In the mid-20th century, before preservation efforts revived Miami’s Art Deco South Beach neighborhood with bright colors and lavish hotels, the area was a whitewashed holiday haven for retirees. And in a third-floor room of the Colony Hotel, which looked out onto the building’s marquee and the street below, a unique artistic endeavor unfolded.

Ukrainian artist Jonko “George” Voronovsky (1903-1982) transformed his humble, long-term residence into a vibrant environment of paintings and objects that he described as “memoryscapes.” Having endured incredible hardship amid the political maneuvers of the U.S.S.R. and the Nazis during the 1930s and 1940s, he chose to work in a bright, optimistic style that summoned idyllic remembrances from his youth. A short film by Dia Kontaxis, “George V.,” spotlights his legacy.

By all accounts, Voronovsky experienced a loving, typically middle class upbringing in Ukraine in the early 20th century. He spent his youth exploring his village and local forests, studying music, and dabbling in visual art. By the time he was a teenager, the Russian Revolution of 1917 marked the beginning of a protracted period of upheaval in Ukraine. His father died during this time, and the country entered the control of the Soviet Union.

By the early 1930s, Voronovsky had moved to Kyiv. He married in 1933 and became a father to two children. He worked as a mapmaker, and he witnessed the systematic destruction of Kyiv’s historically baroque architecture, which the Soviets replaced with the propagandistic Stalinist style.

In 1941, life would again change drastically. Hitler invaded Ukraine and took control of Kyiv. Three years later, Voronovsky and his family were forced—like many thousands of Ukrainians—to resettle in a camp. They were marched hundreds of miles to Prague, where he then was separated from his family when he was furthered on to a labor camp in Germany. Although he later sent them a portion of his wages to support them, he never saw his wife or children again.

Throughout the 1940s, Voronovsky drifted, traveling with a group called the Musical Wanderers that played in Displaced Persons camps around Ukraine. In 1951, as part of a program that eased immigration quotas in the U.S. to welcome European refugees, Voronovsky landed in New York, then moved to Philadelphia, where the Ukrainian immigrant community was well established. For a while, he found work with the railroad, continued to play music, and traveled. During the 1960s, he created some of his earliest work, a series of nude sculptures.

Eventually, due to his health and a desire to retire somewhere warm, Voronovsky took a room at the Colony Hotel in Miami Beach. Piece by piece, he filled his modest space with colorful paintings and sculptures made from wood, styrofoam, aluminum, and other found materials. These elaborate, often joyful compositions drew from his memories of Ukraine. They highlighted animals, dances, architecture, and bucolic, sunny landscapes. Completely concealed from public display, it was only a matter of chance that his work was seen from the street by a young artist named Gary Monroe, who knocked on the door and befriended the artist.

The amount of work Voronovsky fit into his space was staggering. “This little room was probably nine by 12 feet—5,000 objects,” Monroe says. Star-like forms made from drink cans covered his cabinets and were arranged around paintings. He’d use the backs of pizza boxes and magazine spreads to make his work, drawing from the post-consumer landscape of Miami Beach.

It’s thanks to Monroe that Voronovsky’s work was introduced to a wider audience, first shown in 1986 at a Miami bookstore called Books & Books. It wasn’t until 2023 that the High Museum of Art in Atlanta organized the first major solo exhibition of the obscure artist’s work, recognizing his contribution to the canon of self-taught art in the U.S.

Kontaxis’ film spotlights the High Museum’s exhibition along with interviews and archival footage. See more of her work on Vimeo.

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“Wind carries away destinies,” reads the brief synopsis for a short film titled “Jour de Vent,” or “Windy Day.” The sweeping animation was created in 2024 by a team of six graduates—Martin Chailloux, Ai Kim Crespin, Élise Golfouse, Chloé Lab, Hugo Taillez, Camille Truding—from École des Nouvelle Images school in Avignon, France.

A cast of characters—including a businessman, a picnicking family, a young couple, a cyclist, an old man and his dog, and a guitarist—spend a seemingly average day at the park. When a powerful gust of wind blows everyone’s day out of proportion, themes of change, acceptance, and connection emerge.

Much like the film’s surrender to the flow of life, the team embraced natural evolvement through the production process itself. “Interestingly enough, the story kept changing until the last day,” the graduates share in an interview with Animation Magazine. “The final shot was decided only three days before the end.”

“Jour de Vent” has won a multitude of awards, including Jury’s Choice Award at the 2025 SIGGRAPH Festival and Best International Short Film at Quickdraw Animation Society, among many more. Watch it now on Vimeo.

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In communities throughout Switzerland’s Appenzell Hinterland and Midland regions, a unique tradition with enigmatic origins unfolds around the New Year. Known as Silvesterchlausen, the custom entails a group of boys and men who don remarkable, handmade costumes with masks and headdresses that represent rural, wild, and natural scenes.

“Silvesterchlausen,” a dreamy short film by writer and director Andrew Norman Wilson, highlights this regional seasonal event, which occurs on December 31 and January 13. The first date marks the turn of the new year on the Gregorian calendar, while January 13 denotes the same on the Julian calendar. The ornately dressed mummers, in groups of six, polyphonically yodel and ring bells. “The ritual has been performed for at least 500 years, but nobody knows how or why it began,” Wilson says.

Some of the performers’ headwear resembles miniature parade floats, while otherworldly designs made from pinecones, mosses, grasses, and other organic items make some of them appear as though they have emerged directly from the earth. In small, tight-knit municipalities, the tradition is a rare instance of relative anonymity, as familiar residents disappear behind meticulously crafted garments.

The performers, known as Chläuse, practice diligently for a month or so before the event, creating something of a “Chläus fever.” Boys form the groups and “continue throughout their lives until the members are too old to withstand the physical toll of the 18-hour days,” Wilson says, sharing that the participants build significant bonds.

As New Year’s Eve arrives, the mummers connect houses with a red string, literally and figuratively stitching connections within the community. Then, as the Chläuse move through villages and visit homes, local residents provide mulled wine to keep their bodies warm and spirits high.

See the film on Vimeo, and find more of Wilson’s work on Instagram. If you’re in the Upper Midwest, you can experience a taste of this annual tradition in New Glarus, Wisconsin. You might also enjoy Ashley Suszczynski’s incredible and mysterious photographs exploring European masking rituals.

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A fashionable bat, a melancholy sun, and a springtime spirit with seasonal allergies are just a few of the characters conceived by Cat Johnston. Drawing on childhood memories, folk art, and nature, the Hastings-based illustrator and model maker creates expressive sculptures and puppets that inhabit dreamlike realms.

Invoking historical costumes and cartoonish and emotive faces, Johnston’s otherworldly cast seems both familiar and strange, as if children’s book protagonists have sprung to life or converged with a strange dream. Recent characters comprise a series of gods representing sunburn, hay fever, and insomnia, which also—rather inconveniently—are the sun, flowers, and the moon.

Johnston recently made her first short film in collaboration with animator Joseph Wallace called “The Wickywock and the Jubjub Berry.” As a mythical woodland creature deals with a bout of sleeplessness, a forest sprite appears with what seems like a practical solution, but things don’t exactly go as planned.

Coinciding with a local pagan festival called the Hastings Traditional Jack in the Green, which occurs every first weekend of May, Johnston will have a small solo exhibition at a local pub called The Crown. In addition to signing on to work with London-based cinematic studio Passion Pictures as a director, the artist continues to explore the possibilities of film.

Johnston is currently working on a few ideas for animated series and hoping to develop a slightly longer format stop-motion project while also working on another short film, “which will be a mix of live action puppetry and stop-motion animation and will feature two flowery monsters and an extremely cute bee,” she says.

You might also enjoy the quirky Hieronymus Bosch-inspired figures of Roberto Benavidez.

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What is a web to the spider? A home, a tool, simply something they cling to? Tomás Saraceno presents these questions in a new segment from Art21, in which filmmakers visit his Berlin studio and examine the machinations of his collaborative practice, extending from a team of people to the tiny critters beneath our feet.

Saraceno continually considers how humans occupy space and how such environments inform the ways we connect with the world around us. This short documentary, which is part of the “Realms of the Real” episode, reviews several of the artist’s projects, from his suspended installations to his more participatory community projects.

Several artworks presented in the film have been previously featured on Colossal, and the film offers insight into the evolution of Saraceno’s thinking over several years. Much of his work strives for connection and empathy building, which he explains through the structure of the web. “It’s really trying to extend the ability of understanding who is our family, right? Who is our brothers, sisters, and grandfathers?” he says. “By allowing others to admire these incredible webs, they will become more empathetic.”

Find more Art21 films on YouTube, along with some of our favorites previously on Colossal.

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Around 1897, the French director Georges Méliès made a silent short film that, until last month, hadn’t been publicly viewable for more than a century. “Gugusse et l’Automate,” or “Gugusse and the Automaton,” is a 45-second slapstick piece featuring a magician and a Pierrot-styled robot as they duke it out.

Méliès is best known for “A Trip to the Moon,” a short film from 1902 that famously features astromoners landing their capsule into the eye of the moon. The director’s work is widely regarded as some of the first within fantasy and science fiction, with “Gugusse et l’Automate” being a long-lost addition to his canon.

This film resurfaced recently when Bill McFarland drove from his Grand Rapids, Michigan-home to the Library’s National Audio-Visual Conservation Center in Culpeper, Virginia, with a cache of reels that once belonged to his great-grandfather, William Delisle Frisbee. Passed down through the family, this collection was part of Frisbee’s traveling showbusiness, in which he packed up his horse and buggy in western Pennsylvania and traveled to nearby towns to screen these early “moving pictures” accompanied by music from a phonograph.

According to the library, McFarland’s copy of “Gugusse et l’Automate” is “a duplicate at least three times removed from the original. Library technicians spent more than a week scanning and stabilizing it onto a digital format, so that it can now be seen by anyone online—in 4K, no less.”

The collection also contained Méliès’ “The Fat and Lean Wrestling Match” and parts of Thomas Edison’s “The Burning Stable.” See more of conservators’ unraveling process on Instagram. (via Kottke)

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The second cut on disc 39 of his most recent double album, “The Fall-Off Is Inevitable” unfolds J. Cole’s life and professional career through a backward-moving narrative. Directed by Palestinian-American filmmaker Ryan Doubiago, the track’s accompanying music video visually captures the feeling of reminiscence, as the rapper looks back on his journey thus far.

Though each scene takes place within the same studio walls through a looping cycle, viewers move through a multitude of defining moments: a funeral scene, a wedding, writing music in solitude, and rewatching home videos from 1992. Because it’s shot on film, the grain and warm color grading strengthen the through line of nostalgia and memory.

“For the past 10 years, this album has been hand crafted with one intention: a personal challenge to myself to create my best work,” the musician states in the video’s opening slate. “To do on my last what I was unable to do on my first.”

At the video’s close, he looks back as a stream of studio equipment floats behind him, tying together a full-circle ending. The Fall-Off is Cole’s seventh and final album, and he is evidently taking it all in—down to selling CDs out of his Honda Civic trunk again, for $1.

Watch more of Ryan Doubiago’s work on Vimeo, and keep up with his projects on Instagram.

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Even though most of us are eager for spring here in the Northern Hemisphere, we’re happy to linger in winter a little while longer to take in Robinsson Cravents’ new project. The Colombia-based designer and illustrator recently released a pair of hand-drawn digital landscapes that take a bird’s-eye view of Yosemite National Park. Starting with a wide aerial shot of coniferous trees, the films then journey down a stream up to a waterfall, capturing the majestic scenery with grainy, tactile detail.

The project is a commission for Yosemite, a venture capital firm helmed by Reed Jobs that funds startups and researchers working on cancer treatments. For the creative direction, Cravents collaborated with LoveFrom, a collective helmed by Apple alum Jony Ive.

Winter and autumn are available for viewing, but the spring and summer films have yet to be released. Keep an eye on Crevants’ Behance and Instagram for the remaining seasons.

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We’re thrilled to invite you all to the Chicago premiere of Paint Me a Road Out of Here, the award-winning documentary from Aubin Pictures directed by Catherine Gund.

Along with Intuit Art Museum and the Women’s Center at DePaul University, Colossal is co-hosting a screening of the film followed by a conversation between film participant Leah Faria and our editorial director Grace Ebert on March 25. This event is free to attend, but seating is limited.

Featuring artists Faith Ringgold and Mary Enoch Elizabeth Baxter, Paint Me a Road Out of Here uncovers the whitewashed history of Ringgold’s masterpiece, “For the Women’s House,” following its 50-year journey from Rikers Island jail to the Brooklyn Museum.

Read our coverage of the documentary, watch the trailer, and RSVP to save your seat.

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Jason Mitcham’s childhood home in Greensboro, North Carolina, is no longer standing. In 2011, the local government seized the house and the land he grew up on via eminent domain to widen what was then High Point Road into what’s now Gate City Boulevard. Mitcham last saw the site in 2023, when a paved highway blanketed where the neighborhood once stood, and fragments of garages and barns still marked the landscape.

To memorialize this beloved landmark, Mitcham hand-painted “Ever Behind the Sunset,” a touching stop-motion film that combines a series of expressive compositions with audio from the artist’s mother and his own home videos taken throughout the 1980s. Panels of thick, gestural brushstrokes animate a story of loss, grief, and remembrance as if viewed through a dreamlike haze.

Mitcham shares that the film reflects a series of compounding devastations, both personal and local: “the collapse of my father’s civil engineering and land-surveying firm after the 2008 housing crisis, my parents’ bankruptcy, his death, followed by my mother’s, and the community’s fight against the commercial development that would permanently alter their neighborhood.”

It’s worth watching the behind-the-scenes video that shares more of the artist’s process and thinking. Explore an archive of his films and works on canvas on his website and Instagram. You might also like the paintings of Jeremy Miranda.

Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $7 per month. The article Painted by Hand, a Stop-Motion Film Eulogizes a Lost Childhood Home appeared first on Colossal.