You think nobody sees you. Eating lunch behind the portables. Loving some girl like she’s all there is, anywhere, to you. I’ve always seen you. Or maybe I liked Emily. Maybe I see what you’re trying to do for her, trying to help her, and I don’t know anybody who would do that for me.
Brick, 2005 (dir. Rian Johnson)
Martin Wittfooth’s intensely allegorical paintings all suggest the future of the human condition — without showing a single person. The Brooklyn-based painter has transcended the illustrative genre and entered into the realm of modern masterworks, using a time-honored painterly tradition that may be painstaking, but reveals incredible depth in both medium and content. His paintings are haunting in that they have a feeling of real possibility. The familiar scenes hint of dystopia and disrepair; their animal subjects are beautiful, but also betray that something in this world is amiss. In light of the long-awaited recognition and acceptance of climate change, Wittfooth’s work has an undercurrent of forewarning about what could happen if humans don’t get our act together. We spoke to the artist about his post-apocalyptic vision, classic style, and the of using animals instead of people as subjects.
“I got both of them from local shelters. When I got her in 2006, the staff told me she was a shepherd husky. I go to the dog park, I’m meeting people with shepherd husky mixes, and they look nothing like her. I get in my car, I’m driving, I look in the rearview mirror, I see these eyes and I’m like, I’ve got a wolf in my car. Then, when she was 10-months old, there was a shepherd breeder and trainer in the dog park, and at the end of the lesson, the trainer came up to me and asked, ‘What kind of dog is that?’ And I’m thinking, Shepherd husky. You should know, you are a breeder. She said, ‘That’s a wolf.’”
Thats mildly hilarious
The floor is lava!
What kind of parents actually pour lava into their homes just so their kid can have some fun?
The fun kind.