Stalk Steady on a Hardwood Floor

The paintings of Amanda Visell draw me in, and break my heart. Her imagery is like a deluge of narrative (oh yeah, I said it). I've never seen a human beings artwork that was more perfectly suited for the illustration of childrens books. I marvel at the idea of the kind of person I may have turned into if I'd have had her visuals to guide me through my youth. I am sure I'd be a much happier person in my adult life.
Visell builds complex imagery out of very simple shapes, which she makes no effort to hide, as if her pieces were assembled from paper cutouts. The straight edged look of her figures appears as though I should be disdainful of it, like it's sloppy and unkempt, but I couldn't feel more different about it, which both intrigues and confuses me. The aloof expression worn by her characters allow me a blank slate upon which to impose as much emotion as I'd like, which roughly translates to some of the most emotionally stunted cast ever seen in a collected body of work. At no time in her paintings do her color choices feel anything less than essential. Everything she paints is so complimentary of itself that her images seem to set neatly on a delicate framework of sheer professionalism. The color accents she provides her work are what really set them off to me. They looks as though they were applied with a sort of dry brushing technique, allowing chance to play a role in the overall composition, which I find to be a brave and highly respectable choice. One that I lack the spine for.

The Grass Menagerie

Tomer Hanuka has been a favorite artist of mine for years, now. To this day, he is at the center of one of my fondest memories. I remember a friend of mine, who was living outside of the country at the time, bought me one of his limited edition prints as a gift. It's one of the greatest gifts I've ever received, and a spectacular start to a personal art collection.
I love Hanuka's style of elongating the human figure, and exaggerating the pose. His work brings to mind the word "sinew" for me, because the muscles of all of his characters seem to me to be just on the verge of bursting. When I see the kind of people that he works into his imagery, I can't help but have the oxygen pushed out of my lungs, as if I've just run a marathon and now I'm doubled over and gasping for air with such force that my eyes are about to roll out of my head and down the sidewalk. Bye-bye eyes.
In addition to his figure quality, I also love his line quality. His figures are worked up with such fine lines that indicate a distinct surgical precision. The perfect compliment to that is the way in which he applies color. His color use comes across to me like a foreign language. At times, I can make out what he's doing, but then he hits these stints of verbose subtlety that befuddle my mind  and require a second and third look. It's rare that I can stair straight at something and still not know what I'm looking at, but Tomer Hanuka manages the illusion, somehow.

Let's Spin a Dreidel at Breakneck Speed

Just today...just right this second, in fact, I discovered the website of an illustrator named Nathan Fox . Art like his literally makes me feel excited, as if my skeleton is on the verge of jumping out of my skin. I love the narrow line work, and solid colors. All of the images he creates are so vibrant, and full of life. His characters are insanely expressive. His color palette is so bright and bold that it's practically shouting off the page. The website is wonky, at best, but it's more than excusable, as I find it difficult to hold too much against someone whose art I appreciate so much.
When I see illustrations like this, they make me wish I had the guts to experiment with a medium outside that of oil paint, and to let my line work build the form, instead of manipulation of lights and darks. I don't hesitate for a second in thinking that's the way I've always wished I was making art.
I wish I knew more about his techniques, I feel like there's something so subtle about the work of illustrators that will always allude me.