@GavinWassung: an inspiration

I've had the pleasure of working with Gavin Wassung (whose portfolio is available here) and been amazed by how his designs capture the essence of commercial messages. I recommended the portfolio for anyone looking for commercial design, or inspiration for commercial design.

Not so long ago, when I was looking at Gavin's artwork via his blog I was inspired to make something similar. Gavin makes me want to be a better artist. Since these types of works have no name, I shall henceforth refer to them as "Gavins." Making a Gavin involves using a circular rotation in the center of an image. I've added reflection (as opposed to rotation) to this technique, but rest assured that all of these images are Gavins.

Gavin the first: Stack

Gavin the second: Rocker

Gavin the third: Cycle

Gavin the fourth: Tree

Subterranean Robot Vacation Takeover

As many folks might have noticed, going on trips really inspires me to make artwork. Also while on vacation I had some coffee, and during the ensuing caffeine freak-out, I had a vision. What if I could convey to viewers images of the world that were normal, but present them in a manner that made them totally alien. Being the heavy-handed, explicit person that I am, I decided to do this with Arial Black text. So please enjoy being transported to a tropical paradise, which happens to be infested with under-ground robots, whose intentions are questionable at best.

Vacation Possibilities on Prezi

Want to own your own copy of this little story? Print it out an mail it to your relatives in Canada? Sure, download a pdf here. 

Absent, but not gone

Still making artwork?! Having this interobang laid on me over and over for the last three months, I hope here to lay the matter to rest. Yes, art is still being made by me, by Henry, by Sebastian and (indirectly) by Kirk. But some people named above have also been busy starting a company. Said company is called Atto and focuses on web design in the service of education. All of my work, of late, has been channeled toward this effort and I'm thrilled to share it below.

Readers can look forward to future posts by me including: Re: Branding (competing globally for the identity of Gabriel Diaz via google search results), more recent work updates, and some show updates!

For those of you who have gotten this far down the post, Thank you. Please note that these designs are available on T shirts at the Atto shirt store if you are really moved please CLICK HERE.

Inventing Origami

Answering the question what is it like to be photographed by my brother Gabe Diaz?
　

One: an interesting thing happens for me, he stops being just my brother. He still remains the brilliant little kid who cannot escape the folding of paper with pattern and geometry, that would have you question from what spaceship he just walked out, whom I know. He becomes (if you have seen his photography) each one of those impressive and calculated folds in a paper object he used to create as a child. Now, though, there are no seems, no hard folds, Gabe works with the fluidity of “making photography.” If you have studied the Renaissance painter Masaccio who used a similar technique of collage of repeating characters to tremendous effect, you could draw a parallel . Gabe, with his own ingenuity utilizes this curiosity in character to study his subjects, very much, sculpturally; allowing the viewer as much dimension of the subject as he wants them to experience; his technique is unrestrained and necessary. The effect I gather from his work in perspective is parallel to many of those Renaissance painters that allow you through perspective to feel like you could walk into their paintings. With several of his photographs he will allow the viewer entrance into the photo as one of the subjects--I mean that one could experience the photo as the most repeated subject. In other photos he might taunt you with pure perspective, and bid you entrance into his photo, just to have the first thing out of your mouth be “huh? Wait a minute!” So, first because I know my brother (and he is still showing off a little) I feel pride in him because he still impresses the hell out of me, and asks me to be part of his photos.

Second (the actual photographing): I don’t like being photographed. My eyes roll all the way around the world when that camera comes out. I will spend a good twenty minutes being insufferably sarcastic when he wants to photograph just me. This is my brother, the one I fought over Legos with, the one who zooms into town, “I’ll be in town for twenty minutes, do you want to hang out?” But, then, Gabe does think of something interesting to say about me and to me when that lens is pointed at me. It is then that I get to hear what he thinks of me, in those moments he out right steals with the shutter snap. These things, are things that I often hear from other people, that he told them prior to my meeting them. If he says nothing at the moment, he creates/captures an interesting activity in and around me, and I am introduced, on the occasion of a shoot to the man I don’t know, the brother out in the world. Then somewhere in the middle of the photograph you might see that wonder I hold of what Gabe will do with my image; who and what will I meet in the future of Gabe’s photography?

I have my own art--but what is it like to be photographed by my brother? He let me live a little past forever with each time the shutter bit, I suppose, and I get to be the ghost of an instant of magical sculpture.

The real me?

Whenever I look at a picture I've taken with a group, my eyes dart immediately to myself. I'm not sure why this happens; I suppose it has to do with checking to make sure I approve of the way I look (I have no clue what I'd do if I didn't approve... snatch the photo from its owner and tear it to shreds?). But the thing is, I always look exactly the same. In my many years of experience being photographed, I've perfected the artificial smile that is guaranteed to convince my future self that I was indeed having a joyful time at whatever event some person had decided to document.

Or maybe I'm intrigued by photos of myself because they're different from the way I usually see myself. When I normally look at myself, I see a mirror image. This isn't what the camera sees. And my face, like most people's, is not perfectly symmetrical; hence the very cheerful Henry I see in the photo is different from the groggy and disoriented Henry whom I see staring at me every morning. The photographed Henry is the one that the world sees, the one they know. But they're deluded; they aren't seeing the real me, rather a very slighted tweaked version of me.

Only by staring at my reflection can you learn who I really am.

Buenos Aires

In March 2010 I took a two week break from financial services consulting to visit the country from which my mother immigrated in 1974. Buenos Aires, Argentina is only two hours ahead of the east coast of the United States, but is the opposite season. The toilets also flush in a direction opposite to that of the northern hemisphere. My work in Argentina, perhaps influenced by these factors, took a somewhat different turn.

While introspection usually inspires me to make images, in Argentina I made observational photos. In Argentina I was an outsider. Could it be that when outside their element people are more likely to look outward? It makes sense. Outsiders need to observe if they ever have a hope of getting “in.”

Not to mention, I was on assignment for Ali Van, who asked that I bring her back pictures of great architecture. In fact, this request was what first inspired me to make vertical panoramic photos. Well that and the fact that it can be difficult to make a convincing depiction of a WHOLE building using a 50mm fixed lens.
Was I really an outsider in Argentina? My Spanish leaves something to be desired. But my mother lived there for her first fourteen years. Does that mean that I belong there in some way? Buenos Aires is part of my family’s history. As for the rest I’m not so sure.

For those of you interested in seeing more, I have a whole facebook album dedicated to my trip. See it here! And finally, for truly dedicated fans, I am having a show in Greenwich, CT on December 8th. Details to follow soon.

This is a Mistake

Just as soon as Ken Baldwin jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, he realized that he had made a mistake. He didn't want to die. Baldwin was rescued by construction workers who witnessed his jump, and later that night, he was slipping in and out of consciousness in a hospital bed. The doctor told his wife that he had a 50/50 chance of surviving, "depending on whether he wanted to live." He's now one of the eight million living Americans who have attempted suicide.

Only about one in forty people survive the 220-foot fall into the San Francisco Bay. Most of those folks report having an experience similar to Ken's, in which they regretted the decision immediately after leaping over the rail.

I learned about Ken's story when listening to an episode of Radiolab. Also see this story from the San Francisco Gate.