Longing, love and sentimentality
A mysterious message was delivered into my inbox yesterday, with a link directing me to this video about artist Carson Ellis. If you own any Decemberist albums, or have ever travelled to their site, you’re surely familiar with the her illustrations. There’s something wonderfully nostalgic about them, taking you back to a time when sailors battled the sea and women wore petticoats with pride. I now find her aesthetic inseperable from their songs…very rare these days, where the idea of album artwork has all but faded. I used to love spending Saturday afternoons in the record store, flipping through rows of musty vinyl. Rare Jam imports, Northern Soul compilations, limited edition New Order ep’s…my wish list was endless but when that lucky item finally revealed itself, nothing could stop me from rushing home for a listen. The ritual was to curl up on the couch with album in hand, intent on absorbing every lyric and liner note. That first encounter received all of my attention, and my eyes absorbed the visuals just as my ears absorbed the sounds. When I haul those albums out now, it’s like revisiting old family photos...
Jon Pylypchuk
"If I sat around trying to figure out what I was doing I'd never get anything done." I'm new to the work of Jon Pylypchuk. In fact, I'd never heard of him until about a month ago when I googled Royal Art Lodge. Where the heck have I been, right? I suppose my knowledge of contemporary art started to fade as soon as I handed in my final paper at OCAD. Fine craft became my primary focus after graduation and now here I am, virtually oblivious to what's been happening in the art world for the last 11 years. Pylypchuk spoke at UofG this evening for an hour and a half, but I'm still not sure what to make of him. It was certainly interesting listening to him recall his time in Winnipeg, where he spent his early days creating 'what art was supposed to be'. One more 'F' would have finished his university career, so he initially entered the fine art program to boost his average. He then began experimenting with wood glue and fabric scraps, created a cast of fuzzy little creatures, earned his MFA from UCLA and voila! He's gained international recognition creating ironic artwork with crazy titles. As one reviewer described, "Imagine a former Muppet maker down on his luck, homeless but still working with whatever raw materials he can find on the street, tapping into feelings of abandonment, hurt, rage and fear. That's the effect of Jon Pylypchuk's zany assemblages and collages in which vulnerable anthropomorphic animals struggle to survive a terrifying universe." When asked about the meanings behind his characters, Pylypchuk responded, "If I sat around trying to figure out what I was doing I'd never get anything done."
January
MMVII has arrived. Year of the Pig, International Polar Year, Craft Year 2007...the zoo-keepers will surely be busy.January is making its annual attempt at being anonymous, but there's no way you can sneak past the radar when it's plus 6 outside. Luckily, I've got a few lectures to keep me busy while I wait for some snow to fall...artists Jon Pylpchuck, David Altmejd, and AA Bronson will all be speaking at the the University of Guelph's MacKinnon building. I've always been intrigued by General Idea so Bronson's appearance will be a highlight.
A mysterious message was delivered into my inbox yesterday, with a link directing me to this video about artist Carson Ellis. If you own any Decemberist albums, or have ever travelled to their site, you’re surely familiar with the her illustrations. There’s something wonderfully nostalgic about them, taking you back to a time when sailors battled the sea and women wore petticoats with pride. I now find her aesthetic inseperable from their songs…very rare these days, where the idea of album artwork has all but faded. I used to love spending Saturday afternoons in the record store, flipping through rows of musty vinyl. Rare Jam imports, Northern Soul compilations, limited edition New Order ep’s…my wish list was endless but when that lucky item finally revealed itself, nothing could stop me from rushing home for a listen. The ritual was to curl up on the couch with album in hand, intent on absorbing every lyric and liner note. That first encounter received all of my attention, and my eyes absorbed the visuals just as my ears absorbed the sounds. When I haul those albums out now, it’s like revisiting old family photos...