Exclusive Interview: Stacey Rozich on Illustrating the new Fleet Foxes video

Sky High Gallery is very excited to bring you an exclusive interview with Seattle based artist Stacey Rozich who's illustrations define the achingly dark and beautiful new Fleet Foxes music video for "The Shrine / An Argument". Released just yesterday, a full 8 minutes long, the piece already has over 100,000 views. 





The work of Stacey Rozich first came into my field of vision like so many other artist I adore via Meighan O'Toole's blog My Love For You. From there I purchased a piece of her work for a Gulf Fundraiser, later we started corresponding, then met up while I was on a visit home to Seattle & this past March she had asolo show here in Milwaukee at Sky High. Obviously I was excited when I caught wind of her teaming up with Fleet Foxes for an animated project and was blown away when I saw the outcome. I couldn't really imagine seeing Rozich's work in motion, but Stacey and animators Sean Pecknold & Britta Johnsonhave created another world.
In the short period of time I have been following Rozich, her work has already spoken for itself. I am confident this collaboration is a notch in a long timeline of incredible work she is going to produce in her life. I am thankful that I have had the opportunity to work with her and look forward to what's next. This very personal interview is such a great inside look of what it's like to be a working artist. I really appreciate the time, honesty and thoughtfulness in every answer. Enjoy. My west coast roots are swelling with pride on this one. 

-Faythe Levine, Sky High Gallery Curator 



Had you listened to Fleet Foxes and/or heard the song before you were approached for the video idea? How did they find you?
ROZICH: I had definitely heard them before, a good friend of mine gave me their LP "Sun Giant" in 2008 and I fell in love. I was just starting to grow my style into what it is today and I felt like their music was a perfect soundtrack for me to illustrate to; I had never heard anything that stuck me like that. Fast forward to earlier this year when I was with the rest of their fans waiting quietly for their sophomore release, when Sean (Pecknold, the director) and Robin (lead singer) both e-mailed me within about 10 minutes of each other asking if I was interested in lending my style to a music video for their as-yet-to-be released album. I was pretty floored, I guess my eyes just went really big and I got kind of silent with awe. I regained composure and e-mailed them back that yes, I would be very interested to work with them. From our first meeting Sean and Britta (Johnson, the other animator) played me the song in their tiny studio. We all sat there in close quarters while this 8 and a half minute epic unfolded. I had never heard anything so gorgeous with so many movements, at least in current rock music. It felt so cinematic and narrative; I could see the visuals in my mind's eye. I knew this would be a big project.

What was the process working on this project like? (i.e. time-line, etc )

ROZICH: Wonderful, difficult, challenging, amazing, hilarious, tiring, inspiring – just doing some word association with the project. I was in my last year of this really intense design program in Seattle and when I got the offer to work with Sean and Britta for the Fleet Foxes, I knew I could not turn this down. But being in such a rigorous school schedule did make things a lot more drawn out. I would go to school Monday - Friday for 6 + hours and then Friday afternoon I would haul ass down to Portland (where our studio was set up) to work all weekend. It was hard I suppose, but once I got into the windowless studio it was like time and any other life drama was suspended and it was time to get down to business. This went on from March - early August with a few short breaks. My part was probably the shortest, too. Britta and Sean are so dedicated and passionate about their work that they worked the long 12 hour days for weeks, months. While I would get cranky about being in school and doing this, I knew I should probably shut it because I technically had a lot smaller load to bare. 

How involved were you in the creative process? (maybe mention being in the studio, did you have to do multiple sketches for each frame, etc)

ROZICH: I was pretty involved in the creative process, the first two months of this project was spent having meetings every two weeks or so about the concept, story board, character design. I did a lot of doodling on the spot, kind of like a police sketch artist. Sean would tell me what he was imagining for a certain character and I would sit their and scribble something out and then show it to them. Once we got the characters nailed down (or mostly so, they did go through a few iterations) and we were settled into the Portland space, I got to work doing multiple angles for each character. And there were over a dozen characters.

Did you see process animated clips before seeing the final video? What were you initial thoughts when you saw your characters in motion?

ROZICH: I saw a few bits here and there, but I didn't press Sean to show me. I knew he had a way of working and figured I would see it when I got a rough final cut. It was almost like having a big present that I knew I was going to get, however long in the future. The day it officially came out, I watched it, soaked in all the praise and went on with my day. Today though, a day after, I finally set up my desk and computer (I just moved) and saw it on a blog I check often. It was all quiet and I was alone and even though I had seen it 5 times before, I clicked on the video and watched it. I actually got teary eyed! I think that was the first time I felt at peace, settled and ready to take it in. I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. All of these months, all the hard work that was poured into this: it was here. I felt so lucky and like the saying my dad always tells me "hard work pays off" really did...pay off. 

As an artist how do you feel this experience has propelled your skills?

ROZICH: This was probably the best exercise for me and my technical skills because I noticed the work I did for myself after that....my lines were so crisp and clean and my lines smaller, more precise. It was those monotonous hours painting hair texture that strengthened my work ethic and ability. 

What's next on your plate? Will you continue to show at galleries in the United States, do more freelance design? What's the ideal working artist situation for you?

ROZICH: I have a pretty full plate as of now, I've got many many commissions to get started on/finish. I have a few small contributions to group shows, one is the Doodle Show at Portland's Compound Galleryand another is a hand painted nesting doll for the Matryoshka Show at Seattle's Ghost Gallery. I love nesting dolls so I'm pretty excited about creating my own. On top of that, I'm in the works to start designing a small line of textiles (pillows to start) that I hope will be available in a few stores. I'm starting to think more seriously about gallery representation, but that isn't all the way formulated yet. And yes, of course freelance design. Girl's gotta eat.






ROZICH: Some additional yammering...There were so many funny moments working in such an enclosed space for so many hours with Sean and Britta. One of which always stood out to me is coming in early (I was more of a morning person then) and playing the This American Life episode about siblings pretty loud over the speakers because I was all alone in the building. I was painting away when the segment came on about the two elderly sisters that look alike, dress alike and do everything alike. One was talking about how they both love Ricky Martin and then immediately started playing "Livin' La Vida Loca" SUPER loud and of course, Sean and Britta walk in right at that second. They just look at me and said "Wow, Stacey, uh..." Like my excuse to come in early is so that I can play my Ricky Martin so no one knows. Busted! Also another good moment was when we walked out the of the studio building and into a parade. Not something that happens every day.

Alright, if you haven't already watch the video. Watch it big & loud. 

maths & nature

Fibonacci Spiral

I have long been fascinated by the idea of Fibonacci since a graduate based her project on this, in a former life she had been an accountant but the maths application remained in her practice.

Symmetry is another aspect that is seen a lot in nature and textiles.

This site seems very informative: http://www.maths.surrey.ac.uk/hosted-sites/R.Knott/Fibonacci/fibnat.html

Paola Lenti

Some cracking textiles at large scales from this italian company who specialise in rugs and seating furniture. They seem very experimental with materials and like to upscale techniques.

www.paulalenti.com

murale wczoraj i dziś

murale wczoraj i dziś

Słowo „mural” to nazwa pochodzenia hiszpańskiego oznaczająca w skrócie dzieło dekoracyjnego malarstwa ściennego. Malunki takie, w zależności od intencji twórcy, mogą być ozdobą budynku samą w sobie, ale też reklamą. W Polsce czasy świetności murali to lata PRL-u. Ślepe ściany budynków często pokrywały wielkie malowidła reklamujące choćby PKO, sklepy Społem, Baltonę czy Pewex. Często były też hasłami propagandowymi, zazwyczaj o zabarwieniu politycznym. Dziś są one już historią, ciekawą pamiątką przeszłości. Wiele z PRL-owskich murali zostało zamalowanych, przykrytych styropianem podczas ocieplania budynków, skuta z tynkiem albo po prostu zasłonięta nowymi obiektami. Dużo fantastycznych murali z tamtego okresu zachowało się na łódzkich kamienicach.

mural na ul. Kościuszki w Łodzi (fot. www.murale.mnc.pl)

mural na ul. Piotrkowskiej w Łodzi (fot. www.murale.mnc.pl)

mural na ul. Piotrkowskiej w Łodzi (fot. www.murale.mnc.pl)

mural na ul. Kilińskiego w Łodzi (fot. www.murale.mnc.pl)

dawny mural na ul. Zachodniej w Łodzi (fot. www.murale.mnc.pl)

dawny mural na ul. Ogrodowej w Łodzi (fot. www.murale.mnc.pl)

Współczesne polskie murale wyzwoliwszy się od narzuconego przekazu ideologicznego, oscylują między tzw. sztuką czystą a społecznie zaangażowaną - wpisują się w  zjawiska sztuki współczesnej – wallstreet, street-art, graffiti, będąc przy tym ważną wypowiedzią społeczną. Są świetnym, bo trudnym do przeoczenia, medium służącym zwróceniu uwagi na problemy współczesnego społeczeństwa. A jednoczenie umożliwiają ożywienie i podniesienie jakości przestrzeni publicznej poprzez artystyczną ingerencję. zsah@op.pl

mural na Wyspie Słodowej we Wrocławiu (fot. www.muralepl.blogspot.com)

mural na ul. Cybulskiego we Wrocławiu (fot. www.muralepl.blogspot.com)

mural na ul. Pańskiej w Warszawie (fot. www.twozywo.art.pl)

mural na ul. Synagogalna w Płocku (fot. www.twozywo.art.pl)

mural na ul. Pułtuska w Sercoku (fot. www.twozywo.art.pl)

mural na ul, Ptasiej we Wrocławiu (fot. fotowroclaw.blox.pl)

mural na ul. Katowickiej w Mysłowicach (fot. bryla.gazetadom.pl)

mural na ul. Pilotów w Gdańsku (fot. miasta.gazeta.pl)

mural na ul. Waliców w Warszawie (fot. www.polskalokalna.pl)

Mural/Pavement Illusions

Here’s some really incredible illusionary pavement artwork by Edgar Mueller as well as some stunning murals from John Pugh. I’m sure by now you’ve seen Julien Beever’s pavement illusions, but if you haven’t definitely check them out here.

Edgar Mueller

John Pugh

Japońskie inspiracje Wyspiańskiego

Seria widoków Kopca Kościuszki, widok na Wawel czy portret dziewczynki z wazonem są inspirowane sztuką japońską, choć sam Wyspiański za nic by się do tego nie przyznał.
Tak pisał z Paryża w jednym z listów do Karola Maszkowskiego: „Muzeów tych japońskich i chińskich nie zwiedzam i zwiedzać nie zamierzam. Są dobre dla tych, którzy muszą kopiować i nic nowego tworzyć nie chcą.” Sam odżegnywał się zatem stanowczo od panującej na przełomie XIX i XX wieku mody na japonizm. Jednak choć wypierał się wpływów sztuki Dalekiego Wschodu, to nie mógł im nie ulec. Japońskie oryginalne drzeworyty były powszechnie dostępne, a w sztuce, zwłaszcza francuskiej, wiele było wyraźnych do nich nawiązań. Wyspiański kilkakrotnie wyjeżdżał do Paryża i studiował dzieła tamtejszych malarzy. Poza tym wiadomo, że Feliks Manggha Jasieński, znany krytyk i przede wszystkim kolekcjoner, pokazywał przyjacielowi swoją dumę - bogatą kolekcję japoników: barwne drzeworyty ukiyo-e, wyroby z laki, brązy, ceramikę, tkaniny, malowidła, drobne rzeźby z kości słoniowej oraz militaria.

Japońskie wpływy wytropili u Wyspiańskiego już współcześni mu krytycy i jego uczniowie. Więcej nawet, cała twórczość plastyczna Wyspiańskiego może być uznana za oryginalną adaptację estetyki japońskiej.
Wyspiański tak jak japońscy mistrzowie umiejętnie operował wielkimi, pustymi przestrzeniami, „mówiącą pustką”. W latach 1904-1905 stworzył serię pasteli, przedstawiających widok z okna swojej pracowni na Kopiec Kościuszki. Było ich prawdopodobnie około czterdziestu, ale część z nich zaginęła lub pozostaje ukryta w krakowskich prywatnych mieszkaniach ( do tej pory nie został zrealizowany projekt inwentaryzacji całego dorobku malarskiego Stanisława Wyspiańskiego). „Ojcem chrzestnym” unikalnej serii został sam Feliks Jasieński. Stało się to tak. Ciężko chory Wyspiański był zmuszony spędzić zimę 1904/1905 w swoim krakowskim mieszkaniu przy ul. Krowoderskiej. Jasieński namówił go wtedy do malowania widoku z pracowni, nazywanej szafirową, a w 1911 roku tak pisał w swoich wspomnieniach: „Istnieją już trzy serie Kopców[...]. Pokazało się, że Wyspiański jest pejzażystą. Ostatnia seria, najtęższa, składa się z dwudziestu pasteli, największego formatu na wysokość. Dwie poprzednie, formatu mniejszego na szerokość, składają się - z dwudziestu mniej więcej pasteli. Wszystkie te dzieła powędrowały pojedynczo w świat."
Rysującą się na horyzoncie sylwetę Kopca oraz równoległe linie drogi i nasypu kolejowego Wyspiański ukazał o różnych porach dnia i w różnych warunkach atmosferycznych. Nadał cyklowi tytuł: Kronika kilku dni, a każdy z pasteli opatrzył datą dzienną i porą dnia. Taka seria widoków przywodzi na myśl cykl przedstawień katedry w Rouen Claude’a Moneta i pejzaży z górą Sainte Victoire Paula Cézanne’a. Analogiczne zjawisko odnajdziemy jednak również w sztuce japońskiej w postaci serii widoków góry Fuji autorstwa mistrzów sztuki drzeworytu Hokusaia i Hiroshigego. Japończycy mówią o swojej świętej górze jak o osobie, określając ją mianem Fuji-san. Kopiec Kościuszki na pastelach Wyspiańskiego przypomina kształtem górę Fuji, czy jednak niesie ze sobą aż tak bogate znaczenie symboliczne jak dla Japończyków tamta góra? Faktem jest, że niektórzy badacze dopatrują się akcentu patriotycznego, antyzaborczego w tym, że Wyspiański pominął w swoich pastelach fortyfikacje austriackie w okolicach Kopca, które jeszcze się wtedy tam znajdowały.

W warstwie formalnej można prześledzić równoległości między widokami góry Fuji i widokami na Kopiec. Artysta zastosował skróty perspektywiczne i przesunięcie głównego motywu ku krawędzi obrazu, podobnie jak japońscy mistrzowie. Dr Anna Król z Akademii Sztuk Pięknych w Krakowie tak mówiła podczas konferencji „Stanisław Wyspiański. W labiryncie świata, myśli i sztuki”:Widok z Kopca Kościuszki, motyw zimowy, wyznacza próg, za którym czekałaby na artystę inna sztuka, może abstrakcyjna?
W innych pracach Wyspiańskiego również pojawiają się japońskie inspiracje. WWidoku na Wawel z 1894/1895 roku widzimy z lewej strony płótna, na pierwszym planie, kratownicę z nagich gałęzi kasztanowca w niespokojnych załamaniach. To motyw, który szczególnie przywodzi na myśl surową estetykę japońskich drzeworytów.
Portretowane postacie, zatrzymane w ruchu, Wyspiański zamykał w ciasnym kadrze, wydobywając je z neutralnego tła. Artysta mawiał: Portret można malować kwadrans, pół godziny, bo inaczej stanie się to obraz o danej osobie. To podejście jest bliskie japońskiej filozofii „obrazów płynącego świata”. Wyspiański stosował syntetyczne ujęcie tematu, dynamiczną, skrótową linię i płaskie, wyraźnie ograniczone plamy barw, które zestawiał w ostrych, zgrzytliwych nieraz kontrastach, podobnie jak japońscy mistrzowie. Tak jak i oni wysoko cenił też dekoracyjność. Swoim uczniom powtarzał: Obraz jest dobry wówczas, jeżeli jest dekoracyjny i tylko dekoracyjny obraz może być dobry.



Tym, co jednak najbardziej łączy sztukę Wyspiańskiego oraz artystów Dalekiego Wschodu jest widoczna, nie tylko deklarowana „miłość do malowanego przedmiotu”.Bez wątpienia niezwykle dekoracyjne i może najbardziej znane są portrety dzieci autorstwa Wyspiańskiego, jak chociażby ten Dziewczynki z wazonem z kwiatami z 1902 roku czy Śpiącego Stasia z 1904 roku. Również i w tych pracach możemy się dopatrzyć dalekowschodnich inspiracji. W ich intensywności emocjonalnej, użyciu odważnych barw (nawet czerni) oraz ostrych kontrastów. Wspólnym motywem będzie też dla polskiego artysty i japońskich twórców motyw aktora w garderobie. Wyspiański malował w ten sposób m.in. Helenę Modrzejewską.
Agnieszka Labisko
STANISŁAW WYSPIAŃSKI

W Muzeum Sztuki i Techniki Japońskiej „Manggha” w Krakowie do 13 stycznia 2008 r. trwa wystawa „Widok z okna pracowni artysty na kopiec Kościuszki. Inspiracje sztuką Japonii w twórczości Stanisława Wyspiańskiego”. Podziwiać można tam pastelową serię widoków z okna pracowni artysty na Kopiec Kościuszki z lat 1904-1905, zestawionych z oryginalnymi drzeworytami japońskimi Hokusaia i Hiroshigego, przedstawiającymi górę Fuji.
Ta wystawa, zorganizowana w ramach Roku Stanisława Wyspiańskiego, jest kolejną prezentacją z cyklu:„Japonizm polski".
Ekspozycja jest czynna codziennie, z wyjątkiem poniedziałków, od 10.00 do 18.00.
Wystawie towarzyszy katalog w języku polskim i angielskim, w którym po raz pierwszy zebrano wszystkie znane widoki z okna pracowni artysty na Kopiec Kościuszki.

Deborah Butterfield at Paule Anglim

• 
  Deborah Butterfield's "Kamoe" (2009) is bronze cast from scavenged branches.
  Credit: Gallery Paule Anglim

Montana sculptor Deborah Butterfield produces good work so consistently that she almost makes me want to see her stumble, just to know whether I could catch her at it.

The recent work at Paule Anglim continues Butterfield's endless fascination with horses as subjects or pretexts for sculpture.

Butterfield keeps horses and rides them as frequently as most people drive.

Her work owes some of its power to her bodily connection with its subject matter. She has not only observed horses in every phase of their lives, she has moved with them and against them, felt their individual energies and temperaments.

The two main currents of modern sculpture - construction and casting - converge in her work, magnificently in the bronze "Kamoe" (2009).

Like many of her pieces, this one appears to be composed of sticks of deadwood. She did in fact assemble from scavenged branches the original from which the bronze was cast in sections. Brilliantly handled chasing and patina have given the metal a likeness to wood that only a touch would truly dispel.

At a distance, a viewer may see this portrait of a recumbent horse as a pile of sticks, with a suggestion of mountain horizon in its upper profile.

Closer, the play of found forms against the rough sketch of equine anatomy - a constant in Butterfield's work - comes into focus. Then it falls out of focus into sculptural abstraction, then sharpens again in new ways, with changes in viewing angle.

Complicating the bafflement that Butterfield's constructive brilliance presents are the shifts in scale from one work to another. In small pieces in salvaged copper or steel, she tests the capacity of an available form to sum up a contour, a posture, a limb, as if seeking the limits of descriptive concision.

Abstraction has its Moment: Sacramento painter Joan Moment took on a deceptive difficulty some years ago when she began to use open circles as key forms in her paintings. Several works on view at Limn exemplify the problem.

Tales of ancient artists competing to produce perfect circles freehand give the form mythic roots. But I wonder whether rings left by a coffee cup or a paint container may have begun Moment's reckoning with the circle.

In any case, it can look rote when repeated.

In "Mapping the Stars II" (2008), Moment shows that by proliferating circles of different sizes, connecting them in various ways - including by title - she can produce a painting as abstract as you please, humming with echoes of concepts and images, that haunting of our vague grasp of science's influence on culture at large.

We know that astronomy has mapped the heavens, that molecular biology and physics have mapped the microworlds of life. But most of us will remain adrift in this foggy awareness, however we may encounter its consequences. Think of climate change, threats to public health, the militarizing of space.

Moment's paintings correspond not to realities, but to mental postures in which we face ultimate things. We may have only the crudest models of ultimate realities, her art suggests, yet find ourselves equipped with needful intuitions of feeling that hard science precludes.

Limn has paired Moment's show with a selection of three other very different, but equally authoritative, abstractionists: Sid Garrison, Thierry Feuz and Kim Squaglia.

Thorsten Brinkmann gets it done: Do not overlook the centerpiece of Catharine Clark's group show "Remix": German artist Thorsten Brinkmann's video "Gut Ding will es so" (2003). It ends today.

Extending a line of task-oriented performance begun by Vito Acconci, Bruce Nauman and others in the late '60s, Brinkmann puts himself through - literally in a few cases - obstacles or challenges that various objects pose.

In one episode, he breaststrokes across the camera field, swimming effortfully through air, prone on a dolly. In another, he threads himself through the rigid arms of a chair.

A satire of fraught relations between function and desire, of artists' determination, perhaps of human will itself, his video amuses and amazes without stint or comment.

Deborah Butterfield: Sculpture. Through Aug. 29. Gallery Paule Anglim, 14 Geary St., San Francisco. (415) 433-2710. www.gallerypauleanglim.com.

Joan Moment: Paintings. Summer Abstractions: Works in several media by three artists. Through Sept. 12. Limn Gallery, 292 Townsend St., San Francisco. (415) 977-1300. limnartgallery.com.

Remix: Works in various media by six artists. Ends today. Catharine Clark Gallery, 150 Minna St., San Francisco. (415) 399-1439. www.cclarkgallery.com.

Kurt Schwitters - collages

After showing my little collages I thought I'd take a look at the most famous famous exponent of the art, Kurt Schwitters. Schwitters (1887 – 1948) was born in Hannover, Germany. He attended the Kunstgewerbeschule in Hannover from 1908 to 1909 and from 1909 to 1914 studied at the Kunstakademie Dresden. After serving as a draftsman in the military in 1917, Schwitters experimented with Cubist and Expressionist styles. In 1918, he made his first collages and in 1919 invented the term “Merz,” which he was to apply to all his creative activities: poetry as well as collage and constructions. This year also marked the beginning of his friendships with Jean Arp and Raoul Hausmann. Schwitters’s earliest Merzbilder date from 1919, the year of his first exhibition at Der Sturm gallery, Berlin, and the first publication of his writings in the periodical Der Sturm. Schwitters showed at the Société Anonyme in New York in 1920.
With Arp, he attended the Kongress der Konstructivisten in Weimar in 1922. There Schwitters met Theo van Doesburg, whose De Stijl principles influenced his work. Schwitters’s Dada activities included his Merz-Matineen and Merz-Abende at which he presented his poetry. From 1923 to 1932, he published the magazine Merz. About 1923, the artist started to make his first Merzbau, a fantastic structure he built over a number of years; the Merzbau grew to occupy much of his Hannover studio.

The original Merzbau in Schwitter's Hannover studio

A contemporary reconstruction of the original Merzbau

During this period, he also worked in typography. Schwitters was included in the exhibition Abstrakte und surrealistische Malerei und Plastik at the Kunsthaus Zurich in 1929. The artist contributed to the Parisian review Cercle et Carré in 1930. In 1932 he joined the Paris-based Abstraction-Création group and wrote for their organ of the same name. He participated in the Cubism and Abstract Art and Fantastic Art, Dada, Surrealism exhibitions of 1936 at the Museum of Modern Art, New York.
The Nazi regime banned Schwitters’ work as ‘degenerate art’ in 1937. This year, the artist fled to Lysaker, Norway, where he constructed a second Merzbau. After the German invasion of Norway in 1940, Schwitters escaped to Great Britain, where he was interned for over a year.
He settled in London following his release, but moved to Little Langdale in the Lake District in 1945. There, helped by a stipend from the Museum of Modern Art, he began work on a third Merzbau in 1947. The project was left unfinished when Schwitters died in 1948 in Kendal, England.

Schwitters' London home at 39 Westmorland Road, Barnes.

 1919 Bild mit heller Mitte [Picture with Light Centre]

 1919 Das Undbild [The And-Picture]

 1919 Revolving

 1921 Merz 299

 1921 Merz 460 Two Underdrawers

 1922 Der Weihnachtsmann [Santa Claus]

 1922 Merz 410 irgendsowas [Something or Other]

 1922 Table Salt

 1923 Aphorism

 1923 Merz 231 Miss Blanche

Pausing here for a little comparison of the above collage with Peter Blake's 2005 silkscreen series of found art Cigarette Packs. From CCA Galleries: "Sir Peter Blake's found art cigarette packets or fag packets as they have come to be affectionately known. This series demonstrates Blake’s belief that beauty can be found anywhere, even in objects that most would believe to be rubbish. The fag packets highlight iconic 20th century design and branding, a key component in the pop art movement. The simplicity of these pieces adds to their wallpower.”

Peter Blake: 2005 Gigarette Packs [silkscreen]

1925 Elikan

1928 Untitled

1930 Oorlog

1937-38 Opened by Customs

1938 Die Fruhlingstur [The Spring Door]

1942-43 [Difficult]

1944 [Hitler Gang]

1947 The Holy Night by Antoni Allegri, known as Corregio, 

worked through by Kurt Schwitters]

Another view of the Merzbau reconstruction