The lure of an artist who (in her own words) “lives and works among giant fir trees” is too strong for this humble heart. Introducing Emily Winfield Martin, who really needs no introduction. She’s been everywhere lately — the Jealous Curator and frankie spring to mind — and thank god, because the world needs more of what she’s doing.
Her work presents a friendly, surreal fairy-tale place; girls in masks, houses with arms, boys riding swans. (No comment, only joy on how the latter looks like the last Tsarevich, complete with little sailor suit.) Even her colour palette seems to beg you to dive on in, no worries, it’s safe here in sepia.
Her work is inspired by everything delightful: “fairy tales, carnivals, vintage children’s clothing, her favorite films” and the rest. I think dressing bunnies up was referenced. There’s a good chance that disliking Ms Martin’s work is actually illegal thanks to all this — I mean, how can you not? Sweet and strange, and endlessly divine.