Alysha L. Scott is a twenty-three year old painter and writer from Wisconsin. Although she mainly focuses on portrait painting, many of her works reflect various human/spiritual and political ideologies with a twist of surrealism. Currently, she is working on a series that portrays the evolution of religion and spirituality with references to ancient art forms, literature and practices. She can be found on Allpoetry.com.
Jennifer Powers has been accepted into an MFA program and has stories published or forthcoming in The MacGuffin, Folio, Linden Avenue, Prairie Wolf Press Review, Wild Violet, Hawai’i Pacific Review, Diverse Voices Quarterly, and Foliate Oak. She has photography published or forthcoming in Foliate Oak and Josephine Quarterly. Find out more about Jennifer at www.JennPowers.com.
A resident of NY, Stephen Mead is a published artist, writer, maker of short collage-films and poetry/music mp3s. Much can be learned of his multi-media work by placing his name in any search engine. His latest project-in-progress, a collaborative effort with composer Kevin MacLeod, is entitled “Whispers of Arias”, a two volume download of narrative poems sung to music which can be found at http://stephenmead.amazingtunes.com/.
The idea that photography is a way to capture and store a split second in time has never really appealed to Camille Rogine. Instead of capturing, she’s always been interested in photography’s potential to create. Montage is a process of layering time: She condenses singular moments in order to form new moments that have never existed. In this way, she creates visual artifacts.
In the past she has studied architecture, plant biology, invertebrate biology, neurology, environmental justice activism, journalism and farming. Montage allows her to condense, pull, and extend these pursuits, eventually finding their commonalities. Some of her photos have appeared at the Woodstock Arts Gallery. Others have appeared at Sleepscapes. A few have earned awards, including The Robert Savage Image Award, and the Sam Spanier Image Award.
To follow her work:
ATTEND: February’s San Francisco RAW Festival
Or all of the above.
Scribblegraph, a project of Australian artist Ash Nathens, started as a drawing project for his daughter, but after deciding to share his art on Google+, his work has become known the world over. Ash has recently been interviewed in Forbes and ArtInfo, and was kind enough to speak with Paper Tape about how he became the Scribbler, the development of his craft, and the future of the Scribblegraph project.
(Ash Nathens, Street Sleeper)
In 2010, Lee Cody put a stamp on a balloon and mailed it. His intent was to examine the US Postal Service as a predefined system, an inquiry which lead to the creation of Unmailable Objects. Since then he has examined such internet institutions as Flickr (Flickr Album) and Google (Hypertext) in work that often not only inspires, but requires direct viewer participation. A recent graduate of California College of the Arts, he has exhibits at Root Division, the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts and the internet, among others.
In this interview we talk about his work, relational art, and the way technology has (and hasn’t) impacted the art world.
(Summer Fades, Shauna Foley)
Shauna Foley is an illustrator to-be, born in New Hampshire and currently living in San Diego, California. Right now, she’s on the hunt for one of those ever elusive Bachelor’s Degrees in Fine Arts (Honestly, she’ll fight a dragon any day if you don’t ask her to pay art school tuition…). This journey has taken her across the country once already, and she’s sure she has many steps to go before she settles down in a more permanent fashion.
In her spare time, she enjoys: reading, drawing (more), playing Dungeons & Dragons, watching Doctor Who, geeking out about the latest episode of Sherlock, keeping up with her blog, and drinking copious amounts of tea.
by Jacob Rubin
The most expensive Disney movie at the time, Sleeping Beauty (1959) was one of the most arduous projects the Disney studio ever undertook, resulting in it being in production for six years. The backgrounds of this piece, developed by Disney animator Eyvind Earle, were inspired by early Renaissance paintings, and looked almost otherworldly with the character designs. The multi-plane camera, the revolutionary animation tool Disney popularized and employed in his films from the beginning, was pushed to its limits (at the time) to show the complete scope of King Stefan’s domain, with copious amounts of well-envisioned background characters, and deeply detailed buildings within the little kingdom, all animated separately in layers, creating a terrific sense of depth.
Later, as we get into the film’s more sinister side, and we witness Maleficent’s home life, surrounded by green flames and gruesome little gremlins (eerily similar to the creatures dancing around the Chernabog in the “Night on Bald Mountain” segment of Fantasia (1940)), we see that the same approach that made us feel so immersed and comfortable in the setting can also scare us, as the villain’s world feels more real than it ever has (compared to the evil queen’s dungeon in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), or Captain Hook’s ship in Peter Pan (1953)). Thanks to this, Maleficent feels like a real threat to our heroes, whereas other villains have just felt like mere obstacles to get our happy ending.
This brings us to Maleficent herself. Villains have always been essential in films like this (the medieval heroic quest-type), and the evil witch who curses Aurora with the horrible jinx that makes her have an adverse reaction to spinning wheels would have to be a malicious creature indeed. Maleficent is clearly influenced by the evil queen from Disney’s first feature, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. The pair of them have similar motives, and, like any good villain, are pushed on their quests by selfishness and jealousy, hoping the amount of chaos they can cause with their magic, large or small, will grant them what they want. However, unlike the evil queen, Maleficent beats around no bushes. She comes down from her realm of terror to call the king and queen out on their fatal mistake in excluding her from the princess’ christening, executes her vengeance swiftly, and gets the hell out of there (presumably to return to her realm, which may in fact be Hell). She does so all while maintaining her unbreakable composure, and never loses her cool until her minions fail her years later.
Maleficent is a chilled, cunning plotter, who only raises her voice when she finds it necessary. Of all the threats in the early-era Disney films, hers seem the most real, as we see how effortlessly she curses Aurora, how easily she tempts the princess to the spinning wheel, and how simply she surrounds her castle prison with thorns. (She also turns into a dragon, but that looks like it takes some planning.) By contrast, we have Captain Hook in Peter Pan, a bumbling doofus. Though clever, his plans are easily foiled once Peter Pan appears, due to his loud and childlike persona.
In the classic hero-verses-villain story, the more potent the villain, the more the story is about them. Every story needs an antagonist, but the degree of relevance of the antagonist varies from story to story. Maleficent is a potent villain, and the story of Sleeping Beauty is about how Aurora, Philip, and the fairies overcome her. All plot points and issues to tend with relate to Maleficent in one way or another. Captain Hook is a less effective nemesis, but Peter Pan isn’t about Peter Pan fighting Captain Hook, it’s about Wendy and the Darling children discovering Neverland and what that means for their childhood.
Not only does Sleeping Beauty have the first real villain, it also has a developed romantic lead. Before Sleeping Beauty, the princes in the Disney Princess movies are underdeveloped cardboard standees with little to no dialogue (outside of singing, and they’re lucky if they even get that). In the studio’s previous film, Lady and the Tramp (1955), Disney learned that a love story works more effectively if we’re seeing both sides of the relationship, and not just the pretty girl pining after the haircut in the regal clothes. With that, we are given Prince Phillip, the first fleshed-out Disney prince.
Phillip flirts, dances, engages in slapstick with his horse, confesses his new love of Briar Rose (the name Aurora uses when she’s in hiding) to his father, defies the rules, and fights – with a sword and everything – to earn his happy ending instead of simply having it handed to him like the princes before. Admittedly, yes, he’s not nearly as explored as he could be, and can’t even hold a candle to Tramp or some of the later Disney heroes, such as Aladdin in Aladdin (1992) or Captain Phoebus in The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), but there are steps taken with Phillip toward real consistent heroic development for the studio. This was severely helped by giving him a first name. You’d think giving major characters first names would be a no-brainer, but it looks like it took them a few years to figure that out.
Sleeping Beauty represented many firsts for the studio, but also ended an era. The next film, 1961’s One Hundred and One Dalmatians, was shot using Xerox cels, a major time-saver for the studio. This means that Sleeping Beauty was the last film to rely on the traditional technique of hand-inking every frame, and the subsequent movies had much more fast-paced and spontaneous animation. This is very evident in 101 Dalmatians, as well as The Sword in the Stone (1963) and The Jungle Book (1967), which would be the last film produced under Walt Disney’s supervision, before his death in 1966. Sadly, Sleeping Beauty was something of a fiasco, and only made back slightly more money than it cost to produce (it cost $6 million, and made $7.7 million). Though the second highest grossing film of the year, Sleeping Beauty – like Fantasia and Alice in Wonderland (1951) before it – was an artistic struggle that saw mixed critical reception in its time. Today, however, it is one of Disney’s most popular princess films, and has been called one of the best animated films ever made.
Jacob Rubin is an Oakland-based writer and comedian, currently finishing up his undergrad in Creative Writing at Goddard College. His piece for Paper Tape was part of a larger project on Disney film, the research process of which made Jacob happier than he has ever been in his life. He can be followed on Twitter at @jacobsrubin.
(Licensed: CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)