Maps and UnNatural History

The work of Vancouver-based Paul Morstad involves some of my favorite things, and I don't just mean the magpies (as in Magpie Bacchanal, above). His series of multimedia paintings on nautical charts and maps have a sort of chaotic and romantic welter of natural history (flora, fauna, gems and geology) and subtle, imaginative, visual puns.

Consider the ruby-throated hummingbird raising a ruby in her nest.



Humbolt's Acordion seems to allude to one of my favorite, heroic nineteenth century naturalist-explorers, the biologist-meterologist-earth scientist-freedom fighter Alexander von Humboldt, who, amongst many adventures, famously learned 40 words of the dead language of the lost Atures tribe of South America, from a parrot, the last surviving speaker. Though, it isn't impossible it may have just been inspired by accordion players in Humboldt, Saskatchewan (or any number of other places of the same name). It makes me imagine tucans passing on the lost accordion music of some imaginary people. I love how the natural lines of inlets and rivers become trees and branches. I wouldn't have thought forks in rivers were isomorphic to branching in trees, (and I happen to be the sort of person who has spent hours looking at the Canadian Hydrographic Service chart for Jervis Inlet) but the organic lines work so well.



There is something magical and menacing about the regal prairie chicken, over the sedimentary section with cut gem stones, grasshoppers and smoking black-eyed susans in Prospector.


I too am charmed by weather prognosticating rodents.



Paul writes that he is deeply influenced by the "landscapes, people, flora and fauna" of the Western provinces (Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia) where he was raised. Do yourself a favour and check out the rest of his portfolio. I stumbled upon it while looking at some of the animations of his immensely talented sister Julie Morstad; they created the animations together.

Tuba

(image: Puffin on a Tuba, by Oliver Lake, available at society6)

This is a strange sort of post. Sometimes I like to gather little themes. This is really just two unusual tuba-related observations this week. Firstly, French cows clearly enjoy some jazz on brass and this tuba and trumpet duo. Made me smile:


(via swissmiss)

Meanwhile, in LA, there have been a rash of tuba thefts, leaving Southlands high schools bereft. Compared to some crime stories in Los Angelos, the idea of banda-crazed theives stealing from high school bands and a tuba-blackmarket seems humourous, but it's actually sad. High schools haven't the budget to replace these instruments. Though, at least these thefts will result in music, not mayheim.

Stick Charts and Woven Branch Maps

Via I'M REVOLTING come these woven branch maps, described as a collaboration between architect Tim Koelle and an unnamed local Mexican craftsperson (available at mc&co). They (mc&co) explain, "The branches are woven together when freshly cut & flexible. The designs are based on local topographical regions, serving as 'maps'."





I think the branch maps are lovely (if pricey!), but I do think it a bit odd that they do not mention the Polynesian tradition of making maps of branches. To navigate and explore a world of Pacific ocean, sparsely dotted with thousands of small islands, Polynesians created maps with knots, shells and bamboo or coconut fronds to identify routes to islands. They used the sun and stars to identify cardinal directions, and cues such as wave swells, winds, flights of birds, tides, reefs, cloud formation and flotsam to allow them to travel thousands of kilometers in canoes, long before Captain Cooke and other European explorers were able to explore the Pacific. They marked these cues on their maps called Rebbelibs, Medos and Mattangs, or Stick Charts. (You can find more on the history of navigation at sea, including Polynesian and Micronesian methods and maps curtesy of NOAA, the US National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration or about stick charts here and here).





I suppose it's possible they are less interested in maps, charts, navigation and the history of science and exploration than I (frankly, it's a bit of an obsession) and they may have actually produced their topographic branch maps in ignorance of Polynesian stick charts through a sort of convergent evolution of design (an idea which in itself interests me). Though, the lovely "Decorative Wall Hangings" might not be a case of cultural appropriation at all, I would far rather have a useful piece of naviation history if I had the choice.

Doily Science

Sometimes I neglect to mention artists who strike me as well-known, or blogosphere favorites. But, I would be remiss to neglect Lisa Solomon's 'doily drawings' which are at the cross-section of art, science and needlework, as they are both beautiful and very much in keeping with magpie&whiskeyjack's favorites things.


doily brain: 2006, coloured pencil and embroidery on duralar, 12 x 9 inches


doily lungs: 2006, coloured pencil and embroidery on duralar, 12 x 9 inches

Solomon writes, "when I started drawing doilies I realized that en masse they reminded me of internal organs.... these doily body drawings represent the 4 things I think you need to make art: your lungs, heart, brain, and guts." She's also used doilies and colour pencils to show beautiful versions of the chemical structure of toxins and the geometry of viruses. More recently she's moved on to even more sculpture representations of molecules by combining the crochet with glass balls.


carbon tetrachloride, 2007
colored pencil, acrylic, graphite, watercolor and embroidery on duralar
10" x 10"


chloro benzine, 2007
colored pencil, acrylic, graphite, watercolor and embroidery on duralar
16 3/4" x 20 1/2"


Chloroform
2011
crochet doilies on glass
3.5 x 8.5 x 8.75 inches
8.9 x 21.6 x 22.2 cm

As well as anatomy, chemistry, toxicology, and microbiology, she's also tackled deforestation, tanks and rifles (which would fit in with the craftivism post) and a variety of domestic themes. Her work includes the aim of fusing and 'mending' masculine icons with traditionally feminine crafts. You should check out her extensive portfolio.

Seraphinianusness

I wrote previously about my favorite book which I've never seen in person (or, should I say, in analogue form), the Codex Seraphinianius, by written and illustrated by Italian architect Luigi Serafini from 1976 to 1978. It's a visual encyclopedia, of a foreign, paradoxical yet familiar, world, complete with its own language and obscure meanings. Today, I bring you more art which reminds me of this particular brand of marvelousness; personal wonderland wunderkammer.

English artist and illustrator Ellis Nadler describes his "pictures as key frames or storyboards for some sort of bizarre movie. Or perhaps as stage sets for an opera I shall write some day." The "Scenes from the Speonk Archipelago" (one of which appears above) and gloriously mysterious and surreal Tarot-like 'Cards of Wu' in particular, make me think of Serafini. Do yourself a favour and peruse his portfolio!


from "Scenes from the Speonk Archipelago"


from "The Cards of Wu"


from "War"

Finland-based Vladimir Stankovic also creates bizzare, otherwordly wunderkammer (see in particular his Biophilia set), strange yet somehow familiar characters and a sort of personal mythology.


Beautiful feeling


The Mushroom Princess


Underneath the Reflection - Her Majesty


The Cursed Forest

Local Toronto favorite, illustrator Nicholas Di Genova (currently being exhibited at Galerie Dukan Hourdequin, Paris, but often found here in Toronto at Magic Pony or Narwhal) has invented this incredible, detailed, pseudo-scientific diagram style of illustration, complete with his own imaginary wunderkammer of composite creatures and seemingly obessive compulsive sets of flora and fauna - which has to be seen to be understood. He's quite prolific, so you should expect to spend some time at his site. Consider 'Angler Tortoise', 'Chluthu Toad' and '211 Herbivores' below, but do visit his site for a better look!

Euphoria

I found this inspiring. I am a fan of murals and graffiti. Who doesn't love variations on the theme of the matryoshka, or Russian nesting doll? Or braids and rainbows? Mostly, the film makes this collaboration between Supakitch and Koralie, working on their installation Euphorie for the Metroplastique boutique exhibit in Paris, seems natural, organic and spontaneous. (via HonestlyWTF and fubiz)

SUPAKITCH & KORALIE "Euphorie" Paris from Raphaël Hache on Vimeo.

Or, for that matter, I do love calligraphy, Japanese art, anthropomorphic animals and paper boats too (from CULTURE MUSEUM // GÖTEGORG+).

Olympic Art

The BBC News website has a article on and collection of photos of the 12 posters commissioned for the 2012 London Olympics and Paralympics. I could not help but share one by Bridget Riley, because it reminded me of the magpie&whiskeyjack banner I created (in 2009), though horizontal, different aspect ratio, more muted and uniform in colour selection. Still, though I'm new to her art, there's a certain coincidental something akin.



"Bridget Riley is celebrated for her optically vibrant paintings. The horizontal lines in Rose Rose (pictured) indicate the direction of the Olympic swimming lanes or athletic tracks. Riley, who began her career using only black and white patterns, started to experiment with colour in 1967, the same year she began painting stripes"

See the rest of the posters here.