Max Patton (1 Trick Pony)
Tropic Threshold
Resin Casted Wall Mount With Resin Casted Figure,
7.5in x 9in x 2.5in
It was originally a harmless, tadpole-like creature called a Critter that lived in Earth's Ionosphere. Due to being exposed to an overdose of man-made radio waves, the Critters mutated, cannibalized hundreds of their kind, and combined to form the monstrous and predatory being known as Gazort. It possesses sharp teeth and can fire plasma bombs.
Max Patton (1 Trick Pony)
Dark Threshold
Resin Casted Wall Mount With Resin Casted Figure,
7.5in x 9in x 2.5in
Attempting to create a display format to integrate the figures I make with an environment instead of traditional packages and shelves. He is not a man who turned into a plant, but rather a sentient, magically-powered mass of vegetation (an avatar of the natural world, or The Green) that believes it is Alec Holland. Swamp Thing protects the environment from supernatural and human threats, and is most famous for his horror-tinged stories written by Alan Moore in the 1980s.
Matt Scott Barnes
Cheers for Beers
Wheatpaste, Watercolor, Acrylic on panel,
11.25in x 14.75in x 2in
Operating within the contested arena of contemporary visual culture, functioning less as mere reportage and more as a critical inquiry into the social consumption of time and memory. It deliberately eschews the blandish-ments of marketized optimism, choosing instead to anchor its meaning within a specific socio-temporal context: the annum of 2025.
The piece is a study of exuberance, or perhaps the performance of it, examining how collective memory is often framed through the ritualized practices of leisure and shared consumption. The visual language employed aims for a certain raw specificity—a "sticky," as one might say, texture to the representation of "good times". There is no attempt to render the scene "elegant" or "simple"; the aesthetic is derived from an acknowledgment of the chaotic, perhaps even "slapsticky," reality of unbridled celebration.
By looking backward across the exhibited year, the work forces a confrontation with the very mechanisms of remembrance. It asks: How do we, as cultural agents, choose to document our moments of "raising hell"? What visual vocabulary do we deploy? The intent is not merely to celebrate the coming year but to present a document of a particular cultural moment, allowing for a critical depth often absent in such celebratory narratives. Cheers for Beers is, in essence, a fragment of visual evidence, a snapshot of collective effervescence, situated in the ongoing dialogue between visual production and its embedded cultural context.