I’m apprehensive about what I’m going to do after college, and I think a lot of other students in the arts are, too. Join me on a weekly basis as I talk to these other students about their future plans and how they see their place in the art world. This week: an explanation. Next week: an interview.
Tyrrell Winston is a contemporary artist known for his found-object artworks, which feature deflated basketballs, broken nets, and cigarette butt compositions. Living in New York, Winston walks around different neighborhoods and collects such “trash” to turn into sculptures, which are displayed in multiple galleries around the world.
Winston’s art is beautiful and thought-provoking–upon first viewing his work on social media, I was immediately captured by his deflated basketball sculptures, as their colorful vibrance has a unique beauty to it, and literally turns one man’s trash into another man’s treasure. I also enjoy viewing his cigarette “paintings” as well–their uniformity has pleasing aesthetic qualities and questions America’s obsession with smoking despite knowledge of its harmful dangers. Both basketballs and cigarettes have become unofficial symbols of “coolness” and Winston’s popularity certainly has capitalized on this. It’s intriguing and somewhat endearing how his works of art evoke questions about ephemerality and identity with showing simple objects.
On the other hand, I personally believe Winston walks a fine line between art and appropriation. Marcel Duchamp is considered the pioneer of “Readymade” art in which found objects are considered art by placing them into a different context. Duchamp’s work during the 20th century was astounding at the time, and some of his most famous works are Fountain, a literal urinal, and everyday objects such as a bicycle wheel or a shovel. Tyrrell Winston’s work utilizes these artistic ideas of recontextualization and makes them his own, yet there is a point when work becomes redundant. Some of his critics accuse him of being pretentious, unoriginal, and boring. I’m not sure whether his work is truly “different” enough to be so renowned and celebrated.
In any case, Winston is a distinctive artist. Take a look at some of the art below and let me know your thoughts on Winston’s work!
I am constantly overthinking things, whether it be focusing on irrelevant details, over complicating problems, psyching myself out, or getting overwhelmed by too many thoughts. It’s something I know a lot of people deal with, seemingly more in this generation than most, and it’s an interesting phenomenon. I can’t say exactly why I tend to overthink things (keep in mind I’m not a psychologist), but if I had to guess, I would say that it ties into the high expectations created by society and myself to be perfect, resulting in an unrealistic perfectionist attitude when approaching problems. I constantly have to remind myself that I’m focusing on the wrong parts of a problem and wasting time considering things that have little to no difference in my life in some futile search to be perfect. This problem of overthinking is most noticeable when I attempt to create art. Whether it be writing, drawing, making music, or even doodling, I always hit the brick wall of perfectionism. Those who know me might think I sound ridiculous; my work doesn’t usually speak of perfectionism, and it doesn’t seem like I always think things through. The truth is, that’s how I deal with my problem of overthinking: impulse and randomness.
When I sit down to write one of these posts, I start two or three different drafts on completely different concepts. I have a lot of great ideas and I can talk passionately about a lot of them, but as I start to write I often hit that wall, where suddenly it sounds ridiculous or unimportant and I psych myself out. Usually that’s when I delete the draft and start over with a new idea. This problem is often called writer’s block, but for me it’s a difference of being too critical of myself, not being unable to think of what to write. Similarly I also struggle to draw; although I’ve always had some talent at it, I never know what to draw. As a kid I would just copy the pictures from the how-to-draw books, not even the steps from beginning to end, just the final result. In the end I was great at drawing something realistically by looking at it, but when it came time to draw something new I always gave up. It wasn’t a lack of imagination, but the endless overthinking that frustrated me. As a result I don’t draw much anymore, and my doodles are just chaotic scribbles of frustration, but recently I discovered a way to get around perfectionism: by creating abstract art. It makes sense, especially considering how I often rely on impulse and randomness to get around overthinking. Abstract art practically embodies this approach, and I find that it’s a great way to create something; even if it’s not good, at least it’s better than creating nothing.
The moral of the story: if you struggle with creating things, especially art, just start with something easy or small. People often say that getting started is the hardest part, and even though I’m really tired of hearing it, I do think it’s inherently true. Aiming for perfection certainly doesn’t help either; if you always strive for something unattainable, you will never feel good about what you made, and likely you’ll be even less motivated to try again the next time.
The annual poster sale was going on these last two weeks, and I went, as many do, searching for a worthy poster to fill the barren spot on that one eggshell wall of my room. I flipped through the multitudes of posters, not really knowing what I was looking for, but keeping my eye out for something that would perfectly define the new academic year. There were a few notable works of art in the running, some Vincent van Gogh and Rene Magritte in particular, but one particular artist stood out, and if you know me then you won’t be surprised that it was Salvador Dali. I don’t love all of his art, but I can’t deny how unique his aesthetic is and how much it resonates with me. His interpretation of surrealism is so convincing and otherworldly, I just seem to get lost in the art and all of the tiny details he sneaks in. Anyways, I ended up with a 24″ x 36″ poster of Meditative Rose, and if you’ve never heard of this painting before, I’m honored to introduce it to you:
At first glance, it’s pretty straightforward: a solitary red rose, without a stem, front and center, with a pretty generic landscape background. The rose is beautifully done, intricate and detailed, giving it an almost hypnotic quality which draws the viewer’s focus. As a result, it can be easy to miss the bigger picture (quite literally), and upon closer inspection, a completely different work of art reveals itself. First, notice the two vague figures, standing underneath the rose, casting long shadows over a hard and barren desert. Then inspect the small town in the distance, which recalls images of vineyards in Italy, all under the orange glow of sunset. The sky is mostly blue with one, large white cloud, slowly floating across in the background. There is a single drop of water on the rose, closest to the foreground. The rose is glowing from the sunset. All of these little details turn a simple rose into a surrealist masterpiece.
Suddenly there is something foreboding about the rose, as it looms over the small figures and town, similar to how a U.F.O. might appear, and also glowing as if otherworldly. The palette of muted tones, complemented by the bright red of the rose, make the rose feel as if it doesn’t even belong to the same color spectrum of the universe it inhabits. The single drop of water raises many questions as to the origin of the rose, and creates endless little mysteries. The entire aesthetic bleeds surrealism, a haunting and desolate place of mystery. In this way, I think the name is apt: Meditative Rose, a rose that is so unexpected, out of place, and otherworldly, that it requires deep meditation and contemplation. As such, I found it perfect for my college dorm; now, in-between EECS projects and reading for Latin, I can take a break to study this strange rose, and slowly unravel its mysteries while appreciating the aesthetic that I love so much.
As somebody who consumes a lot of art and media, I can tell you first-hand that it’s financially frustrating. I’ll hear about a book that I want to read, or an album that just came out, or a new video game that is stunning, and I always have to come to the same conclusion: I can’t have it all. This is easily attested to by the many lists on my phone of things I would love to get, and also by all the items saved for later in my Amazon shopping cart. Perhaps it’s something unique to me, but I doubt it; I think anybody who enjoys art wants something physical that can serve as a reminder of how great a work of art was. In this way, art is inherently nostalgic, and that’s a quality that I greatly appreciate, being a sentimental person myself. For example, the first video game I ever remember playing was Pokemon Sapphire on my brother’s GameBoy Advance; I absolutely loved it even though I had no idea what was going on (to be honest, I’m pretty sure I was stuck in Mauville the whole time because I didn’t know how to progress).
It was a combination of the style, the game-play, and the interesting Pokemon that kept me entertained, but more importantly, the game came to represent a simple time in my life. Eventually the game was sold, as it became obsolete in the face of iPods and iPhones, and I gradually forgot about it. Then a year or so ago I started to feel nostalgic about the simplicity of the GameBoy; it didn’t need internet, the battery lasted for days, it wasn’t cluttered with apps and social media, and it was a reminder of one of my first great experiences with art. Needless to say, I ended up finding and buying a used GameBoy and started collecting the Pokemon games, which eventually led to buying a used DS Lite for the nostalgia of playing Pokemon Diamond and Platinum. However, the cost was adding up, and I started to realize that I had forgotten the point entirely; I never wanted all of the games, I just wanted the one that was sentimental to me.
I learned a lot from that experience, but most importantly that art can be appreciated and enjoyed in small quantities. When I thoroughly enjoy a work of art, I no longer try to buy everything related to it, instead I focus on the one thing that I loved about it and try to find something that will represent that in a nostalgic way. As a result, I have a little bit from everything: the seventh book of One Punch Man (the style of the fight scenes in this book are especially impressive), the first volume of One Piece, a deck of tarot cards, and a poster from the anime Akira, just to name a few. Each of these things I would love to indulge in, but I’m glad I haven’t; it is essentially quality over quantity, which is perfect for somebody like me who already enjoys so much art to begin with. And as far as cost goes, I can appreciate a work of art without having to waste money; for example, if I wanted to own every manga from Akira, it would run me about $170, when instead I can appreciate it and remember how much I enjoyed it with a $15 poster. Obviously this is just my personal philosophy, and some people might think it’s outrageous to only own one book from a series. I can’t say they’re entirely wrong, and in a perfect world I would want the whole series too, but realistically this is what works for me. So consider this an alternative way of thinking about and appreciating art; perhaps you can find the same value in this philosophy as I do.
(Image Credits: Google Images)
April 13th was Record Store day across the world, an annual event created to keep the legacy of records and record stores alive. The local Ann Arbor District library set up a Record Store Day event, including a market of new and used vinyl records from various record shops in Ann Arbor, along with a DJ and other entertainment. I was lucky enough to be able to go, and it was a great experience: I didn’t expect there to be many people, and I was worried it would be an awkward and uncomfortable environment, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that there was a large turn out. Even more surprising was how diverse the group was, most notably in age. It was interesting to see so many young people talking to the older people about records, and it got me thinking a lot about the role of vinyl records today. They’ve reached an age where they’re obsolete in a practical sense, but have become a symbol of nostalgia and good taste: many people will boast about the unique and superior sound of vinyl records; if they’re being sincere or just trying to sound cool, it can be impossible to tell. Regardless, vinyl records have maintained their spot in popular culture and it doesn’t seem like they’ll be leaving anytime soon.
Personally, it’s easy for me to see why vinyl records have stayed relevant compared to other music formats, such as 8-tracks, cassettes, and CDs. I’ve always appreciated the artistic format of vinyl records: their size alone demands attention and respect, not to mention they can be great examples of quality art and design. They take the concept of album art to an entirely new level by making the entire product a unique piece of art, from the front cover to the back cover and everything in-between. Some of my favorite examples are actually newer albums that are being sold in vinyl record format; I find it especially fascinating that modern musicians are releasing new music on vinyl. Maybe they see the unique artistic potential as well and they want to sell a work of art that will never age. Either way, I hope it’s a trend that doesn’t die out.
(Header Image: Google Images)
Albums featured:
