What do Yoruba costumes, Cindy Sherman, and giant sculptural sunglasses have in common? They’re all part of a new installation put together by fashion designer Duro Olowu (he doesn’t use the term curated). It all started with his mother.
Should collage artists worry about papers fading over time? This question was prompted by a hugely informative post by artist/teacher Nancy Nikkal about the recent Robert Motherwell exhibition at MOMA — which I blogged about in “How Robert Motherwell Lost His Dada Cred.”
So…did Motherwell coat his papers on both sides with PVA? I don’t think they even had PVA in 1946. But should I be using it now?
Not being an art school grad, I have wondered about this issue. Some collage instruction books tell you it’s essential to protect your papers unchanged for eternity. Was I being too lackadaisical about this? Continue reading
Mesuli Mamba is prison warden and collage artist in Swaziland, South Africa. That’s where he grew up. Mamba first learned about art from his father’s collection of Reader’s Digest — which he still mines for collage materials, along with drawings, poetry texts, and glossy magazines (which can be hard to get).
The 34-year-old says: ” “Being a prison warden is tough. Real tough. But once you get used to it, you get to know the people in your community—we’re supposed to call them inmates but they’re just my machita [guys]. They don’t know about my collages yet.”
SHOP scrambled spells POSH————–and if your budget allows you to go really posh, then visit some galleries and actually buy collage art!
If not…I’ve collected a few collagey items which are mostly easy on the budget.
The exception is the Alex and Lee scarf above, from the “Dream Mandala” collection based on their Rorschach collages. There are nine different patterns (the one above is Turquoise Mosaic).
You can get these in square or rectangular in silk or modal/wool for $250 each at Cavalier Goods.
Now on to some more modest purchases and real steals.
A cafe in Paris, 1925. Suddenly, a little guy with a monocle jumps up at his table, crying “Follow me.” A “prime collection of zanies” leap to their feet, dashing out without paying for their coffee.
Out in the streets of Paris, the monocled guy—–like the Pied Piper———-leads the rest. “Solemnfaced,” they march, “executing a number of idiotic maneuvers.” All the while, they’re chanting: Dada, Dada, Dada.”
It’s been called another Versailles. Or the Disneyland of the future. It’s Inhotim——-a huge art complex and botanical park in southeastern Brazil. Privately owned, it’s got international art star installations and 12,000 varieties of palm trees. Miguel Rio Branco has his own pavilion there.
Rio Branco is a Brazilian photographer whose work, though stunning, is usually too seamy for me. Among his favorite subjects are prostitutes —————not exactly Disney. He describes the essence of his work this way: “… being in paradise, yet having something absolutely terrible taking place.”
Say you’re planning a show of antique children’s costumes. You know, Little Red Riding Hood. Martha Washington. A Maltese water carrier. But you want to jazz it up a little———–after all, this is 2013. Who you gonna call?