I love, artist, Ian Dingman's ability to make even the most mundane moments of life somehow seem poetic.
Chances are, if you're a fan of indie cinema or dramedies about father issues, you may already be familiar with Dingman's work from the Criterion Collection cover of Wes Anderson's debut, Bottle Rocket. It's an enchanting capture of the very spirit of the film. From its hand drawn rendering of Futura Bold down to its accurate, albeit simple, representation of the film's protagonists, there's a wonderful sense of composition that makes this a personal favorite of mine in Criterion covers.
One of the most captivating aspects of Ian's work is his drawing of the human form in such a natural state with minimal detail or pen strokes. Somehow, he's able to capture a great deal of emotion and inference purely based on his character compositions. Body language is spot on.
The line work may be simple, the concept, however is not. Negative space plays an almost primary role in a large amount of Ian's work—eliciting a true sense of isolation. Open environments play host to small people in an almost voyeuristic fashion.
Ian's work in the world of color makes just as big a splash. There's a careful application of saturation that maintains his respect for restraint and intentionality. Even full color scenes feel carefully reined in their breadth of use; limited in tonal, painted compositions.
I love his use of painted texture as it fills in contextually for the smog.
Arguably his best work, Ian's capacity for bringing human levels of emotion into inanimate objects is next to none. His architectural pieces feel anthropomorphized in the same world that his characters populate. It's easy to think of his houses as living, breathing people with a story to tell.