Art 001: Principles of Art
Devon Tsuno
Tsuno was born and raised in Los Angeles. His paintings are directly informed by his surroundings. He daily rides his bicycle all over LA carrying a camera. He photographs non-native vegetation as he encounters them. He layers silhouettes of these images to create his compositions. His colors are informed by natural and artificial lights such as the LA sunset, Hollywood movies, etc.
Moby
From the series, "Destroyed" 2011.
"I'm able to convey the mundanity of touring, juxtaposed with those moments of the strange and/or sublime. One minute on tour you're by yourself in a soulless airport, the next minute you're flying over the most beautiful landscapes on the planet. One minute on tour you're by yourself in a soulless backstage area, the next minute you're on stage pouring your heart out to 75,000 people. Touring is all contrasts and strangeness, and that's what I'm trying to convey in these pictures."
Uta Barth
For the last 14 years, Uta Barth has limited herself to photographing only what is visible in and from her house in Los Angeles.
She examines photographic and visual perception—how the human eye sees differently from the camera lens and how the incidental and atmospheric can become subject matter in and of themselves.
Masaru Aikawa
"Those CD covers are duplicated in acrylic on canvas. Each CD cover is accompanied by handwritten lyrics and inserts, as well as an actual CD on which I have sung the songs myself and recorded them. I have passionately and respectfully duplicated the music acapella.
I love music more than pictures and sculptures."
Sarah Sze
"Sze, who will represent the United States at the Venice Biennale in 2013, arranges everyday objects into sculptural installations of astonishing intricacy. She joins things manufactured to help build other things (ladders, levels, winches, extension cords) with hundreds of commonplace items (Q-tips, pushpins, birthday candles, aspirin tablets), creating elaborate compositions that extend from gallery walls, creep into corners, and surge toward ceilings."
excerpt from The New Yorker
by Andrea K. Scott