Untitled (Cern, 7.20.12), 2012, archival pigment print, flora form site. 44.5 in x 36 in. Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Rafacz Gallery.

During another trial, Bolen buried film in the ground directly above the LHC. The test resulted in a number of grainy purple and green abstract images that were supposedly generated by residual radioactivity from CERN’s black matter experiments interacting with the film.* As part of a series called 350 Feet Above The Large Hadron Collider (2012), individual images generated from the buried film are affixed with magnets to more conventional photographs of the landscape on top of the LHC. The obscure quality of the abstract pictures is vaguely reminiscent of the low-grade photos of the night sky that conspiracy theorists submit as evidence of UFO’s. Bolen’s pseudo-scientific process has a similar accuracy in that film is a relatively crude barometer for identifying what objects may or may not be floating above the LHC.

350 feet above the Large Hadron Collider #1 (matter/anti-matter), 2012, archival pigment print, flora form site. 44.5 in x 36 in. Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Rafacz Gallery.

It is within this sketchy relationship to verifiable truth that Bolen’s project begins to emerge. It is a well-worn truism that objects within photographs, for all their similarity to reality, are subject to the partisanship of the photographer. Bolen’s process places limitations on that subjectivity by largely taking the photographer’s eye out of the equation, but even that isn’t enough to make truthful representations of what is being signified. Bolen’s pictures – as well as the other bits of information incorporated into his work – function as fragments within an over determined gambit for challenging the tools used to produce knowledge.

But, they also serve as fragments of evidence that illustrate art’s limitations in challenging the production of knowledge. After all, relative to the LHC, the site of the most sophisticated physics experiments in human history, burying film in the dirt isn’t quite the same as splitting atoms. By aping the posture of a scientist in the backyard of a preeminent laboratory, Bolen exposes himself to comparison with genuine physics experts, which is why a straight critique of science and knowledge production seems unlikely. Pictures like the abstractions in 350 Feet Above The Large Hadron Collider exist as splinters of evidence of an event that might have occurred – the interaction between film and radioactivity – as a byproduct of events that have occurred – the collision of particles in the LHC. The images record the presence of invisible forces, even if all they reveal is an undifferentiated static. Placed over top of more conventional pictures of furrowed fields, mountains, and highway streetlights, the audience is privy to only a fractional view of those things too. Bolen’s work, like all art, can only partially explain its own existence.

Untitled (Cern, 7.18.12), 2012, archival pigment print, flora from site 45 in x 36 in. Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Rafacz Gallery

My criticism of this show, and Bolen’s work in general, is that this theme of obfuscation, this tension between what is hidden and what is revealed goes a bit too far. Nothing in the work itself explains the range of unique processes the artist employs for creating an image. The near dozen pieces on display are presented as quizzical provocations that generate plenty of questions but few points of entry for work this conceptually challenging, even within their titles. In Untitled (CERN 7.18.2012), 2012, a picture of austere geometric buildings is framed within the upper right hand corner of a hazy abstract image consisting of a range of analogous greens. Bits of dry grass have been sprinkled over top of the pictures. The juxtaposition of these elements is again mysterious, each one a sliver of information, though their connection is left to interpretation. Color is the only clue for linking the grass to the green abstraction – which was actually created by taking exposures through blades of grass. Unlike Untitled (CERN 7.20.2012), 2012, a second work from the same series whose subject appears to be grass itself, the building picture embedded in Untitled (CERN 7.18.2012) challenges the feedback loop between green and grass. As in previous pieces, the elements in Untitled (CERN 7.18.2012) suggest a clear indexicality, though without more available pathways as to how that index can be referenced, Bolen’s work, which proposes some new and exciting pathways for photography, is masked by its own obscurity.

Jeremy Bolen: CERN is on view at Andrew Rafacz Gallery in Chicago through March 30, 2012.

*Bolen hypothesizes that these images were created in this way, though he emphasized that this explanation is unverified. Information about the artist’s process here and throughout the review was collected through private email exchanges.

Art Basel itself is an amalgamated cluster of expositions – various sections across multiple buildings and locations (Art Galleries, Art Unlimited, Art Statements, Art Parcours, etc). The VIP previews of the fair itself were extended over three days this year, but by art world law, the earlier you can get in, the better. Start with the multi-pronged ‘Big Basel’ but don’t forget about the peripheral satellite fairs and Basel’s fantastic museums.

Jitish Kallat Epilogue (2010/11) Photo courtesy of Art Basel

Art Unlimited takes place in Hall 1, where each booth is dedicated to a singular artist. Philip-Lorca diCorcia showed a seemingly endless collection of tiny Polaroid photographs, each one as impressively interesting and magical as the last. Also making an impact in perpetuity, were rows and rows of photographs of partially eaten round bread by Jitish Kallat. The cratered roti crescents represented changing lunar cycles, memorializing the artist’s father by touchingly recreating every moon of every night he lived. Ragnar Kjartansson showed a number of hilarious canvases, a series of painted self-portraits in his skivvies usually involving piles of beer bottles or the effects thereof. Each of the 144 works was painted in sequence for every day of the Venice Biennale. Also, a video by Tony Morgan called Resurrection showed the ‘life-cycle’ of a steak in reverse. Starting with each bite exiting the mouth of a man, the steak continues to be  uncooked on a stove, uncarved from a hanging butcher’s carcass and finally the film climaxes with the un-demise of the poor cow who magically comes back to life. Nina Beier’s work, Tragedy, was the first work I have seen of its kind: a dog performance piece. Yes, dog. Delightfully absurd, a trained dog would be formally escorted to the booth and instructed to ‘play dead’ on a spotlighted oriental rug for several minutes, melodramatically performing its own demise. Other favorites included an awe-inspiring monumental canvas by Rudolf Stingel, and copper works by Walead Beshty performatively hand-marked over time by art handlers, the hidden heroes of the art world.

Nina Beier, Tragedy, 2012. Image courtesy of Laura Bartlett.

The first preview at Art Basel Galleries is best described as storming the beaches at Normandy – no surprise there. Once you survive the line to get in: a funnel-shaped sardine can of aggravated VIPs and a fusillade of flying Hermes handbags, the traditional gallery section of Art Basel becomes a billionaire version of ‘Supermarket Sweep’ with a majority of big deals happening within the first few minutes of the fair. If you prefer a less hara-kiri inducing experience at the fair, I would wait for the bloody waves to subside before entering the labyrinth of the Hall 2.

The Art Basel Galleries is much like a black hole  – in an Ikea. Hall 2 is a seemingly endless circular maze of gallery booths on two floors surrounding the sunny sanctuary of the exhausted hordes sipping champagne in the atrium. As a general rule, you will find more established galleries on the bottom floor and younger spaces on the top floor, where I like to retreat to, as it is slightly less chaotic and more interesting. If you want to see it all, check off sections of a map, or will inevitably end up orbiting around the same booths in a sensory-overloaded daze. Take a few coffee breaks to absorb what you have seen, and don’t forget to write things down. There’s nothing more frustrating than trying to find an artist again months later when you have failed to write his or her name down. Googling ‘artist + mechanical + seagrass + installation + artfair’ has haunted me for years (Seriously, who are you? That was the coolest thing!)

Art Basel 43 Halle 2 of Messe Basel. Photos courtesy of Caroline Claisse for Art Observed.

Upstairs Galerie Anhava’s ear-catching booth featured a fantastic work by Grönlund +Nisunen, gleaming ball bearings rolling from side to side on a seesaw. The work creates both the visual and auditory effect of a crashing ocean tide. The monster fan in me spotted some great little beasts at Regina Gallery: post-apocalyptic plush toys by Evgeniy Antufiev and intricately lush and gruesome work by Wangechi Mutu at Victoria Miro. Yves Tanguey’s ‘Witches’ were also a feast for the eyes as they jolted and hummed back and forth downstairs. David Zwirner’s booth by far was the overall favorite alongside big boy contenders Spruth Magers, Marian Goodman and Sean Kelly.

Galerie Anhava: Grönlund + Nisunen, Wave of Matter, 2012, mixed media. Photo courtesy of Galerie Anhava.

Basel ain’t just Art Basel, or ‘Big Basel’. Devote at least one day to the satellite fairs: LISTE, Volta and Scope – in that order of importance. LISTE, the Young Art Fair, the rebellious step-child of Basel, shows galleries less than five years old and artists under 40. Perhaps over shadowing the art itself, it was held this year in the bizarre Warteck franken-building, a multi-purpose space that is a labyrinth of mismatched staircases and tiny rooms from which performance artists would occasionally tackle visitors. The most memorable works were a deconstructed bird’s nest presented twig by twig in a table-top vitrine by one Nico Vascellari at Bugada & Cargnel (Paris) and Matthew Ronay’s intensely blue beaded sculptures that resembled sea creatures at Luttegenmeijer (Berlin). At Volta, the sleek, small and more commercially shiny satellite fair, was well worth the handful of star booth booths by Galerie Mario Mazzoli (Berlin), Ebb & Flow (London), Magrorocca (Milan), Jarmuschek+Partner (Berlin) and especially Lawrie Shabibi (Dubai). Lawie Shabibi’s curated dialogue between Shahpour Pouyan’s intricately decorated missiles made from antique armor and Marwan Sahmarani’s lush, expressionistic gold leafed paintings of battle scenes stood apart as a beautiful and poignant demonstration of war as a luxury good. Scope Basel is worth a quick visit to hunt for the modicum of good galleries hidden amongst the rough as well as the big lawn and quiet café flanking the tent, perfect for sunning and sipping an iced espresso on a much-needed break.

Shahpour Pouyan at Lawrie Shabibi. Photo courtesy of Lawrie Shabibi.

For god’s sake, go to the Fondation Beyeler. The exhibitions that coincide with Basel are world class to say the least, and the museum itself is breath-taking. The surrounding Swiss countryside will be a much needed retreat from the chaos in the city below and well worth the 20 minute tram ride. The Renzo Piano designed building is embraced by its surrounding landscape including: a mirror like lily pond, a charming café, a changing sculpture garden, the endless vista from a gazebo, green rolling grassland and a mooing cow to top it all off. Their permanent collection is one modernist masterpiece after another, including a room with an elegant pairing of Rothko and Giacometti – which was truly pure beauty.

This year’s impressive Jeff Koons exhibition paired with the bizarre and dreamy Phillip Parreno show did not disappoint. I ogled every gleaming Celebration series sculpture including the, ahem, swollen and massive Balloon Swan (Magenta), which has never been exhibited before, and an infamous Hanging Heart (Gold/Magenta), gleefully hung at eye level. The candy-like canvases and giant kitsch works from Koons Banality series were hilariously distasteful and his vacuum cleaners, well, as banal as ever. By stark contrast, Phillip Parreno’s exhibition expresses the exhibition itself as an object, manipulating visitors through museum space while employing works on paper, film and site-specific installations. Parreno’s robotic lily-pads created by soundwaves greet visitors upon arrival who in turn walk away with a free DVD which can only be viewed once before it self-effaces. Leaving the biggest impact is Parreno’s hypnotic film, Marilyn, which places the viewer as the subject with the use of a POV camera. We hear Marilyn’s sinewy voice describe her hotel room and close-ups of her inky pen move across Waldorf-Astoria paper – as if we are writing it. Heightening the sense of intimacy, her iconic image is never revealed, the camera angling placing the viewer as ghost. Abruptly, Marilyn is revealed to be an artificial one, her handwriting created by an eerie robot and her hotel room a film set – even her voice created by a computer. Parreno successfully implants the viewer into the soul of a dead woman and then reminds us she was never there to be possessed in the first place.

Jeff Koons, Balloon Swan (2004-11). Photo courtesy of Fondation Beyler.

The Kunstmuseum is often missed by those who attend Basel every year, which is a pity as it has some of the most elegant Calders on display and an extraordinary permanent collection, starting with the early Renaissance and impressing through the centuries, culminating with contemporary masters like Bruce Nauman and Gerhard Richter. This year’s exhibition, ‘Renoir: Between Bohemia and Bourgeoisie: The Early Years’ completely changed by opinion on Renoir, a painter whom I had previously deemed a bit too pink, saccharine and nostalgic for me surprisingly did some of his best work from the mid 1860s to the early 1870s, including a stunning Japonais Still Life with Bouquet and almost abstracted, breathing landscape L’Allée au Bois. One of my best meals I had was my solo lunch at the Kunstmusuem’s café in its sunny courtyard, surrounded by Flavin, Calder and Rodin.

For those who intend to brave it next year, hear are a few more essential tips to surviving the week and making the most out of your trip:

Art Basel starts (and ends) at the airport. That means looking fabulous bright and early – and ready to schmooze. The first big VIP party I attend is at Heathrow, Gatwick or London City Airport – as the London art world flocks to check in, the people-watching starts before security. Last year after sharing a laugh over a cup of coffee in the waiting area with a still-drunk-from-the-night-before artist I received a bottle of Chanel No. 5 duty-free perfume and an invitation to an exclusive party. Not bad for 7 am. Considering that finding out the best parties and making sure you are invited to them admittedly takes up a large percentage of one’s effort and mental capacity in Basel, this was a very good start. This year was no different, upon arriving with my partners in crime to France – and after a brief realization that we are supposed to be in Switzerland (a short walk across the hallway) we met a gentleman who would be our tour guide stroke inside man for the following few days, thanks to the attractive charms of my friend.

You absolutely must have a VIP pass. This gleaming card gets you and one lucky friend into everything for free: every fair, every museum, every exhibition, every ride and every fast track. At least one member of your party must be in possession of this sleek little baby to do the week right. Only the super VIPs hold the highly coveted black VIP pass, which is valued like gold dust and gets you BMW car services. If you see it flashed, you ought to go try and make a new friend. With all the VIP passes in circulation, the question ‘do you have a VIP pass’ becomes ‘what colour is your VIP pass?’ It may take some mild charlatanism, but it’s not hard to get your hands on this essential wingman. Some early-goers will pass on their cards before heading to the airport and exhibiting galleries sometimes keep a large cache of cards ‘just in case’ which rarely get distributed. Once you are listed as a Basel VIP, you can register to guarantee future passes as well. Make friends, plan ahead, use it and then pay it forward.

Take a free ride. There are a ton of free shuttle services between fairs and major events; and if you miss the cars labeled ‘Art Basel | LISTE’ or ‘LISTE | Volta’ all you have to do is ask. Usually the shuttles leave every fifteen or so minutes and drivers are really flexible and friendly. If you do get your hands on a black VIP pass, you do need to do some planning for your BMWs because the rules change every year and the lines for the cars grow quickly as events conclude. Don’t be afraid of (gasp!) public transport. The Basel tram system is the quickest, easiest and cheapest way around town. It’s clean, efficient, well marked and stays open relatively late. Ticketing is based on an honour system where you buy a number of rides and punch in before boarding. Taxis are extremely expensive and not always easy to find – so taking the ten minutes to learn the tram map will be infinitely useful. Considering this year I found myself pressed against Jeffery Deitch in a crowded tram car, if it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.

Switzerland is expensive. Just accept it – accept that and every freebie you can muster. Art fairs in Basel give away tons of expensive art magazines and publications if you are willing to lug them around all day, so leave some extra room in your suitcase if you are so inclined. The first VIP days are filled with free canapés and drinks for the savvy fair attendee. Drinking as much free champagne as possible might offset the cost of your 90 Swiss Franc lunch – right? (I certainly tried.) The best freebies can be scored in the early days and early hours of every party – so be on time. This year’s Art Basel 43 Vernissage was followed by a great garden party at Vitra Design Museum where the drinks were plentiful until late – thanks to the intimidating fact that it was held in Germany (in actuality a 10 minute shuttle ride away) and that the weather was a bit damp. Those who feared not a bus ride nor stilettos sinking into the lush grass were rewarded with a dance party under a Buckminster Fuller geodesic dome and the opportunity to sip Campari on Jean Prouvé patio furniture.

Insofar as drinking that free booze is concerned, remember it’s a marathon – Day and night. So eat well, pick one kind of drink and stick with it, make sure that drink isn’t red wine, and don’t forget to leave a bottle of water on your hotel nightstand before crashing into the pillow because tomorrow will be another very busy day. Dress day to night  – and don’t you dare take a nap – you will inevitably miss the best party of the year. You haven’t done Basel until you have stumbled into (or out of…) a hotel room at 6 am. Hats off to the exhibitors who work every single day – as they certainly aren’t the first ones to leave the party either. There seems to be general understanding that since none of us in the art world decided to become politicians that having a good time is expected, as long as you remember this final rule: What happens at the Kunsthalle, stays at the Kunsthalle. There are few things more sacred than this in the international art world.

Image Courtesy of Contemporary Art Daily

Navigating through Venice in the off season can be challenging, but trying to move through hot, narrow streets and massive crowds of people during the Venice Biennale is completely dizzying. Illuminations, the 54th Venice Biennale, was the largest and most comprehensive to date with 89 national participants alongside 37 collateral events arranged by international organizations and institutions.  As usual, the exhibition spread liberally over Venice’s Arsenale and Giardini as well as in satellite locations throughout the city.

Image Courtesy of the Artist

After spending my first morning fighting my way to the Giardini, I stumbled my way into my first international pavilion, Crystal of Resistance by Thomas Hirschhorn representing Switzerland. This initial occurrence seemed all to appropriate, considering like Venice itself, the work is dense with cultural information and fully engaged in a cycle of production and consumption. In true Hirschhorn fashion, the all-encompassing and transformative installation feels strangely distant from the outside world, yet remains fully composed of materials of the western culture just beyond the doors. Bonded by packing tape, the various selection of tvs, chairs, printed images and video, toy dolls, aluminum foil, cotton swabs, bottles, and buckets (among countless other objects) are transformed through a second stage of mass-production. Perhaps the only material that doesn’t directly reference globalism and commodity culture are the thousands of crystals that are scattered throughout the installation, providing the heavy social context with the transformative “powers” of healing and beauty. Scale dramatically shifts between the craft-like plastic crystals to the oversized shapes made of plastic sheeting, fluorescent lighting, and wood, taking one all-encompassing installation from macro to micro with each step.

Image Courtesy of the Artist

Here, Hirschhorn maintains his emphasis on the excesses of contemporary life found in physical materials and visuals information, yet creates his own biological universe, giving form and weight to largely invisible processes. Plastic chairs and tvs carry their own cultural history while simultaneously becoming soil for the crystallized flora and fauna dispersed through the environment. Packing tape grows up the side of aluminum foil structures, and vines of photos drape between fluorescent lighting branches. Hirschhorn has imbued his installation with a life system that carries his references to consumer culture and economic chaos, offering the viewer an accelerated experience fueled on notions of the absurd and proliferated by discarded items of commerce.

The twentieth century has provided a plethora of methods to communicate quickly to the masses, and it is becoming increasingly rare to find anyone taking the time to write a handwritten letter, much less create a large-scale public mural to share ideas with the public. However, for almost all of human history, wall paintings have served as one of the most effective ways to chronicle the events and progress of our time. Artist Josef Kristofoletti has tapped back into this method of communication and it has led him to some amazing places. From the gymnasium of his former high-school to a year long road trip around North America with the Transit Antenna artist collective, Josef’s desire to paint in public spaces has kept him moving. Perhaps the most impressive of these large-scale murals took place at CERN, the world’s largest particle physics laboratory, situated in the Northwest suburbs of Geneva on the Franco–Swiss border. There, Kristofoletti created a four story mural of the ATLAS particle accelerator, directly on the walls that contain the actual structure. Since the completion of the project just a few months ago, I’ve been dying to talk with the artist about his experience of seeing the world’s most ambitious laboratory, as well as the completion of his most impressive mural to date.

Seth Curcio: So Joe, you recently had the unique opportunity to do an artist residency of sorts at the famous CERN, the European Organization of Nuclear Research on the boarder of Switzerland and France. You had the honor of being the first artist invited to produce an original work of art for the organization. Tell me what projects led up to this invitation and how did the world’s largest and most advanced scientific laboratory learn about your work ?

Josef Kristofoletti: In 2008, I made a painting for a two person show with my friend Matt Phillips at Redux Contemporary Art Center. Matt and I had some conversations before the exhibit about what we wanted to show. We talked about the origin of the universe and dark matter, then I decided that I would do something related to CERN. I painted a mural of ATLAS, the largest of the CERN particle detectors. I tried to make the mural scientifically accurate, based on the schematics available on the CERN website. After the show opened it got a little bit of press and a month or so later I got a call from Claudia Marcelloni, the photographer and outreach coordinator for the ATLAS experiment. She told me that they had seen photos of my mural and asked if I might be interested in doing something on location. I couldn’t believe it at first, it just sounded really strange over the phone. We set up a time for a meeting with some of the physicists and I booked a flight to Geneva that same day.

SC: Once you arrived at CERN, the officials gave you a tour of the facility, allowing you, an artist, unprecedented access to such highly restricted laboratories. Tell me a little about what you saw and how it turned into inspiration for the gigantic painting that eventually came to be?

JK: From the airport the CERN shuttle picked me up and took me right inside the lab’s main building. I met with two incredible scientists who work there, senior physicist Michael Barnett who is the head of the Particle Data Group, from Lawrence Berkley National Labs, and Neal Hartman, who engineered the innermost part of ATLAS, the pixel detector. It was a great meeting because they were as excited to talk to me about art as I was in finding out more about super symmetry. We talked about Egyptian sculpture and cinema. Neil has since left his position at CERN to attend film school in London. Anyway, they gave me a tour of the ATLAS facilities and we looked at some of the walls that I could potentially work on. By that time the detector, which is over 90 meters underground, was completely closed off to visitors and gearing up for the cool down process. Before collisions can start the entire 27 km tunnel is chilled with liquid helium to a temperature than is cooler than outer space. As we were talking about the possibilities of the project, my guides realized that I had to see the actual detector in person. After they made a few phone calls, and I started going through the most high secure checkpoint I have ever seen. The workers go through a complex biometric security system that includes a retinal scan. They all wear a dosimeter that measures radiation levels and there are plenty of safety warning labels on everything. We took the elevator down, then stepped out to look at the beast. There were a few men inside the detector doing some last minute work, but they were reduced to ants by huge size of its metal parts . It was sublime.

SC: This sounds amazing! I bet you never imaged in a million years that your research and project about ATLAS would eventually bring you into the exact laboratory that you studied for the mural at Redux Contemporary Art Center. I’d love to hear about some of the technical obstacles that you faced when creating the work, such as the time line needed for creating such an ambitious work, how you selected your subject matter, and dealing with extreme weather on the Franco-Swiss border. I even heard that you became a dad over this whole process. It just seems larger than life, both literally and metaphorically.

JK: I couldn’t get everyone to agree on the location that I wanted for the mural. I really wanted it place directly over the detector itself, and that alone took months. By the time that process was accomplished I had to start right away even though there was no funding for the project yet. I had charged the ticket to a credit card and flew back to Geneva from the United States. My third day there I met a side show performer named Stephan who lived by the train station and offered to let me sleep in his squat. He has this act where he can eat and swallow lit cigarettes. Stephan helped me stay sane for much of the project. There were so many security and safety issues at CERN that every day new problems came up. I had to go through safety courses to get clearance to work on the site and to use the Nacelle lift, which is the machine that was used to assemble the detector itself. I could not afford any assistants because it would have taken many more months of paperwork and training. I worked through French and German interpreters on many of the logistical issues and some of the safety classes. By the time I was able to touch paint to the wall it was October and getting colder every day. One day I couldn’t feel my hand any more and I realized that I had to face reality and come back the following year. I was able to finish the smaller of the two walls by mid November and had to return in June to continue. Halfway through the painting the whole operation was stopped by one of the electrical engineers in charge of safety. I was working right over the transformers and he said that in case of an accident the power supply would be jeopardized to the whole experiment. That stopped me until further security measures were dreamed up.

Every once in a while one of the physicists would confront me, very seriously, about how some part of the detector was not drawn properly. But, I respect that because for many of them this is a life’s work. Some have been there for twenty years going over the smallest details thousands of times. The whole detector is exactly precise to within one millimeter. I tried to explain to them that I was just making a painting. From up it the air I could see Mont Blanc just to my right, and the Jura mountains to my left. When I started on the proposals I found out that my wife was pregnant. My son Daniel was seven months old when I finished the mural. A lot of what has happened I can’t put into words, its been both shocking and beautiful. While I was at CERN I saw a lecture by Stephen Hawking. He was one of my childhood heroes. The first slide he showed said: ‘Why are we here? Where did we come from?’

SC: That all seems like such a feat in itself, not to mention the fact that in the end you created an amazingly ambitious mural that lives up to all the magic that is happening inside the facility. So now that you are back in the US, what kind of projects are you working on, and what do you have coming up?

JK: Just before I came back to the US I went to Fame Festival in Italy and it was one of the most amazing art exhibitions that I have ever seen. It was so cool to see huge paintings by BLU and the other artists, I found that very inspiring. I’m really obsessed with large-scale paintings on walls and I love that the street art phenomenon keeps exploding all over the world.  My next big project, which I’m super excited about working on, will be doing something for the Olympics. Details on that project to come…