Claire Christerson's Fantastical Realness

Your two new books are centered less around a linear narrative than a set of characters and symbols that are seen from various differing perspectives. Where do these motifs come from?

I had been planning a trip to Ireland and before I went I watched this movie called “The Secret of Roan Inish.” There’s this part in the movie where they describe the selkie creature as being trapped between Earth and Water. That idea – ”between earth and water” – really stayed with me. The idea of two things that sound so huge being finite at the same time was really appealing to think about as a kind of infinity loop in which both parties cancel each other out.

Once I was in Ireland, I was really impressed by the nature that I saw and began to draw from the feelings that came from things such as the weather, electric green grass and the ruins. For me this section of the book felt like a simple feeling of being grateful to be alive and to have my five senses to experience the world with.

Castle ruins are really interesting to me because they are each so unique, no stone is the same. The double helix has become very consistent in my work, and seeing moments of the persistence of life really fill me; moments such as seeing flowers and vines growing through fences. So it became exciting to see all this green overtaking the stones, and I began to imagine how the DNA could be applied to this feeling and the drawings just kind of happened.

What keeps you tied to drawing figuratively or orienting yourself through narrative when you so often veer away from it?

I enjoy drawing certain things over and over again, until I am naturally led to something new. It’s kind of like developing a muscle memory. I very much enjoy examining one idea from multiple angles and seeing how far something can get pushed. In terms of the narrative as a whole – I feel that I have always been more interested in the many stops along the way of a journey rather than an A to B way of thinking.

Also, working in a figurative fashion serves as a form of processing; it’s very cathartic. I am inspired by artists that have a very specific, obsessive persistence in their work. Someone like Keith Haring is very inspiring to me in how he really pushed his narrative through this one form of line but found so many different avenues to express on that journey. Another artist that I am inspired by is Aubrey Beardsley and the precision and craft that he inserted into everything he did. I feel a deep connection to that way of operating. I feel that drawing is the most honest medium that I can work in and it’s something that I truly enjoy. There are just certain things that I can only say with a line and it’s liberating to have a language to work within and to keep finding new sentences.

Much of your work in video and performance has been highly collaborative. Your two new books seem to me in a way the most personal of anything I’ve seen from you. What are the ups and downs of making work by yourself?

Well, while a lot of video/performance work has happened, my journaling process has remained consistent since I was 18. I am currently on journal number 25 and use these books as a way to remember and resolve. My drawings have been my most precious form of expression since I was 18 and I feel very good to be moving into this practice of focusing mostly just on that. It’s what feels the best for me and actually, the drawings really did begin with me doing them in the backs of classrooms. So with these two different books I wanted to give people a chance to see a more polished, finished kind of work, as well as a book that is more inspired by my journaling practice. I wanted these books to feel personal in two different ways; one being a loving, vulnerable growth, and the other showing a messier, sadder side of me. The past two years have been a very important journey for me in which I have learned that I really only can give my fullest attention to making the most vulnerable work possible.

Do you feel there is a responsibility for artists to be vulnerable?

I feel that historically the best art has come from a form of self-preservation – a need to decode and resolve one’s trauma – and I feel that a lot of this work has come from artists who are not white cis men. Not to say that that work wasn’t serving some spiritual purpose to those kinds of artists. It seems to me that putting certain work in a box as “self-care art” is misinformed because through-out time some of the greatest works made have been as a form of self-care and they are just seen as amazing works of art.

How long it took certain works to be regarded as high art is another question entirely. Someone that I think of in particular is Frida Khalo and the trauma that she endured in her life and the work that she produced; that was her process and her pain and the paintings she created were the outcome of that. Art is meant to be a form of therapy and healing and I don’t think that it necessarily needs a genre to be validated like that. Given our times, I think that it’s more important than ever to allow yourself to be expressive and share what you feel. I personally find myself being most drawn to work that is vulnerable because when you share your own power and truth, I think that makes other people feel like they can open up too. I know that in my own life, since the passing of my best friend, I only have the capacity to make work that is self-reflective and sticky and hard and vulnerable because that’s all I know now. With all the pain, loss and hardness these times come with, it can also can bring out internal strengths and beauty that we maybe didn’t know we had.

The characters in Fractures in My Structures sometimes feel autobiographical; sometimes they take on the decorative quality of an illuminated letter or the talismanic sensibility of a tarot card. Who are they to you?

Well in the past year, I have been definitely inspired by illuminated manuscripts. I like to think about them as comic books. I love how much information is being given to you in this highly flat 2-d World. That’s something that I feel has remained consistent throughout my work is information overload. I love that. I love having to examine something over and over again to find a new idea or detail that you didn’t see before. These figures are sometimes me, they are sometimes my best friend, they are sometimes no one in particular.

What is next for you?

Drinking water, eating healthy, telling my loved ones that I love them. I am also currently working on a solo exhibition that I will be having at Little Sister Gallery in Toronto in September.

Art

LIA by Iga Drobisz

Your work often explores intimacy and vulnerability. How do you create a safe and authentic environment for your subjects during a shoot?

The past few months, I’ve been working on two series of photographs: nudes of women in their own apartments and portraits of women before and after giving birth. Both series involve capturing them in deeply personal spaces—bedrooms or nurseries—where they feel at ease.

Shooting in their spaces, in their own beds, plays a crucial role in creating comfort. I choose film and cameras that show them in a way they find beautiful and empowering, emphasizing softness and warmth. It's a stark contrast to modern, hyper-detailed phone cameras that sometimes reveal more than one wants to see.

Your photography has a distinct emotional depth and texture. How do you approach the interplay of light, color, and composition to achieve this?

My process is highly intuitive. I’ve never formally studied photography or apprenticed under anyone—I learned by experimenting and seeing what felt right. It’s about trusting my instincts rather than adhering to rigid rules.

What role do personal experiences or cultural influences play in shaping the stories you tell through your images? Many of your photographs feel deeply narrative.

Growing up, I was surrounded by great cinematography. My grandmother had a TV, but my mom only brought home VHS tapes—films with substance. I think that exposure shaped how I see the world, how I approach subjects, and the narrative depth in my work.

What role does spontaneity play in your shoots? Do you leave room for improvisation, or is everything carefully planned?

To balance spontaneity and structure, I go in with a clear plan and strong direction, but I remain open to surprises. It’s about letting the subject feel like the shoot is about them, not me. That openness often leads to the most unexpected, meaningful moments.

What inspired the shoot with singer Lia? How did it come together?

Collaborating with Ruby and Naomi always takes me out of my comfort zone in the best way. For this shoot, we wanted to transform someone with an iconic face but also someone like Lia—someone with a clear sense of self.

Giving her a completely new look was exciting; it brought an unexpected energy to the set. The approach was playful and experimental. The night before, I had no idea what wigs Ruby would bring or what colors Naomi might choose. It was a beautiful mix of spontaneity and collaboration.

What inspires you the most?

Movies and music are big inspirations for me, as well as the work of other photographers like Carlijn Jacobs, Harley Weir, Rineke Dijkstra, Charlotte Wales, and Nan Goldin.

What emotions or truths are the hardest for you to express through your art, and why?

I don’t think I consciously try to express specific emotions when I work. Instead, I follow what feels right in the moment—what draws me in or excites me that day. It’s less about a deliberate expression and more about letting intuition guide the way.

Art

Luna Luna: Surrealist Spectacle Lands in New York

November 21, 2024

In the 1980s, André Heller, an Austrian artist, singer-songwriter, and former actor, was looking for a new place to showcase his art. He had already taken to gardens, creating a colorful, surrealistic character using 40,000 flowers, and to the skies, organizing a 'fire theatre,' which involved an over-the-top fireworks show complete with steel-frame sculptures set on fire. But he had never tried out a fair.

So began "Luna Luna." Created as the world's first art carnival, "Luna Luna" combined the spectacular with the absurd, showcasing original rides and attractions from rising and already-at-the-top artists in Hamburg. Nearly forty years since its debut, followed by foiled plans for a worldwide tour, breached contracts, and 44 storage containers, the art fair has finally returned, calling New York home after re-debuting last year in Los Angeles.

By Hailey Johnson
Photography by Delvin Claro and Sabrina Sarnitz, courtesy of Luna Luna LLC

On a recent evening in Hudson Yards, a small carousel featured characters in quirky, Twister-like poses and an outstretched dog with seven legs. (Almost a century old, the rides are no longer rideable.) Goofy wooden sculptures were elevated in another corner, some of them cross-eyed or with a horn for a nose. A geodesic dome glowed, with Gregorian chants hovering somewhere above it.

"It's an art experience like no other," Michael Goldberg, Chief Experience Officer of Luna Luna, said recently. "People get to see artists do things they've never done before," he added.

Goldberg, founder of Something Special Studios, a creative agency behind many Nike campaigns, was determined to resurrect “Luna Luna” after reading about it online in 2019. Goldberg shopped for investors, eventually teaming up with DreamCrew, a media company co-owned by the rapper Drake. (Details on the company's investment remain vague; sources have reported that DreamCrew spent over "100 million dollars.") In 2022, an intensive restoration process began, with a team of artists reviving many of the original works, which had remained in boxes in a Texas warehouse for over thirty years. Several had been in pieces. (The team reportedly had to rebuild each work "bolt by bolt.")

That night, at the Shed, fourteen out of the original thirty-five works were on display, including the small carousel (Keith Haring), the goofy sculptures (Kenny Scharf), the neon dome (Salvador Dali), and a towering Ferris wheel decorated in drawings of stick figures, upside crowns, and references to Jim Crow (Basquiat). Missing works are in a "constant state of restoration," Goldberg said. Meanwhile, new attractions are joining the line-up. For the New York show, the Puerto Rican duo Poncilí Creación was commissioned to create "PonciliLand," a blink-and-you-miss-it section where guests "can create fantastical characters out of custom building blocks." Poncili also developed floating characters, inspired by performers who circulated the original “Luna Luna” fairgrounds in 1987. Known as "Lovers," the two characters, large and dreamlike, teetered to one side, mumbling the kind of nervous groans one does before a fall. (They never ended up falling.)

I asked Goldberg if, given that today's culture doesn't quite look or feel the same way as it did in 1987, there was any hesitation in showing some of the original works. On a back wall, a tribute featured Manfred Diex's "Palace of the Wind," a show featuring performers who fart into a microphone; on another, two ornate pedestals held sculptures of spiral poop.

"I don't see any reason why we wouldn't show any of these works," he said. "A lot of the time, art is exclusive and uninviting. The big difference between “Luna Luna” and other art experiences is that it has many sides to it, and things that have a bit of humor and playful energy. "As for "Palace of the Winds,” the decision to keep it was simple: farting is universal. He went on: "The “Crap Chancellery" is, conceptually, one of the most important works in “Luna Luna.” Daniel Spoerri's dad was killed in the Holocaust, and the work was inspired by Albert Speer, who was Hitler's architect. He took the facade of what was meant to be a Nazi shrine and turned it into the facade of a bathroom with two steaming statues of shit standing on the outside. These works are extremely important and are things that we would definitely want to honor and draw attention to."

As “Luna Luna” further develops, the show will likely change. "It will continue to evolve as we go to different cities in response to the spaces that we pop up into and in collaboration with the local city," Goldberg said." With it, there will be new characters and new stories to tell. One aspect that won't change, though, as Goldberg assured, is a long-held sentiment about a potential partnership. At one point, early on during the original “Luna Luna” era, McDonald's wanted to buy into it. Heller said no, adding that he "didn't want it to feel like Disneyland." Goldberg agreed. Nonetheless, as I watched Kenny Scharf's dizzying swing ride go around for what felt like the hundredth time, with the cartoon characters decorated on it blurring together (one with a villain's grin, another morphed into a martini glass), I couldn't help but feel like maybe I was at Disneyland, only not as robbed, but just as entertained and exhausted by its rides and fantastical characters, and wanting to go again.

Luna Luna, Hamburg, Germany, 1987.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.