Gorey extensively experimented with books — books that were wordless, books that were matchbox-sized, pop-up books, books populated by inanimate objects. He would often call his work “literary nonsense”.

I enjoyed learning more about Gorey because of his quirkiness. He published independent works under pen names, using anagrams (he also enjoyed puns). Ogdred Weary, Dogear Wryde, Ms. Regera Dowdy were just some of the names he came up with. In his later years, he moved to Cape Cod, Massachusetts where he wrote and directed numerous evening-length entertainments, often featuring his own papier-mâché puppets. He was also a pop-culture junkie, following soap operas and comedies such as Petticoat Junction and Cheers, in addition to darker shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the X-Files.

First two images from Goreybooks, third image from Sotheby’s, and fourth and fifth images from It’s Dark in the Dark.

If you’d like to see some more photos from my Vermont trip, you can view them here.

I love Netalua’s paintings, and how they actually look like cut out pieces, with the stark contrast and heavy emphasis on shape. It painterly, but also feels designed. The point of view is an interesting one, and also consistent. Netalula has abstracted and obscured our viewpoint to have us looking over each activity and situation that her characters partake in. We are a voyeur, and at time it feels like her subjects know this. There is a certain shyness to them, in terms of posture and gaze.

All images via her Flickr.

I must say, I was pretty excited to see that and more of Kristin’s work. Being a fan of color and shape, Kristin takes it there. She also takes it a step further by installing her work in three dimensional forms in settings outside a picture frame or gallery.

I always love reoccurring forms and elements in a work. It’s something inescapable, and I think that a lot of us have the tendency to make the same kinds of shapes, draw the same types of things, and be attracted to similar colors. It’s innate. Kristin has touched upon this, exploring the same form, but placing it in different settings. From here, it retains some of its original meaning, but also takes on a life of its own, depending on context.

All images via Kristin’s Flickr.

There is an emptiness and isolation to Eleanor’s work. It’s not exactly comforting, and at times extremely vulnerable. I think that’s where the success in her work lies. Her illustrations expose a primitive feeling, in both style and execution of media. I see references to Medieval and Byzantine paintings with the flat portraiture, as well as even a cubist feel with the flat, planed shapes.

There’s something to take note of — it’s the nudity of some of her figures. She puts them in danger but giving them no armor to protect themselves against the animals and of the vast land she’s created. They must fend for themselves, and do a pretty keen job at it (so far!).

All images via her Flickr.

But, I digress. It is not Josef Albers I am here to talk about. For this week’s Time Travel Tuesday, I will be focusing on the work of Alber’s wife, Anni Albers.

Best known for her textile work, Anni started her career as a painter, studying under an impressionist painter and later having an discouraging meeting from artist Oskar Kokoschka, who asked her, “Why do you paint?” upon seeing her work. Anni eventually made the decision to attend art school, only attending two months. She then made her way to Bauhaus in Weimar, Germany. There, women were barred from certain disciplines, such as architecture, and Anni reluctantly took up textiles. She soon fell in love with the tactile challenges that weaving presented and emphasis was on production rather than craft. She experimented with textiles that combined properties of light reflection, sound absorption, durability, and minimized wrinkling and warping tendencies.

I love the design of these textiles, as well as Anni’s materials — she incorporated jute, paper, cellophane, among other materials to create unique and unexpected effects.

All images via The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation.

I tweeted about this yesterday, but I will be spending the next two weeks in Johnson, Vermont at the Vermont Studio Center, making work, meeting other artists, and enjoying the landscape. During this time, I’ll still be blogging, but only writing one entry per day, to allow myself advantage of all the time I have in this beautiful place.

Brown Paper Bag will be back in full starting September 13. I have some exciting things planned for the blog, and I can’t wait to share them with you!

PS — I’ll still be on twitter! Follow me!

Ana Benaroya is an artist and illustrator living in New Jersey and the next participant in Art Together. Here’s what I sent her to work with:



What I received from Ana were two versions of the same piece. While they utilized the same piece, Ana manipulated the color and contrast, giving them flavor and feeling overall.

Her response, version one:

You and I both know that you are an illustrator and design living in New Jersey, have worked with scads of freelance clients, and are the co-creator of Egg on Bread along with Ahu Sulker. What else would you like for the interwebs to know?

Hmmmm, well I prefer to remain dark and mysterious…haha, just kidding! Basically just that I am a workaholic and I love what I do. I hope I am lucky enough to be able to keep making art till the very end!

I enjoy seeing two different versions of the same piece — one takes advantage of the different papers and textures (and seems to work on subtleties), while the other is visually electric and a bit more in your face . Do you have a favorite? Also, do you feel that one is more akin to your body of work?

I do not have a favorite, I enjoy both for different reasons. But I definitely believe that The Red Warrior is closer to the style of the rest of my work, which tends to be brightly colored and graphic. I believe that they are more successful when shown together, rather then separately.

It’s interesting look in the way you oriented the piece. When I created my part, I had originally oriented everything with the triangles on bottom. Was there a specific reason you chose to create piece from this way?

Interesting! Well, to me I guess the blue area seemed more like the ground and the brown area seemed more like the sky (I know, seems counter-intuitive, but I can’t explain). I liked the idea of the triangular shapes pushing down on the back of the man. To me, it kept my eye moving up and down within the piece.

Do you think by adding text (and dubbing them each piece the “blue warrior” and “red warrior”, respectively) do you see the two men engaged in a conflict or battle?

I think by adding the text I tied the two pieces together on another level (beyond the fact that they are variations on the same image). It creates an abstract narrative that can be taken in either a light-hearted or serious manner. The men could be two different individuals or they could be one and the same. The image itself is a solitary one (with only one human within the composition) — but by calling the man a warrior it implies a world outside of himself.

You have participated in many collaborations over time. How was your approach to this project the same or different from other endeavors in the past?

I actually believe this to be my most successful collaboration. Oftentimes I think the result of a collaboration is a piece that neither artist would like to call their own. The unique voice of each artist is lost and the result is some mutant mish-mash that belongs on another planet. Maybe you feel differently? I don’t know if you would like to call this yours anymore.

I don’t know if my approach was different this time around, but I was trying to remain respectful of what you created and add something that was my own voice that could live within your world. So I guess The Blue Warrior would be more successful in that aspect. The Red Warrior is definitely closer to my style.

And finally: Where do you think your love of drawing muscular men comes from?

It probably comes from my tomboyish childhood love for superheroes and action figures. I had a collection of over two hundred! No Barbie dolls for me. From the day I was born I was obsessed with being able to draw muscles accurately and I would copy anatomy books over and over again. I guess this obsession stuck with me. I think childhood obsessions and interests always stick with us.

Or maybe deep down inside my subconscious I secretly desire to be a muscular man. We may never know.

Thanks, Ana! And, for the record, I am very happy to call this collaboration mine.

His paintings have all the ingredients, but aren’t mixed together. Things exist beside each other, but don’t necessarily interact the way you’d expect them to. It challenges the amount of depth that each piece has, despite the mountains that are present in many of his paintings.

Looking at Santiago’s paintings, I get the feeling that everything matters, and nothing at the same time. Aside from the landscape, the figures and objects dot his paintings and feel small. At the same time, their lack of space and depth puts everything on the visual hierarchy.

All images via his Flickr.

I like the spin that’s put on Bárbara’s illustrations. They depict exuberance and superfluousness, using pastels and colors so sweet that it’s saccharine. Outfitted with lace-up boots, cups of tea and paling around with unicorns, there is, at the same time, a sense of disappointment or something awry. Dismemberment, black tears, skulls — all of these things are also present amongst the sweet.

A lot of drawings that I like are done in a Moleskin, to which I say “great job!” to Bárbara. My sketchbooks are never that composed. Her portfolio also includes shoe design, street art, apparel and accessory design. These things are a bit more unassuming than her drawings and paintings, but still delightful nonetheless. I love her painted shoes!

All images via her Flickr