“Sketch being a rudimentary conceptualising part of an idea which will later will translated to a physical or visual final product/s at the end and Book is mainly a collection of these sketches or rudimentary ideas compiled into a bounded book or portfolio (which may be made out of a piece of chewing gum wrapper, a piece of fungal infested durian leaf, a low quality 60g yellowed paper from a 1970s memo pad, an odd piece of broken lego plastic, etc.)”
“Jasmin started drawing in a sketchbook a few months ago,
specifically to describe her life’s story.”
“I make collages in small sketchbooks every night before I sleep.
I call them ‘collage logbooks.’
They are diaries and also the place of creation for
my art and visual poetry.” Continue reading “Collage Logbooks: hiromi suzuki”
We’re putting together a series of art features exploring the theme, ‘Sketchbook.’
If sketchbooks are a big part of your creative process, if you make sketchbooks, or if it saves your life to sketch those tough nights away, we’d love to hear from you!
Submissions are open until 31st October (GMT). Send 3-8 scanned images of your best sketchbook spreads along with a bio and your website/portfolio links to arteditorbhp@gmail.com.
Accepted entries will be queued up for an art feature series. We’ll be picking a few entries for in-depth interviews, investigating the roles sketchbooks play in allowing one to cultivate a creative life (and the nitty gritties of what that could mean).
Looking forward to your submissions! Keep an eye on our Twitter for important updates or announcements about this project.
Acrylic on raw canvas, a series of untitled paintings. Black and white distribution of raw energy. “I had no end in sight. The paintings were executed while listening – obsessively – to Big Black’s ‘The Hammer Party,’ very loud, in a garage…”
Continue reading “No End In Sight, untitled paintings by Michael McAloran”
I can’t remember the first time I saw Sharon’s art. The more conversations we have now, the more I find out that I’ve known her works before knowing they were hers.
And I’ve not only known them, I’ve loved them from the doubled distance of outsider and audience. I remember engaging with the sculptural, interactive pieces of ‘Portable Sensors’ back in 2013, a difficult year as I was sure I would never recover from returning to a country that took the concept of ‘home’ away from me. The angry noises that screamed out of these buzz wire kits were relieving; contained electrical protests to match the claustrophobia I felt about my geographical predicament. Continue reading “Talking Stories with Sharon Chin”
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 