Imagine yourself sitting in a small square room. Everywhere you look, distorted images of objects you think you recognize live on the walls. To your right, arrows in all kinds of intricate shades pointing in every direction come out of nowhere and mingle with bubbles of checkered, spotted, and striped designs. Color explodes and drips from the core of this...thing. To your left is a medley of familiar images with artistic twists that. A devil wearing a halo screaming “PAIN”, Donald Duck wearing Mickey Mouse Ears, a pitbull that seems to be coming out of the wall, a row of neapolitan ice cream bars in the shapes of letters, a rainbow rendition of Nelson Mandela. There seems to be no relevance to these images, no coherence, no spatial organization and the only way to describe this experience is ‘alive’. You can’t capture the life of the art in words, but you clearly understand it in your mind, while your emotions live in coexistence with the art and the art voices its emotions to
Imagine yourself sitting in a small square room. Everywhere you look, distorted images of objects you think you recognize live on the walls. To your right, arrows in all kinds of intricate shades pointing in every direction come out of nowhere and mingle with bubbles of checkered, spotted, and striped designs. Color explodes and drips from the core of this...thing. To your left is a medley of familiar images with artistic twists that. A devil wearing a halo screaming “PAIN”, Donald Duck wearing Mickey Mouse Ears, a pitbull that seems to be coming out of the wall, a row of neapolitan ice cream bars in the shapes of letters, a rainbow rendition of Nelson Mandela. There seems to be no relevance to these images, no coherence, no spatial organization and the only way to describe this experience is ‘alive’. You can’t capture the life of the art in words, but you clearly understand it in your mind, while your emotions live in coexistence with the art and the art voices its emotions to