Steve McDonald

"Turbine #2" from the series "out of the void"
70" x 70" Archival print on Linen with hand-applied Acrylic color

"Out of the Void #5" 36" x36"  ink and water-based paints on linen

"Hillside Retreat"

"India" 60" x 45" Chalk, watercolors and pencil on paper

"The Ice-Cream Man "   24" x 24" Digital drawing with hand-applied color on paper.

Steve McDonald is an artist based in Bali that shows his art in Toronto and London. His intricate line drawings of aerial landscapes, cityscapes and cryptic machinery are executed on various scales and in multiple media, from pens, markers and paints to digital, and various combinations thereof. He also creates
numerous abstract kaleidoscopic prints in a similar vein, as well as digital paint portraiture. But it's these elaborate line drawn scenes that enthrall me the most. The mechanistic formality of the subject matter is countered with loose flowing line work that lends both machine and city a breathing organic quality. This is as it should be. Such creations may be initially designed with mathematical precision in their details but the final products are, in the act of actually building them, and even more so in using them, warped, frayed, bent, broken and patched. In the end they more closely resemble the constructs of ants or corals and other more primitive lifeforms than they do the perfectly mechanistic blueprinted plans that human beings initially envisioned. Mr. McDonald's work is wide ranging and his ideas and themes are not limited to what I've shown here.

You can see a good deal more at his website: www.steviemcd.com
But I would highly recommend browsing through his Facebook page (www.facebook.com/artbysteve) for even More material.

"View from the Tower" in progress
Pencil, charcoal and acrylic on board  72" x 72" . 

Sally Finch

"Dryland Farming 3 Moro"  Graphite, Acrylic ink on paper  18" x 18"  2012

"Dryland Farming 4 Pullman"  Graphite, Acrylic ink on paper  18" x 18"  2012

"Dryland Farming 6 Moscow"  Graphite, Acrylic ink on paper  18" x 18"  2013

"Weather Study 19 New Delhi"  Graphite, Acrylic ink on paper  9" x 9"  2011

"Weather Study 9 Juba"  Graphite, Acrylic ink on paper  9" x 9"  2011

I'm typically attracted to art that has an immediate draw, a visceral impact that sucks you right in and either forces you to linger over the details or to simply stand back and try to imagine how it managed to grab you in the first place. This is why I'm attracted narrative art. The story telling instinct in human beings is a powerful one and narrative images compel us to expand upon them. Sally Finch's abstract work couldn't be more different. It's more analogous to science and mathematics than to any form of representational art. In science there is a truism that a subject cannot be studied if it cannot be measured. For this reason data, raw empirical numbers, measurements of events, objects and durations, form the raw material of all research. Just so, the artist begins her work with data sets that attract or interest her for various reasons, "through beauty, utility... curiosity, or the work it has taken to accumulate." Then she develops a transcription method unique to each piece so that the data is interpreted through color, shape, etc., bit by hand drawn bit. The resulting images are strangely compelling, delicate abstractions that still evoke the technical and computational nature of their source material. Without understanding the key the meaning is completely opaque, even with the context clues provided in their titles. And yet... and yet they so clearly represent something real, information is so clearly imbedded within them that their subtle beauty becomes almost secondary to the mystery of their interpretation. If her work is akin to science it is also akin to music which, like science, is also deeply inter-dependent upon mathematics. I could imagine a composer working in some similar way, creating abstract sound-scapes out of data-sets the same way Sally Finch produces her color grids. I can also imagine listening to such "music" while observing this work in a museum or gallery setting. Hm. Just a thought.  If I could have one nitpick with the artist it would be only this: I wish there were some close-ups shots of the images on her website. Because I've seen some of her work in person, and there's something deeply compelling about the minute detail of the pieces, the hand-drawn aspect to them, and the intimacy of each little tick-mark or circle of color that piles up with others to create the whole. In a data set, individual numbers are rarely interesting. That's part of the magic here. Once translated into visual form every number becomes a thing of beauty.
You can see more work on the artist's website: sallyfinch.com
or in person if you happen to be in Portland, Oregon, at Froelick Gallery

Aris Moore

 

Aris Moore's drawings are a bit like collage and it's no surprise to discover that she does a lot of that as well. Her endless fascination is the face. Each piece is a portrait, although not in the proper sense. These are not real people. They are invented. They are cobbled together from disparate elements; a mouth, eyes, etc.,. The disjointed and disconnected nature of their features lends them a curious vulnerability, and a peculiar kind of life. It's as if they desperately wanted to be real, like Pinocchio. Sometimes the amalgamation of features can take on a shocking aspect, akin to characters in a freak show, which we are drawn toward out of morbid fascination. But even then there is deep sympathy in the portrayal. In Aris Moore's work, that line between real and unreal is a vast twilight zone in which she creates an endless cast of characters that all seem to have their own stories to tell, as rich and complex, as sad and sorrowful, or as full of joy and simple pleasures, as any of our own.

Sometimes the artist will experiment with simple variations. For example, take a head of hair and toss in  the facial features in various combinations and styles and see what happens. Somehow each one begins to speak. Here's a terriffic example below. And this is just the tip of an iceberg. Go visit her blog and just spend some time scrolling back in time through her enormous body of work at peekadoo.blogspot.com

And congratulations to the artist for being included in the latest edition of New American Paintings.

Lyla Duey

Bathroom (2011) • oil on wood • 6" x 8"

Doubleroom (2011) • oil on wood • 9" x 12"

Kitchen (2011) • oil on wood • 11" x 14"

A Nice Wall Piece (2012) • oil on wood • 11" x 14"

Broken Chair (2012) • oil on wood • 14" x 18"

Lyla Duey's recent work has a tremendously enjoyable premise. She makes simple line drawings of various places and objects in her home. Then she cuts out the objects in the drawings and reconstructs the scene in three dimensional models. The paper models reflect the distortions of perspective in her original drawings. Then she makes a painting of the model. So she starts by looking at three dimensions, re-interprets it in two, then re-interprets that back into three, and finally re-interprets that into two dimensions once more. It is a fairly unique exploration of what the illusion of depth in two dimensional art means, how it communicates to us both accurately and inaccurately about the real world in which we live. But it is an exploration of such ideas without pretension or self-importance, a relieving balm amid innumerable artists trying to make profundities out of inanities. Here we are simply witnessing an enthusiastic meditation on and fascination with the act of observation. She has other work as well which she tackles with the same careful attention to detail and amusing wit. You can look through it all on her website: www.lyladuey.com
Thank you Lyla! And congratulations on being included in 104th issue of New American Paintings.

(just a warning though; her images are hi-resolution files so if you have a slow connection they may take a little time to load).

David Becker

Last Project  oil on canvas  55" x 37.25"

Cable Ready  charcoal on paper 39.25"  x 27.5"

No U-Turn oil on canvas 60"  x 76"

Corona No. 3 charcoal, conte crayon on watercolor paper 40" x 60"

Redemption (31/100) etching and engraving 22" x 34"

David Becker's work will not appeal to the squeamish. There is little here in the way of beauty or noble sentiment. Figures are often half naked revealing overweight distorted bodies. Their features communicate little more than selfish idiocy. The events portrayed are often cryptic, as if it were an allegory of some sort that could be deciphered with the proper key. But one thing is clear. Whatever the message locked within these images, it is not good news. It is a dark and chaotic vision of the human species. Hundreds of years ago Hieronymous Bosch would have recognized in David Backer a kindred spirit. At that time work like this might have been acknowledged as a theologically sound depiction of mankind's fallen nature, immersed in sin and sorrow. Less than a century ago Otto Dix might have also recognized this work as a similar voice speaking out against the horrors that humanity inflicts upon itself. Human beings in this understanding, are both victim and perpetrator. The present is a far cry from the conditions of Bosch's medieval Europe, when plague, famine and war could consume entire populations without warning. And the horrors of World War II are remembered as little more than grainy film clips on the History Channel. But the human condition never really changes. And there will always be artists who force us to look at the unpleasant truths of it. Because we need them to.

You can see more of his work at Ann Nathan Gallery

Doug Cooper

"Early Morning Arrivals"   36" x 48"  charcoal on paper on panel  2012

"Before and After the Cranes"   36" x 48"  charcoal on paper on panel  2012

"Game Night 2"  2008

Carnegie Mellon University Center Mural - 1996  "View of Carnegie Mellon's Gesling Stadium"

"Harbor Island"  49" x 97"   charcoal on paper on panel    2011

Doug Cooper is a professor at Caregie Mellon's school of architecture, the author of two books on drawing, and oh yeah, an artist. His work is on a huge scale; drawing sometimes 4 feet by 8 feet wide or actual murals. They are usually scenes of cities, distorted through a fish-eye lens of memory and history. He seems to especially revel in the verticality of places. Bridges and hills feature prominently creating layers of space. Highways twist and turn through neighborhoods passing over railways all resembling arteries and veins in a body politic. There is a decidedly romantic air to these images of proud industrialization that seems reminiscent of mid-twentieth century Americana. And this is probably no accident. In some of his murals he actually incorporates drawings and memories from a city's elderly citizens so that much of what you see reflects exactly that era. But regardless, one cannot help be awed by the omniscient eye of the artist as he floats above the bustling urban sprawl taking in closeup details and vast horizons with equal import and clarity.

The last image above "Harbor Island" is the largest file I could find if you'd like to view one a bit bigger. Beyond that you'll just have to go find an original somewhere.
you can see more images at: www.andrew.cmu.edu
and some work from a recent show in and of Seattle at: www.davidsongalleries.com

John Borowicz

"The Tower of Babel"  2010  Graphite on Paper  38" x 50"

"A Continuous Attempt at False Symmetry"  2010  graphite on paper  21" x 21"

"A Plausible Result of Sustained Spontaneity"  2010  Graphite on Paper  50" x 38"

"Model for a Resilient Structure"  2009  graphite on paper  9 1/4 x 7 1/4

"The Next Morning"  2011  Graphite on Paper  6" x 4"

John Borowicz's work varies widely in style and intent, all of it enveloped by a wry sense of humore. But the largest body of it is his series of semi-abstract constructs, masses of stacked objects resembling oddly shaped bricks or buildings. That they are vaguely suggestive of megalopolis cities is certainly no accident. They seem to be a wry commentary on two very different phenomenon; the pure chaos of mankind's constructive frenzy, and the painstaking tedium of building up complex images on paper with little marks from a pencil. The two things are not as unrelated as they may at first sound. Because people build things carefully, piece by piece, like little marks laid down by a meticulous artist. Everything is planned, each step carefully made. But when multiple intentions overlap, where everyone's plan is developing next to everyone else's, you get a city. John Borowicz draws these images like the builders of cities, piece by piece, each with it's own plan next to other pieces with plans of their own. They remind me of "Kowloon" the walled city, which was torn down in 1994. For a while it was the densest concentration of human beings on the planet. Through an accident of history it was built up lawlessly on an area of a mere 6.5 acres and resembled nothing so much as a Borg ship (you know, from Star Trek TNG). Anyway it is that sort of energy and chaos that the artist is mimicking, mocking and channeling all in one go.

You can see more of his mesmerizing work on his website: johnborowicz.com or at his gallery Adam Baumgold gallery in New York, which posts some great detail shots on their website.

Jonas Löfgren

"getaway"  graphite on paper  2012

"The House"  graphite and watercolor  2009

"Nowhere"  graphite on paper  2011

"The Cellar"  graphite on paper  2010

"Diamond #8"  graphite, ink and watercolor  2011

Jonas Löfgren is a Swedish artist whose work fits into that wealthy vein of contemporary work called pop-surrealism or sometimes low brow art (there's some confusion about the terms). European takes on the genre tend to be less literal than their American counterparts, more cryptic, less obviously eye-winkingly ironic. Many elements here are common tropes: the generally realist rendering of cartoon like figurations of pre-adolescent characters at odds with a dark confusing world. I enjoy this kind of work in general as anyone whose been following along with me for a while would probably know. I like the lack of pretension, such a welcome relief from all the inaccessible over conceptualized material that haunts the museums and galleries of the high end contemporary art world. But despite the lack of pretension, there is a tremendous amount of both skill and emotional honesty on display. The work is both personal and reflective of a global cultural point of view (which I'm still struggling to pin down and define... no doubt when I do it will have long since moved on). Mr. Löfgren brings to all of this his own unique bag of images and props as well as a haunting drawing style. You can see plenty more including some animation work on his website: www.jonaslofgren.com

Mark Reep

"Home Is The Sailor"  Charcoal, Graphite  5 7/8" x 3 1/8"

"Last Bell"  Charcoal, Graphite  4" x 6"

"Abandoned Waterworks 2"   Charcoal, Graphite; 11" x 6"

"Abandoned Waterworks"  Charcoal, Graphite  6" x 10"

"Point of Grace"  Charcoal, Graphite  8 1/2" x 11"

Much of contemporary art is unabashedly cynical. As a matter of fact, romanticism hasn't really been accepted as proper company since the dawn of the twentieth century (and even then it was being shown the door). But amateurs and non-artists have always been more honest about it's innate appeal even if they're sometimes unable to distinguish quality from mediocrity. I've always had a soft spot, or maybe more of large soft swath, for this kind of thing. Perhaps in this post industrial age when comic books and high fantasy have entered the main stream, the fine art world ought to take a second look. Okay, that's not going happen. But still, there's some exquisite work out there worth looking at. Case in point, the self-taught Mr. Mark Reep. Some of the work can teeter precariously on the edge of new age corny, but a rule of thumb when viewing art is to always judge an artist by your favorite pieces, not your least. What does work here is sublime. The images are imbued with narrative although the characters are locked away in their island sanctuaries or have mysteriously abandoned their extraordinary works. He creates scenes that draw us in, inviting us to imagine another place, somewhere, some other time. The drawings themselves are often tiny, the technique highly meticulous and detailed. One gallery apparently provided a magnifying glass for its viewers. That kind of intimacy can cast a very powerful spell.
You can see more at his website: markreep.net or at www.bluecanvas.com/markreep
You can aslo follow his blog: markreep.blogspot.com