John Martin, born in the week that the Bastille was stormed in July 1789, was an instinctive revolutionary. His generation may have suffered from a misty-eyed envy of new-found liberties in the United States of America and France, but they understood what practical revolution might mean at home and they strove to achieve liberation from repression and tyranny without bloodshed; very largely they succeeded.

In 1802 a prominent collection of Parisian waxworks was transported to London, commencing what was to become a nearly thirty-year tour of the British Isles. The collection had been modelled by Philippe Curtius (1737 – 1794) and his apprentice and heir, Madame Tussaud (1761–1850). Waxworks displays were not uncommon at the time, but Philippe Curtius’ collection stood apart. The typical display, often at a fairground, might represent a scene of allegory or fantasy, or even portray a story from classical literature. Two of the better-known waxworks collections of the eighteenth-century, the Dutch Doolhof collection and Mrs Salmon’s in London, exhibited such scenes as Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, Salome dancing before King Herod, David slaying Goliath, and Queen Thomira with the overthrow of Cyrus the Great. Philippe Curtius distinguished himself from these shows by presenting figures taken from contemporary history that were cast from live subjects. He cultivated personal relationships with men such as Benjamin Franklin, François-Marie Arouet, and Rousseau, all of whom were said to have sat for Philippe Curtius to have their wax portraits made. Philippe Curtius’ collection was in this way unique, claiming direct ties to the notable and notorious figures that were presented to the public.¹

Powerful expressions of faith, hope and love are manifested in brilliant colours that characterise the Luca della Robbia glazed terracotta sculptures from the Renaissance, explored in an exhibition organised by the Museum of Fine Arts, in Boston, the United States of America.

Earthy, gloomy, mysterious, dark, and enchanting. All those sentiments can be gathered from both the shallow and deep ends of the Earth, it can be warm as it can be cold. It can hold life as it holds death. As a concept, earth or “Terra” as it is named in Latin, holds a fascination that few people are able to explore head on, let alone in an artistic way. To cast the magnificence, the complexity that the realm of earth can hold, artists of the odd and strange have gathered to make a collective exhibition called Terra Tenebrosa at Sin Espacio gallery in Cali from August 12th to 23rd.

After travelling across London, the United Kingdom and waiting around for some time outside the entrance of the Crypt Gallery to proceed, the entry that lays beneath Saint Pancras Parish Church. The gathering of exhibition lovers begins to accumulate at a steady pace and once inside, various paintings hang on display for today’s malicious event. Most notably, Ester Segarra’s Shards photographic portrait draws highly to the attention of the event’s early arrivals.

Born on March 12nd, 1981, Paulo Álvarez is a Colombian imperialist artist specialized in both graphic design and professional illustration with intense personal gloomy silhouettes leaning toward the brilliance and iniquity present in his pragmatic photographs. Besides his artistic deviances, he is also a highly valued professor at Universidad Católica de Colombia. On October 28th, we had the occasion to attend Canto Tercero, which concludes the trilogy from the odd Circulos Invisibles notion, which was previously exhibited at Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Bogotá.

“It’s gonna be a fucking blood orgy,” said Agustin Segundo Lobos over drinks in downtown Guelph, Ontario. He smiled, “I have been telling that to everyone, ‘A blood orgy.'” Agustin (“Augy” to his friends and fans) is one of the most interesting and iconoclastic young artists to spring onto the art scene in recent years, having created a distinctive and immediately recognizable body of work that elicits intense emotional responses from its viewers. His paintings, depicting haunting, gruesome figures screaming off the canvas, are rendered with extreme precision in stark hues of black, white, blue, and red.

It is said that in numerous occasions we assimilate our favorite musical genres merely by the compositions transpired through the records we listen, or the live performances we assist, however it is far common to purchase a record judging by its artwork, other than the acts conceptual photographs that soon and quietly conquer the front pages of our predilected metal publications.