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Sodomy, sake, murderous monsters & sketches straight from Hell: The art of Kawanabe Kyōsai
05.22.2018
09:14 am
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“School for Spooks” by Kawanabe Kyōsai 1864. A larger version can be seen here.

 
Born 1831 in Koga, Japan, artist Kawanabe Kyōsai (sometimes noted as Kawanabe Gyosai) had the distinction of being a highly influential artist during both the Edo period (1603-1867) and the Meiji period (1868-1912). Another distinction Kyōsai earned during his career was being known as “the demon of painting” most likely a nod to the volume and diversity of work Kyōsai produced which was admired by influential creatives not only in Japan but in France and the UK while he was active. His work during the Meiji period was known for its infusion of politics and satire as well as his use of caricature which got him in trouble with the authorities. What exactly ticked the cops off is a bit murky. Some cite following a night of pounding sake with his fellow artists and writers, Kyōsai was arrested for creating works which were critical of Japanese political figures and the police. One of Kyōsai’s paintings “Instructions for Drinking Parties” (1870) has also been named as a culprit in this caper as it was suspected of portraying Westerners and Japanese engaged in acts of “sodomy” and sent him to the slammer. Kyōsai spent three months in jail and received 50 lashes just for creating art.

As far as Kyōsai’s early life, there are a couple of different historical accounts regarding the artist’s father. Some sources indicate that Kyōsai was the “son of a samurai” while others note his father was a rice merchant in Koga. What is not in dispute is that Kyōsai’s father noticed his son’s talent at the tender age of three before enrolling the child in formal art training at the Kanō school at the age of six or seven, later moving on to the Surugadai branch of the Kano School. During this time in Kyōsai’s young life, it has been documented that he traveled down to a river and pulled out a human head (noted in the book Yurei: The Japanese Ghost), which he proceeded to use as a model of sorts before being discovered and told by his family to toss it back where he found it. At the age of 21, Kyōsai’s work was already legendary, as was his unhinged behavior and epic consumption of sake. Allegedly Kyōsai would have 1.8 liters of sake delivered to his house every morning, often downing three or so bottles before noon. Perhaps this bit of history regarding Kyōsai might make you wonder how the fuck does one paint with the deft and precision of a master while getting bombed on rice wine? Here’s more from a friend of Kyōsai, Japanese journalist and writer Kanagaki Robun on Kyōsai’s “creative process:”

“At about 11 o’clock in the morning on 30 June 1880, the renowned Japanese painter Kawanabe Kyōsai started work on his great curtain for the Shintomi theatre. It was to be a version of the classic subject the One Hundred Demons, and as Kyōsai wielded his huge painting broom, their faces began to take shape. But there was something different about them. These were not the elegant forms of the Ukiyo-e painters. They were wild-eyed, manic creatures who moved across the picture in a frenzy of diabolical abomination. This was Kyōsai “crazy painting.”

Perhaps it was the booze which brought the best out of Kyōsai; it was also likely instrumental in elevating the artist’s more ribald works, including one you have probably seen before—his bizarre “Fart Battle” (1867) which was a form of political protest meant to address the encroachment of Western influence in Japan and its impacts on Japanese customs and lifestyles. This was a theme/sentiment he incorporated into his art for the majority of his long career. I’ve posted images of Kyōsai’s work below which include his famous series Sketches of Hell commissioned in the 1870s by surgeon and Japanese art collector William Anderson. Much of what follows is NSFW.
 

A vision painted recalling the severed head Kyōsai fished out of a river as a child.
 

“A Comic Picture” 1864.
 
More Kawanabe Kyōsai after the jump…

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Posted by Cherrybomb
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05.22.2018
09:14 am
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Ghouls, H.P. Lovecraft & beyond the beyond: The deeply creepy creations of artist John Holmes
05.17.2018
10:49 am
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A painting by British artist John Holmes.
 
From the time he held his first solo art exhibition in 1961, the art of British painter and illustrator John Holmes has expanded the minds of his fans with his imaginative take on monsters and other makers of mayhem. After hustling his craft hard in the early 60s, a few years later Holmes found himself busy working almost non-stop creating artwork for all kinds of publications including Playboy and UK women’s magazine, Nova. Later, Holmes would hook up with the art director for British publishing company Granada Books, and his ghoulish illustrations would be used widely on titles from authors such as H.P. Lovecraft, Samuel Beckett, Thomas Pynchon and perhaps most famously on the cover of the 1970 edition of Germaine Greer’s book, The Female Eunuch. Holmes’ floating female torso for Greer’s book was preceded by his disquieting work featured on the album cover, gatefold and back of Ceremony: An Electronic Mass—the collaboration of prog rock band Spooky Tooth and French electro-producer Pierre Henry .

Initially, Holmes’ work was much more abstract—a stark contrast to his strangely realistic work which would make him famous. His art was also widely used for the popular series The Fontana Book of Great Horror Stories—and if you were a child of the late 60s, 70s or even the early 80s, I’m sure you will recognize at least one of Holmes’ eerie, minimalistic paintings in this post. Much of what follows is NSFW.
 

Holmes’ artwork which appeared on the cover of an edition of H.P. Lovecraft’s ‘The Tomb (and other stories).’
 

The cover of Thomas Pynchon’s ‘Gravity’s Rainbow.’
 

Holmes’ cover for the 1973 book by Poul Anderson, ‘Beyond the Beyond.’
 
More after the jump…

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Posted by Cherrybomb
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05.17.2018
10:49 am
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New book collects every issue of the Crass zine ‘International Anthem’


The ‘domestic violence issue’ of International Anthem, 1979
 
This deserves more press than it’s received: a new book collects every issue of International Anthem: A Nihilist Newspaper for the Living, including two never before published. The volume is an official product of “the publishing wing of Crass and beyond,” the venerable Exitstencil Press.

International Anthem was Gee Vaucher’s newspaper, but denying its connection to the band would be a challenge. Its 1978-‘83 run coincided, roughly, with Crass’s (as opposed to, say, Exit‘s), and the Crass logo sometimes appeared on the paper’s cover (see above). Eve Libertine, $ri Hari Nana B.A., Penny Rimbaud, G. Sus (aka Gee Vaucher) and Dave King contributed to its pages.
 

Gee Vaucher collage from International Anthem #2 (via ArtRabbit)
 
The book contains scans of the originals (“bad printing, creases, mistakes and all”), reproduced at full size. If it is good to buy quality art books, it is better to buy them directly from the artist. Buddhists call it “accumulating merit,” and they say you want to do a lot of it in this life, so you don’t have to come back as Eric Trump. Below, consume two hours of Crass programming broadcast on Australia’s JJJ Radio in 1987, featuring some Crass texts read in Australian accents and contemporary interviews with Gee and Penny at Dial House.

Help Gee Vaucher collect 20 million hand-drawn stick figures for her World War I project.
 

Posted by Oliver Hall
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05.17.2018
08:47 am
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David Lynch’s memorably pointless comic strip ‘The Angriest Dog in the World’
05.16.2018
11:31 am
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It was hiding in plain sight, and yet it was almost designed not to be noticed at all. For several years from the mid-1980s to the early 1990s, an experimental four-panel comic strip conceived and written by David Lynch ran in a handful of alt-weeklies under the title “The Angriest Dog in the World.” If you were the type of person who might have been flipping through the Los Angeles Reader or the New York Press or Creative Loafing or the Baltimore City Paper around 1987, you surely remember the peculiarly unfunny strip with the never-changing image of a tiny, spermatozoa-esque pooch straining at his lead in which the deadpan resolution was almost always a transitional nighttime image of the same godforsaken yard. 

It is said that Lynch came up with the idea for the strip during the long gestation period for Eraserhead in the early to mid-1970s, but it was only after the prominent releases of The Elephant Man and Dune that Lynch was able to convince anyone to run the strip. James Vowell, founding editor of the L.A. Reader, was the first publisher to bite. Vowell told SPIN in 1990 that Lynch drew the template for the strip a single time and sent it on, and after that it was the task of David Hwang, the alt-weekly’s art director, to receive the dialogue for each new installment from Lynch himself or Lynch’s assistant Debbie Trutnik, and draw the new dialogue on a piece of wax paper that was then superimposed over the strip’s template. (It’s noticeable that the handwriting in the captions changes over time, but I don’t know if that represents the input of different people or what.)

“The Angriest Dog in the World” had a memorable intro text, which was presented at the start of every installment:
 

The dog who is so angry he cannot move. He cannot eat. He cannot sleep. He can just barely growl. Bound so tightly with tension and anger, he approaches the state of rigor mortis.

 
The dog itself never did anything but growl, while whatever “action” there could be said to occur emanated from inside the house. Speech bubbles indicate the existence of human beings named “Bill,” “Sylvia,” “Pete,” who were apparently fond of trading street jokes creaky enough to make Henny Youngman himself die of embarrassment. A typical example runs:
 

Person A: Bill…. Monopoly jam?
Bill: What the hell is that?
Person A: They say it’s a game preserve.

 
Other times the strip veered into non sequitur, with pronouncements such as “It must be clear even to the non-mathematician that the things in this world just don’t add up to beans.” The introduction of fiery panels apparently ignited by an unseen hand on the rightward side of the strip did liven things up in a suitably apocalyptic register.
 

 
The evidence on the matter of the strip’s popularity was decidedly mixed. SPIN stated that in a 1989 survey, 20% of New York Press readers selected “The Angriest Dog in the World” as their least favorite feature, but when the Baltimore City Paper asked its readers what they thought a few years earlier, the outcome was 5 to 1 in favor of keeping it. In the mid-1980s an enterprising parodist named Jeff Murray aptly skewered Lynch as “The Laziest Cartoonist in the World.” 

In their volume on the director, Colin Odell and Michelle Le Blanc described “The Angriest Dog in the World” as “a masterpiece of minimalist cartoon writing,” nailing its appeal thus:
 

The simple, black and white, harsh style of the strip, with its nervous, edgy lines and picket fence suburbia turned into a Dadaist battlefield, would later reflect the look of his animated series Dumbland.

 
Oh right: if you haven’t heard about Dumbland, you really owe yourself a peek.

Lynch has always had a knack for writing against type, if you will: his “dramas” are consistently crammed with amusing and odd bits of business, and here, in what is ostensibly a vehicle for mirth, what you mainly get are stale punchlines and what must be apprehended as a considerable quotient of pain, no matter how ironically presented.

The meditating master of misdirection is notoriously hard to pin down on any subject, but David Breskin managed to get a straight answer out of the director in Inner Views, his charming book of interviews with famous directors:
 

Breskin: And what makes you the angriest dog in the world?
Lynch: Well, I had tremendous anger. And I think when I began meditating, one of the first things that left was a great chunk of that. I don’t know how it went away, it just evaporated.

Breskin: What was the anger like? Where did he come from?
Lynch: I don’t know where it came from. It was directed at those near and dear. So I made life kind of miserable for people around me, at certain times. It was really a bummer. Even though I knew I was doing it, there wasn’t much I could do about it when the thing came over me. So, anger––the memory of anger––is what does “The Angriest Dog.” Not the actual anger anymore. It’s sort of a bitter attitude toward life. I don’t know where my anger came from and I don’t know where it went, either.

 
The strips are difficult to find online, and those that are available are, for the most part, blurry and indistinct. To be honest, these self-consciously stupid strips are crying out to be collected in a book. Until that happens, we’ve presented a healthy collection below.

We’ll give the final word on the subject to Vowell, the strip’s very first patron, who once explained to Rob Medich of Premiere, “It’s just the same bad jokes. They’re really pretty dreadful. You can quote me. But they’re still fun. I think sometimes he tests to see what it would take for us to throw him out of the paper.”
 

 

 
More after the jump…

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Posted by Martin Schneider
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05.16.2018
11:31 am
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‘The Flicker’: The legendary (and potentially) mind blowing underground film where nothing happens
05.15.2018
04:40 pm
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Since he was both a Harvard math major and a member (along with John Cale and Angus Maclise from the Velvet Underground) of La Monte Young’s drone ensemble the Theatre of Eternal Music (aka “The Dream Syndicate”) it makes sense that artist/musician Tony Conrad would produce a hypnotic film that combined his studies in mathematics and structure with his interest in the psychoactive effects of repetitive or prolonged intervals of pure sound.

The result is “The Flicker,” a film legendary from being mentioned in dozens upon dozens of books on underground film, “expanded cinema” and the Velvet Underground. Few have seen it since the 1960s.

It begins with a message:

WARNING. The producer, distributor, and exhibitors waive all liability for physical or mental injury possibly caused by the motion picture “The Flicker.” Since this film may induce epileptic seizures or produce mild symptoms of shock treatment in certain persons, you are cautioned to remain in the theatre only at your own risk. A physician should be in attendance.

A frame then reads “Tony Conrad Presents” followed by a stylized quasi-Fluxus looking title card. The screen goes white. The screen goes black. When it starts to speed up, the stroboscopic effects are not just similar to—but in my opinion far superior to—the internal visions created by Brion Gysin’s psychoactive kinetic sculpture, Dreamachine.
 

 
Conrad told Hyperreal:

When I made the film “The Flicker” in 1965-66 my principal motivation was to explore the possibilities for harmonic expression using a sensory mode other than sound. The experience of “flicker” - its peculiar entrapment of the central nervous system, by ocular driving - occurs over a frequency range of about 4 to 40 flashes per second (fps). I used film (at 24 fps) as a sort of “tonic,” and devised patterns of frames which would represent combinations of frequencies - heterodyned, or rather multiplexed together. I was interested to see whether there might be combination-frequency effects that would occur with flicker, analogous to the combination-tone effects that are responsible for consonance in musical sound.

I don’t think he was whistling “Dixie” when it came to that warning, btw. If a strobe light can set off an epileptic seizure, surely “The Flicker” could. If I haven’t already scared you off, sit with it long enough and you can get a high that’s similar to bed spins without the nausea (I mean that in a good way!)

Here’s an excerpt from “The Flicker” on YouTube. Although it’s a little ratty-looking, you can still more or less “get” the effect. There is a clean version (that compensates for film to video conversion) that you can find floating around on torrent trackers and various “artsy” film blogs. I highly recommend looking for it, it’s really neat.
 

Posted by Richard Metzger
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05.15.2018
04:40 pm
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The Devil’s in the brushstroke: Lurid paintings of monsters, nightmares & demons for Mexican pulps
05.14.2018
08:42 am
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We have their paintings, their names, and that’s about it. Araujo, Dorantes, Fzavala, Marin, Pérez, Luna, and Ortiz. Many more just disappeared or have been forgotten leaving only an unsigned canvas as evidence of their careers.

These were the artists who produced work for Mexican comic books and pulp magazines during the fifties, sixties, and seventies. Most were treated like casual laborers hired to churn out work on a daily basis to meet the massive demand for comic books. To get an idea of scale: it’s estimated that some 56 million comic books were produced every month in Mexico during the mid-seventies. This was when Mexico’s population was around the 65 million mark—that’s one helluva lot of comics and one helluva lot of paintings.

Mexican comics had first taken their lead from the influx of US comic books during the 1940s. By the late 1950s, they were producing new and original stories and characters specifically for the Mexican market. Titles such as Los Supersabios, Los Supermachos, Los Agachados, Las Aventuras del Santo, Tinieblas, Blue Demon, El Tío Porfírio, Burrerías, Smog, Don Leocadio, Zor y los Invencibles, Las Aventuras de Capulina, Las Aventuras de Cepillín, and El Monje Loco all became best-sellers. Unlike US comics which were by then bound by a comic’s code, Mexican comic books and pulp magazines were able to publish work uncensored. This led to the rise of more salacious, brutal, and extreme storylines and artwork.

In 2007, Feral House issued a book celebrating the best of these pulp and comic book paintings called Mexican Pulp Art. In her introduction, Maria Cristina Tavera explained that these paintings reflected “The fantasy elements reflect Mexican attitudes about life, death, mysticism, and the supernatural.” Interest grew in the subject and in 2015, a selection of some of these original works was exhibited under the title Pulp Drunk. While there are still many gaps to filled in over the who’s and when’s and what’s, there is still a massive archive of brilliant, brash, and dazzling artworks to be enjoyed and thrilled over.
 
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More lurid pulp paintings, after the jump…
 

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Posted by Paul Gallagher
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05.14.2018
08:42 am
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Meditate, breathe: These comics bring a much-needed moment of peace to our stressful, chaotic world
05.09.2018
11:22 am
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Do you suffer from tense, nervous headaches? Are you sometimes overwhelmed by the demands of modern life? Do you feel sad, lonely, and isolated from those around you? Then maybe it’s time to take a moment of quiet reflection in the comic strip art of Evan Matthew Cohen.

Cohen’s strips depict some of the fears, stresses, anxieties, and delusions that hinder us from connecting with ourselves and with the world. The noises of distraction caused by a fractured city life, the constant bombardment of social media and the relentless march of information technology. His illustrations highlight the way many people feel about their lives and offer a possible way to rediscover some small amount of peace of mind.

Based in New York, Cohen works as a professional illustrator and artist producing work for commission alongside work for his own comic strips, books, and posters. He creates his peace-strips to help himself and hopefully others feel “connected and comfortable with the world,” where the constant noise of modern life can be equally balanced by mindfulness and enlightenment.

See more of Evan M. Cohen’s work here or buy prints, books, and badges here.
 
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More of Evan M. Cohen’s peace strips, after the jump…
 

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Posted by Paul Gallagher
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05.09.2018
11:22 am
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Of Skank Kids, Germs and Circle Jerks: The influential punk art & comics of Shawn Kerri


A flyer by artist Shawn Kerri for the Circle Jerks from 1981
 

“I’ve never gotten the same thrill out of having one of my cartoons printed in a magazine as much as seeing one of my old fliers — something I did for a punk gig the week before — laying in the gutter. Seeing it all mashed and dirty thrilled me, because that was how I was living, too. It looked exactly like my life.”

—artist Shawn Kerri

Artist Shawn Kerri (Shawn Maureen Fitzgerald) spent most of her life growing up near San Diego before taking off to make a name for herself in Los Angeles. Kerri was just nineteen when she showed up at the office of CARtoons magazine looking for work and quickly became one of the magazine’s only female illustrators for much of its entire run. A huge fan of hot automobiles herself, Kerri drove a badass 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air around LA hitting up shows and soaking in the city at every stop. Swept up in the furor of late 70s and early 80s southern California punk, Kerri’s artwork quickly became a favorite of bands like Circle Jerks, T.S.O.L., the Germs and others which were used for show flyers, posters, and album art. Perhaps her most intrinsic contribution to the punk scene is the “Skank Kid,”(as originally drawn and named by Kerri), the high-stepping hardcore mascot of the Circle Jerks since the early 1980s. You know, this guy:
 

The Skank Kid skanking by Shawn Kerri in 1981.
 
Early on in her career, Kerri worked along with her then-boyfriend, another notable illustrator entrenched in the punk scene, Marc Rude, an artist some consider to be one of the fathers of underground punk art. They would collaborate on a zine called Rude Situation but would part ways. Kerri would go on to score work in tons of publications such as Cracked, adult magazines like Hustler,  Chic, and Gentleman’s Companion—as well as underground comix and zines like Cocaine Comix, Commies from Mars and Flipside. During her active time as an artist, she was wildly prolific, though not as well known as her peers like Rude, Pushead and fellow SoCal legend Raymond Pettibon. Perhaps it was because Kerri didn’t care to engage in copyright disputes. Such a situation presented itself in 1986 when the agent and record label for one of Kerri’s favorite bands, Circle Jerks, took it upon themselves to claim ownership of the Skank Kid image. Instead of engaging in a long and expensive legal fight, she allegedly signed over the rights to her image to Circle Jerks vocalist Keith Morris.

Another compelling piece of Kerri’s story are the rumors concerning her death sometime in the 1990s—which have been disputed by many claiming to know otherwise. According to this article, Kerri died shortly before her 40th birthday after falling down the stairs at her mother’s home in San Diego. And this is where we swing back to Kerri’s former boyfriend Marc Rude for what is likely the correct version of what happened to her. According to an article via Maximum Rock N Roll, Carl Schneider, the filmmaker behind the 2014 documentary on Marc Rude, Mad Marc Rude: Blood, Ink & Needles, paid a visit to Kerri at her mother’s home sometime in 2004 and confirmed the artist was still very much alive but in rather poor health. For what it is worth, Kerri’s Wiki page does not note she has passed, listing only the year of her birth which is 1958. Whatever the case, it would be my hope the talented, passionate punk is loved and staying strong somewhere in sunny SoCal. I know Kerri’s dedicated fan-base would love to know more about her current status, as would I. 

I’ve posted images of Kerri’s work below as well as a few images of her adult-oriented work published using the name Dee Lawdid. Some are NSFW. Skank or die!
 

The front cover of the 1980 album by Eddie and the Subtitles, ‘Fuck You Eddie!” by Shawn Kerri.
 

 

 
More after the jump…

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Posted by Cherrybomb
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05.08.2018
10:57 am
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The violent, sexy, hilarious dancehall cover art of Wilfred Limonious
05.03.2018
12:47 pm
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Another Shot comp (1988)
 
Wilfred Limonious was a prodigiously talented Jamaican artist and cartoonist whose work represents a key document for the the dancehall reggae scene of the mid-1980s. Limonious had a background as a newspaper cartoonist, but in the mid-1980s his work became incredibly in demand for album cover art for the dancehall artists like Yellowman, Little John, and Horace Martin. Between 1983 and 1992, Discogs credits Limonious with a staggering 132 covers—much of his finest album art came in the years 1985 and 1986, when he must have been churning out 3 a month, at a minimum, besides doing who knows what else.
 

 
Limonious’ work could take the form of a respectful portrait, a galvanizing call to arms (complete with machine guns, natch), or a hilarious comment on sexual politics. It’s easy to draw a correlation between his work (and perhaps that of dancehall in general) and the hip-hop movement in the United States—both feature a fair amount of braggadocio about sexual and criminal activities.

Limonious was way funnier than most of the art associated with rap, however. His most memorable images are street scenes, usually with a variety of people in them, and often there are scurrilous little goings-on and comments off to the side or tucked in between. In many ways Limonious’ comedic strategies call to mind the busy imagery of MAD Magazine.

As British reggae historian Steve Barrow has said,

Looking back at Limonious’s work now, it’s clear that he is an important part of a global cartooning continuum. The exaggerated caricatures of artists such as the 18th-century cartoonist Thomas Rowlandson, the late 19th-century German artist Lothar Meggendorfer, the early 20th-century US comic artist George Herriman, Chic Young, the creator of Blondie, and the renowned UK artists Dudley Watkins and Leo Baxendale, who worked on DC Thompson company titles The Beano and The Dandy, can all be cited as antecedents. So, while his jacket artwork––at first glance––is obviously focussed on Jamaican popular culture, at the same time his work forms part of a larger world––that of international graphic culture.

 
Limonious’ images are so fun, arresting, and vibrant that it’s well-nigh irresistible to come up with comps. The first thing that entered my mind was the four covers Corky McCoy did for Miles Davis in the early 1970s—most notably On the Corner but also In Concert, Big Fun, and Water Babies. It’s also hard not to think of Los Bros Hernandez, and some of his more casual work (the cartoons and some of the back images palaver) reminds me (if no one else) of Garry Trudeau’s early Doonesbury cartoons, while he was still at Yale.
 

Remarkable sample of Limonious’ hand-drawn type, endpaper for In Fine Style by Christopher Bateman
 
Limonious sadly passed away at the age of 50 on December 27, 1999. It took a while for the rest of the world to pay attention to the jaw-dropping vibrancy of Limonious’ work, but it’s finally happening. Three years ago Christopher Bateman published In Fine Style: The Dancehall Art of Wilfred Limonious, which is quite simply one of the finest coffee table books you could ever hope to own, and the stylemaker Supreme has been releasing T-shirts with Limonious’ imagery on them.
 

Dance Hall Time comp (1986)
 

Original Stalag 17, 18 and 19 comp (1984)
 
Many more examples of Limonious’ marvelous album art after the jump….....
 

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Posted by Martin Schneider
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05.03.2018
12:47 pm
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Vintage sketches of Stevie Wonder, The Jackson 5, Aretha Franklin & more by designer Boyd Clopton


A sketch of The Jackson 5 in clothes envisioned and made for the band by designer Boyd Clopton.
 
In addition to creating unique stagewear and costumes for acts like The Jackson 5, Stevie Wonder, the Supremes and Aretha Franklin (among many, many others), Boyd Clopton was also a talented painter whose personal works have been known to fetch as much as twenty grand when they become available.

A resident of Venice Beach during the glorious time it was still very much a mecca for bohemian beat poets, musicians, and creatives, Clopton lived there for three decades starting sometime in 1960 when he was in his late 20s. In the early 70s, Clopton’s wildly groovy designs were being worn almost exclusively by The Jackson 5 during their live shows, television appearances, and photo shoots. Aretha Franklin was also a fan of Clopton’s duds and would make it a point to seek him out whenever she was in Los Angeles (as mentioned in a 1974 interview published in Ebony magazine). Like other designers, Clopton would sketch out his concept clothing on paper for his clients. Unfortunately, Clopton’s career was cut short by his untimely death in 1989 at the age of 55. Single articles of clothing designed by Clopton have sold for hundreds and even thousands of dollars in auctions as have his sketches—many which reside in an archive maintained by the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Below, some examples of Clopton’s fantastic sketches featuring his famous muses, as well as a few shots of The Jackson 5 wearing his outrageous outfits in real life. Keep it funky, now.
 

A sketch of Marlon Jackson of The Jackson 5 in one of Clopton’s designs.
 

The Jackson 5.
 

Dusty Springfield 1972.
 
Much more after the jump…

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Posted by Cherrybomb
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05.03.2018
12:06 pm
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