A self-portrait by Gábor Urbán.
 
At the age of eighteen, Gábor Urbán began his studies in painting at the University of Novi Sad in Serbia. He would also explore the craft under the tutelage of successful painter Árpad G. Balázs. After spending nearly two decades perfecting his surrealist style of painting, Urbán was able to support himself as a freelance artist starting in the early 1980s. In the wake of the ethnic conflicts arising in the region as the Yugoslav Wars were beginning their various decade-long clashes, Urbán would leave Serbia in defiance of the conflicts and unwillingness to participate in it as a soldier.

He would travel to nearby Hungary, though he also spent much of his time away from Serbia on an island located in the Adriatic Sea, Hvar. Living up to his motto, “Not a day without a line,” Urbán would continue to paint, inspired by his stunning surroundings, such as the lavender fields of Hvar and the ocean. Another recurring subject in Urbán’s work are wild horses often painted into phantasmagorical situations, just like the humans who become a part of his swirling, surreal universe. And as I’m on the topic of phantasmagorical situations, Urbán is also known for his apocalyptic visions of what the future may hold for mankind. Using a similar color scheme in each, Urbán would paint 20+ examples of his lush nudes in end-of-times scenarios, including crucifixions, rapture-esque demises including the devil, and warnings about the effects of consumerism on our very souls. While his imagery with these specific works is pulsing with surrealism, Urbán also shows great skill in his ability to capture the essence of the old masters as well as incorporating aspects of Greek mythology into his work.

Now in his early 70s, Urbán has been struggling to complete his “life’s work” due to an undisclosed medical condition. In 2016 an Indiegogo site was launched to help raise funds for the painter to help him finish five to eight paintings. Unfortunately, the page is no longer fundraising, and the rather private Gábor, who splits his time living in Serbia and Hungary, has not provided any updates as to his progress or condition. In light of this revelation, I’m happy to shine a very bright light on Urbán’s darker works in the hope it will create more awareness of this incredibly talented artist. Most, if not all, are NSFW.
 

 

 
More after the jump…

‘The Grotto at St. Michel.’
 
A winged subterranean creature fires out of a mountain cave to release, or is it perhaps to devour, a golden bird—or the symbol for the Holy Spirit?—against a blue winter sky. A man in Victorian dress, accompanied by his daughter, cheer the beast on. It looks like some mountain scene Caspar David Friedrich started painting only for Theodor Kittelsen or maybe Félicien Rops to finish it.

And then there is the unwary traveler (huntsman), riding through a cold winter wood, when he is quickly, silently eaten by a monstrous white eel rushing downhill like an avalanche.

Or, the boy in short trousers entering (what looks like) a drained swimming pool room where a monstrous creature, like a bloated dust mite or mutated bed bug waits. Strange shadowy figures peer into the windows above.

These are three paintings by the brilliant Canadian artist Peter Ferguson, whose work disturbs, amuses, and excites like the greatest illustrations from the best book of adventure tales.

I looked to find out more about Ferguson but all I found was the same words used and reused on different sites lifted from the artist’s press release. Then there is his work, which brilliant and beautiful, and strangely unsettling. It has been described as “meticulously painted,” “luminous,” “grandiose,” “humorous,” “paranormal,” “fantasy, surrealism, and realism,” and often described as a cross between Norman Rockwell and H. P. Lovecraft. All of which is true. Technically he is brilliant and his imagination unparalleled. But a lack of the artist’s comment forces the viewer to look at his work without any preconceived notions as to the artist’s intention or the work’s meaning.

We’re fast awake and seeing dreams which we fill with our own peculiar narrative. The ambiguity of Ferguson’s paintings allows us to do so—a tale that reflects our own fears and obsessions. Are the creatures in his paintings innocent victims or truly monstrous? Are the humans good or evil?

Born in Montreal, Canada in 1968, Ferguson was first inspired to draw spaceships and alien creatures after he saw the movie Star Wars as a boy. He decided on becoming an illustrator and attended the Ontario College of Art and Design in Toronto, graduating in 1992. Ferguson then began a long and brilliant career as illustrator working in oils for companies as diverse as Marvel, the Royal Shakespeare Company, MOJO, the Wall Street Journal, and the Washington Times. Since the turn of century, Ferguson has been exhibiting his brilliant paintings in group and solo shows. His work is quite literally what dreams are made of. And if I had the money, I’d buy a dozen of his paintings to hang on my walls because I know that everyday I would look at Ferguson’s pictures and see something different, think something different, and know something different about myself.

A new exhibition of Peter Ferguson’s work Skip Forward When Held has just opened at the Roq la Rue Gallery in Seattle, details here. Or check more by this highly original and gifted artist here.
 

‘Pastoral.’
 

‘The Engineer Jules Bernhardt.’
 

‘Mayfair Parlour Shark.’
 
See more of Peter Ferguson’s brilliant work, after the jump…
 

Tom Savini and Andy Warhol. All photos by Christopher Makos via Pittsburgh City Paper.
 
Before Tom Savini made Andy Warhol look like a character from one of George Romero’s films, he had never met the soft-spoken artist. However, his actor/makeup artist/stuntman younger brother Joe Savini had attended school with Warhol at Carnegie Institute of Technology (now Carnegie Mellon University) in Pittsburgh. George Romero is also an alumnus of the school. Following the release of Day of the Dead in 1985, Savini would receive a call on behalf of Andy Warhol requesting that he transform Andy into one of his iconic zombies. Given the fact that Pittsburgh is truly the center of the zombie universe, as well as the birthplace of Andy Warhol and Tom Savini, the pop artist’s request to become a zombie was perhaps inevitable. Whatever the case may be, Savini and long-time colleague FX legend Greg Nicotero traveled to meet Warhol in New York to make Andy’s dream of becoming one of the undead a reality.

During their time with Warhol, the platinum-wigged artist sat quietly while Savini and Nicotero worked their magic. Also on hand was Massachusetts native, photographer (and former apprentice to Man Ray) Christopher Makos, who captured a few moments from the threesome’s strange get-together. According to Savini, he himself was unaware Warhol was wearing a wig and gently tried to adjust Andy’s “hair.”
 

Zombie Warhol.
 
It turns out Andy Warhol was very much a fan of Romero’s Living Dead series and zombie culture. In an interview with the Pittsburgh City Paper, Makos, a close friend of the artist, believed Romero’s films—and others like them—were a part of the artist’s “fieldhouse” (though he likely meant “wheelhouse”). Warhol’s 1977 film Bad features a gory scene of a woman tossing her crying infant out of a window. It splatters on the sidewalk next to a woman walking by, spraying blood from its head.

Another aspect of Romero’s films that appealed to Warhol was how the filmmaker was able to make such a strong statement with a relatively small budget. In the case of 1985’s Day of the Dead, Romero saw his initial budget of seven million slashed in half. This forced Romero to make huge concessions not only to the original script and larger scale of the film, but his desire for Day of the Dead to be unrated. If you’re a fan of this film, the reality of the drastic cuts ended up producing some of the greatest practical effects ever, as well as the gift of another Massachusetts native, Joseph Pilato (RIP) in the unforgettable role of Captain Henry—“Choke on ‘em!”—Rhodes, who only got the part as a direct result of the reduction in the film’s budget.

Makos’ photographic legacy is astounding in its own right, and his many images of Andy Warhol can be found in his beautiful books on Andy. Tom Savini has recently released his highly anticipated autobiography, Savini: The Biography.
 

An alternate image of Warhol as a Savini zombie.
 

The trailer for Andy Warhol’s ‘Bad.’

God in Three Persons 2020, courtesy of the Cryptic Corporation

Next month, the Residents will perform their 1988 narrative album God in Three Persons at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. The show will combine new video projections by the artist John Sanborn with a live performance by the Residents and vocalist Laurie Amat, whose contributions to the original LP are memorable. 

Homer Flynn, the president of the Cryptic Corporation, has handled the Residents’ affairs since the 1970s. I called him just before Thanksgiving, interrupting his graphic design work on an upcoming release involving the Mysterious N. Senada to pepper him with questions about the Residents’ next moves.

Dangerous Minds: Has God in Three Persons ever been performed in front of an audience before?

Homer Flynn: Well, not in the way that it’s being done now, I’ll put it that way. You know, the Residents always felt that God in Three Persons was probably the thing that they had done that most lent itself into being expanded into more of a theatrical-slash-visual form. And one way or another, they’ve kind of worked around with that for some time now. But what happened was that they made contact with a producer, a guy named Steve Saporito in New York, and, you know, one of the Residents did a solo performance, I don’t know, seven or eight years ago, in San Francisco and New York. It was called “Sam’s Enchanted Evening.” And Steve, that producer, was the one responsible for getting that to New York, and afterwards he asks, “Well, what else are you interested in doing?” And the first thing in the meeting that came up was God in Three Persons. And so, in a lot of ways, that kind of picked up the energy, in that way. 

But they did a reading of God in Three Persons for ACT, the American Conservatory Theater, which is a very well-established theater in San Francisco, and that happened, I think, a little over two years ago or a little over three years ago. They got some interest at that, but then the woman who was the artistic director left, and there was a big changeover. And they are still interested, but meanwhile, in between, they’d also been talking to the Museum of Modern Art, and the interest really started picking up there, so the energy started going in that direction.

So in answer to your question, they did do a reading of it at ACT about three years ago; they also worked with an American classical composer and conductor who was doing a museum show at a contemporary art museum in Rotterdam, and they performed some pieces of it with him as part of a museum installation. And then they did some more pieces of it at a performance in Bourges, France, just this past April. So they’ve done pieces of it here and there, but they’ve never done anything nearly as extensive or ambitious as what they’re doing now.
 

Homer Flynn, courtesy of the Cryptic Corporation
 
Can you tell me how it compares to the original touring show that was planned? I don’t know how far along that got.

You know, that really didn’t get very far. They had some conversations with BAM, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, oh, back in the late Eighties, about potentially doing God in Three Persons with them. But ultimately, what happened was that, one, they felt like they were not gonna be able to do justice to it in a touring scenario, and then also, two, before anything could happen, they completed their King & Eye album, you know, which was all Elvis covers, and they just felt like that was gonna lend itself much more to touring than God in Three Persons. So at that point they kinda dropped God in Three Persons as a performing piece and moved towards The King & Eye, which ultimately became their Cube-E tour. That was probably about ‘89.

It would probably have been harder in a number of ways to stage God in Three Persons in ‘89. For one thing, you have the video doing some of the work in this version—

Absolutely.

—but also the content. The end, I find it hard to imagine taking that on the road with the ending it has, which I think is still pretty shocking, actually.

Yeah. Well, in some ways, it almost seems like it’s more shocking now than it was then. But it also feels, in a lot of ways, you know, the whole idea of the twins being very gender-fluid—you know, that idea was kind of completely off the charts, at that point, and now it actually feels very much in line with the times, in a lot of ways.

Is [genderqueer porn star] Jiz Lee playing both of the twins?

Yes. Right. Correct. There are a few shots that John did where he brought in another one, another person that looked very similar to Jiz, so there would be some times when both of ‘em were in the frame, and he wasn’t having to do video doubling or whatever. But for the most part, Jiz plays both twins. 
 

‘Holy Kiss of Flesh,’ the ‘almost danceable’ single version of ‘Kiss of Flesh’ (via Discogs)
 
I have a sense that the story of God in Three Persons is about show business, more than anything else, and I wonder if the Residents see it that way.

Well, it’s interesting that you would say that. How do you make that connection?

Maybe the horrible celebrity environment we live in has just permeated every last fold of my brain. There’s something about the Colonel Parker aspect of Mr. X, and the road show, freak show aspect of the story.

Well, it’s interesting you would say that, especially given the fact that Cube-E, you know, The King & Eye, with Elvis and the obvious Colonel Parker connection, and then Freak Show were the next few things that came after that.

Right. Elvis is a thread, in a way.

In a way, yeah. The Residents—well, they’ve always found connections in, shall we say, unpredictable ways. 

One of the things that’s interesting about seeing what the Residents are gonna do at MoMA is, with this piece, the lyrics carry so much of the story, it seems like there would be a lot of really interesting staging decisions. At some places what’s happening in the lyrics is really explicit, and in other places, I’m not exactly sure what’s going on in the story. Can you tell me about the staging?

In the same way that the original piece is really a monologue set to music, the staging will be similar, but there will be other performers. The primary additional performer will be a shadow Mr. X, who will be a dancer that, at times, will be like a kind of a doppelgänger, in a way, echoing Mr. X. And then, other times, there will be three projections in the performance. One will be the primary projection which will go all the way across the back of the stage. But then there will be another narrow vertical screen that will kind of come up and down, and it will bisect that larger screen. And then there will be a third screen that the shadow Mr. X will carry, at times, and then there will be another performer holding a hand-held projector, in order to project upon the hand-held screen. So that’s the basic setup, from a performance point of view. And then, of course, all the music will be live.

Staging Mr. X with a double: I can’t help but make the connection with the songs that inspired the album: “Double Shot,” which is two, and “Holy, Holy, Holy,” which is about the Trinity. And that’s kind of what the story is about, right?

Right, exactly. Yeah. But, you know, the Residents kind of love dualities, and you see dualities reoccuring throughout their pieces all the time. The twins are a certain duality, and Mr. X and the shadow Mr. X become another duality, and there’s probably other ones in the same piece, too. It all kinda fits in with the Residents’ world.
 
Much more after the jump…

Black Christmas, Italian, 28x39”

Every year around this time, Westgate Gallery‘s poster concierge extraordinaire Christian McLaughlin drastically cuts prices for his annual Black Xmas 50% Off Sale.

Anyway, my pal Christian, a novelist and TV/movie writer and producer based in Los Angeles, is the maven of mavens when it comes to this sort of thing. You couldn’t even begin to stock a store like his if you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for in the first place, and if you want a quick (not to mention rather visceral) idea of his level of deep expertise—and what a great eye he’s got—then take a gander at his world-beating selection of Italian giallo posters. Christian is what I call a “sophisticate.”

He’s got a carefully curated cult poster collection on offer that is second to none. His home is a shrine to lurid giallo, 70s XXX and any and every midnight movie classic you can shake a stick at. But why would you want to shake a stick at a bunch of movie posters to begin with? That would be pointless. And stupid.

The Westgate Gallery’s Black Christmas 50% off sale sees every item in stock at—you guessed it—50% off the (already reasonable) normal price. All you have to do is enter the discount code “BX19” at checkout and your tab will be magically cut in half.

The selection below is only a very tiny sliver of what’s for sale at Westgategallery.com.
 

Abominable Dr Phibes, Italian, 26x37”
 

All the Colors of the Dark, Italian, 39x55”
 

Attack of the Mushroom People, Italian, 55x78”
 
Plenty more posters, after the jump…

 
The Greys: may or may not be a band from New York that are now a one or two-person operation working out of Mexico City. The Greys may or may not be Elvis impersonators high on ketamine disco dancing through neon nights. Then again, the Greys may or may not be suburban revolutionaries waiting for the Communist call. Or, the Greys may or may not be the girl of your dreams in the arms of four Welsh men from Hull. Most probably, they are none of these things.

It doesn’t really matter. All you need to know: The Greys is the name of a band who would rather remain anonymous (or so I’m told). A band who want to be known for their music rather than who they are. And that’s fine with me. Though I’m sure you can dig up the details if you’re so inclined on Discogs. But back to the Greys. They describe their music as “Art Rock, Avantgarde, Deathrock, Krautrock, Space Rock, Punk, Post Rock, Prog Rock.”.

Last year, the Greys released a 12” four-track EP which created some passing interest. They also roped in cult film director, actor, writer and artist Nick Zedd to direct their promos.

It was the Zedd connection that brought me to the band. Good thing too. Zedd shared his director’s cut of the Greys’ most recent track “The Reckoning.” Intrigued by the music and more particularly the visuals, I contacted Zedd to find out more.

Who are the Greys?

Nick Zedd: The Greys were a band twenty years ago in NYC or NJ I think. The band still puts out records which are kind of good but very experimental.

And you worked with the band before “The Reckoning”?

NZ: I shot two previous music videos with the band. On [‘The Reckoning’] I selected the makeup, costumes, locations, the pig, blood and other details and directed everyone and lit the sets. The girl is an artist who does dissections and preservations of dead animals. The two previous videos I did with the Greys were good too. We had bigger budgets to spend on props and locations and a Mexican girl who was an erotic dancer who also sang on one. That one was called “Vive Libre” “Deathless” was one we shot in the hotel I eventually was evicted from, using a drone camera for some shots.

What’s the promo for “The Reckoning” about?

NZ: I wanted to raise awareness regarding the history of U.S. imperialism and the crimes committed by agents of predatory capitalism for hundreds of years around the world. Hypocrisy is cherished and enshrined by the ruling class of the United Snakes of Amerika who control everything we see and hear on controlled corporate media, in our broken educational system and in the dominant political narrative to which we’ve been conditioned. I wanted to break through the propaganda with six minutes of truth.

Sounds good.

NZ: I want the video to reach the widest possible audience.

Check out more of the Greys music here and follow Nick Zedd here.
 

 
Bonus the Greys’ video ‘Deathless’ directed by Nick Zedd, after the jump…
 

‘The Entombment’ (1957).
 
After being discouraged from pursuing a career in art by his lawyer father, Paul Delvaux would enroll at the Académie Royale des Beaux-Arts in Brussels. René Magritte, was studying there as well. Delvaux’s father unhappily agreed to his son’s study of architecture, though the younger Delvaux was deeply challenged by the evil that was mathematics, and failed his exam. Delvaux would then switch gears delving into the art of decorative painting. After an extended stay at the Académie Royale, he would graduate in 1924 after approximately eight-years of artistic immersion—though some sources indicate Delvaux would depart the school much later, in 1927. A quote attributed to Delvaux below nicely provides insight into his evolution as an artist and precisely what inspired him:

“Youthful impressions, fixed once and for all in the mind, influence you all your life.”

One of Delvaux’s artistic calling cards was his affinity for human skeletons. This interest could be traced back to his early schooling and his fascination with the skeletons that were on display in his biology classroom. Another account details Delvaux developed a fear of skeletons after being subjected to looking at one hanging in the music room at school. The artist had also been photographed numerous times at various ages with various skeletal muses. Also distinctly present in Delvaux’s dreamworld were entirely or partially nude women. Along with his skeletons, his paintings of women were often unsettling and confusing, as were some of the sexual situations Delvaux envisioned, then painted them into. Another young love of Delvaux was the illustrations of French illustrator Édouard Riou. Delvaux would become aware of Riou after receiving Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth, which he got as a communion gift in 1907. Delvaux would be inspireded by artists affiliated with the Barbizon School, an art movement originating in the forest-town of Barbizon focused on the expert painting of landscapes, just south of Paris. 

Furthermore, even though he had not completed his studies in architecture, the time he spent with the discipline would prove to be a strong influence in his work, especially those including another childhood love, trains, and train stations. In addition, during his time at Académie Royale, Delvaux was also under the direct tutelage of two Belgian painters; Constant Montald and the esoteric symbolist, Jean Delville. Traits of both Montald and Delville can be clearly seen in Delvaux’s work.
 

‘The Tunnel’ (1978).
 
A pivotal event in Delvaux’s career occurred in 1926 when he attended a gallery show for Giorgio de Chirico—the founder of the short-lived Scuola Metafisica (Metaphysical School) in Italy. De Chirico is credited for providing much of the fuel used to ignite the Surrealist movement. Surrealist works by René Magritte were of keen interest to Delvaux, as were Salvador Dali and Dada pioneer Max Ernst. Surrealism is quite evident in Delvaux’s paintings and concepts, but the artist did not consider himself a part of the movement. In fact, Delvaux’s work would be categorized in 1925 by German photographer, art historian and critic Franz Roh as “Magic Realism.” Another formative experience for the artist were his visits to the Musee Spitzner, which after burning down, turned into a traveling anatomical museum featuring approximately 250 different wax recreations of human anatomy, including hideous deformities and wax depictions of social diseases. In 1943, Delvaux would pay tribute to Pierre Spitzner in paint. Here’s Delvaux detailing his first visit to the Spitzner:

“In the middle of the entrance to the Museum was a woman who was the cashier, then on one side there was a man’s skeleton and the skeleton of a monkey, and on the other side, there was a representation of Siamese twins. And in the interior, one saw a rather dramatic and terrifying series of anatomical casts in wax, which represented the dramas and horrors of syphilis, the dramas, deformations. And all this in the midst of the artificial gaiety of the fair. The contrast was so striking that it made a powerful impression on me. All the ‘Sleeping Venuses’ that I have made, come from there. Even the one in London, at the Tate Gallery. It is an exact copy of the sleeping Venus in the Spitzner Museum, but with Greek temples or dressmaker’s dummies, and the like. It is different, certainly, but the underlying feeling is the same.”

In 1933 Delvaux lost his mother. Following her death, he would destroy more than 100 of his early paintings after being criticized for the explicit nudity in his work. His father would pass away four years later. That year would bring about Delvaux’s first marriage to Suzanne Purnal, and the beginning of a new, horribly destructive chapter in Delvaux’s life. Unsurprisingly, in the decade he spent with a woman he never really loved who made his life miserable,  Delvaux created some of his most masterful work. The Nazi occupation of Belgium would be yet another conduit for Delvaux’s creativity, bringing the artist to darker, more controversial places. He would paint as bombs descended across Brussels—most famously “Sleeping Venus” (1944). In 1948, priests were prohibited from attending one of his solo gallery shows, the reason more than likely his depictions of nude women. Men of the cloth would be banned from another show of Delvaux’s in Venice in 1954, this time at the behest of the future “people’s pope” Pope John XXIII, then-Cardinal Roncalli.  Roncalli was incensed by Delvaux’s work and labeled it “heretical.” Here’s the painting by Delvaux that drove the future Pontiff over the edge:
 

‘Crucifixion,’ 1952. Delvaux would paint different versions of ‘Crucifixion’ and ‘Sleeping Venus’ over the course of his career.
 
Quite by chance during a visit to the Belgian seaside town of Saint Idesbald in 1947, Delvaux would meet up with his first love, Anne-Marie de Martelaere—a woman his family, especially his overprotective mother, had forced him to stop seeing. They rekindled their romance, and Delvaux would divorce Purnal and move to Saint Idesbald, marrying de Martelaere in 1952. The town is also home to the Paul Delvaux Foundation and Museum (founded in 1982).  He would continue painting until he lost his sight in 1986 at the age of 89, the same year he lost the love of his life, Anne-Marie. Delvaux would move to Veurne, Belgium, where he would live the rest of his days before passing away at the age of 96.

Authentic paintings by Delvaux routinely sell at auction for well over a million dollars. In 2012 an oil on canvas by Delvaux “Le Canapé Bleu” (painted in 1967) sold for an astonishing $3,200,000.

Five decades of Delvaux’s divine NSFW work follows.
 

‘Woman in Cave’ (1936).
 

‘Women-Trees’ (1937).
 
More after the jump…

An illustration by Arthur Rackham for the story ‘Jorinda and Joringle’ from ‘Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm.’ The caption for the illustration in the book read ‘By day she made herself into a Screech-owl. Or a Cat” as the cat is actually a shape-shifting witch.
 
Artist Arthur Rackham was one of twelve children born to Alfred Thomas Rackham, a legal clerk, and Anne Stevenson in London in 1867. Rackham demonstrated a deep, nearly consuming interest in art at a very young age, and when he ran out of paper to draw on, he would use his pillowcase as a canvas. His artistic talent would not go unnoticed once Rackham enrolled in school, and at the age of sixteen, he would travel to Australia, where he would spend many months painting images of the country’s rolling landscape. Other accounts of Rackham’s trip down under indicate the trip was in part to help the young artist combat a state of ill-health. Upon his return, his father, who was not necessarily supportive of Rackham’s artistic ambitions, convinced his son to seek work in a conventional setting, which he did as a clerk in 1855. During this time, Rackham would continue his studies at the highly specialized Lambeth School of Art.

He would soon leave his position as a clerk to pursue his passion for illustration, much to the disappointment of his father. Rackham Sr.‘s annoyance would be short-lived as his son’s style of illustration and painting for children’s books would eventually become the required standard for other artists of the time period to aspire to. Rackham’s influenced not only his contemporaries but also artists for generations to come, including Walt Disney, who was a big fan of Rackham’s artwork. Disney would later request his talented team of artists and background artists to adapt Rackham’s watercolor/pen and ink style for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). Deeply proficient as both a painter and illustrator, Rackham curiously viewed both mediums as very different pursuits pointing out how differently illustrations were generally interpreted by the viewer:

“A picture both in subject and treatment must be considered as a work for constant contemplation - a permanent companion. An illustration, on the other hand, is only looked at for a fraction of time, now and then, the page being turned next, perhaps, to a totally different subject, treated, it may even be, in a totally different way. In this branch, bizarre and unusual effects of arrangement, violent actions, exaggerations and other matters of spasmodic interest may find a place almost forbidden on the walls of a room.”

Rackham’s work as a full-time illustrator was busy, and his work appeared in numerous magazines and books. In 1900, he would meet his soon-to-be-wife painter Edyth Starkie whose work would inspire the artist to define his own style and not to follow the path of convention as it pertained to his artwork. This same year Rackham would contribute 95 pen and ink drawings as well as a color piece for the Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm. This experience would be the catalyst for Rackham’s artistic evolution most notably in his work for Washington Irving’s Rip Van Winkle (1905). Other impactful pieces of literature containing Rackham’s illustrations would follow such as Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens (J. M. Barrie, 1906), Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson under the pseudonym Lewis Carroll, 1907) and later in 1909 with the completion of 40 additional illustrations for the Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm. The demand for books illustrated by Rackham was great, including requests for elegantly bound editions signed by the artist. His decision to leave his clerk position proved to be right on the money, quite literally, as Rackham and his wife would become quite affluent as a result of his success.

Following the conclusion of WWI, interest in books illustrated by Rackham (which were steeped in folklore and fairies), became less appealing to British consumers but he was still in high demand in the U.S. and was offered a huge commission from the New York Public Library to paint a series of pieces based on A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Even with the decline in the consumer market, Rackham had no problem finding work or commissions and in the last part of his life he would add costuming and set design to his vast resume after accepting the task of creating the costumes, background artwork and elaborate curtains for an opera based on Hansel and Gretel-a German fairy tale retold by Rackham’s beloved Brothers Grimm.

When Arthur Rackham passed away, he was memorialized in The Times of London  as “one of the most eminent book illustrators of his day.” His only child, Barbara Edwards, would qualify this statement with her own revealing the core of her father’s ethos:

“To do his job well and give pleasure to as many people as possible was his ambition.”

Below are illustrations by Rackham, and as you will see, he was quite fond of witches (aren’t we all?). Enjoy.
 

 

 

1907.
 

 
Much more after the jump…

‘Crepe and Black Lamp,’ by Don Van Vliet, 1986 oil on canvas, 148 x 122 cm / 58.25 x 48 inches
 
And here it is, the thing you never thought you’d see, a $1285 silk designer shirt emblazoned with a painting by Don Van Vliet, the artist formerly known as Captain Beefheart. I did a search on Beefheart this morning and soon afterwards I was served up a banner ad by Google advertising this shirt.

Produced by the label Enfants Riches Deprimes (“Depressed Rich Kids”), this horrible garment can be pre-ordered directly from the label.

Christ this is hideous. I don’t know what else to say. At least I hope his widow is being compensated for this shit. The rest of this label’s gear is equally heinous, like Ed Hardy on steroids. Most of it looks like it was designed by—and FOR—Jared Leto.
 

 

 

 

The good Captain makes an appearance on ‘Late Night with David Letterman’ on November 11, 1982.

‘Order of the Seven Serpents’ by Florian Bertmer.
 
German illustrator Florian Bertmer  confesses that he is “horrible at social networking.” To a certain extent this appears to be accurate, as it seems the now-LA based artist has never given an interview over the course of his career. He also drinks too much coffee, draws a lot, and likes dogs because they make him laugh. Since these attributes are clear indications of a person who has aligned their priorities correctly, let’s all try to learn a little more about the somewhat mysterious artist by way of his artwork which, if you are a fan of hardcore bands and jams, will be familiar to you. Also, if you happen to be a fan of all things satanic, or dabble in diabolism, Bertmer’s work will probably speak directly to you.

Bertmer’s earliest work dates back to his youth spent in Münster, Germany illustrating fliers for local hardcore bands. In 1998 he would get his first credit for album artwork for German hardcore punk band Highscore. The following year Bertmer and his band Cheerleaders of the Apocalypse put out their first recording, Bloodfeast 99. Florian is credited for his “Wacky Screaming” and the cassette’s artwork. That same year, Bertmer would illustrate his first of many album covers for hardcore band Agoraphobic Nosebleed. More recently, Bertmer has worked with screen-printing industry giant Mondo to create original posters for classic horror films such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Hellraiser, two of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s esoteric films, The Holy Mountain and Santa Sangre, as well as for the animated TV mind-fucks that are The Ren & Stimpy Show and Rick and Morty. Bertmer’s admitted ineptitude at social networking hasn’t hurt his career, and his illustration style is continually evolving. Over the last few years, fans of Bertmer’s work have noted the influence of classic Art Nouveau intertwined within occult symbolism and imagery inline with David Mann, an artist who masterfully captured outlaw biker culture with his paintings and contributions to biker bible/magazine Easyrider.

Bertmer’s numerous collaborations with Mondo have been wildly successful, and his reasonably priced limited edition prints (many of which are featured in this post) often sell out. When they do appear on auction sites such as eBay, some of his more culty works, such as his riffs on Ren & Stimpy, and his Jodorowsky movie posters routinely fetch $300-$400 each. More of Bertmer’s work follow—a few are NSFW.
 

 

A piece by Bertmer in the spirit of the artwork of David Mann.
 

Bertmer’s poster for Turner Classic Movies (TCM) in honor of the 40th anniversary of ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.’
 
More Bertmer after the jump…