I wrote previously about Karin Jurick’s Different Strokes from Different Folks cooperative painting blog, in which participants all paint their interpretation of a given photographic subject.

In a fascinating variation for the Year End Challenge, participating painters were asked to submit a photograph of themselves from the shoulders up. These were then swapped, distributed out to different artists in the the artistic equivalent of an office gift swap (sometimes called a “pollyanna”), and each artist painted another artist’s portrait.

The resultant paintings are a fascinating array of portraits, in different styles, approaches, mediums and degrees of accomplishment.

I find the idea of artists painting artists particularly fascinating.

(Please see the Different Strokes article for artist credits for the images above.)

Taking a page from yesterday’s post about the first issue of Juxtapoz, which featured an article on Zap Comix 13, I wanted to make a hopefully timely post about underground comix artist S. Clay Wilson.

Wilson is a cartoonist and comics artist whose work is rude, crude and full of atti-tude to the point where words like “offensive, politically incorrect, objectionable, demeaning to women, violent, sexually explicit, not safe for work, over the top, graphic, intense, obscene, dangerous, bloody, and shocking” have always seemed a bit tame and inadequate to the descriptive task. Of course, that’s exactly why some people, myself included, hold it in high regard.

Wilson was a regular contributor to Robert Crumb’s ground breaking Zap Comix in the late 1960′s. His characters like the Checkered Demon, Ruby the Dyke, Star-Eyed Stella, and others whose very names were offensive, romped, gamboled, swilled Tree-Frog beer and fought and sliced their way across panoramas of unbelievable carnage, comically exaggerated sexual violence and dementedly bloodthirsty absurdity in the pages of the independently distributed counter cultural comix. (My favorite was the Checkered Demon “…nice day for somethin’…”)

Wilson himself rampaged slashing and burning through the conventions of decency where others only tiptoed, and opened eyes and minds to the examination of those conventions in the process.

Robert Crumb said the it was S. Clay Wilson who opened his eyes to the notion that absolutely nothing was off limits, and made way for unthought of possibilities of expression and the defiance of taboos.

In the process Wilson could be wildly, dementedly funny. If you weren’t the type to take offense to his deliberate offensiveness, and could see the absurdity underlying it, his very degree of excess, and the apparent glee with which his pen wallowed in it, were agonizingly hilarious.

Of course, in our uptight, politically correct, oh-so-ready-to-take-offense society people have actually been arrested for selling material containing his work. He is exactly the kind of cultural buccaneer that keeps thing shook up, something society desperately needs at times.

I can’t point you to a repository of Wilson’s work, I had trouble finding images I could show in polite company (image above via P.J. Donovan), but I’ll try to provide a few links.

There are some collections of his work, like The Art of S. Clay Wilson and Collected Checkered Demon and he has illustrated books of fairy tales (notably Grimm’s, couldn’t find a link) in his own inimitable style. You can also find his work in back issues of Zap Comix and other underground comix if you’re lucky enough to come across copies.

I mention that I hope this post it timely because Wilson recently suffered a grave injury, and as an independent outsider cartoonist, is in need of assistance to pay large medical bills. Some friends, family and supporters are putting on some benefits to help raise the needed funds.

S. Clay Wilson Noise Benefit, January 11, 2009 Hemlock Tavern in SanFrancisco, CA.

Mojo Lounge Benefit, January 24th, 2009 at Mojo Lounge in Fremont, CA.

There is also an address where donations can be sent directly:
P.O. Box 14854
San Francisco, CA 94114

There are columns in the Oregonian in which Steve Duin is covering the story.

[Via BoingBoing]

Note: links here, and all references to and material by S. Clay Wilson should be considered NSFW and not suitable for children; as well as not suitable for adults who take offense easily, Concerned Citizens for Decency, and all others not inclined to celebrate the destruction of the fabric of mainstream society.

Juxtapoz is an alternative art and culture magazine, loosely dedicated to outsider art, urban contemporary art and “lowbrow art” (or “pop surrealism”).

The magazine was started by Robert Williams, who was at one time an assistant to Ed, “Big Daddy” Roth. Williams was also a pioneering underground cartoonist (one of my favorites) and contributor to the original Zap Comix with Robert Crumb and the gang, and is currently a “pop surrealist” painter.

Juxtapoz has actually been going since 1994 (surprised me to realize that), The magazine has an active online presence and has recently been putting full archives of its early issues online. They are now up to issue #10.

The first issue (images above) contains articles about issue #13 of Zap Comix (which was sort of a reunion issue, that sadly also marked the loss of pioneering west coast artist Rick Griffin, and was dedicated to his memory), as well as articles on Big Daddy Roth himself (who many, myself included, consider the “daddy” of this particular branch of pop culture and art), along with articles on Von Dutch, John Pound and others, and includes a Spain Rodriguez sketchbook.

The subsequent Juxtapoz archive issues are a cornucopia of thumbs-against-the-eyeballs lowbrow art, which some people find irresistibly fascinating and others find unconscionably revulsive. A word to the wary.

Personally, I find myself in between those extremes, apparently a rare occurrence. As much as I love the original cultural and artistic streams from which lowbrow art and/or pop surrealism stem (specifically true Surrealism, Dada, early 1960′s Kalifornia Kustom Kar Kulture and late-60′s underground comix), I run lukewarm on the contemporary artists who take their inspiration from that vein, with a few exceptions.

It seems like most of them are trying way too hard to be outrageous or disconcerting; and for all of that the art never has the ferocious life that those originals had, particularly against the backdrop of the restrictive mainstream cultures they so gleefully disturbed.

Nonetheless, Juztapoz does feature work that is fascinating and well worth the attention; provided, of course, that you have the inclination to take the ride through that particular funhouse.

Note: Both the site and the magazine archives should be considered NSFW and not suitable for children.

Noupe has aggregated a list of 60 Photoshop Tutorials from various sources. The list includes links to other lists of tutorials, so it’s actually a few hundred links and tutorials.

Some of them are directed specifically at creating digital art in Photoshop, like these 100 that I mentioned in a previous post (more here), and some of the ones here.

Others are more general, with effects, textures, patterns, downloadable brushes and PSD files, cheat sheets, keyboard shortcuts, actions and generally enough Photoshop links and resources to keep you knee deep in colorful pixels for several months.

Have fun, and don’t forget to come back up for air.

[Via Digg]

Since the jolt of receiving my Coraline Mystery Box I’ve been understandably curious about the upcoming animated movie, and equally frustrated that I can’t yet find a significant repository of Coraline concept art (though I did come across some very early concept drawings here).

I’ve also noticed that the Coraline movie web site is now active, with a nicely responsive Flash interface and lots of stuff to explore and download; and the ASFIA-Hollywood Animation Archive has added a few more Coraline Mystery Boxes to its tally.

In the meanwhile, I’ve been happily feeding my Coraline fascination with the excellent graphic novel adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s novel by veteran comics artist P. Craig Russell, which Santa, and/or my stepdaughter, brought me for Christmas.

The book is a hardback, a bit smaller in aspect than typical American comic size, but certainly big enough to give the art a good sized canvas. It’s also worth noting that the book, at almost 200 pages and consisting of a complete story, can be correctly called a “graphic novel”; as opposed to the constant misuse of that term by the mainstream comic companies to apply to the last six issues of some superhero comic slapped into a square binding.

Russell is no stranger to working with Gaiman’s material, Coraline is his fifth collaboration (including a stint as my favorite artist for Sandman), and he is currently adapting Gaiman’s The Dream Hunters as a graphic story. When HarperCollins originally proposed a graphic novel adaptation to Gaiman, he immediately asked that it be done by Russell.

Russell’s adaptation of Coraline was begun prior to the release of visual concepts for the movie and is free of the influence of the film. This is a Good Thing; not that the movie doesn’t look great, everything I’ve seen from it looks amazing; I’m just glad the graphic story is an independent artist’s interpretation of the novel and not part of a “movie package”.

Russell’s vision of the story is more straightforward than the highly stylized character designs featured in the film, with a realistic representation of Coraline, her parents and the other major characters; giving it more of the feeling one might conjure up on one’s own mind when reading the prose version.

Russell’s elegant linework, refined draftsmanship and keen sense of design are well suited to the story and its setting, and he seems to take particular delight in his portrayal of the old house and its surrounds.

Lovern Kindzierski contributes restrained and effective color to the artwork, Todd Kline adds nice touches to the lettering and the entire package is very satisfying, almost like a deliciously dark children’s picture book for adults.

There are some pages you can see on Gaiman’s site (from which the image above is taken, also here) and a couple bits of art (and here) on Russell’s site. There is an interview with Russell on Newsarama.

The HarperCollins site has a page devoted to the Coraline Graphic Novel; and both that site and Neil Gaiman’s Mouse Circus page have a Browse Inside link that takes you to a preview that is almost 40 pages long (large and long enough to get you reading and hooked on the story – clever).

Addendum: P. Craig Russell has begun a series of video talks on graphic storytelling on the PCR TV site. In the first installment, he talks about story openings, using his graphic story adaptation of Pelléas & Mélisande as an example. New segments will be added weekly on Mondays.

I’ll start with a slight disclaimer, in that Gallery Nucleus, which is currently having a solo exhibition of Mike Hernandez’ work, is also currently an advertiser on Lines and Colors.

That being said, when I check in on Gallery Nucleus, it often turns out that they have something on exhibit that is interesting to the point where I want to tell you about it, and I’m trying to do that while the show is current and those in the area can still catch it.

Mike Hernandez is a concept artist and art director at Dreamworks Animation. He has worked on projects like Shreck, Sinbad and Bee Movie. You can see some concept art for Sinbad and Bee Movie on his blog.

Most of the artwork on his blog, though, is his personal work — beautiful small landscapes in gouache, a few somewhat larger ones in oil, charcoal drawings, and marker and ink drawings, often with versions colored after the fact in Photoshop.

Hernandez apparently paints and sketches either on the way to and from work, or perhaps on his lunch hour, as many of the small landscapes are of the area around or even on the Dreamworks campus. They range from traditional landscapes in parks and wooded areas to urban scenes and compositions of industrial buildings, which he renders as miniature marvels of geometric color and light.

Hernandez’ ink sketches, frequently done with a Sharpie, are loose and gestural, but nicely evocative of the California countryside and urban alleyways.

His gouache paintings and sketches are splashed with color and texture, and often have a nice quality of brushstrokes that feel a bit like scribble lines.

Unfortunately, you can’t just click an “Older posts” link to dig back through his blog, as it’s one of those Blogger arrangements where you have to go to particular months on the sidebar; but digging will be rewarded — with life sketches, wonderful charcoal drawings of dogs, photoshop renderings of imaginary scenes and lots of landscape paintings and drawings.

Gallery Nucleus has an online gallery of some of the work that will be offered during the show, though the images on the page are incomplete. (The prices, even given the small scale of the paintings, seem low.)

The Mike Hernandez Solo Exhibition at Gallery Nucleus in Alhambra, CA runs from now until Jaunary 11, 2009. There is a reception tonight, January 3, 2009 from 7-11PM.

Alexandre Cabanel was a French Academic classical painter who showed notable skill at drawing at the age of 11 and entered the École des Beaux-Arts at 17. He quickly began exhibiting at the Paris Salon.

He was renowned as a portrait painter as well as a painter of historic, religious and classical subjects, and eventually became an influential teacher at the École des Beaux-Arts (at the same time that Jean-Léon Gérôme was appointed there) and a juror at the Salon.

He counted among his students numerous painters of note, including Jules Bastien-Lepage, himself tremendously influential, and Daniel Ridgeway Knight (less well-known, but a personal favorite about whom I’ll write more in a future post).

He indulged his audience a bit, with historic or mythological subjects that allowed him to paint beautiful, languorous nudes, as in his Birth of Venus (also here), which was bought by Napoleon III at the 1863 Salon, and Cleopatra trying out poisons on her lovers (above, top, also known as “Cleopatra testing poisons on condemned men”).

With his precise draftsmanship and superb command of painting technique, he was something of an exemplar of an academic painter, and like many of his compatriots, his reputation fell after his death and remained suppressed during the anti-Academic wave of the 20th Century Modernist art establishment.

It’s interesting to compare Cabanel’s vision of Shakespeare’s Ophelia (image above, bottom, also here) with that of Victorian and Pre-Raphaelite painters like John William Waterhouse (images here, here and here) and John Everett Millais.