Glen Fogel
5-channel video projection, solid-state relay, fluorescent lights, sound
19:45 min (loop)
Contemporary Art Museum Houston
From Jess (September 30, 1994), 2010
Oil on canvas
62x48 inches
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Exhibition Review
With Me ... You, 2011
Glen Fogel
5-channel video projection, solid-state relay, fluorescent lights, sound
19:45 min (loop)
Contemporary Art Museum Houston
From Jess (September 30, 1994), 2010
Oil on canvas
62x48 inches
Glen Fogel
5-channel video projection, solid-state relay, fluorescent lights, sound
19:45 min (loop)
Contemporary Art Museum Houston
From Jess (September 30, 1994), 2010
Oil on canvas
62x48 inches
Elevator Talk
I am a special effects makeup artist.
I focus mainly in human anatomy effects,
Such as wounds, gore, and medical scenes.
However, I also like to work
In science fiction and fantasy genres,
Such as creature and alien creation.
I am very interested in prosthetic application,
Because of the idea of being able
To build upon the human form
And manipulate its shape
And the appearance of its mechanics.
The overall focus for my work
Is using the human body as a canvas
And creating an individual living work.
*Because I feel pretentious enough in the first place, writing it out like this cant really hurt.*
I focus mainly in human anatomy effects,
Such as wounds, gore, and medical scenes.
However, I also like to work
In science fiction and fantasy genres,
Such as creature and alien creation.
I am very interested in prosthetic application,
Because of the idea of being able
To build upon the human form
And manipulate its shape
And the appearance of its mechanics.
The overall focus for my work
Is using the human body as a canvas
And creating an individual living work.
*Because I feel pretentious enough in the first place, writing it out like this cant really hurt.*
myartmap
Clockwise from top left: TARDIS (Doctor Who), symbol from Supernatural, human heart, Wolverine, Superman, Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th), Jigsaw (Saw), minimalist zombie.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
My Work and The Body
I remember the exact moment that I realized I wanted to be a makeup artist. My high school was putting on The Wizard of Oz as our big musical for the year. Even though I was in the cast and there was a whole separate crew for makeup, I still had to help a bunch of ensemble members (aka, any of the football guys who had never seen foundation before) do their makeup.
I was helping my friend Jim put on his eyeliner (which is a RIDICULOUSLY SIMPLE TASK considering all you have to do is freaking hold still people, come on...) and I'm literally holding his face in my hands and drawing on his eyelid, and I was just like wow... (yes, that is actually the best description I can give for that) This is a really amazing experience. I have complete control over him right now, because he is my canvas. I actually remember pausing for a moment as this hit me, and Jim freaking out a little wondering what was wrong. I had helped people put on their makeup for shows before, and I'd been doing my own makeup, be it for theater, Halloween or day-to-day for years, but it had never really occurred to me just how intense it was for me to have someone's face in the palm of my hands.
That was the first moment that I realized how much I loved doing makeup, but it wasn't until later that I realized I could make it my profession and the realm of my work. That came when I was watching an episode of Doctor Who. Not even a particularly special episode, but there were these aliens called the Sontarans, who, while slightly humanoid, are very, VERY made up.
I am on the left. Yes, I am a munchkin.
That was the first moment that I realized how much I loved doing makeup, but it wasn't until later that I realized I could make it my profession and the realm of my work. That came when I was watching an episode of Doctor Who. Not even a particularly special episode, but there were these aliens called the Sontarans, who, while slightly humanoid, are very, VERY made up.
This is what inspired me.... yep.
At that moment, it suddenly occurred to me that the producers of the show weren't just freakishly lucky to find some poor soul who actually looked like that. There was a real person under layers and layers of prosthetics, which where applied by an artist who got PAID to do that. I actually still have the note-card that I wrote that night to myself pinned to my wall that says "Move to London and do makeup for Doctor Who." It was like realizing there's a person out there who actually get's paid to taste-test Cheese-Its, only BETTER.
Ever since then, I have been obsessed with the body as a canvas, subject, or both. It is a limitless source of inspiration. There are so many layers to the human body and such an immense capacity to build upon it that I could never be short of ideas. Whether I am painting on the human form or representing it, from purely depicting living flesh to imagining living dead flesh, or to create a new being entirely using the human body as a foundation, the body is the soul of my work.
Necromantic Nate from the Zombie Portraits series, gouache on paper, Spring 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Other artist statements
Phil Hansen
I’m interested in trying to understand whole individuals and whole ideas through the fragments
of perceptual memory, the sound bites, and the semiotic tokens collected by society and
recollected by the individual. It’s the product of these carefully selected elements that
multiplies out to a greater whole, and it’s in that product that I look for a more holistic
understanding.
My present approach evolved out of what seemed at the time to be an artistic cul-de-sac:
damage to the nerves in my forearm from the single-minded pursuit of pointillism. Forced to
think of other ways to create art, I began pushing myself to experiment with new mediums: my
torso, a tricycle, X-rays, dandelions, the Bible, key phrases out of audience stories, and so
on. The selection of the medium became integral to the art, as much a part of the story and
the holistic experience as the selected fragments themselves.
In bringing my work to the public I look to create a public dialog with art, frequently inviting the
audience to contribute in some way, nearly always breaking apart the artistic process in order
to make it connect to a more immediate reality through video that shows manipulation of the
medium from fragments into a unified whole. It’s far from a didactic endeavor: I draw
inspiration from my collaborators’ experiences as much as they discover art through my work.
Michael Reedy
Che, acrylic on paper, 2006
I’m interested in trying to understand whole individuals and whole ideas through the fragments
of perceptual memory, the sound bites, and the semiotic tokens collected by society and
recollected by the individual. It’s the product of these carefully selected elements that
multiplies out to a greater whole, and it’s in that product that I look for a more holistic
understanding.
My present approach evolved out of what seemed at the time to be an artistic cul-de-sac:
damage to the nerves in my forearm from the single-minded pursuit of pointillism. Forced to
think of other ways to create art, I began pushing myself to experiment with new mediums: my
torso, a tricycle, X-rays, dandelions, the Bible, key phrases out of audience stories, and so
on. The selection of the medium became integral to the art, as much a part of the story and
the holistic experience as the selected fragments themselves.
In bringing my work to the public I look to create a public dialog with art, frequently inviting the
audience to contribute in some way, nearly always breaking apart the artistic process in order
to make it connect to a more immediate reality through video that shows manipulation of the
medium from fragments into a unified whole. It’s far from a didactic endeavor: I draw
inspiration from my collaborators’ experiences as much as they discover art through my work.
Michael Reedy
don't worry baby, mixed media on paper
The human figure and portraiture have been central to my studies and explorations as a practicing artist for the past twelve years. In a desire to extend beyond historical modes of representation, I have found myself increasingly interested in depictions of the body that fall outside the canon of art history, namely in cartooning and medical illustration. Ultimately, I believe that by combining the visual language and style employed by various modes of representation, both inside and outside the accepted boundaries of fine art, I can locate and capitalize on unique areas of resistance essential to the production of new meaning.Thursday, September 22, 2011
Week 4 - Themes and Theory
A couple weeks ago we discussed an article on "mechanical reproduction" of art. Now, given the fact that the article was written in 1935 and a bit has changed since then, I found myself taking what it said with a grain of salt. I mean, the article is actually older than my dad, and that's saying something. Photography and film, the article's main foci, are hardly the same as that they were in 1935. And especially mechanical reproduction, that is, duplication of a work via mechanized process such as film/photocopying, has completely blown up now in the digital age. To reproduce a piece is simply the work of a single click of a mouse in most cases. In fact, reproduction of art is so ingrained in our society, the idea of a singular piece of work or the value of the original is extremely diminished. Why go see the real Last Supper when I can look it up online? Why should I go look at original Escher prints when every college student with access to a poster sale has them up in his or her dorm? Why would I go to the premier of a movie when I can see it in any theater in America, or better yet why even leave my house when I can download it straight to my computer?
The key factor here is that this effect of "de-valuing the original" does not actually take away any worth of the original product, but removes the need for a full on pilgrimage to see it. Sure, some people find it their life's calling to go see the actual Mona Lisa in the Louvre, but for those of us who cant afford the thousands of dollars to go to Paris, mechanical reproduction is an amazing thing.
Also, with photography and film, their mechanical reproduction steers us to the concept that the singularity of a work does not have to directly relate to its value.
And that is how this concept most relates to my own work. With makeup art in film, the actual makeup itself and its use are almost two separate things. In a sense, I could do a makeup on someone as a stand-alone piece without the context of a movie. But then that's just body art. Not to discredit that, but for me it's context, its actual use and appearance in a film, that makes the makeup special. And then to have that work reproduced across the country, or even the world, is an amazing thing.
I want my work to be mechanically reproduced, because the effect of mechanical reproduction today is immortalization. Paint flakes off, latex deteriorates, foam prosthetics deflate, and silicone peels off. No makeup is permanent. Even the skin rejects it, as it regenerates underneath, pushing this external substance away from it. My work will not last 600 years like an oil painting, or 2000 like a marble statue. But in a movie it will be fresh forever.
The key factor here is that this effect of "de-valuing the original" does not actually take away any worth of the original product, but removes the need for a full on pilgrimage to see it. Sure, some people find it their life's calling to go see the actual Mona Lisa in the Louvre, but for those of us who cant afford the thousands of dollars to go to Paris, mechanical reproduction is an amazing thing.
Also, with photography and film, their mechanical reproduction steers us to the concept that the singularity of a work does not have to directly relate to its value.
And that is how this concept most relates to my own work. With makeup art in film, the actual makeup itself and its use are almost two separate things. In a sense, I could do a makeup on someone as a stand-alone piece without the context of a movie. But then that's just body art. Not to discredit that, but for me it's context, its actual use and appearance in a film, that makes the makeup special. And then to have that work reproduced across the country, or even the world, is an amazing thing.
I want my work to be mechanically reproduced, because the effect of mechanical reproduction today is immortalization. Paint flakes off, latex deteriorates, foam prosthetics deflate, and silicone peels off. No makeup is permanent. Even the skin rejects it, as it regenerates underneath, pushing this external substance away from it. My work will not last 600 years like an oil painting, or 2000 like a marble statue. But in a movie it will be fresh forever.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Artist Statement (edited again)
Hold Still, self-portrait, conte on paper, 24"x18" 2010
Most people will sit through an entire film completely unconscious of the fact that all the wounds, mutations, aliens, and creatures they just witnessed were all fabricated. They suspend their disbelief while watching, and they leave the theater knowing that Jared Leto didn't actually have to walk around with his face smashed in after filming Fight Club and that Ralph Fiennes (Voldemort) actually has a nose. What people frequently forget is that behind every swollen black eye, severed limb, and oozing wound is an artist creating that illusion, and each effect is their masterpiece.
For me, the greatest inspiration behind makeup art is the human body as a canvas. To recreate the human body in paint on a canvas is one thing, but to create a work directly on the varied surface of skin is a whole new dimension. You can build upon the human form, using the skin as a foundation. However, my favorite aspect of makeup art, and my focus in the area, is bringing the inside to the outside. More specifically, the representation of internal structure externally. What it comes down to is my deep fascination with the structure of the human body. In all of nature, to me the human body is the most beautiful and complex structure on the planet. We are such intricately designed creatures that every inch of our structure, down to every cell, is a miracle, regardless of whether you believe in intelligent design or not. Too often is our amazing composition taken for granted.
My work is not symbolic. I strive to make it representative because it is a devotion. It is a tribute to the human form. When you are creating a work on a person, there is a connection both to the art and to the model. They are in your hands, and whether they are calm or nervous all you can tell them is "hold still."
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