برچسب: Surreal

  • Frank Kunert’s Uncanny Photos Chronicle a Surreal Miniature World — Colossal

    Frank Kunert’s Uncanny Photos Chronicle a Surreal Miniature World — Colossal


    It’s hard to imagine a welcome mat being rolled out at the entrance to a Secret Service compound, let alone a table for two perched atop a diving platform in the middle of winter. But for Frank Kunert, these unsettling scenarios happen practically every day, albeit on a very small scale.

    Kunert’s photographs (previously) capture a range of structures and interiors that for myriad reasons, feel just a little bit “off.” Whether it’s a racetrack’s snack stand interrupting one of the running lanes, a solo dining table stuck out in the snow, or an idyllic yet impossibly narrow apartment complex, the artist’s hand-built miniature sets explore where familiarity and the uncanny meet.

    a photo of a miniature set showing an absurd scenario of a glass-fronted restaurant with snow outside, and a single chair and table are stuck outside, connected to the glass

    Tapping into the absurdities of everyday life, Kunert plays with architecture, quotidian objects, customs, and our associations with home or public spaces. His elaborate models appear realistic enough at first glance, but upon closer inspection, we notice things that challenge our sense of scale and material, like chalk lines on a racetrack or powdered sugar-like snow.

    Kunert meticulously designs the lighting, furniture, wall coverings, and outdoor settings to give the impression of a reality turned sideways—sometimes literally. His compositions possess a dark, ironic undertone, prompting us to pause and suspect, for example, whether what’s on the other side of the nondescript door labeled “FUN” is actually as advertised. People are never present, but we can imagine customers having just left a restaurant or a homeowner sitting just inside a closed door.

    Kunert is currently working on a series titled Dreams Come True, some images from which are shown here, which will be compiled in a book or exhibitions down the line. And later this month, Hatje Cantz releases a new monograph, The Best of Frank Kunert, now available for pre-order. Explore more on the artist’s website and Instagram.

    a photo of a miniature set showing a bland concrete building with a door, above which is a sign that reads "FUN" with a big yellow smiley-face sign on top of the roof
    a photo of a miniature set showing a corner of a room with an L-shaped table, each with its own place setting and television
    a photo of a miniature set with a desk inside of a room, on a steep tile roof
    a photo of a miniature set showing the entrance to a building or house with another door tilted sideways and stuck under the stairwell as if it enters a parallel, sideways room
    a photo of a miniature set showing a tall diving platform above a pool, covered in snow, with a table for two set up at the very top
    a photo of a miniature set sharing a brutalist building that reads "secret service" on top, with a wide-open door and a "welcome" sign outside
    a photo of a miniature set showing an uncanny, narrow apartment building with balconies but no space for rooms between the doors on either side
    a photo of an uncanny miniature set showing a square building in an empty snow-covered landscape, with doors, windows, and garage doors on all sides
    a photo of a miniature set or sculpture of an awards podium numbered 1, 2, and 3, with three crosses on top of each, as if merging an awards ceremony and a cemetery
    a behind-the-scenes photo of a miniature set with a desk inside of a room, on a steep tile roof, with a camera in the foreground showing the composition on its screen





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  • Through Surreal Paintings, Shyama Golden Reincarnates a Mythic Narrative — Colossal

    Through Surreal Paintings, Shyama Golden Reincarnates a Mythic Narrative — Colossal


    When Shyama Golden would find herself disappointed as a child, her parents would often respond with “too bad, so sad, maybe next birth.” Invoking reincarnation and the possibilities of an alternative life, this phrase continues to reinvent itself in Golden’s practice.

    On view next month at PM/AM, Too Bad, So Sad, Maybe Next Birth presents a collection of lush paintings filled with surreal details, earthly textures, and a recurring blue-faced character. As with earlier series, the artist invents a vast, magical narrative that flows through each of the works, this time as a four-act performance.

    a figure with green fur and a blue face sits in a surreal garden with a hand stretching out from a bush
    “Bevis Bawa Garden, 1936” (2025), oil on linen, 72 x 60 inches

    The mythical storyline unfolds with a collection of diptychs comprised of a large-scale scene and a close-up companion offering another perspective. These pairings visualize a sort of alternative past for the artist as she explores the inexorable twining of personal agency and larger forces like fate and collective experiences that shape our identities.

    In Too Bad, So Sad, Maybe Next Birth, Golden opens with her blue-faced alter ego named Maya, a rendition of the Sri Lankan folklore tricksters known as yakkas. Dressed in a fur suit, the character lies in the roadway, her chest split open to reveal a bright red wound. A bag of oranges is littered nearby.

    The counterpart to this titular work is a self-portrait of the artist barefoot, posed against the rocky roadside. She stands atop cracked pavement while oranges spill blood-red juice on the ground. Introspective yet invoking the universal, the pair grasps at the tension between unexpected violence and death, whether metaphoric or real, and the ability to find resilience in the face of adversity.

    Golden’s series continues to unravel as a series of contrasts. She considers fame, erasure, and where freedom resides within the two, along with the notion of sole creative geniuses mistakenly thought to operate outside the whole. And in “Mexican Texas, 1862,” the artist tackles the porous, if not arbitrarily drawn, boundaries that tie us to states and nations and ultimately, change over time.

    a woman in a yellow tank top and yellow pants stands barefoot against a green and blue tinged rocky background
    “Stories of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated” (2025), oil on linen, 72 x 36 inches

    In addition to her oil paintings for this exhibition, Golden is collaborating on an animated video project with her husband, the director Paul Trillo, who will build an AI model trained exclusively on Golden’s paintings. Given the hesitation by many artists about the role of artificial intelligence and intellectual property, the pair is interested in confronting the issue from the perspective of influence and the myth of the lone genius. Golden writes:

    Many artists who are canonized are actually working in a style that they didn’t invent but that was part of a movement arising out of their time and location. AI is deeply unsettling to artists in the West because we romanticise the artist as a singular figure, who is only influenced by one to three other clearly defined artists, giving them a lineage of artistic inheritance and perceived value.

    Golden also ties this idea to “the clout needed to command a price for our work,” which she suggests is simply another narrative device in the act of self-mythologizing.

    If you’re in London, Too Bad, So Sad, Maybe Next Birth runs from May 23 to July 1. Find more from Golden on her website and Instagram.

    a furry figure with a blue face lies on a pink landscape with a horse galloping away in the background
    “Mexican Texas, 1862” (2025), oil on linen, 72 x 60 inches
    a figure in yellow stands atop a giant blue head floating in the sky. she holds onto trees, one full of fruit and the other barren
    “A Myth of My Own Creation” (2025), oil on linen, 66 x 48 inches
    the back of a brown mask atop a pink tinged streetscape
    “You Seeing What I’m Seeing” (2025), oil on linen, 48 x 48 inches
    a green bird appears to see itself in a mirror against a purple backdrop
    “The Sound of One Bird Colliding” (2025), oil on linen, 24 x 30 inches





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