Jefferson Cheng is a San Francisco based designer and illustrator focusing on print, identity, and interactive work. You can see more of his work here.
*all images from artist’s website
Shanti Shea An is an emerging artist based in Canberra, Australia. She works across figurative and abstract painting, investigating ways of articulating the nature of intimacy and tenderness within the practice of painting. She is interested in the relationship between imagery and non-imagery and how this has manifested throughout history. You can see more of her works here.
*all images from artist’s website
Julie Cloutier is an artist living and working in the Outer Sunset of San Francisco. Her ceramic work focuses on handheld sculptures, functional wares and everyday objects. She draws upon her architectural background to inform her minimalist lines and quotidien investigations.
You can see her latest installation Useful Irrationalities at Irving Street Projects where she is in residence for the next three months. Artist’s Reception is tomorrow October 14th from 5-8pm! Check it out! Personally, I want at least one of all her pieces.
Visit her site here
**images and bio text from artist
Sable Elyse Smith is an interdisciplinary artist, writer, and educator based in New York. Her practice considers memory and trauma while enacting an undoing of language. She works from the archive of her own body creating new syntax for knowing and not knowing, thereby marking the difference between witnessing and watching. To see is unbearable. She has performed at the Museum of Modern Art(upcoming), the New Museum, Eyebeam, and Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, San Francisco, CA. Her work has also been screened at Birkbeck Cinema in collaboration with the Serpentine Galleries, London, Artist Television Access, San Francisco, and MoMA Ps1, New York. Her writing has been published in Radical Teacher, Studio Magazine and No Tofu Magazine and she is currently working on her first book. Smith has received grants & fellowships from Creative Capital, the Queens Museum, Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture, the Franklin Furnace Fund, and Art Matters. She is currently part-time faculty at Parsons The New School for Design.
To check out more of her work click here
*All images and bio were taken from sableelysesmith.com
We spent a foggy morning with ceramicist and painter Alyssa Block in her charming studio. Last month, we featured a selection of her drawings as prints, but we couldn’t overlook her fantastic ceramic work! Alyssa’s studio is a cozy space, housed in a converted storefront on the border of Chinatown and Nob Hill. Periodically, Alyssa clears away her kiln and work tables to host Studio/Space, a pop-up gallery for lectures and exhibitions that she curates.
While drinking black coffee and playing “Either/Or” on vinyl, Alyssa answered some of our questions about her studio practice.
What do you listen to/watch in the studio?
Lately I’ve been listening to true crime podcasts and Elliott Smith and Nina Simone. Lots of really emotional things. I got caught up on the Walking Dead also, it’s also very melodramatic and emotional for me.
When do you work best?
Early afternoon to dinner-time.
Favorite part of the process?
I like finishing a project and then having a period of a few days or a few weeks where I just hang out with friends or experiment with baking in my toaster oven and don’t think about art or feel pressure to be in the studio getting things done. But I also love making things and packing things into boxes and talking to other artists about making things, so it’s all pretty good.
If I see on my calendar that I have to start producing ceramic wares again, I procrastinate. I’m so reluctant to make a big mess in my studio again!
How did you find your studio?
Craigslist. Very lucky to find my neighborhood and a landlord who wants an artist in his building!
What does your morning routine look like?
I wake up and feel sort of rested and sort of mad I didn’t get up at the break of dawn and exercise, as I falsely expect I will every day. I flip on my radio and listen to KQED while I’m make coffee. If it’s the weekend and A Prairie Home Companion is on, I angrily flip it off again and make coffee in silence. And then I have a cup of coffee and some yogurt with home-made granola (easy to make in a toaster oven, turns out) and check my email, watch a little TV show, and make a to do list for the day, before I get started in my studio.
BONUS!! We have six of these adorable Hands Cups- exclusive to LPP! Available only online, each cup comes with a mini version of a print from Alyssa print edition. There are only six cups, so hurry! Shop here.
In the hands of the artist! (sorry, couldn’t resist ;P)
Jack Mears is a UK-Based ceramicist and illustrator. His work is playful and simple, evoking the creative expression of childhood. You can see more of his work here.
*all images from jack-mears.com
Since the mid-1970s, Laib (German, b. 1950) has been producing sculptures and installations marked by a serene presence and a reductive beauty. These works are often made from one or a combination of two materials, accumulated from natural elements—such as milk, marble, pollen, rice, and beeswax—which have been selected for their purity and symbolic associations.
The work of Brooklyn-based artist Alicia Scardetta.
Drawing on the ancient system of weaving in its most basic form, Alicia is interested in manipulating the variables to determine what can be produced when the warp and weft are challenged. Using vibrant colors, woven appendages, and negative space, each piece achieves a playful quality within the historical context of weaving and tapestry.
Alicia will be exhibiting and selling her beautiful work at West Coast Craft, Saturday November 12th – Sunday November 13th at Fort Mason in SF. Be sure to check it out!
To see more of her work, click here
**images and text from the artist’s site
Eva Struble paints the many ways we inhabit the world, touching on themes from social rituals to psychological spaces. Using the landscape as a site and a springboard, Struble explores labor, leisure, dreams and relationships in layered, cumulative images.
MH: To get started, I wanted to ask you about your process of painting itself. You use techniques of layering, printing and some collage-like motifs. I can’t help but think of it as a process of accumulation and happenstance, rather than something that builds to a pre-planned climax. What is your process actually like?
ES: Flexibility and a “dialogue” with the material as a project grows is important, as is setting up surprises for myself through the process. Right now I’m making a huge installation at the Japanese Garden Pavillion in San Diego’s Balboa Park. I’m using discarded garden plant waste, which will be painted, woven and hung. This is fun for me since I’m unfamiliar with the material and have to become a student of it to make the piece work. When I went to grad school in 2004, almost all of the forty or so painters there at Yale were working in paint on canvas or panel. Interdisciplinary work, and working with different surfaces has been a relatively recent undertaking for me.
MH: Your Emblema series tickled me. I’m reading SPQR, Mary Bead’s history of ancient Rome, and Roman politics and excess are bursting with tempting analogies for the United States today. Can you talk about what emblema are, and how the series came about?
ES: When I moved to California from New York in 2011, driving up and down through the Central Valley, and back and forth from hiking trips, I tried to identify all the crops and trees I would glimpse in passing. I started looking at a lot of archival fruit display images from events like the Panama exposition in San Diego. I grew interested in fruit and vegetables as a source of local pride and as another way landscape manifests itself in a domestic setting, or even as a kind of installation art. It’s hard not to appreciate art made out of whatever is at hand, and in this case, fruit became a material for sculpture i.e. columns made of oranges (below).
I pored over all the images of food displays I could find. I have books of Thai fruit carving (encouraged and funded by Thai royalty for more than 500 years—even children learn it in school) and other traditions of fruit displays. The cruise and wedding versions of these displays are a natural extension of this interest, and the kitschy display of waste to show wealth is both ridiculous and somehow charming to me. Reading that Roman permanent mosaic displays, emblema, would also signal a wealthy family’s material status through images of food was an interesting parallel to our present.
MH: Who are the figures in your recent work, the domestic paintings from this year? They remind me a bit of the anonymous people who populate architectural renderings.
ES: Those figures were almost all based on my own shadow, but depending on the day they represent different people in my life and different selves, as in the selves we perform or “release” in different settings and relationships. I also wanted to visualize the trace a body or experience might mentally leave on a place, the echo or eeriness in a mundane place where a friend or lover once was, where an intense interaction took place, etc. The paintings were based on places I walk through at work, or around my house and the locations were like boring stages I wanted to illuminate by with some psychological intensity I suppose. I’m not sure if that’s how they appear to the viewer.
MH: How do you research for your paintings and your practice in general? I often think of painting as a very interior process, linked to immediate surroundings. Your work feels personal but not interior, and like it involves a synthesis as part of a research process.
ES: I research the work through physical experience of place (for example, taking a historical “cruise” of polluted Newtown Creek), talking to people, through regular old archival bumbling in libraries and historical societies, online reading, and material experiments.
Over the past ten years my work has always related to the place where I live, but certainly there are other factors that impact it. Boring ones, like, I’m a relatively tall person, and I like making large enough work that it physically tires me, that I feel it in my body. I also like the action of making a problem for myself, and figuring it out, and repeating this over and over, even if that is just making a color problem, or a space problem in a painting. Sometimes the “research” doesn’t seem to clearly connect to the method of painting, which is a continual thing to work on resolving, or just keep doing in its imperfect form until it resolves itself through sheer quantity and tirelessness.
MH: Can you talk about your recent book, Daily Labor, and the collaborative process of making it?
ES: I try to balance my interests in material and play with interest in being a student of the place where I live. I’ve worked a lot alone in studios, but I like to be involved with people in my work too; who can I learn from, what other perspectives I can hear?
I’ve tried this is multiple ways and sometimes the collaboration is unintended. When I was visiting superfund sites in 2007 I was detained by Homeland Security for hours for photographing a tree outside of a chemical plant, and they took my camera with my source images. That social interaction shaped the work to some extent.
In recent years, I’ve done some printmaking workshops in the community on one hand, but this was always in my role as a teacher—not exactly collaborative. Making Daily Labor was humbling because I wanted to make a collaborative illustrated novel, and realized I had to change my method once I got into it. Of course, it brought up many questions: If I’m making “community-based” work, what is my community here? What does it mean to make this with people whose first and usually second language is different than mine, on a collaborative project? Is that truly collaborative? Maybe collaborative isn’t exactly the word. Because I worked with the CRLA (California Rural Legal Assistance) and talked through different iterations of the project with them, (which actually began as a mural!), I felt confident about bringing a different perspective on—or different representation of—problems they working on in a very practical way.
If the CRLA takes a case, and sues a farm for example, for lack of water, shade, bathrooms, or worse, for sexual assault on a worker, what would it contribute to read words from that worker about their life in general, illustrated? If that book existed in a different context from the CRLA’s outreach, and if it overlaps with art, what does that do? I spoke to day laborers and ag workers in San Diego with a translator (despite living in Spain for nearly two years, I quickly realized my Spanish has atrophied) for the project, made ink drawings for the book, and was lucky to print it with Colpa Press in SF. They did a great job, but I’m still not sure how I feel about the book yet. I think I will know later if it was successful if I keep building on it, and make something related, but better, in the future.
Rosemarie Auberson is a painter whose work combines collage, painting and drawing. Her work is purely abstract, sometimes more illustrative, but plays with the interaction of the surface with colors and texture, the full and empty. She collaborates with designers and brands such as Hermès and Rachel Comey. In parallel, she works as an art director.
Born in Switzerland, she is based and works in Paris, France.
All images via Tappan Collective.