Since 2012, Jillian Dickson has explored motherhood and nature’s flora and fauna with the series “Our Epidural Currency.” These drawings combine blooming flowers, female organs, and insects for a cohesive portrait of evolutionary strength. Yet, in each of these bold renderings, the point of entry is a complex beauty found in these self-contained ecosystems. The goal, she says in a statement, is to “examine the forgotten and neglected connection between the female tactile body and wild mother nature.”
Chilean artist Santiago Salvador Ascui’s vibrant creations consist of people, whether rendered as a greater pattern, bunched together in corporate intimacy, or a private moment between two subjects. Rarely are these stylized characters alone. Rather, the painter seems most focused on creating a sense of unity with much of this work.
The name “Albarrán Cabrera” is a moniker for the Spanish duo Anna Cabrera and Angel Albarran. The photographers have produced work together for the past two decades, showcasing across the world and tackling new challenges and techniques together under one name. And for each new theme, the duo finds away to show each’s singular vision within a broader idea.
Ahn Sun Mi, a South Korea-born artist, digitally manipulates her entire body to create self-portraits that somehow add more honesty and vulnerability, instead of covering up truth. Sun Mi’s work proves that there’s no end to our complexity, as she examines her own endless facets. Even when the work contains multiple versions of the same body part, the result is something new each time.
Life and death are major themes explored through the work of Claire Morgan, a U.K.-based artist who uses taxidermy and invisible wire to create objects that express both ideas. The result is a moment in time, one that conveys the beauty of the animal, its fragility, and our own strained relationship with nature. In a statement, Morgan says, “Through my work, I am looking at everyday life and death; and the ideas of entertainment, consumption, meaninglessness and loneliness are a part of that.”
“When I started to work in three-dimensions, I became free,” says artist Mariko Kusumoto. The Japanese multi-media artist, now based in Massachusetts, has found fantasy in the ordinary since she was a little girl, digging through her grandmother’s dresser for treasures to play with. Today, she uses a transparent synthetic fabric to bring her imagination to life, creating wearable art that blurs the line between fashion and sculpture.