The Work of Ron Mueck

I recently discovered this amazing artwork by an Australian hyperrealist sculptor, Ron Mueck, and I have to say he is fucking brilliant. The way he uses posture, gesture and different, bizarre sizes for his sculptures is utterly impressive. His lifelike sculptures known for their unique scale, strike a disconcerting perception on life, how one figure is miniaturized in size while others are blown to gigantic proportions. His attention to detail is breathtaking, the creases and folds on one's body, the fine hairs on one's arm, the thick bushy eyebrows, and the pale, alabaster skin with red-greenish veins, pigmentation and all. Amazing.

Mother and Child, 2001

In Bed, 2005


Spooning Couple, 2005



The National Gallery, London

You can find more images and information on Mueck's work at paintalicious.org.

Summer's Once Upon A Time

He was decluttering the store room when he saw a box with a marker-drawn treble clef under a pile of rolled carpets. He opened it and inside were stacks of vinyl records lining up forgotten. He took one out, a psychedelic artwork flaunted richly on the cover and he slid the vinyl out, along with the air of the late 70’s, pouring down like a heavy rain of memories so vivid that he could almost taste it. He remembered that particular record, it took him back to his days of decadence, of how hedonistic he was back then and how unconsciously indulging it all had been.

He ran his fingers on them, flipping one vinyl casing after another, he randomly took one out and this time, he could almost hear the thumping beats of a disco hit playing inside his head. He recalled the scent of musky dance floor sweat, the sparkle of it all, the sprinkling of gold dust by a fellow stranger and the promiscuous night that followed afterwards. This unexpected rediscovery brought him back to the days of being young, days of forgotten sunrises and sunsets, a time of denial and acceptance. He pulled out one record after another, and each one echoed different patches of memoirs, of bliss and comfort, of joy and fulfilment, and of rejection and remorse.

He wiped them clean and every single piece was meticulously dealt with. He was about to take out the last piece, the one with a distinctively familiar artwork cover. It was Donna Summer’s Once Upon A Time. It was his most cherished record, given to him by his best friend on his final days, who tragically succumbed to statistics after years of battling with AIDS. He remembered why he had kept it at the back of the box when he once had tried to dispose it, but he knew it was impossible. It was too precious an item, a rich legacy of memories bound only by a piece of music, and he remembered how wretched he had been and how overwhelming that he had survived it all. An air of sorrow swallowed him mercilessly when all of the sadness and grief grasped him by his heart. He collapsed on the floor, broken in tears.

End.

Trojan

After a night of debauchery and pure pleasure, they reorganized the bed, rearranged the pillows and pulled up the sheet. He was about to flick the switch on the nightstand when he noticed something shiny with a rigged edge, reflecting the incandescent light from the floor. He got off the bed and scrutinized the insignificant plastic scrap out of curiosity. It was a tiny piece of a torn condom seal. He was about to dispose it when he realized that the colour and the typeface on the seal were unfamiliar. It was metallic-gold, a different brand, and it was the kind that he had never bought or used before.


End.