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An ensemble of suspended spheres dance in space. Each sphere orbits around a coil driven by an electromagnetic field that attracts or repels it. A probabilistic code controls the strength of each field in real-time. The field's fluctuations and the conditions of each systemódistance between spheres and coilsógenerate a seemingly random choreography characterized by subjacent emerging patterns. A set of displacements, turns, and orbits expressively reveal the alterations of the field, the ethereal ìmaterialî with which the sphere dialogs. Each system is complemented by a resonant rod tuned to slightly different frequencies. Eventually, the spheres contact the rods, generating delicate resonant sounds. The rods' resonances interact as they superimpose, creating subtle alterations in the resulting sonority. Through movements and sounds, the work elicits the inseparable relationship between our physical surroundings and the non-perceptible forces that govern the natural world.
I am who I am because of the people that came before me. I exist at the crossroads between the spiritual and physical world. The four moments of the sun (a symbol for the Kongo people) depicts the journey from conception, birth, maturity, and death. Together it shows the interconnection of life, and how we are intertwined with our ancestors. Life requires constant change and perpetual motion. God is Change.
New Beginnings is a portrait of my son using my own reference photographs, imagination, and live luna moths that we raised and studied. The use of the luna moth and rosemary is to symbolize transformation, renewal, regeneration, faith, love, remembrance, and clarity after overcoming the trials and tribulations of the pandemic. To date, this piece has been juried into the CPSA 31st International Exhibition, UKCPS Open International Exhibition, IGOR 2023 Fall Salon, the Allied Artists of America's 110th Exhibition at the Butler Institute of American Art, awarded first place graphics in AAPL Inc's 2023 Spring Member's Exhibition, awarded 3rd place professional division in Color Magazine's 24th Annual Member Show, and featured on a Times Square billboard in New York. I used many layers of Prismacolor, Holbein, and Polychromos colored pencils, no solvents, and 600 hours of work from sketch to finish. My goal was to use a vibrant, saturated, and painterly style to create a magical mood.
I love experimenting with perspective in art. One of the most challenging forms is called anamorphosis, which involves creating a distorted image that reveals itself when the image is reflected in a mirrored cylinder. A distortion of Salvador Dali's face made from several stained pieces of finely cut birch plywood, assembled onto a round table top. In the center is positioned a highly reflective column that, when viewed from an approximate 45 degree angle, reveals the un-distorted view of Dali's portrait.
Can text in digital space take us everywhere on the human map? This digital poem re-assembles a sentence spoken by Gabriel Iglesias on the documentary series Inside Jokes (2018) — 'And the next thing you know, there’s Mexicans in Canada.' The poem moves its reader across the world, through countries and territories, among its citizens, crossing borders. Nations and their demonymic forms are collected from Wikipedia. The script is written in p5.js.
Forty burnt books are presented on custom-made steel brackets jutting out from the wall at an angle similar to lecterns or rare book displays. They represent today’s undervaluing of education, the shift from analog to digital technologies, the fraught contextualization of our histories, and the destruction of knowledge. The tattered and charred pages are a visual representation of years of violence that are invisible but nevertheless have real consequences to our communities and our children’s futures. "40 Burnt Books" references the advent of the internet and the reduced reliance on books to transmit knowledge, for good or ill. Burning books is equivalent to censorship and a fear of spreading knowledge. One only burns or bans a book if the content is so offensive or dangerous to those in power. These books were already destined for the landfill, but now act as physical representations of censorship, historical wrongs, and ephemeral violence made real.
One Line Street is an ink drawing composed of one continuous line that never crosses its own path. The drawing of visual artist Overstreet "Street" Ducasse is first in the Pandemic series, which depicts ordinary people during the pandemic. Overstreet, like many visual artists, was hit hard by the pandemic. The T-shirt he is wearing, "DEEPpression", represents his work as an artist and a sign of the times. His neutral expression is a moment in time: the days following the onset of the pandemic and the premature closure of his solo show at the Cummer Museum in Jacksonville. Behind that neutral expression is all of the complexities and worries brought on by Covid and that is reflected by my choice of the one line abstraction; At first glance, the portrait appears to be a simple sketch, but draw closer -- or look within -- and the work appears as though it is a random squiggles, which represents the complex inner workings of the human mind -- or a mathematical problem.
When motion is inherent a story is unfolding. Rather than control a narrative, I invite the audience into a plot already in motion. The audience walks into the story without context, just as we encounter the complexity of our world. Is the lion a wild animal caught in the snare of the encroaching human civilization? Is it a symbol of masculinity, performing its identity with fragile bravado? Is it the desire for life itself that ripples through us all? This piece seeks to disrupt the gaze of the viewer, inviting the audience to question the projections that narrow our understanding of the world. I strive to render realism within the rigidity of stainless steel. All colors are achieved through heat, drawing forth a latent potential within the metal and transforming it into a new form that will never discolor. The transformed metal carries the complex weight of a creature that is both real and mythologized, its intrinsic power magnified by our projections and also endangered by them.
Growing up in the south in the 1970s I was completely unaware of the history of the public educational system in which I was enrolled. Only a few decades earlier young activists like Dorothy Counts took the brunt of abuse by racist community members who resisted school integration. I wasn’t introduced to the powerful images of her difficult journey to school until just a few years ago and was so moved by her stoicism and bravery in the face of the sheer mass of resistance. It feels important to revisit this image today, in light of the continued need to uproot the racist foundations of America. As some people still try to erase or whitewash our unpleasant past it's ever more important to look closely at inspiring moments of resistance like this one. It felt apt to use a material meant for children to create this piece. These microcosms of our culture, represent the cacophony of voices that are continually vying for our attention and distracting us from what’s important in our world.
At first glance, the boxing speed-ball appears playful—sugary sweet, even, given the mosaic of clay conversation hearts that enfold it. But more serious currents flow beneath its eye-catching veneer. While its central refrains—“Thanks” and “No Thanks”—are some of the simplest expressions available to us, their almost obsessive repetition lends them an ambiguous force. To what are they responding? The work is part of a series that challenges cultural myths and false narratives contributing to the sexual violence against Southeast Asian women in contemporary America. And more broadly the work is a repeated call to stop Anti-Asian Hate.
The pandemic brought all kinds of changes to our lives. While some of those changes were easier to assimilate than others, I found my stress and anxiety levels spike more frequently in this past year and a half. Maybe that's what inspired me to paint this portrait of my niece, her eyes closed, face glowing, serene, and peaceful. A gentle reminder to all of us to pause for a moment, breathe in deep, and find peace and light within ourselves. This painting is also a study in color theory. Her face is aglow in yellow light, while the shadows are tinted purple, yellow's complementary color. The pink atmosphere harmonizes the entirety of the painting.
‘I Lay Out a Bait’ is a recollection of my many struggles, from Nigeria to South Dakota, and now Georgia; all these places are landmarks in my many expeditions while fishing for success in my art career. Having been groomed in life lessons such as the power of endurance, persistence, strategy, and reward, fishing aptly represents a metaphor that guides my approach to life. By searching for and recycling found metal objects, I am bringing back to life, that which had been neglected, with the hope that there will be a catch at the end of the hook. Words cut out in metal and strewn at the back of the fish are fragments of a poem from my journal that highlights the metaphor of fishing as it relates to life.
Anna was determined to read, she secretly learned from a boy who visited her on Sunday afternoons. He wrote letters in the sand with a stick. “Why do you want to read?” he curiously asked. At first Anna shrugged, then she folded her arms. "I want to read myself free," voiced Anna. She is a character in my book, "Hidden Freedom." I often wondered how she looked during my research. Her hair began as an African style known as Bantu knots, however it changed as I painted. Anna would not be broken, so I wanted to portray it in her eyes. As an artist, I show the exclusions of the past, I include the daily lives of the other communities from history. They were resilient and had the will to be self-sufficient but were often denied certain rights.
Started in early February of 2020, this piece was originally a playful critique of decadence and capitalism; a Wesselmann vibe if Wesselmann was a 12-year-old girl with her 20-something-year-old aunt hanging pool side at her west central Georgia apartment complex in the late ‘80s. A few weeks into the piece, all restaurants in the country shut down due to COVID and I lost my job of two decades as a diner waitress. So did everyone I worked with. The shock was so severe that I couldn’t face a piece so playful. I longed for decadence, finding no fun in critiquing it. The piece sat half-finished for six months. Once I could work on it again, protests were active across the country and fires had engulfed American cities. I added the row of marchers and was able the complete the piece with that ever-lasting, hot and rebellious American energy in mind.
The bedrock of my artwork is rediscovering worth in the broken, overlooked and forgotten. While bringing found objects together, I build a whole that is greater than any single fragment, creating connection and warmth in a world typically cold and divided. "Grace" wrestles with identifying worth where it is often overlooked. While visiting a southern Black history museum in 2019, I noticed many archives focus predominately on men, leaving women unnamed and unattributed. How many women were just as impactful as prominent male leaders, yet left out of history? I thought about the Black women in my life who are doubtless en route to change the world. Why wait to recognize them? My friend Grace is one of these powerful women, so I asked if I could honor her. Grace and I conversed throughout each step of building the artwork, her input and wisdom embodying the unnamed, unheard Black women throughout history. My ultimate goal for this work is to amplify the voices beyond my own.
I strive to create a warning to the human race that we are liable for our own actions, including those which affect the world we live in. Long after we are gone, nature will not only thrive, but consume the ruins of human existence to spawn new ecosystems for the evolution of a multitude of burgeoning life forms. Living on Earth is analogous to renting an apartment, if we are bad tenants and disrespect someone else's property, the landlord will eventually evict us. Mother Nature, God, or any other concept one may have as the ruling entity of the structure of life as we know it could be thought of as this proprietor. That being said, how can we possibly expect anything other than eviction with the way we are treating another's property? Nature will always and quickly find a better tenant once it has a vacant residence. Humans will be the sole entities who will rightfully pay the price if we do not do everything possible to curtail the damage we impart on our terrestrial home.
Through sculpture and assemblage, my work explores the array of complexities experienced by individuals within the gay community. I create work to reveal internal and external resentments with a variety of mediums and symbolism. As a tribute and a memoir, my practice touches on feelings that resonate personally and universally. I hope for viewers to engage with the work emotionally, and to question their own similar or dissimilar experiences. My work is merely a glimpse into the often unknown or unrecognized struggles of being gay. This piece is a tribute to the 49 victims of the Pulse tragedy on June 12th, 2016.
I am a interdisciplinary visual artist from Finland. My work focuses on themes of time, memory, and human experience. I draw inspiration from my personal history and observations. This body of work is an investigation of the memories and experiences of displacement. As a foreigner, I often find myself in a strange space between the familiar and the unfamiliar. I use various three-dimensional media to explore and depict these experiences, especially as they relate to my personal history. I overlap dreams and memories, varying the media and shifting scale, so that the line between reality and dreams gets blurred and one becomes both a viewer and a part of the installation simultaneously. Each piece represents a memory or a dream sequence that I have experienced and each sculpture is a vital piece of the puzzle, containing a bit of familiarity, suspension, and mystery - mirroring the complex nature of the human experience and psyche.
My work stems from the loss of both my mother and father due to smoking related cancers in February of 2013. Their passing left a deep void in my life that led to my interest in Memento Mori, or the act of coming to terms with ones own mortality. Through this investigation I came to terms with the trauma of my childhood and the lack of memories I actually have. Picture frames are usually reserved for those most cherished memories: a family outing, birthdays, weddings, or holiday get togethers. They rarely encapsulate the most important events: a death in the family, trauma, or abuse. My work seeks to investigate these moments as they force us to make decisions, decisions that lead to life changing events. We either rise to the occasion or sink into despair.
I discovered wire the day I made my first wire face. So for me wire and faces are inseparable, like taste to the tongue. I'm not a portrait artist; my work is less about the subject than it is about the very act of creation. I speak only in wire, and faces are my language. But how to explain the longevity of my artistic project now in its twenty eighth year? It's because the reward keeps increasing with every sculpture. Wire, the most innocuous item found in the back of every junk drawer, is a medium with potential that has only barely been tapped. With every new sculpture I'm building on my discoveries from the last sculpture. "Luminous," my latest creation, represents my most honest attempt at taking a thing of no significance, and working it till it moves the viewer. Somehow by humanizing a medium that is so easily discarded, I feel a closer connection to my fellows, as in prayer. I leave the studio with a deep sense of our collective humanity and a profound feeling of optimism.
This is a current exploration of personal and familial histories through an archiving of objects and the personal mythologies associated with these objects. This work examines the collecting of heirloom objects as a means of identity construction and the building of personal, familial and community history as counter-narrative to American history, re-centering black female subjectivity. My installations, collage and photographs address issues attendant to the black body. I use nontraditional materials and their juxtaposition to each other, and or dissimilar objects to make statements about the body and its relationship to larger cultural themes of age, gender, race, sexuality, history, and violence. I consider memory, myth, ritual, desire and the spaces the body occupies within these vignettes. This proposal will use these elements to explore current national dialogue around sexual abuse.
For several years I have used my family’s vintage photographs to make paintings based on the iconography and ideals of Medieval and Renaissance altarpieces and manuscripts. I use 22k gold leaf and egg tempera on wooden panels and sometimes-animal skin (vellum). After my dismay and depression over the November 2016 election I began to substitute photographs of Trump, his administration, family, associates, tweets and quotes into existing manuscripts and altarpieces that depict, illuminate or illustrate what I believe is the shallow and corrupt nature of his government. It has been illuminating to me how so many of these imperial and grand images from Medieval and Renaissance European royalty relate to our present situation. Some things never change.
“Sometimes, stretched at ease in the shade of a roadside tree, we watch the motions of a laborer in a distant field, and after a time, begin to wonder languidly as to what the fellow may be at. We watch the movements of his body, the waving of his arms, we see him bend down, stand up, hesitate, begin again. It may add to the charm of an idle hour to be told the purpose of his exertions. If we know he is trying to lift a stone, to dig a ditch, to uproot a stump, we look with a more real interest at his efforts; we are disposed to condone the jar of his agitation upon the restfulness of the landscape; and even, if in a brotherly frame of mind, we may bring ourselves to forgive his failure. We understood his object, and, after all, the fellow has tried, and perhaps he had not the strength, and perhaps he had not the knowledge. We forgive, go on our way, and forget. And so it is with the workman of art.” - Joseph Conrad Preface - The Nigger of the Narcissus. 1897
Each mosaic I do is a new journey into creativity. This wonderful art form can be used in both indoors and outdoors. In addition to the traditional mosaic tesserae (tile) I use other materials such as beads, shells, bone, ceramic pieces and found objects. Laying mosaic pieces in specific arrangements, taking into consideration, size, shape, color and texture is therapeutic. It is interesting to see how individual parts of a mosaic blend into the background or stand out, drawing the eyes attention. Art creates a powerful dialogue and provokes the viewer to ponder its message.
This work is part of a series of policeman, firefighters and US marines represeting how to show security, but in a spiritual way. The soldier is projecting more security when he gives peace and not violence, than by using his M16. This is not a particular person depicted. We all can be more powerful and safe through our spiritual practices, rather than by force This series of works came about in response to the disconnection we have as one human race, in religions, races, social status, rich, and poor. I wanted to show the unity of life through what we have established as protection or security.
As technology advances, it becomes an integral part of the everyday, inevitably affecting and changing our reality. My work responds to interactions with the screen or this other space as an entrance to the psychological. I create installations that function alongside video to investigate and critique the formation of the self as it relates to larger societal issues. Each installation is unique, acting as a response to the spatial-environment and a metaphor for the ever-changing self. The objects and materials present, whether deconstructed, over-turned, or covered in paint, point to a larger thematic whole. Comforts of ordinary life, like that of a chair or bedding have been fragmented, exposing what lies beneath the surface. This metaphor is a signifier of the brain, which not only forms the complex human, but also at times enslaves or fails in basic understanding and coping mechanisms. Televisions display personal accounts of obsessive-compulsive behaviors situated next to brightly-colored, home-interiors, employing tension as a tool in my work. This provides an experience that spans throughout time and space, shifting away from the art object and uplifting this no-place, place, situated among memories created and imagined. The work aims to align the audience with the subject matter, in turn relativizing their situation as part of the whole. Various media are used to reflect daily interactions and internal struggles between media, technology and the individual.
When my family and I lived on the farm, we always had different kinds of trees. Our favorites were the walnut and pecan trees. The trees were like our playground while we enjoyed the bounty it provided. Many textures were used in my painting. For the bark of the tree, I used pine cones, because I wanted a tactile 3-D look; for the little girls' hair, I used unraveled yarn, chick peas for the walnuts, and acrylic paint for the overall flow of painting. With this painting, Heritage, I wanted to depict not only the 15 siblings, but the other additional six siblings who had passed away. This is my recognition to my family in this life and the afterlife. I know they were always with us, growing up with us and playing alongside us. As you can see, the subdued night sky is the veil between worlds bridging the reality beyond this world. The tree has always represented life and family. Its roots deep within the Earth represent our connection to Mother Earth. Its branches represent so much more forever reaching up to the sky, reaching up to "God" or the "Universe." Heritage not only represents my family, but the families of the world. Everyone has a "family tree" which is their heritage. In discovering and honoring our heritage, we can see how connected we really are. We get to move forward in love and respect with the heart of a child.
This piece explores the use of a material that women consider no longer useful. I watched around 50 different women throw thousands of dollars worth into ziplock bags for me to create this portrait. The makeup was deemed either empty, too old, or just not pretty. I was interested in recycling the makeup in a way that it was intended to be used (to cover a face), but simultaneously does something you wouldn't expect makeup to do. The pieces and tubes became my brushstrokes to add up to an "Unpainting." Conceptually, the image raises a lot of questions that I'm still pondering. Why do women wear makeup? What do we gain; what do we lose? Does it reveal something about someone or conceal it? Is its purpose to cover up, emphasize, or imply youth? Is this specific makeup on this board an answer to these questions? Maybe it's that we are all empty, too old, or just not pretty. Don't ask me, I just made this up.
In February of 2013, I lost both my mother and father two weeks apart from each other to smoking-related cancers. It was a devastating time in my life, but I channeled my grief into the conceptual ideas of my work. Cancer is a disease that is a perfectly structured killer; it is beautiful in its architecture but grotesque in its eventuality. I began to think about nostalgia, longing for a childhood I never had, and parents that I needed. My recent work is an exploration of the escapisms I used as a child to escape my everyday reality. I repurpose retro-pop culture VHS from my childhood to re-envision the movies and fiction that became my surrogate parents and allowed me to find order from my chaos, beauty from destruction, and hope for more joyous times.
At the intersection between generations, things are lost. Domestic items lose their potency in daily life, and rarely are objects created, manufactured, or bought with intentions to spend a quality amount of time with them, care for them, and pass them along to younger generations. The work I create is a reaction to this reality. Contemporary society is consumed with disposability, and people are no longer connected to the objects that aid in their sustenance. Making objects formed with touch, labor, and time, imbued with value and worth counterpoints this disposability—the objects I create patiently wait to be discovered and enjoyed, retained, and later passed on to others.
In 2014, my wife spent nine months in West Africa on the front lines of the Ebola response. She lead a surveillance team trying to identify “contacts,” who are persons who may have come into contact with an infected person. The man in this painting was among these “contacts.” He and several others from a small village in rural Sierra Leone had direct contact with a boy who became infected with Ebola and died. He knew the boy since his birth and wrapped the boy’s body before burial. This is the moment when he learned that his act of love and respect put him in danger of Ebola. This is the moment when he learned that he was now a “contact,” and for the next 21 days, a stranger would visit him each day to look for signs of the disease that had already killed thousands in his country. This is Contact Tracing and one of the most critical elements to stem the tide of an epidemic.
I build worlds from the most common and least known material: paper. The ritual of hand papermaking is ancient, scientific, and rhythmic. I merge this science with the unknown by air-drying my pieces: the paper shrinks, twists and cockles, forming three-dimensional shapes more subtle than I could design. My paper forms revert to their botanical origins; I make plants from plants. Oversized and immersive, diminutive and whimsical, my pieces dilate the natural world and bring it inside.
Night after night in New Orleans, I saw our youth give their blood to the streets. How could I sit silently on the sidelines as the foundations of life were shattered by gun shots? I was faced with a choice. In my art, will I contribute to a Culture of Life, or will I allow the Culture of Death to prevail? My drawings are an account of the Culture of Life, the greatest alternative to both violence and the Culture of Death. My mission is to actively contribute to New Orleans’ reduction in homicide through artistic expression by supporting and glorifying people who use nonviolence to confront violence, those who help build a life-affirming culture and who are noble role models for our community. I tell their story so that the larger New Orleans community can model their character and deeds and participate in building peace in New Orleans.
In terms of 2-D compositions as well as 3-D constructions, Bretta’s artworks reflect her efforts to resolve the problem of establishing structurally sound and accurate space within simulated atmospheres and venues. Her artworks also express the analytical processes used to resolve these problems while creating various concepts. She visually interprets and represents each element in a manner that will enhance visual sensations and enrich the overall visual experience. In terms of subject, her artworks reflect her Christian beliefs, concerns, and doctrines. She views her artworks as a “Visionary Christian Art Ministry.” It is her intention to visually communicate unique atmospheres through the depictions of Biblical themes, personas, vistas, historical moments and future projections. Her visual interpretations of the scriptures are generally representational in appearance. She believes that her artworks will share the Gospel and provide an oasis of visual refreshment for humanity.
“Sisters Under a Canopy of Oaks” was taken on a dirt road on St. Helena Island, SC during a family vacation. The photo was taken on an almost unbearably hot and muggy day in August. My daughters cooperated beautifully when I suddenly told them to hop out and walk down the road so I could take a photo of them in this amazingly beautiful setting. When our girls saw this photo, they begged to submit it to Artfields. They have loved attending Artfields for the past two years, and they like to dream about the art that they could create and submit.
Creating art is a wondrous journey from the conception of a juicy idea to the final aesthetics; it’s what propels our spirits as creative beings!
With a whimsical and colorful and nod to contemporary culture, our mixed media installation “”Consume”” turns discarded plastic into a swirling school of fabulous, funky fish. As you walk around the installation you become part of the art. We hope to encourage the use of non-traditional art materials and to also spark dialog about post-consumerism waste and the plight of our oceans and fish due to plastics. After all, as the old saying goes, “You are what you eat!”
Sun Boxes is an environment for one to enter and exit. It’s a system that improvises with Mother Nature. The sound of Sun Boxes is loud enough to engulf the listener but there is also enough space for ambient sounds of the environment to enter the mix such as; birds, traffic, wind, waves… It’s the perfect combination of technology and nature that create art, an environment.
Participants are encouraged to walk amongst the speakers, and surround themselves with the piece. Allowing the audience to move around the piece will create a unique experience for everyone. Sun Boxes is not just one composition, but, many. There are no batteries involved, so Sun Boxes is reliant on the sun. Clouds, participants and various amounts of sunlight all contribute to the consistent evolution of the piece.
This tapestyry was inspired by French neoclassical portraiture but with a twist…tattooing her face with a floral motif and adding crystal beadwork to the surface of the portrait.
Family Dollar General Tree grew out of project I started after our move to New Orleans in 2010. The original project, titled Wreck (http://www.flickr.com/photos/bobsnead/sets/72157625864777981/), was a recreation of a car accident I witnessed on my first days in the city and it became a metaphor for our move-feeling as if we’d crashed landed with no clear plan. While developing the installation with the cardboard boxes we used for the move, I became obsessed with the corporate branding that covered the exteriors. Because of a prevalence of Dollar Stores in my neighborhood, I began collecting and building from their cardboard refuse with the goal of creating a closed circuit infinite loop of Uroboros, where the trash of Dollar Stores goes back into the production of a Dollar Store. The project cynically comments on the illusion of infinite resources that box stores project, while also wholeheartedly embracing the forms that shape our domestic life with meticulously handcrafted products.
This is a part of a series of images of actual slaves from a larger ongoing exhibition that deals with various aspects of southern ‘Plantation’ life.