Tran: In college, I used to illustrate Asians in all of my work. Then a fellow classmate commented on its redundancy. Taking it in as a constructive criticism, I started painting features that weren't familiar to me. Recently, I've been trying to get the hang of painting dark-skinned figures. So far, I've been sucking.

EP: One of your earliest influences was Gustav Klimt, whose symbolist approach to painting evoked his belief in sexual freedom and his interest in Freudian theory, among other things. From his own life experience, filled with tragedy and loss, Klimt was convinced of the impotence of the medical profession to heal either the body or soul, and he expressed some of that anger in his mural "Philosophy, Medicine and Jurisprudence." What excited you most about Klimt's work when you first saw it, and how has your relationship to it changed as you have evolved as an artist? Do you think he recognized the healing power of art?

Tran: I was very superficial when I first came across Klimt's work. I only paid attention to his beautiful figures and patterns. As I matured and learned more about him, I realized the depth of his work, symbolism, and psychological intentions. Klimt's recognition of therapeutic imagery was on a personal level, in that he found art-making a vessel to paradise, releasing his own pain and frustration. As for me, there are traces of myself in my work but, ultimately, the imagery is created solely for the viewer, and not so much for my personal ordeals. I think we both agree that art is a rehabilitative tool, it's just that our intentions differ.

"If the World Keeps Churning, Turning"

EP: While your recent work is remarkable, especially for such a young painter, there is still something about it that is a bit careful and calculated. As an artist, could you ever see yourself embracing the kind of freedom, rebellion and emotional nakedness that makes Klimt's work so revelatory today, nearly 100 years after his death?

Tran: I think as young artists, our primary focus is to hone our raw skills so that we can grasp art through a structured learning process. Then in later years, when we've overcome all the fundamentals of art, we unlearn them, become self-expressive, and paint as a child would, without artistic restraint. Just like Klimt and Picasso. This is where we paint purely with our "naked" mind.

"Sleeping with a Constellation"

EP: Like Klimt, you have taken to using the flat planes of gold leaf in your work, usually to create suspended geometric patterns which interact with the painted elements behind them. Though there is order and repetition in these floating grids, it is clear that they are physical — they shift position, cast shadows and slide between layers of the image behind them. How does the dimensional quality of gold leaf — raised flatness combined with the false depth of luster — "read" to you on an emotional level? Do these permeable curtains help you create a sort of tension between the viewer and the image?

Tran: Definitely — the juxtaposition of flat shapes and rendered figures creates a surreal void, facilitating the idea that the painting is not a representation of a tangible world, but of a psychological one. These "permeable curtains" may be flat, but they are filled with symbolic depth, representing the clusters of feelings that make one complete emotion. The shapes also create spatial depth, which I find irrational, peculiar, yet intriguing.

"Our Flutter-some Ordeal"

EP: Gold leaf has a long history of use in Japanese art, such as the screen paintings of the Kanō and Rimpa schools, as well as many other Asian decorative traditions. Besides your reference to Klimt, are there also Asian cultural allusions in your use of gilded elements?

Tran: Consciously, no. Then again, when I was younger, I do recall my fascination with the gold embroideries on Chinese blankets and the gold-embellished designs on Asian food packages. So subconsciously, maybe?

EP: You generally work on paper in colored pencil and dilute washes of acrylic, which allows for the luminosity of watercolor, with a good deal more control. How did you come to settle on this technique? What do you find most enjoyable and most frustrating about your chosen medium?

Tran: I emulated a lot of other artists when I was in school. After some fails, I decided to further my skills with acrylics by dedicating my "Drawing on a Theme" class to exploring its tendencies on different surfaces. Later, I found color pencil to be a remarkable sidekick. Acrylics generally act like watercolors, except watercolors lack in permanence and versatility. The only issue I have with it is its difficulties with building contrast. My technique is glazing, which is painstakingly time-consuming. However, the subtle gradients that I can achieve from it are something I haven't been able to find in other media.

EP: Much of your work has a sensibility and atmosphere reminiscent of turn-of-the-century fantasy illustration, such as the work of Edmund Dulac and Maxfield Parrish. Are there particular illustrators from that era who have inspired you, and what aspects of their work do you find most compelling?

Tran: Kay Nielsen, Arthur Rackham, and Elenore Abbott are among the many that I look to for inspiration. Nielsen and Abbott have this incredible ability to incorporate ornamental designs into their work, not to mention their sense of composition. As for Rackham, I'm compelled by the eerie and dark moods he's able to depict in his illustrations.

EP: Like many of your contemporaries, including Eric Fortune and João Ruas, you have been deeply influenced by the muscular, dynamic paintings of Phil Hale. What qualities of his work speak to you most profoundly?

Tran: What intrigues me about Hale's paintings are his static yet dynamic figures. They're sharp, vibrant, tense, yet simultaneously stiff. No only that, but I've always had great respect for artists who execute negative space effectively.

EP: For many traditional Asian families who are struggling hard to succeed in life, it is difficult to conceive of painting as a viable profession. How hard was it to convince your parents that you needed to study art? With the success you've had so far, have they begun to realize that you took the right path?

Tran: You've no idea. Like most Asian parents, they wanted me to be a doctor, so I could offer medical service for the locals back home. Can't say they were filled with rainbows and bunnies when I told them I wanted to paint for a living, but of course, my parents are awesome and understanding. Once I had shown them how hard I was willing to work, they stopped their badgering and gave me their trust.

EP: Is there an underappreciated artist working today whom you wish would get more attention?

Tran: I don't know if I would say he's under-appreciated, but I'd love for him to get more attention — Vincent Hui. He creates these esoteric visuals of clustered figures that are usually erratic.

EP: If you could have just one classic artwork from history in your studio, what would it be?

Tran: That's like asking me who I would choose to save if the house was burning down. Hmmm, well, I would have to say Bastien-Lepage's "Joan of Arc." I saw it in person and it's EPIC.

EP: Is there anything else you're finding really inspiring right now?

Tran: The Illustration Master Class. I had the privilege of attending the workshop last month, and it's the most artistically invigorating week I've had in a very, very long time. Spending a week making art around others who share your passion is a remarkable experience. Before leaving for the trip, I was hitting brick walls while working on my upcoming solo show, so the experience helped rekindle my creativity.

EP: Tell me a bit about what we can expect to see at your upcoming Thinkspace solo show, "The Synapse Between Here & There." Are there specific aspects of the psyche that you've been mining for this exhibition?

Tran: Oh, yes — the show prominently focuses on the conditions of the psyche. "The Synapse Between Here & There" is a further development of the concept behind my previous show, "Nurturing the Uneased Soul." Instead of focusing on the tribulations in life, I'm interested in representing the human mind, in physical form, as it responses to a universal circumstance. It's the personification of a psychological impulse, with a splash of surrealism and a pint of fantasy.

"What the World Doesn't Know"

EP: Hopes, dreams, plans for the future?

Tran: Conquer the (art) world.

Tran Nguyen's next solo show, "The Synapse Between Here & There," opens on Saturday, July 16th at Thinkspace in Culver City.

Andrew Hem destroys Culver City!

2011-07-02T20:22:00.000-07:00

Over the past four days, Andrew Hem has been painting his largest mural yet on an abandoned building in Culver City. Sometime tomorrow afternoon it will reach completion, so drop by Washington and National and check it out if you're in the neighborhood. I will post more about it in a few days, but in the meantime, make sure to mark your calendar for Andrew's upcoming solo show, "Cold Water," which opens at LeBasse Projects on Saturday, July 16th. It's going to be epic.

When you stop by, make sure to say hey to Andrew and his girl Simone!

Heroes & Villains Book Release

2011-06-18T18:45:00.000-07:00

As some of you may recall, I have spent the past two years working with photographers Tatiana Wills and Roman Cho on a photographic survey of our art scene entitled Heroes & Villains. I'm thrilled to say that the book is now a reality, and is available to order! It's a lovingly produced, gorgeous coffee-table book designed by the talented Blaine Fontana, in a very limited edition of 1,000.

Heroes & Villains contains portraits of more than 100 artists, from painters and sculptors to cartoonists and graf writers, as well as an essay and 15 interviews that I wrote. Over the course of the project, I was fortunate enough to interview some fascinating people, including Mark Ryden, David Choe, Audrey Kawasaki, Saber, Blek le Rat, Marion Peck, Liz McGrath, James Jean, Tiffany Bozic, Ron English, Chaz Bojórquez, Molly Crabapple, Seonna Hong, and cartoonists Anders Nilsen and Kim Deitch. You can see their faces and read our in-depth conversations by ordering Heroes & Villains directly from Zero+ Publishing.

Dabs Myla's Graffiti Wonderland

2011-06-16T18:45:00.000-07:00

Next month, I'm going to treat you all to an interview with the amazing Dabs Myla, in anticipation of their upcoming solo at Thinkspace, "The Best of Times," which opens on August 13th. Before that, I thought I'd give you a little insight into how it happened that Dabs and Myla suddenly appeared on our western shores, wielding a pair of spraycans and some overpowering awesomeness.

Dabs Myla are a collaborative art duo from Melbourne, Australia who met and started working together in 2004. Prior to their wondrous meeting, Dabs had been busy since 1995 painting graffiti in the suburbs of Melbourne with other SDM (Size Does Matter/Sleep Deprived Maniacs) crew members, and Myla was pursuing her passion for travel, spending years trekking around Europe, Asia and Australia. About seven years ago, they enrolled in art school, where they met and became good friends.

"Happiness Is 10 Yen"

By the time they graduated, they had fallen in love, and Dabs was starting to teach Myla the ins and outs of graffiti. Soon afterward, they got together with a couple of their friends to open a gallery called Per Square Metre. During the next three and a half years, they painted side-by-side in a studio behind the gallery. At first, they mostly focused on their own individual projects, but after a couple of years, they decided they liked their collaborative pieces better. From that point onward, they worked together as Dabs Myla, taking inspiration from their travels and the wonderful chaos of their life as a couple, with Myla’s photorealistic cityscapes providing counterpoint to Dabs’ mischievous and sometimes ribald characters.

"Milk and Honey"

But the fun didn’t stop in the studio. Painting alongside Dabs and the other SDM crew members, Myla was forced to rapidly improve her can control and evolve her own style. After she put in many years working on her pieces and lettering, one of the original SDM members asked Myla to join the crew.

When stencil artist Logan Hicks showed with their gallery in 2008, they became fast friends, and he invited Dabs and Myla to visit him in Los Angeles. They flew to California six months later, where they were very impressed by the warm weather and the quality of the donuts. After driving cross-country from San Diego to New York, painting walls wherever they went, they headed back to their life in Australia. On their second trip to Los Angeles the following year, they fell in love with the city, and decided to move. They went back home one last time to launch their first collaborative solo show, “Like That,” which was their farewell to Melbourne and their gallery Per Square Metre, then packed up and headed to the States in the summer of 2009.

"Attack at 2861 West Sunset"

Shortly after they arrived, Dabs Myla launched their debut Los Angeles show, “Golden Age,” in which they transformed the interior of the gallery into their trademark “super smooth” graffiti wonderland, and invited a bunch of their new American friends, including Craola, Persue and Rime, to show with them. Before long, they were getting up all over the city alongside some of the world’s greatest writers, and their schedule was booked solid with murals and gallery shows. After five years together, they took a short break to road-trip to Vegas with their families and get married — but true to form, they spent their honeymoon back home in Hollywood, painting a wall with their friends on the hottest day in 100 years. In 2011, Dabs Myla became part of the legendary Seventh Letter graffiti collective.  

Since their move to Los Angeles, Dabs and Myla have never spent more than a couple of hours apart, and they say they’re living the dream. “I guess we are pretty lucky... two peas in a pod! Two crazy, workaholic, mad dorks in a pod! After years of living, painting walls and working together, we have only become closer, stronger and even more in sync. Every day we wake up, paint all day, and keep each other entertained with constant chatter and stupid jokes. Who could ask for more out of life?”

The Unbearable Light of Edwin Ushiro

2011-06-12T16:00:00.000-07:00

When Edwin Ushiro unveils his latest paintings, they are always a revelation in atmosphere, so unearthly and poignant that they threaten to wrench the spirit from your body. His most recent piece, a haunting childhood memory entitled "Well It Goes On," was a highlight of the Culver City Artwalk. You'll encounter more of Edwin's evocative dreamscapes in Jonathan LeVine's annual summer invitational, which opens on August 10th. To find out more about Edwin and his work, check out this entertaining conversation we had a while back.

"Well It Goes On"

Pakayla Biehn's Unlikely Perspective

2011-05-17T00:12:00.000-07:00

Every time I've seen Pakayla Rae Biehn's photorealistic double-exposure paintings, I have been struck by both their emotional complexity and their technical subtlety. Profoundly rooted in her own visual experience, these startlingly sophisticated images seem to describe the passage of time and of thought, simultaneously. Pakayla's two-person show with Jeff Ramirez, "Being There," will be opening at Thinkspace this Saturday, May 21st, and I'm thrilled to report that she was able to spare some time from her preparations to answer some probing questions about her work.

"Ten Thousand Times I Thought About It, This Time I'm Doing It"

Erratic Phenomena: Tell me a bit about your childhood, growing up in California in a family of artists, and learning to paint at a very early age. Were you an adventurer or a dreamer? How did the environment around you impact your development as a person?

Pakayla: I had a pretty clean and simple childhood. I was raised in the suburbs about an hour outside of Los Angeles, which was borderline mundane, at best. The suburbs are pretty lackluster, which I think helped spark my creativity. I have two older (half, but still complete) sisters and a younger brother.

I was a pretty bizarre kid, really talkative and spacey. As I grew up, I wasn’t into many of the extracurriculars my peers took on, especially in high school, so I found other things to occupy my time. I pretty consistently took art classes outside of my school. And I slept a lot. I was on the swim team at my high school for a couple years and was on a grueling schedule, morning practice, then after-school practice, home to do homework, eat dinner with my family, and pass out from exhaustion. Senior year, I abandoned all superfluous extracurriculars and worked at a yoga studio and gave my mind some much-needed restoration.

Up until that point, I think I was a dreamer. I knew I wanted to be a creative, but I just wasn’t sure I had the capacity. The adventurous side of my personality took flight after I arrived in San Francisco and saw a thriving art community that the suburbs were severely lacking, which gave me the motivation to get me movin’ and shakin’.

"Never Thought of You As My Mountain Top"

EP: When you were a baby, you were diagnosed with strabismus, a disorder in which your eyes don't align correctly, which causes double vision. After donning your first pair of corrective lenses as a baby, you underwent several surgeries, yet still needed glasses to see clearly, which resulted in some alienation from other children. How do you think this alternative view of the world around you – your own private island of perception – affected the development of your personality and inner vision?

Pakayla: I was diagnosed with strabismus at birth. One of my eyes was severely crossed, causing a lot of strain on the eye's muscles. I did have three corrective surgeries quite young, all before 4 years old, I think. I wasn’t a recluse or outsider, but I tended to move in between different social circles. I really vibe of off people's energies, so it’s important for me to maintain a heavy rotation of friends.

Deciphering how isolation affected my adolescence is hard, because there are a couple metaphors I can pull from it, and a lot of things I haven’t really processed yet. Physically, I have always had a very literal barrier between others and myself with my glasses, and I think that warped my sense of dependency. I’ve always been violently independent, and that’s been fairly consistent my whole life. I’ve been brought up to believe that the only one you can rely on is yourself, which sounds like a simple enough piece of advice, but is really hard to completely comprehend. It’s something that I should have applied earlier on in life, but I only realized it in hindsight. Everything I’ve done in the last couple years has blossomed from my truest application of self-reliance and my lust to live the unlikely life.

"Don't Be Afraid, You Have Just Got Your Eyes Open"

EP: Was there someone in particular whom you would credit with nurturing your creative spark?

Pakayla: I don’t think there is a single person that I can pay tribute to, but multiple mentors who have guided me in specific realms and points in my lifetime. I choose the people I spend my time with based on my perception of their ability to motivate and inspire me. I have a few incredibly intelligent friends who I credit for opening and expanding my mind and thought patterns to new things. I have a teacher who will always be very dear to me for helping me completely revamp my painting style and process. And of course, I wouldn’t be the girl that I am today without my Ma and Paw. I should always be giving them everlasting amounts of praise for being so radical.

"Everything That Can Happen In a Day"

EP: Did you ever consider the state of your eyesight to be a deterrent to becoming a visual artist, or did it always inspire you to see the world in ways that other people found intriguing and unique?

Pakayla: The only deterrent I’ve ever encountered is in the field of installation and sculpture. My depth of field isn’t great, so it’s a little more difficult for me to conceptualize more three-dimensional projects. Most of my sculptures consist of two-dimensional objects formed into something that takes up space. I gravitate more towards painting because it's closer to the way I see and think. It’s a weird thing when people ask me about my struggles with my vision, because I haven’t known any alternatives, so I can only act accordingly to my circumstance.

EP: In college, you were originally a math major. What prompted you to evolve from there into your current life as an artist?

Pakayla: I took a math class. Math was always relatively easy for me, and after taking a couple classes at State, I realized my passion didn’t lie within that field. I still do practice exams and things along those lines to keep it fresh. I still implement a lot of math into my painting — it's all a form of math, from mixing percentages of colors to mapping out canvas space.

EP: Around the middle of 2009, shortly before you graduated from Academy of Art University in San Francisco, you suddenly began painting your double exposures. How were you first inspired to begin that series?

Pakayla: It was just shy of a year before I graduated, and I was taking a summer painting class with Kevin Moore. It was a class about the integration of digital medias into organic arts, i.e. painting off of a computer generated image, using Photoshop to alter a reference photo or choose appropriate colors, projecting images onto a blank canvas, making scale, proportion and well... basically the entire image easier to map. That class really altered the way I work — my painting progressed in leaps and bounds that summer. I now use technology almost every step of the way before I actually lay the brush on my canvas.

I knew that I had always wanted to do paintings about altered vision, but I was having trouble finding something that looked correct. I think I was just pushing too far outside the limits with my digital references, creating images that were too abstracted for my neighborhood of comfort. I was randomly tweaking the opacity on a couple images and thought to layer them and liken them to a double exposure painting. I stumbled on a couple of photos that were really harmonious together, thus beginning my upward spiral into double exposure painting.

EP: Many of your reference photos are taken by San Francisco photographer Jeff Enlow. Tell me a bit about your collaboration with him. Do you ever work together to direct models and compose shots? How does he achieve his beautiful double exposure effects?

Pakayla: Jeff Enlow is a close friend of mine. We met at San Francisco State University, through mutual friends. I’ve seen Jeff blossom into such an incredibly talented photographer. He covers every facet of photography, from journalism to fine art to experimental. I’ve worked with Jeff in the past because he’s got a really beautiful eye and is always willing to help me.

As far as our shoots go, I do most of the art directing and model casting. I always have him shoot within the San Francisco city limits — my bedroom, the beach, or the woods around the Presidio. Jeff shoots in digital for me, so that I can create my own double images in Photoshop. Unfortunately, I’ve lost him, and numerous other close friends, to New York City. Come back, Jeff!

Pakayla by Jeff Enlow

EP: Do all of your source photographs begin as actual double exposures, or do you sometimes create that illusion digitally so as to visualize something specific? Do you have a philosophy that guides how much you're willing to use technology to manipulate organic images for a painting?

Pakayla: Most of my photos do not begin as double exposures. There are a few that have been, but mostly I manipulate the images in post-production to create the desired reference photo. I’ve used a couple of Tamara Lichtenstein’s photos for this show, and those were film double exposures. She’s so incredibly talented, I am very grateful to turn her photos into paintings.

I prefer to select and manipulate myself, because I can be conscientious about every last detail. As far as the integration of technology, I welcome it with open arms. For me, the most enjoyable step of the process is laying the colors on the canvas, and any piece of technology that can help me reach that step quicker is cherished.

EP: Each of your double exposure paintings evokes an unusually strong sense of narrative and emotion. Does narrative play a important role in your process? Do you choose images that tell you a specific story? Do those stories sometimes evolve and shift while you're in the midst of painting?

Pakayla: There’s a bit of my emotion and narrative placed into each of my paintings. I choose each image carefully based on my interacting with it. I’m emotional by nature, so it’s not difficult for me to connect with an image and place meaning within it. I leave my paintings open-ended enough that whoever is viewing the painting can place their own experiences into the subject matter. It’s important for me to try and create a sort of experience. My paintings are ever-changing in their meaning and emotional concept, as I hope is the case with any piece of art that takes a bit of time to create. As I evolve, my painting is going to change naturally with me.

EP: Given that your strabismus causes you to see the world in a sort of permanent double-exposure, do you sometimes take your glasses off while painting and use your double vision to help you envision how something should look in the overlapped world?

Pakayla: Luckily, my vision is not perma-doubled. It mostly happens when I’m tired, or more specifically the muscles in my eyes are tired and have worked for a lengthy amount of time. The glasses don’t help with the double vision — they are a tool to keep my vision at 20/20, so my eyes don’t have to strain, which in turn prevents the double vision and prolongs the time my eyes can focus on details.

"The Study of the Structure of Subjective Experience"

EP: You have a rather distinctive softly toned palette, which makes sense given the washed-out nature of most double exposure photography. Is this palette also expressive of how you see when your vision is doubled?

Pakayla: My palette isn’t reflective of how I see color. Fortunately, I don’t have problems with seeing the vibrancy of colors. I’ve been playing around more recently with a bit more saturation in my pieces. Since most of my double exposures happen in post-production, it is harder to keep the vivacity intact. I usually favor softer, more pastel palettes. I think they are easier to digest visually.

"More or Less the Rest of Our Lives"

EP: I assume that you paint both layers integrated together at once, rather than one atop the other, which might tend to create unsought-for color interactions. How much of a challenge is it to concentrate on all the different levels of detail and nuance while you're painting, without becoming distracted? Are there techniques which help you focus on several levels at once?

Pakayla: You’re correct. Basically I see everything as color and shape. Since I have the completed image on my computer screen, it's easy to find the exact colors and shapes to pull the image together. It's a very meditative process, and because of my vision, I can't sit for more than four hours without having to take a break.

"This Is You or Your Memory"

EP: In the past, you've described yourself as "mostly glasses and hair," and in fact, you seem to have a bit of a thing for hair, between your mixed media pieces that include synthetic hair and your many double-exposed images of flowing, blowing locks. Why does working with hair appeal to you so much?

Pakayla: I am so completely obsessed with hair. It’s beginning to border on psychotic. Like, fighting the urge to snip off beautiful braids from unsuspecting victims on the street. It’s creepy. I have a slow-growing collection of friends’ ponytails littering my wall, waiting to be used in an installation. I have long blondish wavy locks, which match my mother's and brother's. I can only assume my obsession began with my own genetically-blessed mane. I’m beginning to do some extensive research on hair — most reference books cover only African-American and Asian hair identities. I am very interested in the role hair plays in society throughout history, culturally and superficially.

"K"

EP: You rarely paint faces, and when you do they are generally turned away from the viewer, bowed or in profile. Why do you think you make this choice?

Pakayla: My figurative classes in school exhausted painting faces. Over-analysis is paralysis. Faces are just too blunt. I choose to give people the option to place themselves in my painting, and offer them the chance to finish the story that I’ve laid out. For this show at Thinkspace, I actually have done a few faces, but they are still abstracted for the most part.

EP: Although you only recently graduated from Academy of Art University in San Francisco, you're already inciting envy among some of your fellow artists with the sophistication of your technique and vision. To what would you attribute the maturity of your approach to painting?

Pakayla: Thank you, that is an incredible compliment. I think people truly recognize my dedication and the hours I’ve put in to get where I’m at. Most of my maturity comes from researching other artists, looking at what they are doing, how they have progressed in their careers and taking lessons from that. I don’t know if I would attribute it to any specific thing. I think in this field, you have to have a voice and a dedication. In theory, it’s uncomplicated, but to really put in the time that some of these artists do is mind-numbing and absolutely alienating.

"It Is Here What You Are For Faraway"

EP: Among your inspirations are seasoned photorealists like Gottfried Helnwein. Given the extremes to which photography can be bent with today's technology, why do you think photorealistic painting is still so exciting?

Pakayla: Photorealism, what I do, is vastly different from hyperrealism. Photorealism is a replication of a photo, but with a lot of artistic departures. Hyperrealism strives to duplicate the image with patient precision, no brushstroke left unsmoothed. With my paintings, I have a lot of texture and liberties with color that hyperrealism leaves out.

In my opinion, people respond to the care that goes into painting in a photorealistic style, especially if it is done well and in a fresh way. But like I’ve mentioned before, I’m a fan of the symbiotic relationship that has come about between technology and fine arts. I think that more artists need to abandon their associations with "cheating," in respect to the use of computers, projectors and other technologies. It’s really antiquated, and especially as fine artists, we need to accept the change to a more technology-based environment and take from it what we can.

"These Are the Things We Carried"

EP: You're fascinated by the gritty yet meticulous drawings of fellow glasses-wearer Aurel Schmidt. What do you find most compelling about her work?

Pakayla: I like that Aurel is a bit of a dirt bag. She draws cigarette butts, condoms, bugs, hair, undies and other nasty items. Besides her art, I think her social life is pretty fascinating. She is often a naked muse for Olivier Zahm’s Purple magazine. She makes her rounds at every New York glitterati event. I think she’s got a rather wonderful life.

In respects to her art, I’m really drawn to work that has a psychotic attention to detail, like hers. Each line and color is placed with such veneration and care, it’s really awe-inspiring. It’s feminine, but with a grimy layer of dirt covering it. A bit like how I am. Aurel, if you’re reading this, hit me up, let’s go crush a beer and flash our undies at Olivier in some shady Parisian dive bar.

"Within You, Without You"

EP: Is there an underappreciated artist working today whom you wish would get more attention?

Pakayla: This is hard question for me to answer, because I have so many talented friends. I thrive in a creative crowd, so everyone close to me is artistically blessed in one way or another. I have a bunch of jewelry-making friends who design and execute really striking pieces. Loads of killer musicians with creativity coming out their mouths with every croon. My gaggle of graffiti friends who mark their territory with paint pens at each corner. It’s a bit more difficult to stumble upon underappreciated artists when I’m not in school, I’ve found. School is a great platform for finding those types of artists. One of my favorite girls on the scene right now is Erin M Riley. She makes these wonderful hand-woven tapestries that depict party scenes, like girls smoking weed, a couple smooching on a couch or someone doing a keg stand. They are really witty and brilliant.

EP: If you could have just one classic artwork from history in your studio, what would it be?

Pakayla: This might be a predictable piece of art to crave, but I would die to own Botticelli’s "Birth Of Venus." My father had this old sort of wrinkled-around-the-edges yellowing print of that painting in the garage hanging above his workbench. It was his favorite painting from the Italian Renaissance. It will forever possess a heavy nostalgic feeling. I had the chance to see it in person at the Uffizi in Italy a couple years ago. It’s so terribly special. I can’t help but call attention to the strong physical resemblance I share with Botticelli’s muses.

Also, in a tight second would be one of Gerhard Richter’s paintings. Honestly that man has produced so much incredible work, I wouldn’t be able to choose just one piece to own. Everything he touches is magic. I’m getting all verklempt just writing about it.

"It Is This Way Between Us"

EP: Is there anything else you're finding really inspiring right now?

Pakayla: Oh, sure. One of the greatest qualities that true artists possess is the insatiable quest for knowledge and the endless means of inspiration we find. I’m hell-bent on learning some new instruments right now, it's one of the only aspects of the creative realm that I have yet to tackle. Two of my friends and I have a lightweight band that we’re softly forming. The process of making music is so visceral, but in a different way than mark-making. It’s a brilliant exploration for me.

Recently I’ve started educating myself on vegetarianism as it responds to feminism. This book I’m in the middle of, The Sexual Politics of Meat by Carol J. Adams, really delves into the correlations and makes really intimate observations between violence against women and the use and slaughtering of animals. The author writes about animals as an absent referent, male overtones in the meat industry, and how vegetarianism plays an important role in history.

"While You Wait For Another"

EP: Tell me a bit about what we can expect to see at your upcoming Thinkspace exhibition with Jeff Ramirez, "Being There."

Pakayla: Some more double-exposure paintings, of course! I’m really drawn to bodies of water and nature in this series. I think I’ve only got one piece with an indoor setting, but it's shrouded in clouds, so you can’t really tell. I tried my hand at more vibrant and saturated colors in this body of work, as well as a black and grey piece. It’s a wild mix-up.

I’m really excited to see everything hung. Jeff’s work is unbelievable, and I’m so honored to have him by my side! This is going to be a crazy mind-blowing show, I hope all of my Southern California babies come out!

EP: Hopes, dreams, plans for the future?

Pakayla: Make things, eternally and durably.

Pakayla Biehn and Jeff Ramirez's show "Being There" opens at Thinkspace on Saturday, May 21st from 6-8pm.

Heroes & Villains Is On Its Way!

2011-05-15T12:31:00.000-07:00

I saw the first advance copy of Heroes & Villains last night. It was beautiful. Along with gorgeous reproductions of Roman and Tatiana's artist portraits, it contains an essay, 15 interviews and more than 100 artist profiles written by me. Stay tuned, because there will be a book release event in a month or so, and I want you all to be there!

Aron Wiesenfeld's Resolute Wanderers

2011-05-13T08:17:00.000-07:00

Should you find yourself in New York City tomorrow afternoon, make sure to drop by Arcadia Gallery for Aron Wiesenfeld 's latest solo show. If you're new to Aron's exquisite depictions of resolute heroines and poignant journeys, you might enjoy our interview from last year.

"Ingrid"

Revok's Crime of Passion

2011-05-08T16:40:00.000-07:00

Although we can agree to disagree about whether "graffiti" as a monolithic entity is "art" — after all, is writing art? It can be, but it's far more likely to be garbage — I will take you on anytime you'd like to debate whether graffiti can be art. I have not a shred of doubt that many people who create images anonymously in dark, dangerous places are making the most profound kind of art — art at its purest, free of any expectation of reward, driven by a passion and need that overcomes any consideration of the inevitable repercussions. I would contend that each and every surface graf virtuosos Swet One and Smash137 have been gracing with even their most casual efforts has been elevated from its former humdrum or blemished existence. It's far more of a crime to paint over such miracles than it is to create them in the first place.

"RIP Heath" Dark Knight billboard by Revok and Augor

So we're talking about Revok here, who was hunted down by the LAPD a couple of weeks ago and slapped in jail for six months, ostensibly for owing $3,764.97 in unpaid restitution, with the aggravating factor of his rather antagonistic public stance toward law enforcement's more disgusting violations of justice. Now, Revok is in the very highest echelons of the vast international brotherhood of spraycan slingers, certainly one of the most respected practitioners of this infamous crime of passion. Having started writing 20 years ago, when he was just 14, he has honed his craft to a razor edge, so that even his most rudimentary tags are a work of art, and his grander pieces are the stuff of legend.

Revok tag from KZER

As a featured artist in the "Art In the Streets" exhibition currently running at MOCA, Revok created one of the most iconic pieces in the show, a freeway heaven tribute to his friend, the late great Ayer, king of full-color burners in impossible spots. He also collaborated with his friend Rime on a dynamic celebration of the MSK crew and its offshoot, the street culture brand The Seventh Letter.

Many seem to feel that given his legal situation, Revok should lay down his weapons and retire to the studio, where he can fiddle around on paper and canvas to his heart's content, and venture out now and again to paint a legal wall — if the terms of his probation allow him to own spraypaint and tips, which is unlikely. If Revok were able to speak for himself now, I expect he would say that it's simply not possible for him to stop painting graffiti illegally, for in a very real sense, at this point in his life, he is graffiti — and graffiti is risk.

Revok heaven from Dove

As Revok told Acclaim last year, "If you do something for long enough and you put enough work into it, put your blood sweat and tears, really pay your dues, really believe in something — you love it, you live it, you believe it, you eat it, you sleep with it, you fuck it, you shit it — it's your end-all be-all, it’s your existence, it’s your entire purpose, it’s your everything." Without this outlaw passion which has defined his being, he has no identity — so he has no choice but to face the consequences when they come. "There’s no other artform or culture I can really think of where people go out and risk imprisonment and massive fines, their lives, destroying relationships and putting all kinds of shit in jeopardy, laying it all out on the line to create a piece of artwork," he said. "That’s what graffiti is, and to me that’s what I view as the single factor that makes graffiti relevant."

Revok heaven from No Future

Arresting Revok won't put even the tiniest dent in Los Angeles' graffiti problem, as the LAPD well knows. Revok and his fellow high-profile artists aren't the problem, the problem is the thousands of gang members and tagbangers littering their own neighborhoods with clumsy scrawls to define their turf — territory they need to hold down because they have literally been offered no other options in life but to try to survive in the situation to which they've been born. In truth, the police department isn't really concerned about the walls of a back alley or an abandoned lot remaining in pristine (albeit weedy, rancid and peeling) condition, rather than being embellished with colorful designs and characters, but they will tell you that allowing people like Revok to go free just encourages kids to go out and write their moniker on things, and those kids have no compunction about what or where they mark.

Revok in Atlanta

What the police won't admit is that graffiti is often the only alternative to joining a gang for many of these kids — writing graffiti is one of the very few nonviolent things that gang members respect enough to leave someone alone. Why do we go to such an effort to train our soldiers to understand the culture of Afghanistan, but let our police departments roll over our own neighborhoods with no grasp of the social structures underlying them? Ultimately, I'd say it's because the authorities see poor people as worthless and unredeemable. Yet the truth is that more opportunity and less punishment is the only way out of that particular inner-city death spiral. As MSK sensei Eklips once put it, “Creating fear isn’t going to make a problem go away. Sending a kid away for eight years for painting on a wall and housing him with killers is just going to make another killer.”

Revok from phill burner

If the authorities were to sanction beautifully painted graffiti that appears in ugly public spaces by not buffing it out — perhaps even regarding it as a legitimate tourist attraction — it wouldn't encourage more tagging. Rather, it would keep those places clear of new tags — there's nothing a tagger likes better than a freshly buffed wall — and would encourage younger writers to ramp up their skills so as to keep their work in public view for as long as possible. If urban school districts brought back the art programs that have been lost to budget cuts — perhaps with some of the millions being spent to overpaint miles of graffiti in a filthy concrete drainage ditch that almost no one ever sees — these kids might discover an outlet for their passions that would lead to a real future. But at the moment, the authorities still can't see the forest for the trees. Even the groundbreaking art program at South-Central's Manual Arts High — see that word "art" in there? — is on the brink of being shut down.

MSK does the L.A. River

Now to get back to the catalyst of this particular exegesis, our own art world rebel, Revok. Though he's currently serving a six-month jail sentence for a probation violation for misdemeanor vandalism, Revok is likely facing another day in court before long on felony vandalism charges, as the police say they're building a case from evidence they found at his home last week. Felony vandalism, defined as damage that exceeds $400, carries a three-year prison sentence in California, and writers like GKAE have gotten even harsher sentences — while rapists and child molesters often get away with a year or less. So keep your ear to the ground for more developments. In the meantime, here are a few ways you can make your voice heard about this latest miscarriage of justice, and maybe help Revok out a bit if you're so inclined. After all, what's so great about grey walls? Wouldn't we all be better off if we had dozens of eyepopping murals to look at while sitting in traffic on our daily commute, instead of mottled patches of civic beige? Someone truly needs to rise up and make a stand.

"Murakami at MOCA" billboard by Revok and Augor

Wayne White's "Sand Mountain Tractor"

2011-05-07T00:48:00.000-07:00

We're in for a special treat this weekend, as Wayne White's sixth Los Angeles solo show, "Sand Mountain Tractor," is opening at Western Project tonight. This show will focus largely on his ramshackle junkyard sculptures, and the opening will feature one of his inimitable puppet shows, entitled Rebel vs. Yankee. If you'd like to find out more about Wayne's Tennessee roots, monumental word paintings or storied career warping the minds of youth, you can check out my earlier feature and interview with him.

Kevin Titzer's "Ghost of a Chance"

2011-04-25T00:05:00.000-07:00

Over the past few years, sculptor Kevin Titzer has been cultivating his own folk-punk aesthetic, building ramshackle narratives of carnivalesque mayhem, backwoods asceticism and reckless impulses. On May 21st, he will be unleashing a new body of work entitled "Ghost of a Chance" at Thinkspace. Though he's still whittling away at this last batch of characters, he was kind enough to give his fingers a rest and answer a few questions for me.

Detail of new work for "Ghost of a Chance"

Erratic Phenomena: You grew up in Evansville, Indiana, the son of a bricklayer who had a talent for fixing cars and building things. Other members of your family were also good with their hands. Consequently, you started nailing things together at an early age. Tell me about the landscape of your childhood, and some of your earliest artistic experiments.

Kevin Titzer: I think I have a different perspective on it now that I'm an adult. The biggest part of creativity, if not all, is good problem solving. I grew up surrounded by people who were very good at making use of the resources around them. Without really realizing it at the time, I think I learned from example. I just applied it in a slightly different direction.

New work in progress in Kevin's studio

EP: At one time, your studio was a workshop that your grandfather built. Tell me a bit about that place, and how it felt to work surrounded by the echoes of ancestral labors and pastimes. Do you think the resonance of your personal history there infused itself into your work?

Kevin: Absolutely. I started working in the shop not long after he died, and it was left to me to sort through everything he left behind there. It was an emotional time and it influenced the work I made there. It took me a long time to even move anything. Everything was right were he left it. I made a body of work for a show there before I moved. I used his tools and utilized a lot of old metal and stuff that was lying around. I think it was kind of my way of grieving for him.

Detail of new work for "Ghost of a Chance"

EP: I understand that in the past, most of the materials you worked with came from a particular spot on the Ohio River where driftwood and other interesting things tend to wash up. What is it like there? Have you ever had any interesting adventures while scavenging for riverine flotsam?

Kevin: That spot is back in Evansville, where I grew up and spent most of my life. It's a big grove of trees on the bank. It's very quiet, with lots of birds and the occasional beaver. As the river rises and falls, driftwood and trash get caught . It was always a one-stop shop for wood and weird things from the river. When you start poking around places like that and you see what washes up, it really makes you wonder what else is floating around out there and how dirty our water systems are in general.

For a while I was collecting rubber balls. I found hundreds of them over the years. They would be wedged everywhere, like a Easter egg hunt. They turned out to be the cores of old tennis balls, from people boating on the river or throwing them to their dogs. The fabric rots off them and the core just keeps floating down the river. That was part of the fun of that spot — I never knew what the hell I was going to find down there.

One time I found a live commercial bee hive. I was walking along and I saw this white wooden box in the distance. It looked like some interesting wood. When I got up close to it, I jumped back. I could see all the bees buzzing in and out of it. Farmers put those box colonies on the edge of their fields to pollinate the crops in the spring. That grove of trees is down on a flood plain and there was a late water rise that year. The river just came up and floated those bees away. It was amazing the box did not sink. I sat there and watched them for about an hour.

Odds and ends in Kevin's studio

EP: Tell me about your philosophy behind creating art almost exclusively from found objects. From photos of your workshop, it seems that you are an obsessive collector and categorizer of lost things. When did you first start picking up interesting detritus and taking it home? Were you always a bit of a pack rat, and found a way to use that in your work, or did the sculptures you envisioned drive the need to gather those materials?

Kevin: I've always been a big pack rat, but I think I use found materials for many reasons. A bit of it has to do with the landscape of where I'm from, as far as the aesthetic. Dilapidated barns, rusty signs and old broken-down farm equipment were a common sight growing up. There could be some nostalgia peppered in there. I've always been drawn to old things. An implied history and story is always interesting to me. Also, I like the side benefit of reuse. There's so much waste around us. It's so satisfying to finish a piece of work and realize you made it out of a bunch of trash.

"The Collector"

EP: Recently, you moved to Quebec. What prompted the change in locale?

Kevin: My girlfriend is French Canadian, and she was being transferred back home by her employer. So I moved with her. Now I have an addiction to Tim Horton jelly doughnuts and St. Hubert chicken.

"The Collector" (detail)

EP: Your figures are carved from chunks of driftwood, then their hands and faces are painted in many layers of acrylic wash, which leaves them with a patina reminiscent of antique milk paint. Afterward, they're armored in old tin from ceilings and candy boxes, which is held in place by hundreds of tiny rusty nails. What is it about working with driftwood that you find particularly enjoyable? Do you sometimes sense a shape in the wood before you start, or does the wood guide you in any way? Is there a sort of sensuality to the woodcarving process?

Kevin: Since the move, I have not been able to use driftwood. My show in May will be the first batch of my guys I've made without it. By the time we got settled into the house and I got my studio back up and running, there was snow on the ground. I didn't know the area, I don't speak French, and I had to get to work on the show. So I had to compromise and buy wood.

It worked out pretty well. There's a lumber yard down the road that offers all local wood, so that was the next best thing, although there was a big unexpected learning curve with it. I had gotten so used to working with the unpredictability of river wood. It can be good sometimes. You find an odd shape that you react to, but more often than not, it's a pain in the ass. You may think you have a really good piece, and then you find halfway through that it has a big rotted spot in the middle, or bug damage. Too hard, too soft, or both in different parts of the same piece. On the one hand, it keeps you on your toes and teaches you to improvise on the fly. On the other hand, you also waste lots of time fighting the wood and making repairs.

Not having to deal with that in this go-round has been very helpful. I had more time to focus on the narratives and hopefully pushing the work forward, instead of being bogged down with technical problems. It makes for a much more even work flow. I learned a lot from working with river wood, but at this point, I don't think I'll go back to it.

"Light Bulb"

EP: You once worked for a blacksmith, which is where you began experimenting with ceiling tin. Tell me a bit about that job, and what you learned there that proved useful to you later.

Kevin: That was a short but very transitional time in my life. He's a distant relative of mine, Patrick Titzer. At the time he was doing a lot of traveling to outdoor art events, selling his work. There was going to be a long string of shows coming up and he asked me if I'd be interested in looking after things while he was on the road. At the time, I was working for a greenhouse delivering plants and had nothing to lose. So I packed up and moved. He let me set up a small studio in the shop, and that's where I first started working with the tin.

I'll be forever grateful to Pat and his wife Karen for giving me that time to work. It was a window that helped me figure out where I was going and what I really wanted to do. Also, during my stay I applied for a Indiana artists grant. I didn't think I'd get it, so why not swing for the fences? I wrote a pitch to travel to Thailand and be a visiting artist. The envelope came, and I got the grant. I remember standing there with the paper in my hand thinking, "Oh crap, now I have to really do this." I had never been overseas before, and I was scared. It ended up being an amazing life-changing experience. Once again, I have Pat and Karen to thank for encouraging me to write that grant. They really changed the course of my life with everything they did for me then.

"Light Bulb" (detail)

EP: The faces of many of the figures you create have a very similar appearance, as if your narratives are the trials and tribulations of a single beleaguered individual. Does he represent someone specific for you, or is he a sort of everyman figure?

Kevin: The answer is a lot more boring than that. I used to do a lot more shows than I do now. When I first started getting invited to do gallery shows, I grabbed everything I could get. I was just so happy that people liked my work. It didn't take long to find myself overextended and always under the gun. That treadmill of back-to-back shows went on for years and years. Everything started going down that road when I quit my day job and started doing art full-time. Paying the bills is a good motivator, and needless to say, very stressful.

I think it was a good thing to do when I was younger and first starting out. It helped strengthen my work ethic and forced me to just get on with it. You can't do a lot of navel-gazing in that situation — although in that state of mind, lots can fall though the cracks. You can't help but learn things by making a ton of work, but all too often, I'd find myself cutting corners because of a tight deadline. I put myself into that situation, and that's fine, but I paid for it down the line. In that mad rush, I let my carving skills plateau. I let myself get away with being able to carve a face, rather than an individual, to get the job done. I have more experience now and a little more breathing room, so it's something I'm trying to work much more on now. Live and learn.

"Puzzle Pieces"

EP: Improvisation is a big part of your process. Can you tell me about a piece which the materials compelled you to evolve into something else while you were working on it?

Kevin: I'd say almost every piece I work on ends up somewhat different than how I started out. I don't really do sketches before I start, the most I do is simple line drawings on index cards, just so I don't forget an idea. So ideas often expand or change during the process.

"Puzzle Pieces" (detail)

EP: One of the pieces of art that you most admire is Swoon's floating art commune-cum-DIY utopia "Swimming Cities of the Switchback Sea," a mobile artwork consisting of seven vessels made of scavenged materials in which dozens of her friends traveled down the Hudson River, eventually docking at Deitch Studios as the kickoff of her 2008 solo exhibition there. Why did that project move you so profoundly? Did you ever have fantasies of doing something in that vein on the Ohio River?

Kevin: The first time I saw footage of that work, it blew me away. I think on one level it really resonated with me because I grew up by the Ohio River. I responded to the materials they used to make the rafts, the collaboration of the artists, the performance element. It's the type of project I dream about doing, and I think they just nailed it. It was really well done, and at the end of the day, it just makes me happy.

"Diver Fish"

EP: You've said that graphic novelist Chris Ware, creator of the Acme Novelty Library and Jimmy Corrigan, the Smartest Kid on Earth, is perhaps your favorite living artist. What is it about his poignant narratives that you find so inspiring?

Kevin: I think he's a great storyteller. His art always surprises me.

EP: Is there an underappreciated artist working today whom you wish would get more attention?

Kevin: Douglas Miller. He's a artist living in Louisville, Kentucky. A gallery needs to snap him up. His work is amazing and online images just don't do his painting justice.

EP: If you could have just one classic artwork from history in your studio, what would it be?

Kevin: Alexander Calder's "Circus."

EP: Is there anything else you're finding really inspiring right now?

Kevin: The band Sea Of Bees.

EP: Tell me a bit about your upcoming exhibition at Thinkspace, "Ghost of a Chance."

Kevin: I'm looking forward to it. I'm actually going to be at the opening, which does not happen much anymore. I think the work so far is looking good.

EP: Hopes, dreams, plans for the future?

Kevin: I'm curating a show for C.A.V.E. Gallery. The name of the show is "Dig For Fire: Art Inspired By The Pixies." It will open September 9th. Each artist will choose a song from the Pixies catalog and interpret it however they would like.

Cream of the Crop!

2011-04-13T22:55:00.000-07:00

For the past four days, I've had the pleasure of watching our favorite dynamic duo Dabs Myla work on their five-story collab wall with visiting graffiti superpower How & Nosm, identical twin brothers from Germany who are a force to be reckoned with when wielding a spraycan or roller. When you head down to the opening of this weekend's landmark "Art In the Streets" exhibit at the Geffen Contemporary at MOCA, make sure to get there a little early and walk the short distance to 3rd Street between Alameda and Traction to get a firsthand view of this massive, super smooth and intensely detailed freehand mural...

The project was made possible by L.A. Freewalls, which has been producing amazing murals all over the slowly revitalizing downtown warehouse district over the past two years. Here are a few shots I took of the mural in progress. Forgive my clumsy composite photo, I needed a wider lens!

Andrew Hem's "Building From the Ground Up"

2011-03-30T00:05:00.000-07:00

I want to make sure you all realize how remarkable this Friday's opening at Toronto's Show & Tell will be, because in addition to the previously-mentioned solo from Tessar Lo, Andrew Hem will be making his Canadian debut with a project room show entitled "Building From the Ground Up."

Andrew has had an extremely busy year so far, between two mural projects and painting hard for his upcoming solo, so for this show he decided to have some fun and mix things up with an edition of five highly individual hand-embellished stencils that bring to mind his graffiti work, as well as about a dozen of his playful jar sculptures and whimsical wooden block-and-peg characters. There will also be a few other surprises, so make sure to check it out!

Tessar Lo's "M∆PS"

2011-03-28T00:05:00.000-07:00

Once again, I bring you the continuing adventures of one of my favorite people in the world, Tessar Lo. His next solo show, "M∆PS," will be opening on Friday, April 1st at Show & Tell in Toronto. Last week, Tessar was kind enough to let me ask him a few questions about this latest body of work.

"fleeting of an island"

Erratic Phenomena: Over the past year since your last solo at Show & Tell, your work has evolved in new directions while still retaining its signature palette and many of its familiar landmarks. Tell me a bit about the new landscapes and ideas you've been exploring this year.

Tessar: I've been trying as much as I can to unlearn many things that one learns formally. A lot of the things that might have come out this year are the result of trying to rely on instinct more, and less on logic and conscious composition and planning.

I've always been fascinated by the effect of chance and time, but I want to learn how I can utilize it freely, control it by letting go. Much of the imagery repeats itself for a lot of different reasons, but sometimes also without reason. Object or subject can act as form only, without meaning, sometimes to convey a type of space or to take it up.

(via Alice Lo Photography)

EP: Much of your recent work has been focused on capturing the elusive atmosphere of that place in between waking-reality and dreaming-reality. Could you tell me a bit about why that state is so compelling for you, and what you have discovered there?

Tessar: Where in the past, I've been interested in capturing that atmosphere through imagery and color, the move has been gradually turning into how I approach the painting as a whole, and within the marks and decisions being made. These days, it's not enough to capture that state, but to attempt to be painting in it.

The reason why it's so fascinating for me is that transience, which I think speaks so deeply to our existence and the things we experience daily — and creating in its every aspect is a unique moment in time, mixed with chance and intention, impossible to repeat. I hope I never fully discover what's there.

"blue reasons"

EP: What sorts of things have been inspiring you recently?

Tessar: I've taken up in the school of biocartography. Most of my time is spent getting into the ideas of narrative — how it works in time, linear or sporadic, how it's communicated in a still form and how people relate in hope and the formation of futures based on the imagination's derivation of memory. We're connected by stories — so I want to know about people, and I've decided to chart what I can on the way.

(via Alice Lo Photography)

EP: Where do you hope to head next?

Tessar: Recently, it dawned on me that I cover a very specific aspect of life. I'd like to explore more — listen harder, look more carefully. Who knows what's out there, right?

"some place immersed in night, water"

Tessar Lo's solo show, "M∆PS," opens on Friday, April 1st at Show & Tell in Toronto. I will be flying up for the show, so I hope to see you there.

FriendsWithYou's Mischievious Spirituality

2011-03-20T17:57:00.000-07:00

Last summer, I had the pleasure of interviewing "experiential artists" FriendsWithYou for the Heroes & Villains project. I am thrilled to report that the book has finally gone to the printer, and should be available in a few months. In the meantime, I thought I'd share this interview with you, because I think they have some fascinating things to say about their very unique mission. So snuggle up with Sam and Tury of FriendsWithYou, and prepare yourself to learn about their own special brand of magic.

"Wish Come True Festival," Toronto, 2010

Erratic Phenomena: Sam, you grew up in Plantation, Florida, and Tury, you're from Havana, Cuba. Tell me about your experiences of growing up. As boys, were you outgoing adventurers, or did you pursue a quiet life of the imagination?

Tury Sandoval: Growing up in Cuba was about the best thing that has happened in my life. I can't tell you enough about it, it shapes every day of my life. Growing up without the commercial B.S. that kids are exposed to in first-world countries is just the best thing for the imagination. I was a wild little street kid. My parents would let me roam the city on the weekends and after school. Most weekends I would go to the country, where I'm originally from, and run around in sugarcane fields and hunt jutias, a small ratlike creature. It was pure magic, climbing giant trees in the countryside. You know that comic book Black & White? It was like that, and I was like the character Black.

Sam Borkson: I was a ball of fire. Exploring everything, living like a little grownup, and dreaming my own realities for as long as I can remember. I read comic books, loved cartoons like Ren & Stimpy, and being from south Florida, I was a professional tree climber and pool warrior. I was creating and performing whenever I wasn’t causing trouble in one way or another, and even though I was nicknamed “El Diablo” by my family, I was a lightning storm of love just waiting to share my love with the universe.

Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin, Art Basel Miami, 2010

EP: Were there any artists in your families, or people who nurtured your creative impulses?

Tury: I come from a family of artists. My dad — a musician — is an anomaly of nature, the most talented person I know. My mom is just an amazing craft powerhouse and my brother is an accomplished painter. Even though they are all artists, it was not forced upon me, it was something that was rather natural.

Sam: My family was crazy, and I was a tornado. Coming from different walks of life, they were creative with how they lived their lives — mostly independently, or outside of societal norms, trying to build something for themselves. I was a potpourri of many ideas, which I mostly formulated on my own.

"Wish Come True Festival," Toronto, 2010

EP: Did you have a special relationship with any of your toys when you were kids?

Sam: I mostly liked comic books, and some toys — but more than playing with toys, I liked hanging with actual people and making up games and interacting. I never got swept up in that societal pressure to get everything. I used to destroy G.I. Joes with a bat for hours, and that was the most fun I had with them. I would then piece them back together to make blobular hunks of melty plastic. I would experiment with a light bulb — heating them up, watching them drip and recombining them. This violent destruction wasn’t looked upon positively, for sure.

Tury: I used to make some of my toys. The ones that I remember the best and loved the most were las carriolas. This was a contraption that we used to make out of wood and industrial ball bearings — like a stripped-down version of a scooter, but they were fast as hell… we used to race them downhill in Havana. I left all my skin on those streets.

"Wish Come True Festival," Toronto, 2010

EP: The two of you met in Miami's rave scene, and soon discovered that the contents of your sketchbooks looked almost identical. How did it feel to discover someone who was so in tune with your own strange wavelength?

Sam: We met through Miami friends, but we started hanging in Orlando before we hung in Miami. By 2002, we had started FriendsWithYou. We both had this exuberance for life and a mischievous nature of fun and silliness. That is where we connected, mostly, and the art was a product of this fun and adventurous relationship.

Tury: It was like an explosion… we had friends in common who shared this super goofy and explosive kind of vibe. To reiterate what Sam is saying… I think that was the true glue to us working together. Once we started working together, we found so many other things that made the partnership possible. It’s something that is hard and rewarding at the same time… it’s special for sure. I’m happy we can collaborate together and make each other’s work (and life) better.

"Rainbow Bench"

EP: The initial inspiration for your Friends came from the playful talismanic characters that Japanese kids like to attach to their backpacks. Japan's cuteness epidemic has been attributed to the trauma the country suffered during World War II, the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and their cultural subjugation under the American occupation. The Japanese are said to have turned their cute side toward the world as an act of submission — a survival mechanism. Would you relate your mission with the Friends to a similar subconscious impulse in our culture? Are we Americans now exuding cuteness as an antidote to the world's perception of us as a greedy imperialist juggernaut?

Tury: That’s interesting. I feel you make a good point about the similarities that the US is showing in this post stage of world domination that we have enjoyed for the past 60 years. I feel like we wanted to have an overall positive and spiritual message, and this cute language is what we felt was appropriate. It’s a good vehicle to say the things we want to say.

I think we made those decisions based on the suitability of the language, rather than to make a point in comparison to the Japanese culture. At the time we started making the toys, there were a lot of hippie-type graphics, and we were seeing this hard line in design. We wanted to be a lot lighter than that.

Sam: When we started with the FriendsWithYou project, I was inspired by this idea of cuteness — this way of almost being pathetic, or kawaii. After fighting so hard my entire life, I felt the same way. Why bark and bite any longer? I just wanted to kind of roll over and show my belly to the world.

I feel we did this to build a persona for ourselves that the world could love more easily, something that supported each person in this world, not just our own art. Something bigger. I think it expanded in our minds as we saw its healing nature. We didn’t want to be thug or gangster, we wanted to make the whole world shine together, to be hopeful and bright and help the world regain its sense of spirituality. I look at it as us fighting a huge demon with rainbows.

Wishing Toys (via toy photographer Brian McCarty)

EP: As modern tools of spirituality, your art toys are intended to open the perceptions to a belief in something greater than ourselves — specifically, to make people aware of the energies that bind us to all living things and to our planet. Why do you think the life of the imagination is so important for mankind today? Are those who can still access a sense of wonder and awe better prepared for life in modern society?

Tury: It’s not so much about the ones that have that sense of wonder, but the ones who don’t, and need other forms of spiritual outlet — to believe in the collective powers that we have and the spiritual realm of things. That is our message and what most of our work revolves around. Reinterpreting simple magic and rituals — like superstition — into modern terms is important for the younger generations that don’t like the old religions. We are redesigning this simple system and marketing it to anyone we can reach.

Sam: We think people have so much potential and power. We just are ready to see all of us act on some next-level shit — like combining our information, getting rid of our borders and starting to act like a global village.

Malfi plush

EP: The ambassador of the whimsical land of FriendsWithYou is Malfi, a pear-shaped black-and-white fellow with criss-cross eyes and a bright red grimace. You've described him as an earth spirit — a concept that will be familiar to those who've seen Miyazaki's film Spirited Away — and ascribed to him both positive and negative powers and a propensity for hugging.

Sam: He is the ultimate magical wizard and performs great feats just by willing it. He opens the doorways to perception and adventure and he can lead you to all different kinds of luck, good and bad! So good luck and be careful!

FriendsWithYou Have Powers, Gestalten book cover art

EP: The FriendsWithYou installations are "experiential art," dependent on audience participation to create an immersive, impactful environment. Can an encounter with an artistic creation truly change the way people think about the world around them?

Tury: We always wanted to make experiences that are most powerful, similar to having a religious revelation but using joy, play, color, interaction and all the senses to evoke those feelings. This is something that we love to do and that we think is the most modern way of making art — engaging the individual in a communal setting, making them feel something that is magical and exuberant and letting them fill in the blanks with their own adventures.

Miami Art Basel 2006 (via David Choe)

EP: Tell me about your collaborative relationship with graffiti vandal-cum-vagabond art star David Choe. Why do you think your penchant for cuteness and magic meshes so well with his raw sexuality and reckless abandon?

Sam: He is exactly like us. A sweet, awesome person. We connected immediately and stuck together from the outset. He doesn’t have borders or rules in his mind — everything is about the enjoyment of life, which we are big advocates of as well!

"Skywalkers" Miami Art Basel 2010

EP: Corporations have seized a foothold in this art movement as a means to make their brand more interesting to the public, and the two of you have benefited by harnessing their prodigious cash flow to realize some of your more grandiose visions. What's it like to work under the auspices of a corporate brand which has its own particular agenda?

Tury: Our parameters are easy…. we want them to help us make things that we can’t because of economical reasons. We use their resources to put our message out there, and we keep the corporation as far away from us, and the message, as possible. It’s tough. We attempt to self-finance most of the work, if possible. There are other instances that art institutions finance — what we just did for Luminato Festival of the Arts was without any direct corporate sponsor and done solely for the people of Toronto. We are humbled when institutions like that let us make the work, and when corporations let us do it.

"Skywalkers" Miami Art Basel 2010

EP: You've mentioned that animator Hayao Miyazaki is your "ultimate inspiration." His films often focus on spiritual journeys through landscapes in which nature and technology are colliding. In My Neighbor Totoro, Miyazaki unveiled a cast of strange yet cuddly forest spirits with magical powers which seem quite analogous to your own creations.

Sam: I love everything he has ever done! He is an amazing genius and wizard of magic and the unperceivable. Each of his films is so incredible to us. They all have so much magic and so much love and simple spirituality, and that’s where we connect.

"Field of Dreams," Taipei, Taiwan, 2010

EP: Is there anything else you're finding really inspiring right now?

Sam: Through my own personal adventure through life, I am being inspired by each and every moment. Just by swimming in the ocean or creating work or my friends or my surroundings, I am in a constantly simmering soup of magic, like a big black cauldron.

"Field of Dreams," Taipei, Taiwan, 2010

EP: Hopes, dreams, plans for the future?

Sam: We are really trying to make the best life adventure for ourselves, and all the people we make art and culture for! We plan to help the world come together somehow through our culture manipulation — to make people love and be spiritual and enjoy their time here on Earth. We want to give the greatest experiences of a lifetime to whomever we can reach in our lifetime and after!

Magic, Luck, and Friendship. We are FriendsWithYou.

"Wish Come True Festival," Toronto, 2010

"Lined In Lead"

2011-03-14T00:05:00.000-07:00

Where Nucleus Gallery's upcoming show "Lined In Lead" is concerned, all I really need to say is: João Ruas, Andrew Hem, Rob Sato, David Jien, Wesley Burt and Barron Storey. All that drawing power applied to gloriously essential graphite is inevitably destined for greatness. So I know I'll see you in Alhambra this Saturday, March 19th!

João Ruas, "Le Sacre du Printemps II: Migration"

Rob Sato's "Blowing the Hatch"

2011-03-03T19:18:00.000-08:00

This weekend, the amazing Rob Sato, whose work should be familiar to you all, will have a solo exhibit of drawings at Rowan Morrison Gallery in Oakland. This will be the final exhibit for the gallery, which is closing on a high note after five years of supporting artists associated with the nearby California College of the Arts. So make sure to go check it out on Saturday, March 5th!

"Giant Down"

Rob says, "This will be a drawing-heavy show. Recently, I’ve been compelled to draw more than paint, and have been enjoying the simple pleasures of graphite on paper. It has been an interesting period of getting back to basics, and at the same time trying things I’ve never done before. Currently, all preparations are a wild-eyed blur, so it is difficult to gauge what the show will consist of, but several graphite drawings can be expected, at least one large watercolor, and the last installments of my “Slideshow” series. There will be no less than that, maybe more, and as much as I can get in there."

"Motor Compass"

"Also, there will be one large piece dedicated to the gallery that was never missing. There’s a hare in the grave and Rowan Morrison will not die."

"Mass Gathering"

Dabs Myla's "Double Diamond"

2011-02-16T08:30:00.000-08:00

If you're free on Friday, zip out to Palm Springs to see Dabs Myla's show for Modernism Week, at M Modern alongside inveterate hipster Shag. They'll be showing five new paintings, as well as a number of highly finished studies in graphite on paper and an adorably imaginative breakfast table installation. If you haven't checked out the work of this dynamic duo of Australian graffiti artists yet, you're in for a real treat. They're double diamonds, themselves.