by Lorette C. Luzajic
It’s a question that has vexed me for decades now, but I’ve come to I accept it won’t be answered. If you are an artist or an art aficionado, it has probably plagued you, too: “Why am I profoundly drawn to some works of abstract art, and not at all to others?”
Planetary Chaos 2012 – Lorette C. Luzajic
This cannot be answered with the usual platitudes about pleasing composition and masterful use of colour. These may play into our responses, but the way we experience abstract art is more visceral than this. Art is always subjective, and despite centuries of scholarship and millions of pages and countless brilliant, creative minds, the answer to why some people like some art and others don’t and vice versa remains elusive. Still, what we like and dislike about abstract art is itself abstract. “I like the colours/textures/lines/patterns” becomes meaningless when another piece with similar favourite colours or patterns falls completely flat.
These mini food sculpture jewelry peices by Shay Aaron look so real you’ll be tempted to want to take a bite.
Avocado Ear Studs
New creative Amnesty International print ads.
Confessions of an Accidental Photographer
by Lorette C. Luzajic
My photography is full of mistakes. And I use the most basic, generic of cameras. I don’t know how to use Photoshop. I do use some touchup and cropping tools in iPhoto. I’m not philosophically opposed to alteration or technology as part of art. I’m all for it. But my enhancements are minimal regardless, because my technical skills are rudimentary.
Becoming a photographer was, itself, an accident. I’d only meant to pick up a cheap digi cam in order to give my editors helpful snapshots with my writing assignments. Then I thought about collecting “found images” for my collage image bank. These found images would be ones that had not been frozen into ink and paper yet, images I might see on the streetcar or in a meadow but not be able to tear out of a newspaper or scan. With this tool, I’d be able to nab even more options to use in my collage work.
A collagist is always looking, always deconstructing and reconstructing. From dentist waiting room magazines to church hymnals to Renaissance religious masterpieces at the museum to nightclub flyers, my mind is constantly snipping, juxtaposing, gluing over, scraping back layers, recontextualizing.
When you bend this card according to its material memory, it brings the recipient through a simple story (a four-frame documentary about receiving the card.) It is a recursive experience of a card about the repetitive ritual of all cards. Designed by Kelli Anderson, it’s a card about cards that portrays a card-receiving-experience portrayed within a card-receiving-experience.
If that doesn’t make sense…watch the video…
Drool, a short film by Slick Devil Entertainment, is an atmospheric orgy of sensuality. Twisted in its depiction of a naked man, contorting in bouleversement, slick and wet with emotion in large white tiled room. The stark lack of color allows one to focus on emotion, which exudes from the Lars Von Treir type cinematography. Enter a female who shares in the man’s turmoil, while writhing over him seductively. A feeling of urgent sadness and pain, monopolizes your thoughts, as they come together in a twisted exchange of drool and slippery desire, only for him to leave her, alone on the floor.
Beautifully executed and hauntingly surreal!
Directed by Jeremiah Kipp
Produced by Laura Lona / Mandragoras
4 minutes / B&W
Notes from the director Jeremiah Kipp: My friends at the Mandragoras Art Space wanted to make an experimental short film with me, and I had become interested in making low-tech horror movies with special effects made from household objects, in this case condiments. It’s an incredibly simple narrative, meant to provoke something in the viewer. The drool in the movie can stand in for whatever you want: addiction, amniotic fluid, something sexual, something demonic. When you complete a film, it no longer belongs to you; it belongs to the audience.
A Great Book About Women Photographers
by Lorette C. Luzajic
Photography is a way of seeing with a third eye, of looking at that which is not before you. Who has not spent a part of their youth, chopping and gluing with stubby fingers images from National Geographic? Reassembling these strange pictures, we created panoramas in dreamtime. These photos showed us beaches and deserts and strange dances and colourful streets that nourished our imaginations. Even now that we are used to a proliferation of photography, images still have the power to transport us to another time and place.
It is difficult for anyone living today to imagine a world without photography. It is so ubiquitous that we take it for granted. Magazines of every possible interest arena are liberally illustrated with their subjects, from baking to kayaking to haute couture bridal to pets. The news is not the news without photographic documentation. The weekend is not the weekend without movies. It is inconceivable that we have a birthday, get married, bury a loved one, or go through a holiday without snapping souvenir memories of every event. And coffee table books are simply a curated collection of photographs about a particular theme, from trains to Princess Di, that invite browsing with a cup of coffee or a glass of red wine.