Francoise Nielly Modern Artist

She will get her sensation of construction and space from her daddy, who had been an designer. Being raised from the To the south of France exactly where she existed among Saint and Cannes-Tropez, is rarely far away from light, colour perception and also the ambiance that permeates the Southern of France. This is certainly along with her research together research on the Beaux artistry and Elaborate Artistry, and her humorousness and also of get together.

Its abstract with funky colours. That’s my first impressions on this piece of work. It reveals dark areas where by more dark shades are, and light-weight in which lighter in weight hues are. In my opinion its too colorful, however. I prefer just a few colours. Alternatively, just dark colours.

Francoise Nielly life in the field of photos.

She has looked into the various elements of “appearance” all her daily life, via piece of art, roughs, illustrations, photography and virtual, laptop or computer produced computer animated visuals. It really is very clear since artwork is her route and her enthusiasm.

Because you can see the brush strokes, and the rough colour blocks, the piece of work looks rough textured. Its various to a lot of musicians who sleek out their remember to brush cerebral vascular accidents, and who combine their colors. I enjoy the abstract outcome it provides.

In the personal way, Francoise Nielly paints a persons experience in every one of his artwork. And she paints it over and over once more, with slashes of color over their deal with. Occasions of lifestyle that come up from her artwork are delivered from your clinch together with the fabric. Shade is unveiled just like a projectile.

Francoise Nielly’s piece of art is expressive, displaying a brute power, an intriguing essential vitality. knife and Oil blend shape her graphics coming from a substance which is , simultaneously, biting and incisive, sensual and carnal. Whether or not she paints our body or portraits, the musician requires a danger : her piece of art is erotic, her hues free of charge,surprising and exuberant, even intense, the reduce of her blade incisive, her shade pallet stunning.

Fran├žoise Nielly, 1960 ~ Palette Knife painter


Francoise Nielly paintings meanings

Francoise Nielly is definitely an artist seen as a complicated and complicated skills conveying captivating and essential energy and strength.

Artworks by creator Franoise Nielly have a apparent vividness that originate right from every composition. Having improved palette knife painting techniques, the painter utilizes solid strokes of oil on canvas combine some abstraction into these figurative portraits. The art pieces, that are based off quick black or white photos, feature excessive light, shadow, depth, and energetic neon colorings. Depending on her biography on Behance, Nielly carries a risk: her art work is sexual, her colours free, contemporary, amazing, even intense, the cut of her knife incisive, her color selection pallete beautiful.

Nielly indicates a protective study to feel and ends up being an intuitive and wild goal of expressions. In case you close your eyes, you couldn’t imagine a face, which contains colors, though if you contemplate it directly, everything acquires a form through our needs and desires. The most bothered soul will surely have colors, which are covered but always alive. A lot of people believe in a portrait, there’s always a equilibrium that escapes, however in my estimation, every meaning is impressed in their face. Eyes find out sins and passion, a smile finds happiness or maybe a decisive lie, and vibrant shades show decisions without far too much movement.

Don’t you like Francoise Nielly’s artworks? Would you like to buy a portrait painting from the artist? I am not sure if Francoise take on commission job? But in the case she do, i bet the cost should be very expensive as the majority of her art are selling $10,000 to $30,000. Thus, pretty much, it is nearly difficult to let Francoise Nielly create your portrait, although, you know what, our experienced artists can! We could paint your portrait in the same way Francoise Nielly do!

In the way, Francoise Nielly delivers an individual’s face in each of his art pieces. And then she paints it continuously, with slashes of paint over their face. Experiences of life that appear from her art pieces are developed using a clinch with the canvas. Color selection is introduced much like a projectile.

Francoise draws lines to discover elegance, passion, while focusing of memories. Nearly every portrait embodies a sense of joy and disappointment. Once we learn these kinds of sensuous, significant and tremendous drawing, we know that particular attention can move seriously in any look, at a action, in a position which defines ones methods of being. The shades are the reason Nielly’s art so true and natural and is particularly hard not to love her ideas. Countless would be the inspirations, which often grooving inside of these kind of sensibility, and several perhaps be the definitions which you’ll find portrayed. ?Have you ever asked yourselves how francoise nielly livre crucial it can be for getting colours? Have you ever questioned how important it really is to tame this kind of styles?

In Francoise Nielly’s paintings, she will never use any modern tools and utilizes only oil together with palette knife. The shades are spread roughly on the canvas and turn into a really energetic work. Her portraits encapsulate energy of colouring as a outstanding method of viewing life. The belief and form are simply just starting points.


Given: A 32 X 32 Grid

Allowed: Any element of the grid to be black or white

Shown: Every Icon

Can a machine produce every possible image? What are the limits of this kind of automation? Is it possible to practice image making by exploring all of image-space using a computer rather than by recording from the world around us? What does it mean that one may discover visual imagery so detached from “nature”?

Every Icon progresses by counting. Starting with an image where every grid element is white, the software displays combinations of black and white elements, proceeding toward an image where every element is black. In contrast to presenting a single image as an intentional sign, Every Icon presents all possibilities.

exhibition at Outpost Art

The grid contains all possible images. Any change in the starting conditions, such as the size of the grid or the color of the element, determines an entirely different set of possible images. When Every Icon begins, the image changes rapidly. Yet the progression of the elements across the grid seems to take longer and longer. How long until recognizable images appear? Try several hundred trillion years. The total number of black and white icons in a 32 X 32 grid is 1.8 X 10308 (a billion is 109). Though, for example, at a rate of 100 icons per second (on a typical desktop computer), it will take only 1.36 years to display all variations of the first line of the grid, the second line takes an exponentially longer 5.85 billion years to complete.

the NAFTA effect/NAFTA Effect

While Every Icon is resolved conceptually, it is unresolvable in practice. In some ways the theoretical possibilities outdistance the time scales of both evolution and imagination. It posits a representational system where computational promise is intricately linked to extraordinary duration and momentary sensation.

Every Icon (1996) is a project by John F. Simon, Jr. A working version of Every Icon has been implemented as a Java applet and is located at: http://www.interport.net/jfsjr.

Special thanks to Tim Druckrey.


Rapture

The word “rapture” is meant to cannote an emotional state of intense joy and love possessing the mind to the exclusion of every other emotion or consideration. To begin to describe Alan Dunning’s installation Rapture-Scattered Bodies (1996) from the perspective of joy seems appropriate. Dunning’s sitespecific installations elaborate on the viewer’s senses and her/his immersion into environments incorporating the minutiae of physical reality as well as the enmeshing of complex structures, relative associations and ordered delirium.

Upon entering Rapture, the sounds of an echoed breathing can be heard and this rhythmically, strategically orchestrated soundtrack follows the viewer throughout her/his visit. The breathing, which at first seems almost natural, becomes increasingly irritating, constricting and finally claustrophobic. The exhibition space, in near darkness, disorients the viewer while also requiring that s/he take a leap of faith and step forward to look. In the centre of the room, drawn between two pillars, hangs a thin projection screen. A computerdriven video projection, which displays the reappearing image of a deep-sea diver, can be circled and seen from both sides of the screen while illuminating the room with a shimmering iridescent glow.

At the invitation of the Outpost for Contemporary Art

Scattered on the walls, directly across from the screen projection, and covering the two adjacent walls, are a series of colour laser printed transparent labels representing approximately fifty different smell molecules. They are placed on a horizontal or vertical axis and are connected by their similar physical components: the little knobs and stems touching or overlapping in order to create clusters. The smells represented by these molecules include roses, rotten eggs, wood and almond, with various levels of toxicity, comfort or repulsion could they be genuinely inhaled. This agglomeration of approximately 4,000 labels is a significantly labourious component (it took the artist and a technician over a week to complete it) and imbues the installation with the physical evidence of the body at work.

Like the scent molecule labels, the video images have been collected and regrouped. They have been culled from television programs, filtered through a computer and recorded; or they are photographs and computer images enlarged and manipulated. Images of dancing, banquets, jungles, 3-D computer representations of fields, as well as the recurring deepsea diver, are looped and mixed throughout the five-hour-long projection. A text is layered into the sequence, sometimes bleeding into a scene and at other times standing alone on a coloured background and reading both frontwards and backwards. The script, similar to a long poem, is descriptive and acutely nostalgic for lost moments and feelings. It can be read in a trancelike rhythmic form – “the scent of oranges, the sound of water dripping, an inner ring of iron railings, dirt covers the walls and shelves, two mirrors” – and attempts to evoke the symbolic importance of objects.

Dunning has been working on these texts for an extended period of time, which could be more accurately described as one text expanded and modified. It is much like a “soup” (the word he uses to describe his pieces) which is constantly replenished yet never depleted, and over the course of years retains a trace of the original broth. These texts are carried about from installation to installation much like Walter Benjamin’s cherished book collection which he carried until the end of his life. The words seem to be a kind of talisman and function to contextualize the author within the symbolic realm, while feeding the story line. Because Dunning uses numerous quotes and intermixes them, their origins are scattered and difficult to identify. Authors possibly utilized in this work include Alain Robbe-Grillet, Umberto Eco, Hannah Arendt, Marina Warner and Anna Kavan. To further confuse, the quotes have also been processed by computer software that rearranges, shuffles and translates parts of them into French. The result is surprisingly poetic and human, and weighs on the reader while giving the installation a sense of grounding, history and conscience.

Outpost Art Page

It is said that deep-sea divers will sometimes lose their senses (due to a lack of oxygen and increase of nitrogen in the blood) and remove their masks in an attempt to merge with the aquatic environment. This is what Dunning refers to when he speaks of rapture, the breaking down of the ego, the desire to become entwined with the environment in a delirious communion.

This democratization of information – the scattering of words, images, patterns and stories that neither begin nor end – can be linked to recent theories of technology. The combination of sound, visual and olfactory association and general “sense” experience in Rapture can be described as a critique of virtual reality modes of construction. Certainly, what differentiates it from pure technological idolatry is its insistence on the physical manipulation of the elements such as the “real” stickers, and the viewer’s required physical displacement through the space, translating it into a very different experience. Furthermore, the projection and texts insist on a perverse sentimentality of the senses, of emotions and a distinctly embodied experience of the whole of its content.

Dunning’s work must be charted as lying somewhere on the threshold of “new” technologies, of the disembodied, computer-driven abandon of the ego, and that of craft, poetry and traditional, contemplative, non-technological types of art. Rapture, by bridging this chasm, and creating a co-habitable space for these two modes of expression, better equips us to find our way back to the surface when we do remove the oxygen mask.


Living off the Museum

For “Living off the Museum,” the now defunct Acconci Studio (Vito Acconci, Luis Vera, Jenny Schrider, Charles Doherty) conceived five installations (which included previously exhibited work) in response to the building designed by the Portuguese architect, Alvaro Siza.

Siza’s sleek design for this lightfilled, seven thousand square meter museum features several nicely proportioned galleries but also includes architectural elements which can hinder flexibility in exhibition design. For example, in each largescale gallery, Siza installed an “inverted table” — a rectangular plane connected to the ceiling with short, squat legs. Aside from the tables’ decorative function, in some cases they serve to diffuse the light from skylights or ceiling-mounted fixtures. They also hang low enough to effectively prevent us from seeing what lies on the galleries’ far walls. But the Acconci Studio seized upon Siza’s obstructive architectural detailing to brilliant effect. To “use the inverted table as a base for projected light instead of the other kind of light, the natural and artificial light, that Siza intended,” they created a veritable forest of differently-scaled inverted tables, then used these tables as supports for video monitors and film and slide projectors. Coloured strobe lights whirled around the darkened room, over a dozen monitors played Acconci’s early videos from the 1960s and 70s, and images and phrases were projected at skewed angles onto the walls. (The images were stills from unfilmed performances. The phrases were also extracted from Acconci’s performances, although he has never projected texts before.) Entitled (with deadpan humor), Early Work Room, any clear reading of Acconci’s prior production (and Siza’s intentions) was scrambled; what we got was Vito clubland, Siza on drugs.

In the adjacent gallery, one of Siza’s inverted tables served as a lid for Acconci’s Under History Lesson. First exhibited in 1976 in P.S.1’s gritty basement boiler room and now in the collection of LA MOCA, Under History Lesson has been converted into a bunker-like cinder block room, equipped with a narrow ledge from which the viewer can look down at a few rows of wooden stools and long plank tables. From a hidden speaker, Acconci’s gravelly voice insists, “We’ll keep a good thing going,” absurdly emphasizing some of the words. This may be a cleaner, brighter version, but Under History Lesson is nevertheless effective. It remains a chilling theater of indoctrination (although viewers can descend into the space to sit down, it’s significant that most people choose to be witnesses, to look down at the scene). Acconci’s sinister phrase speaks the unspoken: the hidden, coercive message of the propagandizing instructor who assumes that history’s on the right track.

In the museum’s largest gallery, Siza’s massive hanging table served as the support for The City that Comes Down from the Sky, two huge (16′ x 32′ x 32′ each) “flying machines” (originally shown as three machines at the Portland Center for the Visual Arts in 1982). From a technical standpoint, the work is probably one of the most ambitious of Acconci’s viewer-activated pieces made at the time, such as Mobile Home, Instant House, High Rise (all 1980) and Community House (1981). A seat dangles by straps from each machine; sitting in them makes the wings flap or (conceivably) unfurls the roll of fabric inside each wing’s frame. When I was there, one machine was shown with the fabric rolled up; the other had its fabric unrolled and fixed into place. The wings featured a giant black hand flipping the bird, set against a background of blue sky and clouds. The implications were several. If we take the work’s title at face value, this could be a hostile city dweller’s gesture from above. But given the context, the flipping fingers could just as easily be interpreted as a giant extension of the museum spectator’s arms, or for that matter, of the artist’s (as Acconci later stated, he didn’t want to address art viewers anymore — maybe this was his fond farewell?). This would be a nastier attitude than that of Acconci Studio’s wacky photomontaged invitation for the exhibition, showing the manned apparatuses (with the fabric rolled up) soaring through the air in front of the museum, as though they were part-human-birds of prey, part-flying museum recreational vehicles. In any case, a certain psychological risk that the viewer assumed by engaging the work was accentuated by the way Siza’s low hanging table contained the machines within the space. Somewhat like viewing a helicopter indoors, its potential airborne power could be sensed.

In the museum’s lobby, Walls of Ground, consisting of twenty-two large architectural models of urban projects by Acconci Studio, was installed as though climbing up the principal wall, two side walls and the face of a hidden wall (a dropped ceiling over the information counter suddenly opens upwards as you approach the main galleries). A continuous line of plumbing conduit traced the shape of each project and acted as a connecting thread for the entire installation. Grouped by themes (written in bold type on the wall), the goofiest projects (for which some former Acconci fans won’t forgive him) such as Peels of Earth, Landslides, and Signs of Land, included sunken and raised airplanes, people-shaped islands, an indented and stacked face, a ramp shaped like a plane situated in the meridian of a wide boulevard.

Like Early Work Room, any serious contemplation of the works was rendered impossible. Walls of Ground reacted to the building (not the viewer), by clinging to its walls “like a leech or parasite,” an idea Acconci is fond of and used to describe his work for the museum’s exterior, Housing/Park. Made of two separate structures of metal grating, Housing/Park was suspended directly in front of the building’s walls by telescoping supports hooked onto the roof. Park, which took up one wall’s entire height and breadth, consisted of a stairway with niches which alternately provided seating or a space for a young tree. It zigzagged up the building from the ground level to its upper extremity, and although somewhat steadied by suspension cables, it took some daring to climb it. Housing, which wrapped around another corner of the building, could also be climbed via a stairway. Intended to represent a transition from the public to the more private space of a house, its modular rooms were fitted successively with seating, a table, chair, range, refrigerator, shower, toilet and bed. Overlapping panels of corrugated roofing protected the structure from the rain.

My Own Artistic Roots

Minerva Cuevas

Aside from the obvious (and successful) intermixing and reversals of public and private spaces, Housing/Park recalls prior Acconci works emphasizing the properties of suspension (Middle of the World, 1976), tension (VD Lives, TV Must Die, 1978), and balance (Decoy for Birds and People, 1979). Yet perhaps because of the gleaming materials and Siza’s handsome building, Housing/Park seemed oddly formal. It was by no means poetic (except for Acconci’s own appraisal of Siza’s building “as a mountain, like the stones and slopes of the region.”) More to the point was Acconci’s political agenda, perhaps related to his complaint that the museum is a pseudo-public space. Was Housing/Park an extension – or maybe an affirmation – of the museum’s coopting power? It seemed a piece for artists; after all, as the exhibition’s title suggests, artists really are “living off the museum.” As the show’s key work, Housing/Park could very well be Acconci’s most literal piece to date. I could not help but imagine him setting up house then and there.