Visually, Christine Shan Hous work is quieter than whatever else on this list. Thats a big part of why I like it: With very little methods, she conjures a searching, often spirited tone. Ms. Hou is a poet, and her collages, which she publishes on Instagram under the title Hypothetical Arrangements, show that. Some are punlike, creative plays on words and visual tropes; others include cutout images of objects arranged versus the white background of a blank page, leaving viewers to produce a context and envision connections by themselves. With suggestive titles like “how i used to think” and “old hurts,” the project sometimes feels diaristic, as if Ms. Hou were utilizing mass-media images to transport a transmission from her brain.
Cats of Brutalism is unabashedly silly; it also feels like it could have been tailor-made for me, an art critic with two cats. The account, which is the task of 3 architecture students, with two of their professors at the University at Buffalo, taps completely into the magic of the internet, where the unlikeliest things get mashed together. Here, pictures of cats are photoshopped onto, into and around pictures of Brutalist architecture from worldwide. Amusing enough, however what puts it over the top is the scale: The buildings are revealed in exterior shots while the cats get supersized, turning them into ridiculous feline King Kongs. At the same time, their presence makes the structures, which have actually often been dismissed as awful monoliths, appear lighter and more spirited– like the expressions of creativity they were meant to be.
Felines of Brutalism is unabashedly ridiculous; it likewise feels like it might have been tailor-made for me, an art critic with two felines.
Her Instagram account, filled with images of her transcendent work, is equally so. One of my current favorites, “Two Fools Evade Buffoonery by Making and hoping as the Asteroid Approaches,” might be a haunting metaphor for continuing to make art throughout a pandemic.
Prior to the pandemic, I wasnt exactly an art world jet-setter, but I did take a trip somewhat routinely. This year, being homebound for the much better part of nine months has actually left me feeling loopy and craving escape. I want to get away, not just from my apartment or condo however from my own brain. Taking a look at art assists with that, as does scrolling through social networks– and these Instagram accounts, in particular, transfer me. Existential, fantastical, browsing and silly, they reconnect me to the world by moving my viewpoint on it.
The Instagram account of the artist Jaakko Pallasvuo has a nonsensical name– Avocado Ibuprofen– however its contents blend that sense of absurdity with self-questioning. Maybe the defining quality of this feed is its meta-ness: Pallasvuo (who utilizes the pronouns they and their) grapples in brooding and amusing, frequently caustic, yet always genuine, methods with the truths and doubts of being an artist and a human (in addition to somebody who makes work for social networks). While those issues have stayed continuous, their design has changed radically over the past couple of months. Messy, hand-drawn panels have actually paved the way to typed text that exists together more abstractly together with found and digital imagery. The brand-new comics feel nearly collagelike, which suits the associative, existential nature of Pallasvuos musings.
Prior to the pandemic, I wasnt precisely an art world jet-setter, however I did travel rather routinely. Looking at art helps with that, as does scrolling through social media– and these Instagram accounts, in specific, transport me. This art publisher launches all kinds of editions but leans heavily into analogue products, like hand-stitched zines and video compilations on VHS tapes. One of my recent favorites, “Two Fools Evade Buffoonery by Making and hoping as the Asteroid Approaches,” could be a haunting metaphor for continuing to make art throughout a pandemic.
The motivation of Random Man Editions is to promote “the ignored, underrepresented, the hybridized and the fringe,” according to its website. This art publisher releases all type of editions however leans greatly into analogue products, like hand-stitched zines and video collections on VHS tapes. Its amusing, then, that I found out about Random Man on Instagram, but the platform is a great location to see the unknown gems its dug up from the past and the unusual jobs its promoting in the present. Recent highlights include a video CD of the 1999 Bollywood horror movie “Bhoot Ka Darr” and “Patient O,” a collection of coronavirus-themed erotica edited by the writers Hyunjee Nicole Kim and Dana Kopel. Such breadth is among the delights of following Random Man, along with its offerings of extreme imagination.