Paper cuts from Art in Paper, published circa 1970. I swear that somewhere out there there are other people who are also tragically obsessed with paper art pulled from crunchy old library books. I hope you enjoy these as much as I do.

Also, the book only credits the European artists by name… so for now, everyone else will have to remain anonymous  -____-

Tools tools tools.

Some contemporary work from China.

Shadow theater cutout figures of Mameluke emirs, made of camel hide (I would not be able to explain what this means… the book’s caption, not mine…)

By Hans Christian Andersen.

Another by Andersen. In this one you can find goblins, witches, elves, and other creatures from his fairy tales.

And just cos ships are awesome. Paper sculpture by Augustine Walker, 1761.

I scanned these images from an old library book, The Magic of Paper Sculpture.  The artist, Catherine Nash, creates work that explores the solitude and silence of the natural world.

From the creation of the paper to the gluing of handmade leaves, there’s something about the process images that really captures the intuitive nature of the artwork itself. Or maybe I just really like the wooden mallet. Could be that too.

In the meantime, I wandered through New People in SF this weekend, and discovered the work of Peter Callesen. He’s a Danish artist that uses printer paper to create multi-dimensional paper sculptures.

See more of his work.

I went to Ocean Beach the other day and discovered this. You can’t tell from the pic, but the waves were ginormous that day, I swear!

Seeing this reminded me of my favorite outdoorsy, acid-trippy joint, the Albany Bulb. Originally a landfill, this place is a maze of trash art, graffiti, and architecture… like a library and a castle. Plus birds, fishies, old folks walking their dogs, and Jimbow the Hobow (who runs the library). The entire thing is actually very peaceful, in a chaotic sorta way… Nevertheless, a lot of the artwork has been dismantled throughout the years in favor of turning the area into a park.

The photos range from 2007 to 2009.

That’s my friend Mei, kickin it with the wailing lady.

My favorite.

Fisherman, fish and doggie.

The painters.

Calm and contemplative.

Lately it’s been hella rainy.

This has gotten me thinking about water in general and the ocean in particular. I have enormous respect for it. It’s the most terrifying and humbling presence in my life… for several reasons which I will list.

1. I live 3 blocks from it and I’m a terrible swimmer
2. The recent tsunamis/typhoons that wiped out so many lives and livelihoods in the Asia Pacific.
3. That very real possibility of entire countries being swallowed up by it.
4. There’s a worldwide drinking water shortage and the ocean is the only growing body of water… yet drinking from it will kill you. Ah the terrible irony.

But I’m not even trying to be a downer. Cos as much as the ocean can destroy, it creates. Think about how much life there is down there that we haven’t even begun to grasp. We try though, and I always enjoy people who try.

So this post is dedicated to the ocean and the artwork it inspires.

The pics above and below are from Mexico’s Underwater Museum, lifted from the UK Telegraph. According to the BBC, the museum is intended to raise environmental awareness by serving as an artificial reef. Apparently tourists were trampling on and destroying the real coral reef.

Shots from The Life Aquatic, directed by Wes Anderson. The scenery and animation are fantastic… the film itself is highly mediocre. In fact I’m only a fan cos I secretly dream of living at sea. But I digress.

This is one of my favorite things to witness at Ocean Beach: older Asian men, fishing in rubber pants. It’s calming and reminds me of my dad, who also happens to fish. Photo minus said older Asian man.

Isle of the Dead, made in 1883 by Swiss artist Arnold Böcklin. From Wikipedia:

Böcklin himself provided no public explanation as to the meaning of the painting, though he did describe it as “a dream picture: it must produce such a stillness that one would be awed by a knock on the door.”