art - illustration - graphic arts - And Some
tinysplendor:

We’re excited to announce a Tiny Splendor Print and Zine show!
Artwork by
Ash Armenta
Ari Bird
Cynthia Navarro
Elinor Breidenthal
Kenneth Srivijittakar
Louise Leong
Max Stadnik
Sanaa Khan
Event page here.
The show will up from May 10th - June 8th at Arbor Cafe, 4210 Telegraph Ave, Oakland. The opening will feature an amazing set of international records from the collection of the amazing DJ Roger Goodman starting at 7pm on May 10th, so come drink, be merry, and enjoy friends, zines, prints, music! 

tinysplendor:

We’re excited to announce a Tiny Splendor Print and Zine show!

Artwork by

Ash Armenta

Ari Bird

Cynthia Navarro

Elinor Breidenthal

Kenneth Srivijittakar

Louise Leong

Max Stadnik

Sanaa Khan

Event page here.

The show will up from May 10th - June 8th at Arbor Cafe, 4210 Telegraph Ave, Oakland. The opening will feature an amazing set of international records from the collection of the amazing DJ Roger Goodman starting at 7pm on May 10th, so come drink, be merry, and enjoy friends, zines, prints, music! 

tinysplendor:


Hello LA  movers and shakers! 
Meltdown Comics is looking for crafters, zinesters, diyers, artists and vendors interested in tabling at an open market coinciding with free comic book day. Interested?!



please fill out this form by April 27th the sooner the better

tabling fees will be 25$ for your own space ( you will have to bring your own table)



SUBMISSIONS are DUE APRIL 27th

feel free to email us at info@tinysplendor.com if you have any questions

Hey friends! Sign up to vend your goodies at Meltdown comics!

tinysplendor:

Hello LA  movers and shakers! 
Meltdown Comics is looking for crafters, zinesters, diyers, artists and vendors interested in tabling at an open market coinciding with free comic book day. Interested?!
please fill out this form by April 27th the sooner the better
tabling fees will be 25$ for your own space ( you will have to bring your own table)
SUBMISSIONS are DUE APRIL 27th
feel free to email us at info@tinysplendor.com if you have any questions

Hey friends! Sign up to vend your goodies at Meltdown comics!

tinysplendor:

Another great zine on sale! 

MONSTERITUS #6 By Kenneth Srivijittakar.

A crude collection of stories, articles, and drawings dealing with the strange and unusual.

Welcome to MONSTERITUS issue 6, printed, bound, and distributed from good old Los Angeles, California. MONSTERITUS is a small collection of personal drawings, strange facts, and weird articles ranging from the supernatural to the occult. What is the point of collecting such matter you say? Well it might not be the most fundamental of educational topics but it is comparable to the strawberry jam in your jelly donut, the hollandaise sauce on eggs benedict, or the crispy toasted top part of the oven baked mac and cheese. In the end this is just a tribute to the unfamiliarity outside your nine to five that reminds us that there is something more out there, real or not.

5 + Shipping

tinysplendor:

SAUSAGE FIESTA is hot & ready for sale, visit Tinysplendor.com

From the dinner table, to the metaphorical, and to the beyond, this zine is a celebration / collaboration of the meat cased intestine that we all love!

"The noblest of all dogs is the hot-dog; it feeds the hand that bites it." 
~ Lawrence J. Peter

Contributers: Ari Bird, Vivian Fu, Sanaa Khan, Louise Leong, Laurel Maha, Cynthia Navarro, Max Stadnik, Kenneth Srivijittakar

tinysplendor:

In the heart of Fruitville, Oakland, Lexagon (Alexa Burrell), plays sweet electronic melodies to classical sounds that vibrate the walls of her cozy apartment. Her album, Electric Meats, is inspired by the simplicity of meat consumption, our own bodily flesh and system and the complex sciences behind piezoelectricty. Get to know Alexa and her music at soudcloud.com/lexagon
Buy and support here!
What started the love of making music?
Music has been a part of my life since age old times. My father is a drummer and sax player and has always had instruments cluttering up the house. I remember how  he would play sax in the tunnel at Golden Gate Park while my sister and I roller skated through the reverberations. Music was an escape from an otherwise highly sheltered and religious upbringing and I always felt like it was a type of freedom otherwise inaccessible. I  picked up the clarinet when I was 9 and have been playing ever since.
What brought you to electronic music?
I was became interested in electronic music in high school when a friend showed me Fruity Loops. I loved how quickly ideas could become tracks and was instantly fascinated by the opportunities at hand. Then my high school friends and I started a noise band by the name of “Black Crow Fernando and the Cosmic Clambake Orchestra” . We sucked and didn’t develop anything, Just a lot of drones and thrashes through a delay pedal, but I found the free-spirited nature of our jams refreshing when compared to  my experience as a clarinetist in wind ensembles. Then college happened and I discovered the Electronic Music minor in the music department.  The director, Peter Elsea along with guest lecturers  Max Mathews and Jon Appleton inspired me to expand my notions of music, performance and composition. 
How does your traditional practice influence the electronic music you make now?
The clarinet is my musical backbone. I use the technicalities I’ve learned from playing clarinet to execute other ways of making music, or just bust it out to rock a melody that’s been floating in my head all day.  I love its earthy timbre and I believe it’s inspired my vocal exploration with new formants like pitch bends, articulation and throat singing. I often use excerpts from classical clarinet sheet music and “sample” them into a live loop jam or composition. I prefer “covering” samples as to  cutting up someone else’s recordings from vinyl. 
I’ve also been influenced by the musical arrangements of classical music compositions. I love the separation of voices in traditional music and I try to maintain that when working electronically. 
What inspired the title Electric Meats?
Honestly, I can’t say. It been a long time coming. I’ve had a meat fixation for a while though.  From the ages of 8 to 21, I was a disciplined vegetarian.  I was very sensitive. My sister made me cry one time by telling me that the blueberries in my pie were babies and I was a berry murderer. Then I met some friends in college that got me into meat. I felt amazing. Reborn rather. Hot links, why you so good to me?! I think  bioelectricity is a big deal. We need to remind ourselves that we be resonating, magnetic meat sacks.  Visualizing that is fucking incredible to me. I don’t know what’s more awesome. I think  Antipop Consortium’s “Born Electric” track had some influence too.
What’s your most random habit?
I love to smell my knuckles when I’m concentrating or nervous. It’s weird. I’m over being ashamed about it and I certainly have no desire to quit the habit. I just smell soo good.

I illustrated and designed this CD sleeve for a great friend of mine. She’s talented, beautiful and always had my back. Miss you and love you tons Alexa!

tinysplendor:

B.I. BUKE by MICHAEL OLIVO is a 60 page crisply detailed graphic tour de force. Get it at TinySplendor.com and read this amazing foreword by Aaron Shunga to wet your whistle: 

Somewhere between Kikaida and Kenneth Anger lies this self-published gem in the shifting paper desert known as digital-age independent comics.  Regarding the notion that all experimental cartoonists are stodgy, disheveled men:  “I don’t really consider myself a cartoonist,” stated author and illustrator MICHAEL OLIVO over the phone as I stared out into the clean courtyard of my 60’s era apartment, spices of Ethiopian stews wafting through the air.  Somewhere between Honolulu and New Jersey, there is a place called Oakland, CA, where many journey, escaping prejudice and political turmoil, or the gaping maw of the bland.

Leaving the art world and his previous forte’ of experimental film, Olivo dedicated his time to developing a pristine illustration style that displayed contemplation, a steady hand, and a sense of humor that displays the prismatic malfunction of a space-age computer.  He is a mysterious municipal wing from an unknown government, painting signage with the eerie consistency of an automaton and the whimsical glee of a young Keith Haring running through a virtual subway.  And adding to the mystery, he does so with no dialogue.

“Who is B.I. Buke?” I asked, in a halal supermarket eating Tabouli.

“An insult my brother once called me.”

From a monastic outpost, the steely eyed OLIVO first introduced me to his work in his apartment overlooking MLK Jr. Way, a very dangerous street in Oakland, where drivebys are a summer occurrence, bullet holes in wooden fences a mildly interesting conversation piece amongst struggling ghetto locals, jaded punks, artists, and burnouts.  Where a bullet passed through three bags of Doritos in a liquor store circa 2010, and an Arab grocer fervently told me the story, I now feel the parallel in the Nintendo-addled Futurism of B.I. BUKE.  Olivo’s work drinks in his surroundings, from the deepest hideout of abstraction, probably through a crazy straw.  

“I use this to improve my skills,” said Olivo one evening as we worked on an animation at his house, proceeding to beat most of Contra 1 without dying.

The outsider stance is a challenging viewpoint to access, and a dangerous place to inhabit.  To the Mondrians listening to their first Jazz records, hungry Basquiats quitting their day jobs, and the dejected Duchamp prior to uttering the words DADA, this feeling is no stranger.

A pivotal encounter with Olivo occurred in his backyard.  He appeared in a reddish plot of bare soil, a vacant area with a lone palm tree standing the breeze.  We engaged in a strange, labyrinthine conversation that touched on topics of fractals, cats, and Paul Pope’s career.   Here I found evidence of an earnest philosopher in the field of experimental comics, who had a keen eye for craftsmanship and no fear of the resultant isolation.  Next door, reggae played out of a lot filled with abandoned cars.

“Your backyard looks like Haiti,” I said.

The conceptual is apparent in his work, as he draws forth comparisons and ideas that challenge current assumptions and associations in motifs, bringing us to points of insight and humor that mimic the movement of frantic tropical birds.  We are randomly greeted by lush jungle scenes and flailing, muscled arms that give way to floating beings of Japanese mist in an iconic night sky.  The main character, B.I. BUKE, is both empowered by his mutation and the subject of ridicule in his warped, fragmented world of hall-of-mirrors masculinity.  His genitalia, disembodied, greet us abruptly within cracked plexiglass scattered as if Charlie Chaplin were filmed courting Yoko Ono.  Are we witnessing G.I. Joe’s first night as a gay in the military?  Is knowing half the battle?

As Oakland swelled and exhaled with political fervor during Occupy, and rents continue to skyrocket in tacky fortresses whilst peeling Victorian houses appreciate steadily in gun infested streets, we see a city of the future, a societal scrambler, a pressure cooker, as language, identity, art, and sexuality are fed LSD and academic chiding from Berkeley, Zen lesbian perfume wafting in from Mills College, cold digital freon from San Francisco.  This is a place of fragmentation, the Chimera of bohemian existence.

“Have you read that in 30 years, the ocean will be devoid of fish?”

“I look forward to one day retreating into a digital world,” said Olivo.

The movie Platoon and the book The Things They Carried engage in literary cell-division and their offspring produce a calm Egyptian relief, aloof, bicycling calmly past several crackheads in moth eaten wool cloaks, screaming at God.

While many minnows swarm to the carrion of the beached whale that is Obama’s promise, and hot storefront churches belt out distilled soul on Sundays, urban youth eating Ramen out of cups on rusty bikes, a gunshot rings out and kills a thug at Oakland’s burgeoning Art Walk.  Olivo is an artist that unlike the minnow, will survive in the futuristic ocean as it evaporates, he is already developing his two dimensional lungs at a young age.

-Aaron Shunga

lazinefest:

GET TO KNOW YOUR ZINESTER: Tiny Splendor
What was your first zine about and when was it made?
Our first zine, Rat Milk, was inspired by watching many a Simpsons episode and drinking warm bhang on cold winter nights. We would throw potlucks at our house and cover our dinner table with paper and our friends would draw on it. It got covered with strange food stains intermingled with depraved drawings of rats lactating, dogs on acid, caricatured faces, and mountains of details by friends and visitors. We did this a few times and scanned the results, which we screenprinted and turned into a zine. This was once upon a time, when Sanaa Khan, Max Stadnik, and Cynthia Navarro were living together, and Kenny Srivijittakar lived down the street. It was a time of constant creation. Now that Cynthia and Kenny live in L.A. we’ve had to change up the collaborative process a bit.


Name three of your influences and how they affected your work.
We could name drop, but we are four people here, and that’s what seems to keep our work from getting stale—four brains are better than one. As far as the three things that keep us going, we’d be remiss if we didn’t mention printmaking, community, and food.
Printmaking, because all four of us studied it and fell in love with it; it gave us an appreciation for process-based thinking, working in layers, color separations, registration, discipline, stamina, experimentation, and working in limited editions. Working in multiples allows you to reach a wider audience than a single painting ever could. We’ve brought that mentality to running a small press.
Community is essential to what we do. If it weren’t for all our friends who laughed at our drawings, inspired us with theirs, and worked side by side with us in between countless glasses of whiskey, we’d have long ago lost our sanity and become boring introverts. We’re extremely lucky to be a part of a community of hardworking creative people—musicians, photographers, writers, framers—all stripes of people working with their hands.
Food is what keeps us going. I’m hungry right now. We all have a soft spot for anthropomorphized drawings of food, weird retro food iconography, and cooking and brewing and trying all the edible things out there. We had an art show this year devoted to coffee. We are working on a zine dedicated to hot dogs. Our best ideas have been hashed out over food and drink, reenergizing our brain batteries by indulging our taste buds.
Read the rest over at the LA Zine Fest blog!

lazinefest:

GET TO KNOW YOUR ZINESTER: Tiny Splendor

What was your first zine about and when was it made?

Our first zine, Rat Milk, was inspired by watching many a Simpsons episode and drinking warm bhang on cold winter nights. We would throw potlucks at our house and cover our dinner table with paper and our friends would draw on it. It got covered with strange food stains intermingled with depraved drawings of rats lactating, dogs on acid, caricatured faces, and mountains of details by friends and visitors. We did this a few times and scanned the results, which we screenprinted and turned into a zine. This was once upon a time, when Sanaa KhanMax Stadnik, and Cynthia Navarro were living together, and Kenny Srivijittakar lived down the street. It was a time of constant creation. Now that Cynthia and Kenny live in L.A. we’ve had to change up the collaborative process a bit.
Name three of your influences and how they affected your work.
We could name drop, but we are four people here, and that’s what seems to keep our work from getting stale—four brains are better than one. As far as the three things that keep us going, we’d be remiss if we didn’t mention printmaking, community, and food.

Printmaking, because all four of us studied it and fell in love with it; it gave us an appreciation for process-based thinking, working in layers, color separations, registration, discipline, stamina, experimentation, and working in limited editions. Working in multiples allows you to reach a wider audience than a single painting ever could. We’ve brought that mentality to running a small press.

Community is essential to what we do. If it weren’t for all our friends who laughed at our drawings, inspired us with theirs, and worked side by side with us in between countless glasses of whiskey, we’d have long ago lost our sanity and become boring introverts. We’re extremely lucky to be a part of a community of hardworking creative people—musicians, photographers, writers, framers—all stripes of people working with their hands.

Food is what keeps us going. I’m hungry right now. We all have a soft spot for anthropomorphized drawings of food, weird retro food iconography, and cooking and brewing and trying all the edible things out there. We had an art show this year devoted to coffee. We are working on a zine dedicated to hot dogs. Our best ideas have been hashed out over food and drink, reenergizing our brain batteries by indulging our taste buds.

Read the rest over at the LA Zine Fest blog!

Substance and the Body. 21x14, multi media collage

Substance and the Body. 21x14, multi media collage