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On Monday, December 19th, we partnered with Lenovo computers to build out the ultimate art-themed smackdown. Hosted at Villain in Williamsburg, guests stepped into a fully imagined warehouse art party. That night it was all about participation. We created a series of art activities to get guests making art and meeting each other. Guests captured the revelry of the night in Ventikoland’s projection photo booth. After some savory Espolón cocktails and tacos the art battle was ready to begin. 2 amazing artists competed head-to-head in a series of timed challenges and a head-to-head battle of creative awesomeness. Interludes were provided by a pop & lock round girl, battling breakdancers, and a duo of beatboxers.
Event Design by Adam Aleksander Presents
Photography by Lukas Maverick Greyson
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24/06/2012 : Marseille 3e, bd National / rue de Strasbourg, îlot National : exposition Une collection de collections (Maryvonne Arnaud et Philippe Mouillon)
collection de stylos publicitaires (Babeth Camilleri)
Frida Kahlo: The Exotification of an Icon
Frida Kahlo has become one of the most recognizable and celebrated artists of the 20th century, but as her popularity continues to grow, so too does the trend of exotifying her image. In many ways, Kahlo's powerful, raw, and emotionally complex art has been relegated to the background, while her public persona and visual image have taken center stage. This phenomenon of "Kahlo-mania" risks turning her into a mere cultural commodity, stripping her of the nuanced identity she carefully crafted in both her personal life and her artistic practice. Very few out there may not even know that during her lifetime she never achieved to sell an artwork and that she had to support herself teaching art at the art academy in Mexico. For ages.
At the heart of this exotification is the way Kahlo's physical appearance and cultural identity have been reduced to a set of easily digestible symbols. A souvenir. Her iconic unibrow, bold lip color, traditional Tehuana dresses, and long, flowing hair have been romanticized, commodified, and ultimately flattened into signifiers of an idealized, "otherworldly" mexican femininity. These elements of her image are often detached from their cultural context—specifically, her deep connection to Mexican heritage and her revolutionary political ideals—and transformed into a visual shorthand for the "exotic" or "primitive”.
She was deeply involved in the Mexican Communist Party and had a nuanced understanding of class struggles and Indigenous rights, but these aspects of her identity rarely make it into the commercialized versions of her legacy, such as the knowledge that her mother was a very strict, catholic and conservative woman born in Oaxaca, Mexico of Indigenous and Spanish descent and her father was born in Germany and emigrated to Mexico when he was eighteen. Does this had any influence on her way of expressing herself? Instead, her image is hijacked to sell everything from fashion to cosmetics, often divorcing her from the very causes she championed.
This reduction of Kahlo to an aesthetic has profound implications. It risks turning her into a muse for the masses, whose powerful and revolutionary works are seen as little more than visual metaphors for a vaguely defined "otherness" rather than political, personal, or emotional statements. As Kahlo’s image circulates across fashion magazines, t-shirts, and even murals in tourist hotspots, the deeper themes of her are eclipsed. This depoliticization is particularly troubling considering Kahlo’s fierce engagement with the world around her, both as an artist and an activist.
In this sense, the exoticization of Kahlo's image can be understood as a form of cultural appropriation, where the elements of her identity are extracted, distilled, and consumed in ways that erase the specificity and depth of her work. The Frida Kahlo who appears on a t-shirt or a mug is not the same as the complex, self-aware woman challenged the norms of her time.
To truly engage with Kahlo's legacy, we must move beyond the commodified image of her as an "exotic" icon. Her art deserves a deeper, more thoughtful examination that challenges our assumptions and encourages us to reckon with the often messy realities of her life and work. Instead of embracing the shallow, marketable image of Frida Kahlo, we should strive to understand the complexities of her artistic expression.
The quote "I hope the exit is joyful - and I hope never to return" is attributed to Frida Kahlo. She wrote these words in her diary shortly before her death.
Well, the exist maybe turned out joyful, but her wish on hopping never to return is indeed a utopia.
ink watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Ralf is a talented visual artist. The hat he is wearing is the one he wears when painting with water colour. Ralf's favourite place to paint is out in nature and he uses the water from his surroundings to infuse in his piece of work to bring nature to the collector.
In February 2006 Craig Tracy opened the PaintedAlive Gallery in his home city, New Orleans, La, USA. PaintedAlive is the first gallery in the world dedicated exclusively to fine art Bodypainted images. But where did his passion for using the human body as a canvas start?
Read on...
CICERO-Foyergespräch mit dem Künstler Markus Lüpertz und den CICERO-Redakteuren Christoph Schwennicke und Alexander Marguier;
Nikon D810, 70-200mm f/2,8
Today we celebrate the beloved Federico García Lorca. One glance at him and you wished you could spend a couple of hours with his gentility.
Some people are born in cities. Some are born in countries. Lorca was born in a landscape. Southern Spain. Olive trees, white walls, horses standing around like they know something you don't.
You know, there are poets who write about the moon, and then there are poets who seem to have been personally visited by it. Lorca belonged to that second category. The moon in his poems isn't decoration. It's a traveler. A witness. Sometimes it's a warning sign nailed to the sky.
He came into the world in 1898, just as one century was folding up its maps and another was sharpening its knives. He played piano, loved folk songs, wandered through old melodies the way some people wander through old neighborhoods. He understood that a song can carry history farther than a speech.
Lorca once wrote about something called duende. Hard thing to translate. Not a technique. Not talent. Not inspiration. More like the mysterious force that shows up when art stops being polite and starts telling the truth. The thing that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. The thing that can't be bought, borrowed, or taught in a classroom. When dancing flamenco you’ve got to think of “el duende” too.
He had friends who painted pictures that looked like dreams after too much coffee. Friends who made films where reality seemed to forget its own rules. The twentieth century was arriving, and Lorca was standing in the doorway holding it open.
Then he went to New York. Now that's a long trip—from Andalusian villages to steel canyons and electric signs. He saw the city at a moment when money seemed to be speaking louder than people. The poems he wrote there weren't postcards. They were weather reports from the soul.
History, of course, has a habit of interrupting poets. When civil war descended on Spain, it arrived with uniforms, rifles, and certainties. Poets tend to make people nervous when times get that way. Lorca was killed in 1936, not far from the landscape that had first taught him how to listen.
But here's the thing about poets. They keep missing their own funerals. A song gets sung. A poem gets opened. A young person reads a line and suddenly feels less alone. And there you are again. The olive trees are still standing. The moon still makes its rounds.
Somewhere today, somebody is reading Lorca for the first time and discovering that beauty and sorrow have always shared the same room.
And that's Federico García Lorca.
—
Fabula y Rueda de los Tres Amigos
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo.
Estaban los tres helados:
Enrique por el mundo de las camas;
Emilio por el mundo de los ojos y las heridas de las manos,
Lorenzo por el mundo de las universidades sin tejados.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique.
Estaban los tres quemados:
Lorenzo por el mundo de las hojas y las bolas de billar;
Emilio por el mundo de la sangre y los alfileres blancos,
Enrique por el mundo de los muertos y los periódicos abandonados.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique.
Estaban los tres enterrados:
Lorenzo en un seno de Flora;
Emilio en la yerta ginebra que se olvida en el vaso,
Enrique en la hormiga, en el mar y en los ojos vacíos de los pájaros.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique.
Fueron los tres en mis manos
tres montañas chinas,
tres sombras de caballo,
tres paisajes de nieve y una cabaña de azucenas
por los palomares donde la luna se pone plana bajo el gallo.
Uno
y uno
y uno.
Estaban los tres momificados,
con las moscas del invierno,
con los tinteros que orina el perro y desprecia el vilano,
con la brisa que hiela el corazón de todas las madres,
por los blancos derribos de Júpiter donde meriendan muerte los borrachos.
Tres
y dos
y uno.
Los vi perderse llorando y cantando
por un huevo de gallina,
por la noche que enseñaba su esqueleto de tabaco,
por mi dolor lleno de rostros y punzantes esquirlas de luna,
por mi alegría de ruedas dentadas y látigos,
por mi pecho turbado por las palomas,
por mi muerte desierta con un solo paseante equivocado.
Yo había matado la quinta luna
y bebían agua por las fuentes los abanicos y los aplausos.
Tibia leche encerrada de las recién paridas
agitaba las rosas con un largo dolor blanco.
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo.
Diana es dura,
pero a veces tiene los pechos nublados.
Puede la piedra blanca latir en la sangre del ciervo
y el ciervo puede soñar por los ojos de un caballo.
Cuando se hundieron las formas puras
bajo el cri cri de las margaritas,
comprendí que me habían asesinado.
Recorrieron los cafés y los cementerios y las iglesias,
abrieron los toneles y los armarios,
destrozaron tres esqueletos para arrancar sus dientes de oro.
Ya no me encontraron.
¿No me encontraron?
No. No me encontraron.
Pero se supo que la sexta luna huyó torrente arriba,
y que el mar recordó ¡de pronto!,
los nombres de todos sus ahogados.
//1929, F. Garcia Lorca
—
Fable and Round of the Three Friends
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo,
the three of them frozen:
Enrique by the world of beds;
Emilio by the world of eyes and wounded hands;
Lorenzo by the world of roofless universities.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three of them burned:
Lorenzo by the world of leaves and billiard balls;
Emilio by the world of blood and white pins;
Enrique by the world of the dead and abandoned newspapers.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three of them buried:
Lorenzo in one of Flora's breasts;
Emilio in the dead gin forgotten in the glass;
Enrique in the ant, the sea, and the empty eyes of birds.
Lorenzo,
Emilio,
Enrique,
the three in my hands were
three Chinese mountains,
three shadows of a horse,
three landscapes of snow and a cabin of white lilies
by the pigeon coops where the moon lies flat under the rooster.
One
and one
and one,
the three of them mummified,
with the flies of winter,
with the inkwells the dog pisses and the thistle despises,
with the breeze that freezes the eart of all the mothers,
by the white ruins of Jupiter where drunks snack on death.
Three
and two
and one,
I saw them disappear, crying and singing
into a hen's egg,
into the night that showed its skeleton of tobacco,
into my sorrow full of faces and piercing bone splinters of moon,
into my happiness of whips and notched wheels,
into my breast troubled by pigeons,
into my deserted death with one mistaken wanderer.
I had killed the fifth moon
and the fans and the applause drank water from the fountains.
Hidden away, the warm milk of newborn girls,
shook the roses with a long white sorrow.
Enrique,
Emilio,
Lorenzo,
Diana is hard,
but somtimes she has breasts of clouds.
The white stone can beat in the blood of a deer
and the deer can dream through the eyes of a horse.
When the pure forms sank
under the cri cri of daisies
I understood they had murdered me.
They searched the cafés and the graveyards and churches,
they opened the wine casks and wardrobes,
they destroyed three skeletons to pull out their gold teeth.
Still they couldn't fine me.
They couldn't?
No. They couldn't.
But they learned the sixth moon fled against the torrent,
and the sea remembered, suddenly,
the names of all her drowned.
//1929, F. Garcia Lorca
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
On Thursday 30th June, dot-art ran it's first Introduction to Life Drawing day, led by Roy Munday in Liverpool City Centre. Life model Arthur posed for participants, who were taught the basic skills required, and given individual tuition and feedback.
On Thursday 30th June, dot-art ran it's first Introduction to Life Drawing day, led by Roy Munday in Liverpool City Centre. Life model Arthur posed for participants, who were taught the basic skills required, and given individual tuition and feedback.
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04/07/2015 : Le Puy-Sainte-Réparade, Château La Coste : exposition Different Places (Sean Scully)
Cock Park Restaurant Branding Design By #Akib_Sarder
This Project On:
#Behance: www.behance.net/gallery/57864131/Cock-Part-Restaurant-Bra...?
#Facebook: www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.298861310585256.1073741...
#Google+ : plus.google.com/u/0/104110449329655898745/posts/EaAjEtDMN5V
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Temporada 2009.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
Martin Castein - Visual Artist / Photographer
and
Katie F - Photographer
To contact Martin please email at martin@martincastein.com
Follow Martin on twitter www.twitter.com/MartinCastein
Today’s topic? Drummers.
Backbone of the band.
Timekeepers of the soul.
Now there’s a lotta great ones. Buddy Rich could make a snare drum sound like a stick of dynamite. Charlie Watts could make it look easy peasy. Max Roach could make it sing like a bird caught in a thunderstorm. But today we celebrate a man from Liverpool who hit the skins with the swagger of a sailor and the grin of a man who knows he's in on the joke; Ringo Starr.
Born Richard Starkey. July 7th, 1940.
He was sick as a child, missed a lotta school but maybe that gave him time to dream. 'Cause pretty soon, he was playin’ in the clubs on the River Mersey, wearin’ flashy rings and beatin’ drums like they owed him money.
He joined a band called Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. That was before the hurricanes got downgraded and the Beatles got upgraded. He replaced Pete Best, and the girls cried foul, until they heard him play. Ringo wasn’t the flashiest. He didn’t have that Keith Moon madness, or Ginger Baker’s hurricane fury. But hey! Ringo had feel. He swung. He shuffled. He played for the song. And sometimes that’s harder than playing fast.
John said he was the heart of the band.
Paul said no one else could do what he did.
George? Well, George just smiled and let his guitar talk.
Now, Ringo wasn’t just a drummer. He sang, too. “Octopus’s Garden”, a kid’s song on the surface, but really, let’s be honest, it’s about finding peace in a world gone mad. Kind of like Ringo himself, a peaceful man in a band that changed the world.
After the Beatles, he kept on rollin’. Made movies. Released solo records. Had a hit with “Photograph,” a song that sounded like it missed somebody real bad.
And he’s still out there, 85 years today, traveling with the All-Starr Band, spreading that good-time gospel. Peace and love. Peace and love. He says it so much, it starts sounding like a prayer.
So here’s to Ringo Starr. The drummer who didn’t need to prove anything. The beat beneath the Beatlemania.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Many artists put almost as much into their booths as they do their art.
Permission granted from artist for photos. Release from artist available, if needed.
Archive speaks
El Power Mexicano, 2008
acrylic on canvas
140cm x 160cm
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
Galleri Slätten presents
(OBETITLAD) a solo exhibition by your always truly and faithful Loana Ibarra
Opening Friday 23 September at 18.00-22.00
Ahlmansgatan 20, Möllevången
Bienvälkommen må ni alla vara!
Facebook event more info
instagram loanaibarra
Goddag folks! if you've been tuning in, you know we like to wander down some pretty twisted paths, digging into stories, art, and people who well, who make you think, y’know? Today, we’re celebrating a man who made movies like dreams or nightmares. His name? Ingmar Bergman.
You see, Bergman wasn’t just your average director. No, no... he was a master of the mind. One of those felinos who could make you feel like you were standing in the middle of a storm, and the wind was just blowin' your thoughts all over the place. He made you face the hard stuff. The kind of stuff we all avoid, like death, despair and loneliness, all those places we try to ignore, but you can’t escape.
Born in Sweden, in the town of Uppsala, this guy, he had a wild vision. If you’ve ever seen The Magician (my personal favorite Bergman movie) or Cries and Whispers (which my mother saw a cold winter day in Switzerland as a youngster, one existential experience she can describe from tip to toe) or even the beloved Persona (the historical film tape burning, yeeeh!), you know what I’m talkin' about. He wasn’t afraid of silence, in fact, one of the most powerful moments in his films are when there ain't a word spoken. Just the heavy, lingering feeling of something big, y’know? He’d make you feel uncomfortable, but you couldn’t look away. Trapped in an elevator. Up and down we go with no exit sign.
Now, take The Seventh Seal, for instance. You got that knight, playing chess with Death, trying to figure out why we’re here, what it all means. It’s a lot like that old saying, ‘You can’t cheat Death,’ but Bergman put it all out there. He’s asking the big questions and sometimes, just sometimes, you gotta face them. You don’t get the easy answers in Bergman’s world.
Bergman didn’t just stop with the big stuff. He dove into relationships, too. Scenes from a Marriage — whew! That film’s like crackin’ open the door to someone’s private world. Ever tried to look at a relationship from the inside? The rawness of it all? Bergman was the man who wasn’t afraid to shine a light on all that... dark, complicated, beautiful stuff we keep tucked away. Tack Bergman, we owe you one, or two.
But let’s try to get the whole spectrum, he didn’t just stick to drama. This director, he got himself a reputation, sure, but it wasn’t all just storm clouds. In fact, he once said ‘I am not a religious man, but I am very religious.’ So there you go.
Ingmar Bergman’s films are like a mirror to your soul, reflecting all those pieces we try to hide. But then again, maybe we’re all looking for the same thing; peace, meaning, understanding. Whether you’re swinging from a dream or living through a nightmare, you just wanna know why the hell we’re here.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
On Monday, December 19th, we partnered with Lenovo computers to build out the ultimate art-themed smackdown. Hosted at Villain in Williamsburg, guests stepped into a fully imagined warehouse art party. That night it was all about participation. We created a series of art activities to get guests making art and meeting each other. Guests captured the revelry of the night in Ventikoland’s projection photo booth. After some savory Espolón cocktails and tacos the art battle was ready to begin. 2 amazing artists competed head-to-head in a series of timed challenges and a head-to-head battle of creative awesomeness. Interludes were provided by a pop & lock round girl, battling breakdancers, and a duo of beatboxers.
Event Design by Adam Aleksander Presents
Photography by Lukas Maverick Greyson
On Thursday 30th June, dot-art ran it's first Introduction to Life Drawing day, led by Roy Munday in Liverpool City Centre. Life model Arthur posed for participants, who were taught the basic skills required, and given individual tuition and feedback.
On Thursday 30th June, dot-art ran it's first Introduction to Life Drawing day, led by Roy Munday in Liverpool City Centre. Life model Arthur posed for participants, who were taught the basic skills required, and given individual tuition and feedback.
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04/07/2015 : Le Puy-Sainte-Réparade, Château La Coste : exposition Different Places (Sean Scully)
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Temporada 2009.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
A Glitch "Niqab (κερί) ~ Ètude IX”
This art piece were created for my PhD and based on a Digital and Analog Aesthetic Research on "Artistic Practices, Digital Art in Social Networks and Net Art", some digital techniques used of artistic diversity, such as the re-mixed appropriation of image or video, also work conceived as original data work called creative altered binary code, datamoshing, generative art and glitch art worked in all its forms and expressions; works of art with a strong focus decoding the i-frames of images and videos (also known as key frames and altered or distorted creative binary code) mixed with seductive techniques of Pixelsorting Art; making it seem extremely sensitive and abstract; created exclusively for the virtual gallery on-line.
by ™℗®© Louis M o n t i e l
NFT Crypto Digital Art
Marketplace on qurable.co : Buy, Shell & Explore Digital Assets
app.qurable.co/c-louis-montiel
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#visualartists #glitchart #glitch #glitché #pixelsorting #glitchartistscollective #glitchvideo #datamosh #digitalglitch #nfts #hyperspektiv #minimalart #videoart #dfkt #pixelsorter #artistsvisual #nftart #glitchartscollective #glitcharts #nftartist #glitchartwork #glitchartisdead #glitchartists #nftcommunity #nft #glitchartist #pixelsortingart #nftartists #creativecodeart #glitchportrait
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
Some say you don’t know where you’re going until you get there, and others say you ain’t anywhere at all unless somebody’s waiting for you.
But me?
I found myself on a Monday morning that looked suspiciously like a Sunday, sitting down out in the middle of a winter that didn’t bother to introduce itself.
Snow falling like forgotten postcards, wind blowing like it didn’t had someplace better to be. Cannot hear a car, a bluffer bus stop sign, just me and the sound of my shoes complaining as they sank a little deeper into the white.
You ever get that feeling? That peculiar, particular, peculiar feeling that you’ve wandered off the map your life drew for you and now you’re somewhere between “here” and “wherever”? It’s the kind of place they don’t put on travel brochures.
And as I’m sitting, waiting, trying to keep my fingers from turning into a set of ten little ice sculptures, I start thinking about how strange it is: you can be surrounded by miles of cold quiet, and still feel like someone is running towards you with a secret just out of range.
Getting lost doesn’t care about your plans, your promises, your doubts. It just shows up, drops its bags on the rug, and tells you it’s staying a while.
So here I am, no clue where, no roadmap, no compass, no jukebox humming a tune to guide me. Just breath like smoke signals, rising up to a sky too busy snowing to read them. And somehow in that cold, lonesome nowhere, I felt a little more like myself than I had in all the warm places I’d been.
Lost.
This shot was taken close to the location of the previous shot. Again, this is a 3-exposure HDR, handheld.
More images: Facebook page.