Category: Art

“To have something be uncanny, you must first introduce the familiar,” says Lizzie Gill. Likening her compositions to a dining table’s place settings, the artist paints elaborate still lifes that explore the matriarchal lineages and how objects passed down shift in meaning over time.

The vivid works feature flat backdrops met by boldly striped or floral linens and a menagerie of animals seized by fresh blooms. A marble and dust emulsion, which Gill layers on the acrylic-painted panel with a baker’s piping tool, adds a life-like texture to the petals. She also utilizes an image-transfer process to translate various pieces from her mother’s porcelain collection, further enmeshing her works in domestic traditions.

The still life, Gill says, is her preferred platform for exploring the tenets of Surrealism and what it means to be a steward. In “Lunar Still Life (Avec L’hippopotame),” for example, long stems coil around an animated porcelain seal and hippo rendered in delicate blue and white. “Still Life With Four Cerulean Vessels” is similarly lively as a miniature fox with a vine wrapped around its torso wanders across the tablescape.

Decorating the vases are unlikely scenes depicting volcanic eruptions, rocket launches, and even a menacing twister ripping across the terrain. Embellishing antique forms with contemporary imagery, the works juxtapose the calm propriety associated with domestic spaces and world-changing, explosive actions generated by both humans and nature.

Based in Sharon, Connecticut, Gill is currently researching historic textiles for upcoming works, and those shown here are on view in her solo exhibition Paraphernalia through April 26 at Hesse Flatow. Follow the latest on Instagram.

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People have lived in the area around modern-day Glacier Bay National Park, along Alaska’s rugged southern coastline, for at least around 3,000 years. Nearby, in Groundhog Bay, evidence of human habitation extends back a mindboggling 9,000-or-more years.

In the mid-18th century, advancing glaciers forced ancestral Huna Tlingit people to abandon their homes. While they could visit certain areas occasionally to hunt and fish, the evolving conditions and ice prevented them from living there. And when the area was designated a national monument in 1925, it seemed possible the displacement would be permanent.

“I never, ever thought that I would ever see the day, in my lifetime, that Tlingits could return to the Homeland,” says local resident Jeff Skaflestad in the opening of the National Park Service’s short film, “Sanctuary for the Future.” But in 2016, thanks to many years’ work and a collaboration between the National Park Service and the Hoonah Indian Association—the tribal government of the Huna Tlingit clans—Xunaa Shuká Hít marked a momentous homecoming.

Both a space for tribal ceremonies and a nexus of living history, the house is a sacred place for the Indigenous community that also provides visitors the opportunity to learn about Huna Tlingit culture, history, and oral traditions.

Xunaa Shuká Hít, which roughly translates to “Huna Ancestors’ House,” was brought to life by three Tlingit craftsmen: Gordon Greenwald, Owen James, and Herb Sheakley, Sr., who spent countless hours carving their ancestors’ stories into meticulously selected trees and wooden panels.

In a large carving shed in nearby Hoonah, Alaska, the artisans, along with occasional help from friends and neighbors, worked on totem poles, boats, oars, and architectural details. “Having Elders come in and talk with us, just to share with us, that was a highlight of my days,” James says. Sheakley adds that as they began carving, it was an obvious decision to make their own tools, too, as a way of connecting to time-honored traditions.

From his mountainside studio in Nova Friburgo, Brazil, Guy Laramée (previously) creates otherworldly sculptures that mirror nearby peaks like Pico da Caledônia. Using a unique method of blasting antique books with high-pressure water and stripping them of their covers, he manipulates the bound text blocks into craggy cliff faces and rocky promontories.

When viewed from certain angles, each sculpture’s identity as volumes of text nearly vanishes as we perceive mountains in miniature. As one moves around the pieces, the rigid form of stitched binding appears or printed pages ruffle and hint and the contents.

Laramée’s sculptures tread the line between object and landscape, juxtaposing themes of knowledge, history, and archives with geology, time, and the environment. The artist often employs dictionaries and encyclopedias, which constantly evolve and require updates, exploring the tension between physical representations of information and learning and our relationship with the natural world.

The works shown here are part of Laramée’s online exhibition presented by JHB Gallery, Livros, which continues through May 4. Find more on the artist’s website.

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Through intimate, mixed-media collages, Stan Squirewell excavates the stories of those who might otherwise be lost in anonymity. The artist gathers images from the Smithsonian’s archives and from friends and family that he then reinterprets with vibrant prints and patterns. Layering unknown pasts with present-day additions, Squirewell explores how everyday traditions and rituals remain through generations.

His new body of work, Robitussin, Hotcombs & Grease, invokes ubiquitous items like the over-the-counter decongestant and hair care. “Growing up, I was shaped by elders around me, and everyday objects like Robitussin, hotcombs, and grease became vessels for the rituals that anchored me to my heritage,” the artist says. “These items transcend their mundane uses: they embody traditions passed down through generations, grounding me in a collective identity.”

Squirewell cuts and collages images and fabrics from his collection before photographing the composition, which then undergoes a digital editing process. An elaborate frame complements each piece with charred shou sugi ban edges—a Japanese burning technique—and hand-carved details. The sides bear various inscriptions connecting past and present, including lines from Langston Hughes’ poems and glyphs from ancestral African languages that have fallen out of use.

Because the identities and histories of many of the subjects are unknown, Squirewell’s work adds a new relevance to their images. How have daily, domestic practices and the legacies of previous generations informed the present? And how do these traditions create a broader collective experience? Rooted in these questions, the dignified works become reliquaries that honor what’s been passed down and how that continues to inform life today.

Robitussin, Hotcombs & Grease is on view through May 24 at Claire Oliver Gallery in Harlem. Find more from Squirewell on Instagram.

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In Tarogramma, the imaginary world conceived by Damien Cifelli (previously) as a setting for his vibrant paintings, plants are plentiful, but animals don’t exist. The landscapes are as diverse and enigmatic as its inhabitants, who commune with bodies of water, traverse the desert in a suit, and size up an enigmatic object on a dinner plate.

Cifelli’s stylish figures investigate their environment to try to understand their place within it. Many of the paintings shown here were recently exhibited at Spinello Projects in Miami, emphasizing the artist’s recent focus on analyzing what life is like in this fictive world.

“In Tarogramma, symbols are imbued with disassociated meanings unrelated to what we think they could be,” says a statement for his show. “Iconography, such as flags or emblems, represent regions that exist not as physical places but as ideas or states of mind.” This world is devoid of ethnic, cultural, or gender hierarchies, and identity is fluid and chosen, which encourages constant transformation.

Occasionally, Cifelli’s paintings reference famous artworks like “Wanderer before the Sea of Ice,” which nods to German Romanticist artist Caspar David Friedrich’s 1818 painting, “Wanderer Above a Sea of Fog.” Capturing the solipsism of the 19th-century work, Cifelli translates the view into an arctic scene of jagged ice, with the central figure wearing a coat decorated in symbols evocative of biological forms.

Explore more on Cifelli’s website and Instagram.

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Arranged by size and hue, the blooms in Krzysztof Grzybacz’s large-scale oil paintings appear in comfortable togetherness, each individual’s features amplified by its placement next to those that differ. His Floral Compositions series organizes the flowers against swaths of green fabric, exploring their potent symbolism.

Grzybacz taps into the age-old tradition of flowers in oil, rendering their petals and stems in vibrant hues that capture their unique outlines and textures. Rooted in still life, his compositions are underpinned by abstraction and the artist’s fascination with layering and perspective.

The works in Grzybacz’s current solo exhibition at Galeria Dawid Radziszewski also reference the queer community. “Flowers are like people: they pose, search for their own space, and mark out boundaries,” says a statement from the gallery. The artist nods to the role of order and systems, while also emphasizing the importance of celebrating diversity.

Grouped together in front of textile folds, oblique grids, or distorted human features, the artist invokes the power of alliances through a sense of tenderness, curiosity, and pliability.

Floral Compositions continues through March 29 in Vienna. Find more on Grzybacz’s website and Instagram.

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Tia Keobounpheng learned to weave in Oulu, Finland, when she was 18 years old. Seated beside two older Finnish women in a community weaving center, she worked for hours, hardly speaking a word. Two decades later, following university studies in weaving, architecture, and design, the Minnesota-based artist’s memory of her first lesson connects her to her ancestral land and its time-honored craft traditions.

On wood panels, Keobounpheng weaves colorful threads to create precise geometries in vibrating color. She says, “My exploration into geometry coincided with learning that in my known familial histories, there was a suppressed Sámi lineage through my great-grandmother’s line, thereby completely changing the narrative of our Finnish heritage.”

The Sámi people of northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia’s Kola Peninsula are an Indigenous group with their own unique languages and a traditional, semi-nomadic livelihood that includes practices like reindeer and sheep herding, coastal fishing, and fur trapping.

Historically, as the Scandinavians remained mostly south and Sámi communities lived in the north, contact was uncommon. But by the 19th century, Scandinavian governments began to assert sovereignty over the north, targeting the Sámi, who were increasingly viewed as “primitive” or “backward.” Their language was outlawed and many cultural customs suppressed as they were forced to assimilate into Scandinavian society.

During the pandemic, Keobounpheng was helping her son during a distance-learning 4th-grade geometry class, and a particular phrase caught her attention. “Geo means earth, so geometry is just measuring the earth,” the teacher said.

“These words… changed my worldview and reminded me that underneath rigid linear laws, an entire foundation of forgotten circular consciousness exists,” the artist says. “Aside from the powerful conceptual connections I was able to draw from geometry as a visual language to understand and express a circular, expansive worldview, the physical motions of spinning the compass awakened something deep within me.”

Keobounpheng’s compositions are both exact and interwoven, as shapes blend into other shapes, neither fully independent nor simply an all-over pattern. She describes the physicality of moving a needle and thread back and forth through paper or wood as a means of metaphorically stitching this worldview into her muscle memory.

The artist’s father is a self-trained architect, and from him, she adopted a modernist lens. “Robert Motherwell, Mark Rothko, and Josef and Anni Albers were early favorites of mine in my teen and young adult years,” she tells Colossal. “These days, Agnes Martin, Hilma af Klint, and Sámi artist Outi Pieski are my anchors of inspiration.”

Each piece requires initial planning to map the geometry, drill holes, select the color palette, and begin threading a black-and-white framework. But often, “all of my best intentions or visions for what the work will be start to loosen and sometimes fly away,” she says. “There is always a point, with every piece, where I must surrender my plan and give way to the threads.”

The artist’s work will be on view in Weinstein Hammons Gallery’s booth at EXPO Chicago at the end of April. She is also currently participating in Nordic Echoes — Tradition in Contemporary Art at Scandinavia House, which runs from April 5 to August 2 in New York City and also includes work by Sonja Peterson. Find more on Keobounpheng’s website and Instagram.

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Every year, Lili Arnold’s mother would block-print holiday cards to send to family and friends. When she was old enough to wield a carving tool, Arnold began to make her own, too. But it wasn’t until college, when she took an Intro to Printmaking class, that she became enthralled with the practice’s myriad methods.

Block printing specifically captured Arnold’s attention because of its relatively simple components and technique—no giant presses required. The block can expand in scale, incorporate different colors, or be layered with numerous pressings.

“I think what I love most about the process is seeing my first print after so many hours of sketching, planning, carving, and troubleshooting,” Arnold tells Colossal. “There’s a lot of thought and time invested in the steps before the actual print becomes real, so when I see that first reveal, it’s both terrifying and thrilling.”

Arnold’s compositions often revolve around natural subjects, especially botanicals like cacti and tropical flowers. She is fascinated by the environment’s infinite interaction of colors, textures, patterns, and symmetry.

“There’s such vast diversity of plant life out there, each ecosystem encapsulating unique details and wonders,” she says. “We as artists and botanical patrons have the pleasure of translating and expressing our appreciation of this beauty through our artwork, writing, gardening, exploring, and beyond.”

Follow updates on Arnold’s Instagram, and browse prints available for purchase in her shop.

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Inspired by nature’s myriad forms and relationships, Minneapolis-based artist Sonja Peterson creates sprawling scenes from intricately cut paper. Working intuitively while focusing on the environment and our place within it, she merges organic motifs and animals with humans and historical references.

The inherent simplicity of a blank piece of paper is a compelling attribute for Peterson, who is fascinated by the possibilities of texture, pattern, and the relationship between positive and negative space. Originally, the artist made drawings on large sheets, which she began to cut into in order to rearrange compositional elements. She became increasingly interested in the art of the incision and removed other media altogether.

“My choice of paper echoes the idea of the fragility that I want to convey as I look at the precariousness of ecological systems,” Peterson tells Colossal. “The works’ structural integrity is, at times, reliant on its interconnectivity; if elements disconnect, the entire system is in threat of collapsing.”

An overarching theme in Peterson’s work revolves around interconnection—both natural and human-made—highlighting how our global trade systems, manufacturing, and agriculture are fundamentally reliant on our environment, even as they contribute to an ever-growing climate crisis. She often combines human interactions with botanical details, like a sunken ship in “Lost and Searching” or the salient history of European colonialist expansion in “Empire Builder.”

The artist is interested in our “global systems as something of untamed wonder, a gaze that was once reserved for the natural world,” she says. She often juxtaposes botanical details with human-made structures, such as ships or buildings. “Nature is now often seen as contained patchwork or a constructed binary to a technological world that is now the wild frontier.”

Peterson’s work is currently on view in Nordic Echoes — Tradition in Contemporary Art at Scandinavia House, which runs from April 5 to August 2 in New York City. The show celebrates contemporary folk arts from the Upper Midwest, featuring more than 50 works by 24 artists. Find more on the Peterson’s website and Instagram.

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Have you ever wondered why two large owls sit on either side of the central panel in “The Garden of Earthly Delights” by Hieronymus Bosch? Or perhaps you’ve noticed the strangely fleshy, sculptural fountains rising from the bodies of water—or are they stone? Why is the right side so dark, and who are all these people anyway?

Narrated by Dr. Beth Harris and Dr. Steven Zucker, Smarthistory’s latest video tours the uncanny landscapes of Bosch’s famous triptych, which continues to “confound our expectations of Christian art of the Renaissance.”

Smarthistory is a small nonprofit that collaborates with hundreds of art historians, curators, archaeologists, and more, who are committed to making art history as accessible as possible. Through essays, conversations, and videos, the organization presents scholarly information in engaging, digestible, yet analytically rigorous lessons.

For Smarthistory’s video examining some of the motifs in “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” Harris and Zucker dive into some of the most alluring details of Bosch’s historic painting, parsing mysteries that have persisted since its creation at the turn of the 16th century.

The overarching narrative of Bosch’s masterpiece remains largely an enigma. “Although it is wonderfully playful and wonderfully inventive and just an incredible thing to look at, it would have been deeply troubling to Bosch’s generation,” Zucker says. “His society would have looked at this as sinful, even though the people that are being represented here didn’t understand sin.” (More on that in a minute.)

An anomaly of its genre, the painting was commissioned by Engelbert II, a wealthy member of the court of the Duke of Burgundy, probably intending it for his palace. The work consists of three panels in the style of an altarpiece, with two half-size panels on either side of a central composition, which fold inward like two doors to reveal another painting on the exterior.

In Bosch’s case, he depicted a crystalline sphere in grisaille, or all-gray, which portrays an overview of the earth with God perched in the upper left-hand corner, readying to make something of the lackluster orb. Two biblical phrases, “for he spake and it was done,” from Psalm 33, and “for he commanded and they were created,” from Psalm 148, reference Creation.

Turning over the panels, as if opening the cover of a book, we enter an otherworldly realm where humans and beasts mingle with oversized animals, fruit, and surreal structures. On the left, Adam and Eve are introduced by a young God, before Eve was tempted to eat the forbidden fruit hanging in the Garden of Eden. In the center, dozens of nude figures frolic, eat, engage in sexual activities, forage, swim, and fly. On the right is hell.

“One of the most compelling theories is that the central panel is an alternate story,” Zucker says. “What if the Temptation had not taken place? What if Adam and Eve had remained innocent and had populated the world? And so is it possible that what we’re seeing is that reality played out in Bosch’s imagination?”

Two oversized owls, symbolic of the presence of evil, flank the central panel. While people appear unashamed of their selves or actions, a sense of uneasiness pervades the scene, balancing the dichotomies of paradise and hell; holiness and sin.

“The largest figure is a figure which art historians call the ‘tree man,’” Dr. Harris says. “His legs look like the branches of trees with more branches growing from them. But where we might see his feet, we see two unsteady boats in the water with figures in them, suggesting that there’s an inherent instability to this figure who can barely balance in this way.”

Smarthistory’s video illustrates compositional tools that provide clues to underlying narrative and metaphor, like the way the “tree man” appears to look back across space at Adam and Eve—specifically Adam’s lustful gaze as the representation of humankind’s origin. “In this representation, we don’t need the apple. We don’t need the serpent. All we need is Adam’s lustful gaze as he is introduced to Eve,” Dr. Zucker says. And the rest, so to speak, is history.

Explore more from the world of art on Smarthistory’s website. You might also enjoy this fantastical parade in The Netherlands devoted entirely to Bosch and Roberto Benavidez’s Bosch-inspired piñatas.

Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $7 per month. The article Traverse Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’ with Smarthistory appeared first on Colossal.