Do-Ho Suh

Korean artist Do-Ho Suh's work looks like eye candy, but reads like a masterpiece. Every sculpture is intricately crafted to raise questions about individuality and anonymity. In our contemporary, overpopulated world, is it even possible to stand out, or are we all part of a collective machine? In many of his deceptively simple sculptures, thousands of singular pieces are linked together to form one overarching statement.

Following two years of mandatory military service in Korea, thousands of dog tags were fashioned together to form the shape of an Emperor's Robe for Suh's piece, Some/One.

Suh's experience in the military led to a slew of works questioning the indentity of the individual in the face of a regiment that essentially seeks to efface identity.

Screen

Paratrooper

Who Am We?

Cause and Effect

Another piece from his Paratrooper series features embroidered signatures on a parachute.

Floor

Suh's mastery of space and the interaction of objects with their environments led him to create a series of pieces that question the nature of identity in a different way. His architectural works crafted from silk or nylon and steel tubing center on the idea of home as a structure and a concept.

Seoul Home/LA Home/New York Home/Baltimore Home/London Home/Seattle Home, reflects Suh's status as a transient being. After growing up in Korea, he moved to New York, and now frequently travels to promote his work.

Perfect Home II

Reflection

Staircase

I appreciate the tactile quality of Suh's work as much as I appreciate the clarity and complexity of his vision. And it doesn't hurt that he likes to read Cabinet, Dwell, and the sadly defunct Blueprint, either. Who says you can't be pretty and smart?

(Photos courtesy of Lehmann Maupin Gallery and Designboom.)

Featured Artist (almost) Friday: Andrea Canalito

As Erin and I have both mentioned before, one of the raddest things about running Design Crisis is meeting new peeps.  Despite almost a year in web publication, we still get all weak in the knees when someone sends us an email love letter, especially when that someone is an artist who's work we already know and love.  Recently, Andrea Canalito a mixed-medium artist from Houston, TX contacted us and we were giddy with joy.

Twinkle Twinkle Baby, Mixed Media Installation, 2008

You already know how much I love animal furniture, so when I first came across the Deer Cupcakes (with GOLD!!! cups) I nearly fainted.  I was so excited when Andrea contacted us so I could find out more about her work and what inspires her.  

K: In your original email to Design Crisis, you said you were "hungry for aesthetics," what designers and artists are currently filling your appetite?

AC: I look at a lot of design websites such as design crisis, notcot.org, designboom.com, andy altmann and why not associates, and artists like wendy walgate, philip toledano, laurie hogin, elizabeth mcgrath, just to name a very few. 

Below are some shots from a few of the favorites she mentioned:

clockwise from Top Left: Wendy Walgate, philip toledano (psst, you may remember Philip from this post), Laurie Hogin, Elizabeth Mcgrath,

You can certainly see that, like me, Andrea has an affinity for the animal art, I'm liking her more and more!

K: How much do you find that other artists and designers influence your work?  What other inspirations do you have?

AC: Really, I see things everywhere that interest me, mostly including simple and bold contemporary art and design. I'm not a fan of hum-drum and beige. Nor am I a fan of things that do not carry an element of the "strange". It's funny because when I meet other designers, I feel like I am so inquisitive about their method and process and it always feels like I am more interested in what they do than they are. I find myself wanting to know how everything works in every arena of aesthetics from digital to traditional. I am also very attracted to city lights such as neon lights, signs, and music video aesthetics from artists like kanye west, lady gaga, and gwen stefani. And, of course, music itself.

K: Without revealing any of your creative secrets, can you tell us a little bit about what goes into making a deer cupcake?

AC: Haha, there are no secrets. They started out as a an idea in my head, and a drawing. I don't know where they came from, and I couldn't understand it at the time, but I decided not to try and smother it with sense. Turns out that's what works for me, so I decided to take a big chance and spend 3 months constructing Twinkle Twinkle Baby, with the deer cupcakes. They are made from various types of foam, modeling material, and paint, so they are surprisingly light. 

I asked Andrea if her cupcakes were for sale, and THANK GOD, they are, you may contact her through her website for pricing information

I love when you can see an artists work and understand their progression, the above two images of Andreas certainly foreshadow the oncoming of her deer cupcake field.

I also catch myself drooling nonstop at these trays on her site:

But WAIT!  I still have more questions:

K: What is the creative scene like in Houston?

AC: It is vast. I always feel overwhelmed trying to find art in a large city because there is so much of it in so many different places, some large spaces, some nooks and crannies. I wish there was one definitive website that would tell you EVERYTHING design/art oriented in the city.  I feel like there is a lot of opportunity for young creatives in Houston, which is good, especially for emerging professionals. There is also a thick traditional art community here, which I have yet to explore, but I'm sure is noteworthy.

K What's next for you?

AC: I am working on a series of "princess" or rather "not a princess" drawings in collaboration with another artist. They have to do with the idea that as girls, we never reached the princess we always thought we could be. What if there is no magic come to save you? The castle we take is the empire we make with our business cards, our risks and our skills. 

I would also like to work on a concept about my dreams of flying/floating. Both as a form of this physical and mental freedom and ambition. The dreams are so rare, but so great and just make me feel like anything is possible. 

At this point, I'm quite smitten with Ms. Canalito, the aesthetics she is drawn to, as well as the ones she creates herself, mirror my own preferences.  She also seems very busy, creatively. I love when someone has lots of irons in the fire, and Andrea's irons are very very pretty. 

Control: I Like to Have a Lot

Ok, I'll admit it. I'm something of a control freak. It might be due to years of photographic training -- the need to frame, level, expose, repeat, as perfectly as possible every time -- but I suspect it was that very aspect of my personality which drew me to photography in the first place. These days I find myself constantly rearranging my home as if prepping for an imminent photo shoot: Karate chop pillows, adjust accessories, and shift the console table over two point five inches so it's lined up squarely behind the couch. Of course, if I stand over there it's not centered anymore, and then I find myself cursing the dogged pursuit of perfection, and wondering how to resolve this urgent (!!!) crisis. I could blame it on interior design. When looking at the perfectly styled, immutable compositions of interior photographers, it's hard to remember that rooms only look like that from one particular perspective, for that particular instant in time.

Exhibit A:

Everyone's favorite design diva Kelly Wearstler is a stickler for symmetry. Even the chair legs rest at the same places on the carpet (don't think for one second I haven't tried the same tactics on my own rugs). But in real life, the chairs are probably caterwonky, the cocktail tables may be shifted, while seated you can't see the mirrored ceiling, and generally the whole room dissolves into chaos. But you can't blame the girl for trying to control the room, or the photographer for trying to control the perspective of the setting.

That's what photographers do. We live in a 3D world, but a photograph is a 2D representation of that world. Back in the 70s, Kenneth Josephson proved that point most humorously with this ship that could just as easily have sailed over someone's head, or perched atop a building, or -- if flipped to the other side -- existed as nothing but a blank square.

Not that sculptors haven't tried to control the vantage point from which their 3D objects are viewed.

A man after my own heart, control nazi (with a small "n") Anthony Caro decided back in the 50s to dispense with all that "viewed in the round" crap that most sculptures in modern times adhere to. His pieces were often built to look good from one angle, and one angle only. Take that, messy free thinkers!

But generally, it's easier to control perspective when you only have to define two dimensions, since you don't need to deal with peeps nosing around the "wrong side" of things.

In the 70s, crazy John Pfahl took perspective control to absurd levels. Elements were arranged within the picture plane and then photographed to line up perfectly. Easy, right? Can you tell that I'm going somewhere with this?

Check out this image by Felice Varini. It's kind of a funny nod to Caro's work and sculpture in general, sort of like, "hey -- this is the right way to look at these sculptures. Stand right HERE. Or else."

Because if you don't, everything goes to hell in a handbasket. Pronto, good buddy.

And here is where I get all nutty about Varini's insanely awesome 3D sculpture/images, because they appeal both to my obsessive photographic need to frame, and to my real life (nascent) understanding that if perfection is possible, it is certainly fleeting. Just don't move and inch, and everything looks... perfect.

This is one of my favorites because it looks so simple.

Sike!

Enough lecturing. Here's where I present you with an avalanche of Varini's eye candy. More than anything else I've seen recently, I wish I could see his works in person. The level of detail, the labor involved, the utter INSANITY of watching your environment morph as you change vantage points -- it all just wrecks my mind. I love it.

Did I say that I wanted to paint a supergraphic in the baby's nursery? Silly me! I want to paint a Varini in the nursery. Oh, and I would also like to move my house into a centuries old cathedral, but that's another story.

Although, Baby Gigantor (the current frontrunner for his name -- do you like it?) might be better off with something like these parking garage murals with controlled vantage points from Axel Peemoeller:

Any child of a self confessed control freak needs to learn how to take directions at an early age.