finding cain

 

Timothée Humbert creates wild, zoomorphic sculptures that pull the viewer into an imaginary world. This place is full of strange, funny, and sometimes grotesque little beings. His creatures feel ancient and childlike at the same time; one can't tell if they are jokes, spells, or something sacred. Humbert was born in Paris in 1979. While primarily a ceramic artist, he also draws, paints, and engraves. He earned his Fine Arts diploma in 2004, and a year later, he set up his studio. Since then, he has created nothing but one-of-a-kind pieces. These include monsters grinning like kids who know something you don't, skulls with attitude, and oddball geniuses who might be ghosts. His style mashes together global traditions and pop culture. You can trace the lines from Japanese ceramics, African sculpture, and Mexican Día de los Muertos, then, out of nowhere, find manga, fantasy, and sci-fi. Together, they create a kind of postmodern language—a jumble of hieroglyphs that hum with life....

Gravity Art Space just dropped ANTHOLOGY —and it's a total art overload (in the best way). We're talking six shows happening all at once, packed into every corner of the gallery. Teaming up with the UP Artists' Circle, they're digging into how art runs in families—the creative DNA that passes from mentors to students, friends to friends, and one generation to the next. It's all about that shared obsession with making things, no matter what. Opening night felt like a big family get-together. Artists, curators, and friends—both old and new faces—were catching up and low-key planning their next masterpieces. The rooms buzz with everything from loud, in-your-face pieces to quiet works that pull you in if you let them. If you're anywhere near Diliman, drop by. Go see the beautiful chaos. ANTHOLOGY runs until November 21, 2025.

The current art pieces on display at Galleria Nicolas in Alabang Town Center are incredibly calming. The moment I walked through the doors, it felt as though someone had hit the slow-motion button on my brain. An immediate, overwhelming sense of peace washed over me—not the boring, sleepy kind, but a quiet, deeply centered feeling. The artworks seemed to gently whisper, "Chill out," without being preachy. They weren't vying for attention; they were simply there, inviting one to look closer and truly take their time. The pieces themselves are simple and exceptionally classy, yet they possess an incredible depth. It's that wonderful feeling when you see something beautiful but cannot quite articulate why it affects you so powerfully. A lot of the art is what I'd call conventional—familiar themes, perhaps a little sentimental. But here's the good part: they take that conventional style and supercharge it, giving it new emotional weight. And the colors? They'...

ManilART didn't start as anything special—just another art fair. Galleries, new artists, and old masters all showed up to hang their work and make some cash. It was functional, but utterly forgettable, like a plain white wall. The organizers looked at that "basic market" and declared, "Nope. We're going bigger." They didn't want a mediocre local show; they wanted a bridge to launch Filipino artists onto the international stage. Today, ManilART is a sophisticated hub. It's not artworks hung side-by-side like strangers; it's an electrical surge of creative collaboration. And it's the collision of different disciplines that creates magic. They truly get it: The exchange of ideas across different creative fields is the whole damn game. They aren't just selling art; they're stirring the pot and letting the sparks fly. They took a simple concept and gave it personality, and in art, that's everything. See you next year!