“Hidden Pickenoy II” (2023). All images © Volker Hermes, shared with permission
Throughout 17th and 18th centuries, Europe’s upper classes entered an era of unprecedented prosperity due to exploding commerce and trade. The wealthy sought to express their status, and portraiture, which had previously been exclusive to royalty, became the perfect indicator of social rank. In England, these paintings became known as Grand Manner works, and the Dutch school counted well-known names like Rembrandt van Rijn, Johannes Vermeer, and Frans Hals among its cohort, still captivating us today at sellout exhibitions. For German artist Volker Hermes, this era of art history provides an endless source of inspiration.
Digital photocollages (previously) playfully reimagine the original sitters in Hermes’ ongoing Hidden Portraits series. Originally depicted by the likes of Dutch painter Nicolaes Pickenoy or French baroque artist Georges de La Tour, the subjects in Hermes’ iterations are overwhelmed by their own garments to the point of absurdity. Brocade masks cover one Elizabethan subject’s eyes, luxuriant robes extend all the way up to foreheads, and lace ruffs engulf the wearers’ faces.
Hermes is drawn to specific characteristics in the original paintings, such as ribbons, which “bring historical images into motion,” he tells Colossal. “At the moment, I’m dealing a lot with Rococo, which is currently getting a lot of attention, after being considered kitsch for a long time.” Depictions of masculinity throughout history have also emerged as a new theme. “I would like to draw attention once again to antiquated forms of masculinity, which actually seemed to be outdated, but are currently becoming—unfortunately—attractive again for many men,” he says.
Through July 8, you can visit Hermes’ solo exhibition Ruff Hood at James Freeman Gallery in London. He will also have work in the group exhibition Rococo Madness! at the National Museum in Wroclaw, Poland, from July 14 through January 14, 2024. Find more on the artist’s website and Instagram.
“Hidden English School” (2023)
“Hidden Catena” (2021)
“Hidden Anonymous (Pourbus IV)” (2021)
“Hidden de la Tour VIII” (2022)
“Hidden Nattier VI” (2023)
“Hidden Anglo-Dutch School” (2023)
“Hidden Pickenoy II” (2023)
“Hidden Singleton Copley VII” (2023)
“Hidden Siriès Cerroti” (2022)
Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $5 per month. The article Overly Grand Manners: Volker Hermes Exaggerates Historical Portraits with Ostentatious Absurdity appeared first on Colossal.
Julie Adams remembers when she first saw the fiber artist Marques Hanalei Marzan in action. It was 2016, and they were both attending the Festival of the Pacific Arts in Guam. Marzan was sitting on the ground quietly absorbed in weaving, seemingly unfazed as hundreds milled around him, chatting loudly and blaring music. He was in his zone.
Adams, a curator at the British Museum, just watched. “I was too shy to interrupt him and say hello,” she says. “But in the back of my mind, I was already thinking about how we could commission him to make a piece.” Of course, she had heard of Marzan. Adams considers him “one of the most renowned Hawaiian weavers working today.”
Marzan using a customary method of Hawaiian knotting. He often begins working on a piece before deciding what it will become. Michelle Mishina
A year later, Adams welcomed Marzan to the British Museum for a private viewing of one of the world’s most important collections of ancient Hawaiian fans. He pored over each item—admiring the skills of the weavers who created them—estimating that only 20 or 30 fans exist today. At that time, the museum was planning an exhibition to commemorate the 250th anniversary of Captain James Cook’s first voyage to the Pacific. Adams asked Marzan to create a crescent-shaped fan, known as a peahi, as part of the tribute, an example of artifacts from that time.
“It was just super overwhelming to get that opportunity to visit, but also then to get that inquiry for a commission to bring a modern voice and perspective back into the collection that they steward, that was so special,” he says. Some 500 years ago, Hawaiian chiefs would trade these fiber fans for European goods. For his modern-day take, Marzan used pandanus, a type of palm-like pine leaf.
“I was always interested in creative things, drawing, making things with my hands,” says Marzan. Michelle Mishina/https://tf-cmsv2-smithsonianmag-media.s3.amazonaws.com/filer_public/ba/2a/ba2ab7e4-c4a5-4e0f-ab04-17e5eaf3466f/julaug2023_m01_textileartists.jpg)
Before he can use the pandanus roots in his artwork, Marzan washes the fibers and removes the outer bark from the beaten material. Michelle Mishina
The tradition of weaving the lau (leaves) from the hala (pandanus) tree was brought to the Aloha State when the first Polynesian settlers arrived in canoes with sails fashioned from the material, according to some historians. Those early Hawaiians realized this resource could be used to craft other essential items like clothing, mattresses and shoes.
There aren’t many who have mastered the technique or the ancient style of weaving used to create the fans. Marzan, 44, who first learned the art as a teenager, is one of the few who possesses that rare expertise. “To create contemporary pieces with these ancient skills is really unique,” says Kilohana Silve, an art critic.
Over the past 25 years, Marzan has perfected multiple fiber-weaving techniques, including plaiting, twining, netting and cord-making.
“He’s using those finely honed skills and creating something that steps forward in time,” says Silve. “That’s very exciting, and it’s wonderful that his work is being recognized beyond Hawaii shores.”
Marzan’s weaving and art have taken him to the Marshall Islands, Canada, New Zealand and American Samoa. In 2018, his craft led him to Paris for the Festival des Arts d’Hawaii. There, five fans he created appeared in an exhibition at Orenda Art International, a gallery known for embracing emerging artists and helping them gain international acclaim.
Marzan carries on the Polynesian and Japanese traditions of his ancestors by creating functional art. Michelle Mishina
“This show was so important,” says Silve, founder of the Hawaii festival, who lived in Paris for 30 years. “I wanted people out there, especially in important art worlds like Paris or New York or Tokyo, to be aware of the excellent artists that we have in Hawaii. The reactions were just everything that we anticipated. People were fascinated. They were just in awe, because [the weaving technique] is clearly so difficult to do.”
The work was very well received by critics, but Marzan’s artistry isn’t just for aficionados. “It’s one thing for people to go into a gallery and ooh and ahh and say, ‘Oh, c’est magnifique.’ It’s another thing [for them] to, you know, bring out their checkbook and purchase a piece. I was so thrilled to see that his works were all bought,” says Silve.
In addition to their intricate beauty, Marzan’s creations may draw customers because many of his pieces are also functional, like the dresses he made out of pig intestines for the Maoli Arts Movement Wearable Art Show, an annual one-night event in Honolulu that gives native Hawaiian designers a platform to showcase their wearable-art creations.
Just as he draws on the traditional Hawaiian practice of using lau hala to make baskets and shoes, Marzan is inspired by ancient Japanese artisans. Long ago, they created fabric from paper. It was placed under garments to wick away moisture.
Having a “living, active purpose” for his work is important to Marzan, he says. Rather than just gallery exhibition work to hang on a wall, he wants his pieces to come to life.
To some, the items stockpiled in the carport at Marzan’s home, which is in Manoa, on Oahu, might look like clutter: paper cordage, an array of tree branches, homemade fish traps and swordfish bills. However, they are all likely to take on a second life as art.
Marzan explores a stream in Honolulu in search of foliage for use in his artistic practice. If he also finds something for dinner, so much the better. Michelle Mishina/https://tf-cmsv2-smithsonianmag-media.s3.amazonaws.com/filer_public/16/c2/16c26949-187a-4e0d-b037-415baed670e4/julaug2023_m03_textileartists.jpg)
The carport is where Marzan sits cross-legged for hours looping coconut coir, making nets and twining. Meanwhile, birds chirp, gentle trade winds whistle and raindrops offer a soothing sound.
The lush valley, known for its consistent drizzles, is ideal; it’s utterly relaxing, and the moist environment also “allows for the fibers to be more supple and malleable,” Marzan says. “Sometimes when it’s too dry, fibers can get too brittle and break. I think it’s just very conducive to my artwork.”
Marzan also works on his porch, weaving at a small table and on the living room floor. He streams “The Big Bang Theory” for background noise. “I get into that meditative state,” Marzan says. “I just let things go, and my hands just move without any kind of conscious direction or focus.”
On one nearby table sits an elaborate cape made of coconut rope, which would have been suitable for a chief in ancient times. Nearby, a jumbled net form is starting to take the shape of a coral head.
He describes the different materials he incorporates in his art—like berries that grow wild in the mountains and used for dyes, and the paper mulberry used to make kapa (bark cloth)—and how passionate he is about the gathering process. Meanwhile, his fingers are busy looping together paper cordage that will eventually be part of a larger installation piece in an upcoming show.
He doesn’t know what the final product will look like, how large it will be or how long it will take. It all comes together as he goes; there is no plan ahead of time, no sketch, no brainstorm. He allows inspiration to strike along the way.
Marzan was just 5 years old when he made more than 100 one-inch origami cranes for his Japanese grandmother’s 60th birthday party. The feat was an early sign of not only persistence but also exceptional dexterity, qualities that he is renowned for.
“I was always interested in creative things, drawing, making things with my hands, going outside, playing with the mud and making them into forms or different things,” says Marzan, who descends from a long line of artisans. His Filipino ancestors were basketmakers. Silk weaving was done on his Japanese side, and his Hawaiian family is known for canoe-building. However, it was his great-grandmother’s papales, or hats, hanging in his childhood home in Kaneohe, Oahu, that inspired him.
“The hats were a functional necessity for workers, so that was a form of income for her,” Marzan says about the matriarch who passed away before he was born. A skilled weaver, she crafted them to protect those toiling under a hot sun on the coffee plantations on the island of Hawaii. She produced functional art, not unlike her great-grandson.
“Unfortunately, none of her children or grandchildren during her lifetime showed any interest in learning from her. So those skills and insights passed away with her,” Marzan says.
What he didn’t learn at the foot of his elder, he hopes to acquire through experience, practice and determination. He wants to recreate his great-grandmother’s designs.
“I believe in the concept of ancestral memory,” he says, referring to a theory that some experiences leave a genetic imprint and are passed down to descendants. “Sometimes we don’t know why we are doing something, and then it makes sense. What we do today has significant ties to what has happened in the past.”
Marzan teaches his craft to students of all ages. For 15 years before the Covid-19 pandemic, he offered weekly instruction to elders during his lunch breaks. Michelle Mishina
When he first worked with the lau hala, manipulating it felt almost innate. “I just attribute it to my great-grandmother. She just was guiding my hands,” he says.
Today, Marzan can craft hats almost identical to his matriarch’s. However, the starting pattern, called the Honaunau piko (center), unique to her community, is still a mystery.
That lost knowledge motivates Marzan to instruct others. He often teaches workshops to students of all ages. “This skill that I’ve shared with them, it’s not for them to keep to themselves,” says Marzan. In fact, he challenges each of his students to teach at least one other person how to weave “so this skill gets passed on to someone and is available to future generations.”
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Polish photographers have taken their art to new heights with their stunning creations being awarded at the Drone Photo Awards 2023, an annual international competition dedicated to aerial photography.
The contest received thousands of submissions from countries around the world, with gongs handed out in nine categories including Urban, Abstract and Weddings.
Warsaw’s Sebastian Piórek took first place in the Urban section with his incredible photograph entitled Playground.
Described as being a ‘pearl from the ground and also from the air’ the photo shows a “playground full of joy hidden somewhere deep in the south of Poland” which “shows its beauty in the first flash of sun from above.”
‘Playground’ by Sebastian Piórek took first place in the Urban category.
Sebastian who specializes in capturing minimalistic shots of architecture and landscapes says intention is “to prompt the audience to perceive reality from a fresh perspective, encouraging contemplation on time and existence.”
Recently, his photographs have been published in renowned publications such as “100 [HUNDRED] Best Selected,” “Photography in the Visual Culture,” “We Contemporary 2022,” and “Black, White & Infinite Colors.”
Runner-up in the Urban category was landscape photographer Paweł Jagiełło with his haunting ‘Sunken Church Tower’.
The 14th-century church tower in Italy stands as a poignant reminder of the sunken village of Curon Venosta. In 1950, the entire village was submerged following the construction of a dam, resulting in the creation of the artificial basin known as Lake Resia.
Today, only the church tower remains.
‘Sunken church tower’ by landscape photographer Paweł Jagiełło was runner up in the Urban category.
Paweł, who is also from Warsaw said: “I have a deep passion for photography and combine it with my love for travel. Nature serves as a constant source of inspiration for me, as it never ceases to amaze with its beauty, vibrant colors, and remarkable diversity.
“Throughout the past few years, I have been fortunate to explore and photograph numerous breathtaking and distinctive locations across the globe.
“Through my photography, my aim is to capture the essence of these exceptional places and share them with a wide audience.”
Meanwhile, Marek Biegalski’s eye-opening aerial shot entitled Arctic Forest was runner-up in the Abstract category.
Marek Biegalski’s eye-opening aerial shot entitled Arctic Forest was runner-up in the Abstract category.
Capturing incredible glacial rivers while exploring Iceland, Marek said they were called ‘”braided river systems, as they often resemble an intricate jumble of patterns, intertwining in an almost inexplicable fashion.”
He added: “My work captures sublime moments of light and surroundings, resulting from meticulous planning and preparation. I’m looking for patterns within the landscape and the hidden link between reality and imagination.”
Now living in Ireland where he collaborates with Cannon Ireland, Marek has organised a series of photographic workshops in Norway, Italy, the Czech Republic, Poland, Sweden, France, and Ireland, the award-winning photographer has also been published in eminent titles including National Geographic.
In the Wedding category, Krzysztof Krawczyk from Bełchatów scooped a hattrick.
In first place was his beautifully romantic ‘Swim in the stars’.
In the Wedding category, Krzysztof Krawczyk from Bełchatów scooped a hattrick with his first place ‘Swim in the stars’, a Highly Commended ‘Abstraction in Ferns’ and a Commended recognition for ‘Road Among Nothing’.
Describing the image on its website, the Drone Awards wrote: “Under the heavy clouds, thousands of dry leaves glisten like stars from this vantage point, while gentle waves ripple beneath. The bride and groom find themselves in a boat adorned with beautiful flowers, creating a truly romantic scene.”
Krzysztof also received a Highly Commended recognition for his ‘Abstraction in Ferns’ showing a couple on a white bed surrounded by a sea of green, and a Commended recognition for ‘Road Among Nothing’.
Set on the island of Lanzarote, the image shows an “amazing slow sunrise and only two people among nothing. Volcanic island painted with the first rays of the sun.”
Starting his adventure with photography in 2013, Krzysztof is now considered one of the Top Three wedding photographers in Poland.
To see all of this year’s winners and awards click here.
Steve Maanun’s image of a loon and its chick is the subject of this year’s award-winning photograph for the Loon Appreciation Week poster, an annual contest held by LoonWatch at the Sigurd Olson Environmental Institute at Northland College in Ashland, Wis.
“Silently Waiting” captures the educator’s favorite subject.
Maanun volunteers on Big Mantrap Lake, a loon management site that started in the mid-1980s where 20 aluminum rafts are placed each spring in loon nesting territories — an alternative to natural nests that are prone to predation, Maanun said.
It starts the day the ice melts off the lake.
“This year we had twenty-one nests that produced 45 eggs and at last count we had totaled 24 chicks,” he said.
Maanun uses an ethical approach to his subject — which starts with learning the animal’s behavior.
“Give them space and if you notice signs of discomfort with your presence, back off,” he said. “I use photo blinds and a long lens most of the time.”
Loon Appreciation Week is held annually in May to promote education about the popular birds. There is a contest each year to find a loon image for the event’s poster.
He also won the contest in 2019.
It’s a sunny Saturday in early spring in Nashville, and Francis is about to have his portrait taken during a community event to celebrate Trans Day of Visibility.
“I’d like to do a few shirtless ones, if that’s okay,” he says, with nervous excitement. “I had top surgery and haven’t been shirtless in public yet.”
The gender-affirming body masculinization surgery that Francis is referring to is one that greatly reduces body dysphoria and saves lives. Trans individuals’ access to these surgeries has been a polarizing topic in legislatures around the country, and Tennessee is no exception. According to Trans Legislation Tracker, 22 anti-trans bills were introduced in Tennessee this session, targeting areas including health care, sports and education. One is the recently signed and passed SB 1440, which codifies into law the definition of “sex” as “determined by anatomy and genetics existing at the time of birth,” making it extremely difficult for trans individuals to change their names on their IDs. This law goes into effect on July 1.
Francis and I head to a less populated area of the park, finding a tree enveloped in cherry blossoms. He unbuttons his top and feels the sun on his chest in public for the first time as a smile covers his face. The energy is electric, and the power of trans joy, empowerment and celebration fills the space. Amid uncertainty, political polarization and debate over trans lives — beautiful, human, whole, full lives — the trans community offers hope, connection and survival. Trans joy prevails.
The individuals in these photos are residents of Nashville and surrounding areas. The photos featured here are my photos, but as a cisgender person, this is not my story. These stories are for trans people to tell and for cis people to listen and amplify. The words below come directly from the individuals in these photos.
“What brings me joy these days?
“Working in health care, cold brew with sweet foam and caramel, fighting against injustice alongside my favorite people, my perfectly created ’70s playlist, time with the people who don’t only love me but see me, watching my dog roll around in grass at the dog park, seeing growth and inclusion from cis people, finishing up my work in my patio garden with a cup of tea and a book, and going to sleep with a full heart no matter how difficult the day was. The big things, the small things, and everything in between. No matter how hard things have gotten and will continue to get without change in Tennessee, the joy within myself and my life is abundant.”
“These days, for me, joy is elusive and ephemeral. It’s become impossible for a day to go by without feeling forced to justify my right to exist, to others or even sometimes to myself. I try to find joy in sharing moments with my other trans friends, where we have an unspoken understanding of what we’re collectively and individually going through. Moments where we acknowledge, understand, appreciate and uplift each other, even in the smallest of ways, are where I look for joy.”
“Three main components are giving me joy right now. The first is the love I have for who I am and who I’m becoming. Just yesterday I smiled in front of the mirror for a while because I recognized myself. I am so proud — not just of my physical appearance but of the fact I’m living in accordance to my values and am becoming the man I want to be. The next thing giving me joy is my community. We are so strong and resilient. I am so proud of our bravery and our determination to be ourselves. We won’t be silenced. Finally, remembering that there are lots of people fighting for transgender individuals gives me a lot of hope. I rejoice at even the smaller wins. There’s a lot of hate in the world and also, I personally find that love is loud enough to drown out the noise.”
“Joy to me is still finding people and communities that love and accept me for who I am. When I meet someone new, am gendered correctly, and treated like a person, it is some of the greatest affirmation and elation I’ve ever experienced.”
“I find joy in: waking up next to my beloved, having my first sip of coffee in the mornings, being in a warm bed on a cloudy day, taking a relaxing hot shower, engaging in spiritual rituals of trans resistance, having a home to come back to after a long day of work, and finding pleasures in the small things of life.”
“I find joy in friendships new and old, in the resilience and vibrance of my queer community, in the dedicated support of my gender-affirming health-care providers, and in the creation of my TV, film and music projects. Coming out as a trans woman and being myself in the world has magnified any joy I might have experienced before by tenfold or more.”
“”Visibility for me, in this specific time, means an understanding of a lack of safety. It means showing up in this time in hopes, dreams, and organizing for a better future in which visibility isn’t such a liability. Right now I’m finding joy in: my hands in the dirt, summer seedlings getting planted, and sharing spring harvests with my community.”
“I find joy in continuing to make and maintain queer spaces where we are allowed to be ourselves. Being seen and letting my visible queerness inform other people that I exist, and that I will keep going in spite of everything.”
“Going to queer events and having people not only recognize me but are visibly excited to see me is such a source of joy. It’s a feeling I never had growing up, and it’s something that keeps bringing me back to every event and get-together that I’m physically able to be at. Being universally accepting in a community makes me want to give that same feeling to others, and it’s why I try to be as involved in the local queer and trans community as possible.”
“Visibility means seeing me beyond my identity, having my story told in all of its complexities. It means finding joy despite the violence, letting myself be vulnerable, standing up in the face of fear and letting them know that we’re not going anywhere. What’s bringing me joy right now is a little break from school, allowing me time to spend with my partner and our pets, working on my summer garden, catching up on some leisure reading, and connecting with other trans people in the Nashville area.”
“Even though our community is under attack, I’m filled with joy to watch — as not only we come together, but … as our true families, our friends and our allies join us to rise up against the injustice that stands in our way.”
“My main comfort is almost more than comfort: It’s community, because there’s nothing more hopeful than knowing you aren’t alone. It’s knowing that no matter what happens — the joys, the triumphs, the tribulations — we are together. Queer social groups like the Nashville GSA and Color Queery are helping bring us together. That’s what brings me joy.”
“I find joy in being able to say I’m comfortable with who I am, as well as in my poetry and my art.”
“It’s incredibly important to me to be visible as a trans person because I can prove to other trans people that we can thrive, even in the dark times. We can find community and grow and flourish, and that is beautiful. To me, visibility means acceptance.”
“In relation to being trans — it brings me joy to live an authentic life and feel much better and more relaxed now that I’m able to express a male gender identity. The everyday joy of being myself never wears off. Aside from gender, I’m having a great time taking the summer off of school in preparation to start my master’s degree this fall, hanging out with the almost 2-year-old I nanny, and getting to participate in musical theater.”
“To all my trans people: Love yourselves even deeper at this time. There are going to be those that don’t love you for who you are, and your resistance is celebration and joy. Dive deeper into the communities that cherish you.”
“Sometimes we need to be teachers, warriors, activists… and sometimes we just need to exist. Every day that we choose to live and show our beautiful faces and hearts to the world is an act of bravery. Visibility means continuing to show up, speak out and remind the world that … we’re not going anywhere.”
“To other trans folks: If you just stay here, no matter how hard it seems, your life can be everything you ever dreamed it to be and more, surrounded by so much queer joy.”
“Everything about my transition right now is bringing me so much joy. From the new fuzzy hairs appearing on my chin, to the way my voice still cracks sometimes, to the people who love me for me. The love I have for myself and for others is more vast and deep than ever before. My life is so much richer and more colorful than I ever could have imagined now that I’m living my authentic trans life. Life is bringing me joy right now.”
“Cisgender allies can support us by trying to listen to and believe our experiences. You can’t understand someone unless you truly listen.”
“Right now there are a lot of pressures for trans people to hide or present in more gender-conforming ways to be safe. I am visible to assert my entitlement to live a full life. It is an act of resistance.”
“We’re divine human beings. No matter what.”
***
The day ended with Rome proposing to Taylor in the same spot where they had their first date. Taylor said yes.
Trans joy prevails.
Allen is a photographer in Nashville whose work focuses on expanding visibility and documenting community.
