Artist/photographer Henry Hargreaves has combined two of my favorite things: silent films and cake (well, technically cake frosting, but still). He recreated the iconic image from George Melies’s 1902 film Le Voyage Dans La Lune.
Katerina Plotnikova has an awe inspiring collection of nature photographs that show a profound connection between man and the animal kingdom.
I believe this work is done under the supervision of qualified animal trainers, but is entirely real and involves very minimal retouching in post production. While I do love some amazing modern surrealist photographers, there is something raw and stirring about the relative lack of digital manipulation.
Animals can be such a beautiful healing force (during my long hospital stays this past year, I was happy to see animal therapy becoming mainstream). I look forward to returning home to NY when more medically stable, so I can be around cats again…and my loved ones can laugh at the absurd languages and songs I inevitably invent the moment I’m put near fuzzy things.
If you view just one pygmy seahorse image-heavy post today (and you were planning to, right?), I recommend this one.
These incredible creatures live in the western central Pacific Ocean (known as the Coral Triangle region of southeast Asia) and rarely grow larger than 2 centimeters. They look like adorable toddler bath toys and blend perfectly in their Dayglow surroundings. Aren’t they fantastic?
The stark contrast of circus adornment and mundane surroundings jars the viewer just a little, as does seeing clowns devoid of smiles. These photos conjure a realization of ephermerality; a strange sense of unease, while also managing to be quite beautiful and touching.
There is a mini bio if you click on “info” under the pictures in the online portfolio.
I’m falling in love with Olga Valeska’s photography…
Brace yourself for The Dayalets; an instructional (and I use that word loosely) “suiatable for framing” series of food beasts designed to hang in doctors’ offices.
The idea was the educate the masses about vitamin deficiencies and nutritional imbalances. Wasn’t there a pamphlet they could hand out?
While tempting to generate my own sarcastic commentary for each of these, I think it’s only fair to direct you to the source, where the curator has taken a good deal of time to display and write commentary for the entire series (featuring gems such gems as “This looks like some self-proclaimed sex expert circa 1951.”)
I wasn’t joking when I said “suitable for framing.”
See the whole collection here.
The Topography of Tears is a fascinating visual study of tear crystalization under a standard light microscope, exploring the terrains of numerous emotions and forms of lacrimal activity. I want to paste some of the artist’s statement here, to give you her own lens on the work.
The random compositions I find in magnified tears often evoke a sense of place, like aerial views of emotional terrain. Although the empirical nature of tears is a chemistry of water, proteins, minerals, hormones, antibodies and enzymes, the topography of tears is a momentary landscape, transient as the fingerprint of someone in a dream. This series ls like an ephemeral atlas.
Roaming microscopic vistas, I marvel at the visual similarities between micro and macro realms, how the patterning of nature seems so consistent, regardless of scale. Patterns of erosion etched into earth over millions of years may look quite similar to the branched crystalline patterns of an evaporated tear that took less than a minute to occur.
Tears are the medium of our most primal language in moments as unrelenting as death, as basic as hunger, and as complex as a rite of passage. They are the evidence of our inner life overflowing its boundaries, spilling over into consciousness. Wordless and spontaneous, they release us to the possibility of realignment, reunion, catharsis: shedding tears, shedding old skin. It’s as though each one of our tears carries a microcosm of the collective human experience, like one drop of an ocean.