Colleen: 2008

Thursday, June 12, 2008

found critque #2

As David Carrier noted in his 1985 essay Suspicious Art, Unsuspecting Texts (Arts Magazine, November 1985), Lawsons argument leads a little too conveniently to a solution found in art like that which Lawson himself produced. (Last Exit: Painting appeared in Artforum with reproductions of paintings by Salle, Lawson, Walter Robinson, Troy Brauntuch and Jack Goldstein, suggesting the range of relevant painting to be quite narrow, yet to also include Lawson.) To be fair, of course, Lawsons writings and his work both came out of what he believed painting should be and do, as well as the historical position painting was in. To that end, his 1981 painting Dont Hit Her Again, an agreeably sized canvas in monochromes that goes almost abstract while clearly revealing the face of a child with a black eye, seems iconic of that moment in painting.
That moment is still very much with us. Nowhere has it been more evident than in two recent exhibitions, both in Los Angeles: Jack Goldstein: Paintings from the 1980s, organized by Julie Joyce at the Luckman Gallery, California State University Los Angeles, and The Undiscovered Country, organized by Russell Ferguson for the Hammer Museum at UCLA. To be clear, neither of these was an exhibition about the death of painting or a crisis in painting, but both shows resonated withand showed the reverberations ofthe discourse of paintings implied death or crisis. Initiating a wave of interest that has only accelerated since his suicide in 2003, Goldsteinwho stopped making work and disappeared from the art scene in the early ninetiesresurfaced in the new millennium, exhibiting some of his work through Brian Butler at 1301PE Gallery in Los Angeles. The 2002 exhibition of his paintings at CSULA was a punctuating momentan incredible visual postscript to the writings of Crimp and Lawson. In that show, one could see that Goldsteins paintings did what Crimp wanted art to do, pulled off what Lawson believed painting could pull off and, equally important, they looked like they could have been made yesterday.
Everyone quibbles about inclusions in group exhibitionsand everyone did so regarding The Undiscovered Countrybut Goldstein was the only painter I thought really was missing. A strange echo of New Image Painting, the exhibition explored representational painting from the 60s onward and specifically tried to address paintings place in a post-photographic, post-abstract field, thus inevitably rubbing against some of the anxieties involved in the death of painting discourse. It brought together works from the likes of John Baldessari, Vija Celmins, Philip Guston, Neil Jenny, Gerhard Richter, Richard Hamilton, Thomas Lawson and Richard Princeall artists who through their work and painted representations have dealt, in different ways, with questions about what painting should and could dohung with younger artists like Luc Tuymans, Enoc Perez, Kirsten Everberg and Laura Owens.
Among the assorted possibilities it raised, the exhibition confirmed that (1) painting had been capable of what Crimp considered impossible well before he made such a declaration and that (2) in the wake of the surge from the seventies through the eightiesin what really is an older, ongoing discourse of the crisis of paintinga younger generation of painters has emerged bearing the mark of a climate informed by the likes of both Crimp, with his naysaying, and Lawson, with his strained boosterism.
The product of this generation is that of artists who came of age amidst both the pressures and permissions imposed by the emergence and subsequent dominance of a culture of critique within the field of contemporary art. This critique, thrust negatively by Crimp and somewhat more positively by Lawson into the field of painting, yielded results, which are not all Lawsonesque in appearance. In fact, they reflect the full breadth of pluralism that has come to define contemporary painting, from the sort of edgy, painterly representation exemplified by Tomory Dodge to the odd mlange of style and reference offered by the likes of Anton Henning and Richard Hawkins; from the self-conscious and self-effacing abstraction of Pia Fries to the color-field graffiti of Katharina Grosse and the new-and-improved Neo-expressionism of Cecily Brown; from the hyper-fauvism of Daniel Richter to the recent, quasi-abstract text paintings of Monique Prieto. As David Joselit, riffing on the sentiment of Yve-Alain Bois 1986 essay Painting: The Task of Mourning, commented in a roundtable on paintings death published in Artforums March 2003 issue, the death of painting might more have been a case of the end of one game of painting, played by specific rules, and the emergence of a new game of painting with new rules. These artists indeed seem to be working with an awareness of a changed or changing set of rules of the game.
As Crimp wrote of the term postmodernism in Pictures, to be meaningful the term needs to do more than signal chronology; it needs to signal a change. With such a demand for useful terminology in mind, it seems reasonable to refer to much of our current painting not in terms of post-death or post-crisis but, in consideration of the influence it shows and the role it assumes via such varied forms, as post-critique.
By Christopher Miles

found critque #1

IT has a really flat, tempera kind of feel. I would suggest when "speed painting" to block out the form in your darkest color, and build it up by painting light shapes (or doing the reverse... block it in lightest value, build up shadow shapes.)If you feel you are losing track of foreshortened portions or shapes, get a new layer up for some quick finding lines.I'm not sure what brush you are using, but it is making it look like finger painting.That orange slit doesn't do anything for the painting. Is it supposed to be the stand-by "squinty eye of doom?" I would recommend reaching deeper and finding an idea for a brilliant eye that invokes "death" rather than "Spawn" (like the comic book.)The "eye" is also in a spot where it doesn't seem to correspond to a face... if feels more like a visor or something.But I think the biggest thing is to gesture out the painting, block in your lights and darks based on a pre-conceived light source, and let the painting find detail when you feel the values actually read as rough volumes.Oh, and, as far as I handle digital painting, which I admit I am still working out my style, I tend to want start with darks and paint in lights with opaque medium, and the opposite for translucent medium.

song lyrics

Never Again by Nickelback

He's drunk again, it's time to fight She must have done something wrong tonight The living room becomes a boxing ring He's time to run when you see him Coming licking his hands She's just a woman Never Again I hear a scream, from down the hall Amazing she can even talk at all She cries to me, Go back to bed I'm terrified, She'll wind up Dead In his hands, She's just a woman Never Again Been there before, but not like this Seen it before, but not like this Never before have I have Seen him this bad She's just a woman Never Again Just tell the nurse, you slipped and fell It starts to sting as it starts to swell She looks at you, she wants the truth It's right out there in the waiting room With those hands Lookin just as sweet as he can Never Again Seen it before, but not like this Been there before, but not like this Never before have I have Seen him this bad She's just a woman Never Again Father's a name you haven't earned yet You're just a child with a temper Haven't you heard "Don't hit a lady"? Kickin' your ass would be a pleasure He's drunk again, it's time to fight Same old shit, just on a different night She grabs the gun, she's had enough Tonight she'll find out how fucking Tough is this man Pulls the trigger just as fast as she can Never Again Seen it before, but not like this Been there before, but not like this Never before have I have Seen him this bad She's just a woman Never Again

Should’ve Listened by Nickelback

There's clothes all over the floorI don't remember them being here beforeSmell of perfume isn't here, why's lipstick on the mirror?And still I don't understandNo pictures left in the hall, there's three new holes in my wallWhere the hells my credit cards, why's my wallet in the yardAnd still I don't understandWell now I guess I should've listenedWhen you said you'd had enoughA little trick I picked up from my fatherIn one ear and out the other, whys love gotta be so tough?Should see the look on my face, my shit's all over the placeWhy's this happening to me, why'd you take both sets of keys?And still I don't understandWell now I guess I should've listenedWhen you said you'd had enoughA little trick I picked up from my fatherIn one ear and out the other, Whys love gotta be so tough?Well now I guess I should've listenedThere's clothes all over my floorI don't remember them being here beforeThere are no candles in here, lipstick still on my mirror?And still I don't understandNow I guess I should've listenedWhen you said you'd had enoughA little trick I picked up from my fatherIn one ear and out the other, why must life be so tough?Well now I guess I should've listenedWhen you said you'd had enoughA little trick I picked up from my fatherIn one ear and out the other, whys love gotta be so tough

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

"Stone disobedient children" (Deuteronomy 21:18-21)- The Bible

“I understand there are 10,000 people dead. It’s terrible. It’s tragic. But in a democracy of 300 million people, over years and years and years, these things happen.” –GOP strategist Jack Burkman, on MSNBC’s “Connected,” Sept. 7, 2005

“It’s totally wiped out. … It’s devastating, it’s got to be doubly devastating on the ground.” –President Bush, turning to his aides while surveying Hurricane Katrina flood damage from Air Force One, Aug. 31, 2005

by Dave Batista "unleashed" published in 2007

"Now, don't get me wrong, my ex-wife is the love of my life and I would never knowingly hurt her. However, while I was busting my butt on the road like a dog, she would sit around the house and do nothing. I mean, yeah, she had cancer, but she couldn't vacuum? And since the chemo made her "not in the mood", I had no choice but to have threesomes on the road. I mean, she's talented and I hated to see her waste her life like that when she could be a dancer, or maybe a nurse. But she's not a bad person and I take full responsibility for my actions, even though it was her fault."

Ted Koppel, March 11, 2007on “Meet the Press.”

"that war was going on, and has been going on for the past 24 years. We just didn’t connect the dots."

Marie Marvingt, The Air Ambulance by by Emile Friant

The First Wounded by JOHN LAVERY

the crying boys curse artist Bragolin alias Bruno Amadio

crash artist unknown

Kings of the Road by Max Jacquiard

Migrant Mother pic of Dorothea Lange, photographer unknown

located in museum of modern art (artist- • Max Beckmann )

In Katrina's Wake

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Fading Hope - Mouse Hill Pit Disaster 1872 by: Steve Dent

Jesus is Laid in the Tomb artist unknown

House, Brush Fire by Diane Barber

painting by J C Stanland titled 'Saved At Last'

A Ballad of John Silver by John Masefield

Submerged memory, artist unknown

Friday, May 30, 2008

my sisters keeper

"It's not God. Just my parents," I say. "I want to sue them for the rights to my own body."

Friday, May 23, 2008

Teenage Tragedy song lyrics

Teenage Tragedy by Jay Loftus

She gives daddy kisses
And tightly hugs her mom
She gets into the car
And heads out to her senior prom

Little does she know this fairy tale aint over yet
Then comes the one call that no parents ever wants to get

Take your keys out of the ignition
Why do you ever listen,
To what they say
How could you take something so beautiful away

What gave you the right on that short summers night
To take away such an innocent life
Spinning out of control
Into the river you go
A few drinks don’t seem like much,
But it leads to another teenage tragedy

Back at school the halls are quiet,
The air is heavy with emotion
Everyone is thinking the same thing
It hard to believe that this wasn’t just another bad dream
But realizing its reality

You weren’t supposed to be drinkin’
Let alone the drivin’
Now what can you say
Nothing cause you took them all away

What gave you the right on that short summers night
To take away such an innocent life
Spinning out of control
Into the river you go
A few drinks don’t seem like much,
But it leads to another teenage tragedy

How could you walk away
you just turn your back on everything
Sorry doesnt make up for the classic lines that you trying to find
Not even showing simplathy
Not even a concern
No we never learn

What gave you the right on that short summers night
To take away such an inncoent life
Spinning out of control
Into the river you go
A few drinks dont seem lik much
But it leads to another teenage tragedy

Oscar Wilde shock quote

"To get into the best society nowadays, one has either to feed people, amuse people, or shock people"- Oscar Wilde

The Lottie Sleigh explosion

Friday, April 18, 2008

Monday, April 14, 2008

My wrists are very large, so these small hand cuffs slowly are cutting off my circulation. I stand here waiting to be left to my fate for the next five to ten years. The police officer jingles his keys in search of the one that will open up my new home, my jail cell. This is my first time ever living in a cell, all because of one mistake. I’m standing here with my classic orange prisoner jumpsuit on staring into my cell. The smell is extremely rancid, almost too bad to describe. I look between the steel bars which will soon conceal me within that 6x4ft area. I see a basic unmade bed, a sink and shelve, and other numerous odds and ends which lay in the floor. There had been a shortage of cells but recently this one opened up because its prior occupant died and it seems it is still just the way he left it.
I was left to this fate by the verdict of my trial just 2 weeks ago. But It all began 3 weeks ago. I was sitting in the car with my buddy Steve, near our neighborhood in New York and then suddenly Steve told me the real reason he had practically begged me to come on this drive with him. He had, had some real issues with a fellow neighbor of ours and decided he was going to “take care of him”. He shot him right then and there in the head, just because of some silly arguments. Steve had been my buddy since pre-school so I had to help cover for his small mistake. We threw that body in the river in hopes it would never be discovered because the murdered man had no friends or family who would come looking for him. But just our luck three days later he was found behind that dumpster with mine and Steve’s fingerprints on him.
Now I stand here, in shock because a simple act of friendship destroyed my life. I would not wish this experience on anyone, not even my worst enemy.

Fenceline Fire, by Louis Copt (2006) (oil)

Tornado Over Kansas, by J. Steuart Curry (1929) (oil)

Thirty minutes ago I was sitting in the living room playing with my doll Molly. My Papa was outside working at the farm and my Mama was in the kitchen. Me and Molly were watching my brothers Timmy and Johnny playing a long game of checkers, when all the sudden it happened. It was so unexpected we were just watching them play and waiting for dinner to be finished then we heard it.
It was a siren that wailed so excruciatingly loud it felt like it burst my ear drums. This particular siren is one the one that now we ever wants to hear. It meant it was coming. Something was coming. The wind against my family’s house began to hit it with intense forces which caused a thunderous noise. I suddenly heard my father’s boots squishing in the thick mud. He was sprinting to the door to herd us into the storm cellar. My Mama deserted the food cooking on the stove and grabbed Jill, my baby sister. Timmy and Johnny’s faces were overcome with a white color and a panic look overtook any previous expression. They knew the answer to the one question I wanted to ask, what was happening? My brothers snatched up our two cats and directed Grits, our dog, outside. My Papa tugged my arm to lead me outside along with the rest of the family who was following.
I look up for that one spilt second at the sky. All I see is thick, foggy black clouds which now are dominating the sky and in the distance I saw a swirl of gray wind. It looked like a funnel moving tightly at the ground. High up in the sky it was wide and gradually decreased in size as it reached the distant ground. I heard Timmy yell “Daddy it’s a twister it’s a twister!!” So I then figured out that this twirling shape was called a twister.
My Papa began to throw us all in the storm cellar and I grew greatly with fear. This was something so unexpected to happen; I had never even been in the storm cellar for a long time before. On occasion I had put some caned food down there quickly as my mama had instructed me to do. But I had never been down in that small contained area within the ground for more than a few minutes. Now I’m not sure what is going to happen. Everyone seems so frightened and I feel as if I should be too but more than frightened I am confused. I just don’t under stand what is happening.

My topic is shock and im having a hard time thinking of a community project so, so far i havent decided on what i'm doing.

paradox about me

I'm outgoing,
But i'm shy

I'm smart,
But i have no common sense

I like to work hard,
But i hate hard work

I love snow,
But i hate the cold

I want to save money,
But i always spend money

i like to be heard,
But i don't like being the only one heard

I'm fun to be with,
But also boring

I'm athletic,
But clumsy

I love my brothers,
But i hate them

I'm crazy,
But not insane

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

narraitve #3

Just a short time ago I was fighting flames bigger than my entire house. I have fought my way through the ciaos, in search for lost bodies of possible trapped survivors. Every bone and muscle in my body aches and I feel as if I have no more energy left to give. Yet I know that what I have done today was what I was born to do. I have found a total of 17 people, I have saved 17 lives. As I look at them I realize, all of these people are just ordinary people, the man next door, the lost little girl, crazy teenager, the soccer mom, the list just goes on and on. And now I stand here in awe of what I have just witnesses, a true act of terrorism. The state of New York has become a major victim and its residents are in a panic.
The air is thick and smoky causing me to gasp for each breath. The atmosphere around me is sweltering, feeling as if it is almost burning my skin off my body. My heavy fireman’s pants flow around my legs and my simple Hanes cotton, navy blue T-shirt covers my upper body. This clothing has not protected my skin from the sticky, dried blanket of dirt covering me now. Cool sweat trickles down my body as the heat increases. Tears stream down my face as a stare out at what used to be the Twin Towers of New York City. My rusting black helmet had become weighty on my head. There is the symbol of American tilted upon my helmet, a miniature American Flag. The flag is brand new, and clean with bright patriotic colors to stand out in this mess. Around my bulky boots lie aimless pieces of debris. As I walk I hear the crunching sound of the debris breaking. There is card board, metal, plastic, any substance which can be imagined. It piles up to my knees causing a handicap when I attempt to walk. I hear rescue helicopters flying high above my head in search for more victims.
Some buildings around are still crumbling. What was yesterday, a building’s a window, doors or walls, is now covering the pavement like a blanket.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

"Funeral Procession" - T. Coleman

Feet march slowly and heads directed to the ground. Not much sound is heard except the soft noise of footsteps and subtle music playing by the band far ahead. The traffic of people moves slowly and respectfully along the path between the masses of bushes. Everyone seems to be here today, families of all generations. As the water is pummeling from the sky no one seems to be affected, possibly because the same substance is pouring from their eyes.
I’m here, raised above a cluster of bodies, shielding some from the down pour. The women’s heads are wrapped in cloths and their bodies are covered with respectful dresses. The men present themselves in clean cut suits and lead their wives and children along this procession.
These followers all belong to an African American neighbor hood and are following their recently deceased mayor to his grave. Just a few short days sooner he had been shot by an enemy and killed.
All civilians have taken this situation in a different way. The children, confused as they are, stare at and kick up small portions of dirt with their feet. Their thoughts are of games they will play later and they try to figure out why their parents have become so upset. The women are comforted by their husbands and walk with collections of flowers. The faint scent of the fresh cut flowers flows throughout the air as each bundle of flowers travels toward the casket. The men attempt to be strong but secretly are hurting inside.
Particularly I am covering a husband and wife whom are using me for protection. The man is griping tightly to my handle and each time his wife squeezes his hand he squeezes my handle to find his own strength. The couple seems to be devastated, more than others. We follow the crowd for many hours and the couple expresses their sorrow and pays their respects later on. The questions of what is going to happen after today are pondered by everyone after the services are over.

John Singer Sargent's “Gassed”

"Witch Hill"- Thomas Slatterwhite

"Huguenot Lovers on St. Bartholomew's Day"- John Everett Millais

title unknown- Edgar Arceneaux: 1968

“Murder of Julian Cesar”- Irina Gornostaeva

This piece of artwork, “Murder of Julius Caesar” was created intricately by Irina Gornostaeva. Gornostaeva is a Russian oil painting artist and this particular painting was created using Gornostaeva’s traditional oils on canvas. It is a small diploma work but its size does not decline its value. The artist is a realistic painter so this, along with her other works of art is realistic painting.
This painting’s focal point is the many men which surround and seem to be running towards Julius Caesar who is in the middle of all of the men. The men are clothed in white, cream colored togas. These togas have a reed stripe for a trim long the bottom and arm holes. They are all raising their arms and making a fist in the direction of Caesar. To add emphasis and to identify Caesar he is dressed in the vibrant colors of lemon yellow and blood red. He is sprawled across the steps with his arm raised as if to protect himself. One man in particular is leaning over Caesar, dagger in hand. Above all characters seems to be an illuminating light which shines brightly across the tiled floor. It adds a glow to the pattern of the floor with is circles of coral and light yellow, which ironically somewhat match Caesar’s outfit. A large white monument behind all the characters which has roman numerals on its side and the feet of a statue are shown all though the rest of the statue is cut off. In the background there are numerous paintings and carvings on the wall, which are traditional for Roman buildings. Faintly you can see the outside which seems to be a garden that is very peaceful and tranquil compared to the terrifying atmosphere inside the building.
This composition conveys the historical story of the murder of Julius Caesar, which took place in the year 44BC in ancient Rome. The many men seem to be attacking Caesar and getting ready to kill him. Caesar is feeling the tension in the air and knows he is about to be killed. Men are coming at him with chairs, daggers, and even there own body, as a weapon, the end is near.

Declaration

In life comes many twists and turns which can come as an enormous shock to many people. These shocks can be positive or negative but always greatly influence a person’s life. There are many different types of shock which are all interpreted in different ways by different types of people. Nicolas Cage once said “Shock is still fun. I won’t ever shut the door on it.” From this quote he seems to be one of the people who interprets the shocks in his life as a good thing and is always ready for the challenges which shocks can bring. Although him as a select person feels this way, most of the time shock comes as a negative surprise.
For most people things that shock them have really been around them for a while, the just never realized it. Once the truth is shown to a person it can come as an incredible shock. If all along a wife suspected that her husband may be having affair, and he finally admits to it, it should not come as an enormous shock, although it usually does. Jules Renard once said “Truth makes many appeals, not the least of which is its power to shock.” By having a sudden realization of the truth, great shock can be brought about.
Even the smallest things to some people can make the biggest difference to others. After some are thrown off with what is shocking to them they may feel confused and not know what to think about anything. An example of this is when a small child is shocked with the truth that Santa Claus is fictional. The child then feels like they don’t know what to believe after that. Something small such as that seems to be a big deal to a child because they have not experienced other types of shock. But, to leave the same confused impact on an adult, takes a much bigger shock, such as an unexpected death.
In my own personal life I have undergone the experience of death, surprising success and many other shocking events, such as a surprise party, an unexpected grade, etc. Each shock affected me in a different way and to different extents. And I am aware that through out my life many more shocks will come upon me so all I can do is be alert, aware and ready.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

This young boy of only the age of nine, Jack Sticford has been deserted and left to die. He is now walking aimlessly throughout the fields of Africa. There is no life for miles except for the sparse, every now and then, animals which wander the area. Jack and his family came over from the United States of America. Because his parents were English missionaries and thought they could assist in the soling of problems in Africa. Because of their influence over people, a select group decided to torch the Sticford house, putting Jack’s parents and younger sister to death. Jack was left feeling hopeless, with no one to turn to. If he asked for help and told his story there is a chance he would also be killed. Since he is only nine he decided to walk back to his grandparents in the United States, thinking that it would not be very far.
Jack is huddled hugging his own shivering body. He has carried an empty potato sack which he found in his yard before his departure, and is now using it to smother his frail starving body for any possible warmth. The wind is sharply bighting his back causing him to shake. It is beginning to get dark and late so Jack has chosen this area for his nights rest, hoping if rain comes the thin tree above would protect him slightly. Jack has not eaten for 2 days now and wishes he had the courage and ability to kill an animal which passes by for food. The straw, sun burned grass will become his bed for the night and he hopes to begin on his journey the next day.
Jack’s only source of food was also this grass and whatever else he could find, and his only water was the small filled canteen he had brought along with him. After six days of living and walking under these conditions one night, while in his sleep Jack died of starvation and hypothermia.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

"Eruption of Vesuvius" by Pierre-Jacques Volaire

The piece “Eruption of Vesuvius” was painted by French artist Pierre-Jacques Voltaire. Voltaire’s painting was made in 1774 shortly after the 1774 volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius. It was painted using various oils which were then transferred and blended onto a panoramic canvas and resulted in this creation. “Eruption of Vesuvius” was produced in Italy, and was original made for the purpose of being hung with a corresponding painting of another volcanic scene.
This composition contrasts the extreme volcanic eruption and in the distance displays the nearby Bay of Naples, and its tranquility. The volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius is the focal point of the composition which is highlighted by the variation of a blend of, glowing oranges and other warm colors. By the intensity and fullness of the ash and smoke being produced through the top of the volcano the array of the danger and importance of this event is conveyed. The oranged puffs of smoke run up from the volcano to the top of the painting and stretch across the sky. Juxtaposed to this cluster of smoke is the placid blue sky filled with distant white puffy clouds. Below these clouds lies a serene, shining body of water. Along side the base of the volcano and stream of molten lava is many rock structures in earth tones. A subtle detail in the painting is the small, proportionate to volcano, silhouettes of people.
In this scene the eruption of Mount Vesuvius is occurring and there are people running for their lives. Subtly it is shown that some of these people have linked arms to hold each other for safety and support. One may question why the artist decided to depict the scene from this point of view. Also it is wondered if the bolder rock is used to show separation between the calm and disastrous areas, or what its purpose is.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

"The Titanic" by Willy Stower

“The Titanic” was painted shortly after the actual disaster of the RMS Titanic shockingly sinking. The painting was created by Willy Stöwer who was a well known artist in Germany throughout his life, (1864 – 1931). Stöwer mainly focused on maritime paintings including “The Titanic”, which prevailed the actual scene of the tragedy. After the RMS Titanic sank in 1912 this painting was created but it is unknown when exactly Stöwer formed this black and white realistic scene.
Stöwer uses the blend of the black and white contrast to sharpen the pain of the painting. Also the black and white was smudged all around so the painting would actually look like the scene was full of confusion and not perfectly clear. In “The Titanic” the focal point is the ship sinking and the one life boat, which is shown larger than the others, and these focal points are emphasized by the deep dark shade of black, which causes them to stand out. The focal points also are surrounded by a thin layer of white color to help highlight them. All of the people in the water swimming for their lives shows how unprepared they must have been, which obviously means that this event came as a huge shock. Also the people in the life boats have their arms up and seem to be made and shouting to figure out the situation.
Although the people in “The Titanic” can not be heard, most likely they are upset and shocked, which is shown by their facial expressions and body language. Here the RMS Titanic is sinking and everyone is scrambling to get to safely. But the ship and its crew were obviously very much unprepared. From looking at this painting one may wonder why the people are so blurry and hard to identfy. Also it may be questioned why the ice bergs are pictured so small and calm.

Monday, February 4, 2008

The shock of a car accident

As i began exporing to concept of shock i was thinking of what could come as a shock to people. So i found this picture to potray the shock of a sudden car accident. I will also now begin to expore shock more because i want to make sure it will be a good concept.

hey everyone for my concept folio i was thinking of doing "shock", but im not sure if thats a good idea so let me know what you think!