32 Sq. Feet of Inky Commie Zombie Goodness

Well, it's that time of the year again, when Dennis McNett, one of my printmaking teachers a Pratt, rents a big ol' steamroller, and we spend a day printing large (really large) woodblock prints out behind Steuben Studios at Pratt. This is the third year in a row he puts this together, and for various and sundry reasons I've never been able to participate. Last year I told myself that this year I would do it, and lo and behold, it's coming together. Swing by Pratt's Brooklyn campus on 11 April if you want to see some bad ass printmaking action. With steamrollers. Steamrollers!

The requirements are simple: the block has to be no smaller than 4 feet by 8 feet, you have to bring a can of ink, and you have to be there all day to help others print their work (there is no way to do this alone- it's very much a collaborative thing).

I started sketching last weekend, and here is a modified crop of the final composition. I finally locked down a piece of MDF board to use (thanks Julia!), and I start carving this weekend. I'll be spending all my free time in the basement of Steuben Studio until I'm done or until April 11, whichever comes first.

I wanted to do something whimsical, with a tongue-in-cheek quality, but dark and sciecne fiction-y, or at the very least supernatural. After sitting on it for a few days, and toying with ideas that ranged from space-pirates, to Cylons (of course), to post-apocalyptic cityscapes, I settled on zombies. When in doubt, look to the undead for inspiration. That's gonna be my motto from now on. As I started sketching, I realized that my zombie had the look and pose of one of those aspirational figures from old communist propaganda posters, so I'm running with that, in terms of the type treatment. Zombies AND politics! We'll see how it all turns out.

I decided I wanted to sketch this out on the computer, using my Wacom tablet. This is the first piece I've ever done that has started life completely in the copmuter (and with no photo reference), from scratch. I'm very pleased with the results so far. Once you get over the hump of getting the feel for how the tablet responds to your strokes, and how they translate into the computer, it's all downhill from there. The advantages of working on a Mac as opposed to a piece of paper should be obvious (the Undo command and the History pallette in Photoshop are my good, good friends).

Once the sketch is finished I'll tile-print the artwork on a laser printer, and transfer it to the board using either vegetable oil, or I might just spray mount the paper onto the board, and carve through it. We'll see what works best. I also want to print on a red sheet, and possibly go at the sheet with a can of yellow spray paint to get the two-color thing going.

I'll post pictures of the work in progress as it ...em... progresses. And I'll definitely post pictures from the steamroller sessions. It's gonna be so. much. fun!

Alphonse Mucha's Slav Epic

From Making Light, co-workers Patrick & Teresa Nielsen Hayden's blog, I was directed to Mucha's Slav Epic.

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a deep, deep love of Mucha's ouvre. His figure work, his linework, and his sense of space are only surpassed by his skill as a master draughtsman. Throughout the years, Mucha has informed my personal artwork –in one way or another, and in varying degrees of intensity– more than any other artist, hands-down.

I wasn't aware that this body of work existed- much less that Mucha himself considered it his masterpiece. The above link has a great historical background on the series, as well as detailed analysis of each painting. While a far cry from the stylistic mannerisms of his poster work, this series of paintings are beautiful in and of themselves. I hope to be able to see them one day, if I ever make it to the former Czech Republic.

Heads up! Cannonball Press in the house!

Cannonball Press is home to some of the most badass woodcut and letterpress work I've ever seen. Martin Mazorra and Mike Houston's work is pure rock and roll. So I was very excited to find this invite in my Inbox today. I'm gonna be there. You should be too.

CANNONBALL PRESS
Treasure of the Black and White Brigand
A Tale of Lost Loot Spanning the Centuries, told in woodcuts

January 16th – February 10th, 2007

OPENING RECEPTION:
THURSDAY, January 18th, 6-8pm

David Krut Projects
526 West 26th Street, #816
New York, NY 10001
212.255.3094
www.davidkrut.com

Old Man's War and The Ghost Brigades

I've just finished reading Old Man's War and The Ghost Brigades, by John Scalzi (one of Tor's authors, and the man behind The Whatever). What a ride! These books rock. Scalzi rocks. Period.

The premise of the Old Man's War Universe is simple: In the future, humanity has taken to the stars, and discovered that the neighborhood is rough. Human colonists must compete for interstellar real estate with many other alien races, who seem to like to compete with ordinance, as opposed to basketballs. War is expensive, and uses up warm bodies -even in the future- so earthlings are encouraged to enlist to protect the colonies, but only after their 75th birthday. Yes, that's right, seventy-cinco. Because in the future, they've got the body-swap/conciousness transfer thing down to a science.

Scalzi's world-building is on point; he's got his shit all worked out, but he knows just when to give it to you. His pacing is nice and tight, moving you along the plot all while giving you your expository stuff in nice manageable dollops. Fans of Robert Heinlein will totally dig these books. Old Man's War feels like a one-shot novel, because while the foundations for the larger story were there, it has a very satisfying ending. Considering it was Scalzi's first novel, that makes sense. The Ghost Brigades, on the other hand, while still being a self-contained story, really drops a hell of a cliffhanger on ya towards the end.
It's a good thing we just got the first shipment of The Last Colony, the third -and I believe, final, but I could be wrong- installment in the series into the office.

The covers for all three books are illustrated by John Harris. His spacescapes are awe-inspiring, they reflect the grandeur implicit in the themes that Scalzi works with in these books. To quote Irene Gallo, Harris' illustrations "resonate a sense of awe and scope, a kind of 'big picture' science fiction." Indeed. His loose, gestural style also gives off a kineticisim which echoes the fast-paced action in these books. A great pairing of illustrator with author, in my opinion.

The Rijksmuseum, or: The early bird don't stand in no queue.

Woke up very early this morning, and hopped on the tram down to the Rijksmuseum. Like the Stedelijk, it is undergoing major renovations. I took the tram more out of curiosity (or laziness), as the museum is walking distance from my hotel. Their ticketing system is strange: a long strip of paper, which you feed into a punch-system on the tram car. Theoretically, you could get by without purchasing or punching your ticket, but for the ever-present conductor walking up and down the tram car looking at people's tickets. Sure makes me pine for the Metrocard.

Due to the temporary accomodations at the Rijksmuseum, very few works out on display, mostly Rembrandts, Vermeers, etc. Most of the temporary exhibit focused on paintings by lesser-known artists which give a historical context to the Dutch Golden Age, which was fine by me, as I'm currently riding a post-Barroque Cycle 17th & 18th century kick. Some interesting paintings by Fredrick Boll caught my eye (until recently, some of these had been mistakenly attributed to Rembrandt, as Boll was one of his pupils). I was surprised at the small scale of the Vermeers in general, they always felt like they would be much larger, particularly 'The Love Letter'. That being said, it was amazing to be standing up close and personal with these works, and due to the fact that I got there early, it wasn't too crowded yet. 'The Nightwatch' was on display, of course, at the end of the exhibit. Again, it's not as imposing a painting as I supposed– I was expecting something physically larger (not that the actual 'Nightwatch' is not large, in and of itself, but I guess I've picked apart this painting so many times in dark art history classes as a huge projection on a lecture hall wall, that seeing it in person was a bit anti-climactic (I'm sure this has to do with the way it was hung, too. The museum has been relegated to a tiny corner of the building while renovations are in full effect). Regardless, seeing all the paintings up close was definitely worth it. It's such a different experience when you can appreciate the painting up close, and get a feel for the artist's hand, the quality of the brushstroke, etc.

I was lucky to arrive at the museum early, and by the time I got to 'The Nightwatch', it was starting to get a bit crowded. Once outside, I said a little "Hellz yeah" at having gotten there so early– the line to get into the museum was now snaking around the block.

I walked around for a while, taking in this more upscale part of the city. Many high-end shops around the Museumsplein area, hoping to reel in the more 'cultured' –and affluent– tourists, as opposed to the hippies, stoners, college students, and general plebe of the more kitschy and souvenir shop–infested Centruum. I briefly toyed with the idea of going into the Van Gogh museum, but after taking a look at the long-ass line to get in, I reconsidered: Van Gogh isn't really one of my favourites, certainly not enough to stand in line for two hours waiting to get into a crowded museum, only to be jostled around inside by boorish tourists wielding cameras of all shapes and sizes. If I had one more day, and could get there early, as I did for the Rijksmuseum, then it would be fine. As it stands, van Gogh can wait for me until I come back.

Tonight, I'm gonna roll by the Vankrijk, a squatter bar recommended by my friend Ben. They don't open until 22:00, so in the meantime I'm going to go check out the opening of a small gallery exhibit at Artis, entitled 'Rembrandt Re-mixed'. As the name implies, the show consists of contemporary Dutch artists' taking imagery by Rembrandt and re-mixing it into new work. Should be interesting.

Stedelijk Museum

I went to the Stedelijk Museum this morning, particularly to see the Pierre Bernard exhibit, celebrating his winning the Erasmus Prize for 2006. The Erasmus Prize is awarded annually to a person who, within the structure of European cultural traditions, has made an exceptionally important contribution in the realms of culture, society or the social sciences.

Most of the work on display was either posters or identity work. That being said, there were some gems on the poster wall (the exhibit was hung salon-style), particularly a poster entitled 'Apartheid Racisme'. The ID section featured work for the Louvre and the Parcs nationaux (the French national parks system). For both the Louvre and the Parcs they had all of the branding and identity work, which was comprehensive, particularly for the Parcs job. They had a standards manual for Parcs on display, which is fascinating to leaf through (if you're into that sort of thing).

The rest of the museum wasn't bad, keeping in mind that they're at a temporary location while renovating (similar to the MoMA until last year), and most of their big work is in storage. They had some contemporary stuff up, some of which was interesting, particularly 'Facts, Fictions and Stories: Two projects by Broomberg & Chanarin', a series of photo-essays on life after apartheid in South Africa, and another photo-essay about a training ground in Chicago for the Israeli Defense Forces. Yes, Chicago. I didn't know about it either. Go figure.

Rembrandt House

After the Maritime Museum, I walked over to the Rembrandt House museum. This is Rembrandt's home, which he bought in 1639 and had to sell in 1656 when he went bankrupt. The inventory that was compiled in 1656 because of Rembrandt’s bankruptcy enabled the museum to work out how the house was laid out during this period and how Rembrandt had used the different rooms. Some of Rembrandt’s drawings and etchings provided additional information.

In addition, the museum houses around 260 of the 290 print editions he made, including some original worked copper plates (!), which were great to see. I got to take a picture of the wooden press they have set up in what was Rembrandt's print shop (which is used by the museum to do etching demos! There were some prints drying when I looked in, but no demo today) before the guard told me that pictures were not allowed. No biggie; with the possible exception of the painter's pallete in the thrid-floor studio (in which the museum also holds paint mixing demos), the rest of the house is pretty ho-hum. Small, steep staircase. Very little furniture. People apparently slept in boxes with bedding in them, that they would close up during the day. Pretty interesting, actually.

On the third floor they had a temporary exhibit entitled Tour de France. It collects drawings by Rembrandt's student Lambert Doomer and his friend Willem Schellinks, made during a trip along the River Loire in 1646. The collection is considered one of the best visual records of the countryside at that time.

The one, the only....

Mariela Álvarez Xiloj. Designer, illustrator, photographer par excellence, and one of my favourite people in the world. Check out her work here, but don't steal any of her images, dammit. She works hard for her pics.

Oh, Fiona!

So the Ninja quietly walks into the house the other day with a wild, open-eyed expression, clutching a catalogue from the PaceWildenstein gallery. "You've got to check this out, dude", and he hands me the cat... it's for the recently closed Fiona Rae exhibit, "You are the Young and Hopeless" which, I'm sorry to say, I didn't find out about until after it closed.
This stuff is so, so, so off the hook. Check out the online gallery, and bear in mind that it dooesn't hold a candle to the printed catalogue, which, in turn, I'm sure doesn't hold a candle to the actual paintings. Oh well.