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Wayne Kerr

15 Arts & Crafts Inspired by Breaking Bad

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Wayne Kerr

There’s only one episode of Breaking Bad left. In honor of one of the greatest TV dramas ever made, here’s a collection of crafts based on the show. (If this still doesn’t satisfy your finale fix though, don’t mix our collections of fan art and food inspired by Breaking Bad.)

Warning: There may be some spoilers ahead, but only from past seasons.

1. Say My Name

Michelle Coffee created these adorable plush Walter Whites for the Breaking Bad Art Project show at LA’s Gallery 1988. She has Walt when he first started cooking, after he first took on his Heisenberg persona and after he broke his nose when he intentionally got in a car accident in the hopes of stopping Hank’s investigation.

2. I’m In The Cute-pire Business

Whether you prefer Walt in his briefs or his Heisenberg ensemble, you’re sure to be happy whenever you cuddle up with Etsy seller cyberscribe’s adorable little Walter White dolls.

3. Yo, Cuddle Me…Bitch

For those who would prefer to cuddle with Jesse Pinkman, DeviantArt user DewHeart85 has you covered with this cute plush toy, complete with his own tiny bag of Blue Sky.

4. Yeah Science!

The best thing about Allison Hoffman’s adorable amigurumi Walt and Jesse plushes is that you can actually put them in (and take them out of) their crocheted hazmat suits. Plus, they even have accessories like a bag of drugs and Walt’s hat and glasses.

5. Breaking Bear

There are a lot of Breaking Bad crafts out there these days, but few come close to being as cute as Etsy seller RedCapStore’s amigurumi version of the pink teddy bear from season two.

6. Home Is Where the Meth Is

There’s nothing like a pleasant cross-stitch to brighten up your wall and make your place feel homey—especially when it’s a piece of Breaking Bad fan art. For those who don’t remember the scene referenced in this delightful creation by Wayne Kerr, here’s a link to the video. If you want to make your own “private domicile” cross-stitch, you can get a pattern from Etsy seller OhSewNerdy, but, be warned, it doesn’t have the delightful use of the word “bitch” on it.

7. Evil, Thy Name Is Heisenberg

Not a big fan of motorhomes, but still want a great Breaking Bad cross-stitch of your own? Then head over to Etsy seller togglestitch’s shop and grab this great pattern reminding people to remember the name Heisenberg.

8. Wanna Cook?

For those who prefer more classic cross-stitch themes, this “Kiss the Cook” design with Walter’s face is truly magnificent. DeviantArt user Angie Jane did a fantastic job getting so much detail into Mr. White’s face in such a small space.

9. Afghan Bad

It takes a Breaking Bad super-fan to recognize this crochet pattern as a tribute to the show; Skyler and Walt have an afghan just like this one in their living room. If you want to make your own, you can follow the pattern Sarah London created for it.

That’s not the only afghan in the show either. One of the famous scenes of Walt and Jesse sitting down for a beer after cooking up a batch also has an afghan prominently placed in the background. If you prefer to make that one, The Batter’s Box has the guide.

10. I Am The One That Protects The Furniture

Here’s a craft that everyone can do at home. Just grab a set of Perler Beads, a peg board and an iron and you’re all ready to follow Rebecca Lowrey Boyd’s instructions to create your own Breaking Bad coasters.

11. Hello Heisenberg

It is a whole lot harder to resist Heisenberg when he is also half-Hello Kitty. DeviantArt user UniqueT may have just created the cutest villain in all of history.

12. I Am The Danger

Joshua Lumitao knows how to make a seriously scary jack-o-lantern. Fortunately, it will only creep out the older kids and adults who come trick-or-treating, as they’ll be the only ones who recognize how horrifying Heisenberg is.

13. Heisenpot

Etsy seller GingerPots’ Heisenberg planter is the perfect place to grow your new lily of the valley or castor bean plants. Just be sure to keep them away from children or you might feel the rage of Jesse Pinkman.

14. Tread Lightly

The cracked blue meth design in these custom Vans slip-ons by Off the Wall Art really puts them on a level all their own. Best of all, you can even order a custom pair of your own from their Facebook Page.

15. Keeping It Real (Awesome)

Jon Defreest might just have the coolest Breaking Bad craft story ever. It all started when he came up with a cool design for Breaking Bad Converse that he posted online. Not long after, Bryan Cranston’s personal assistant got in touch with the artist, letting him know that Bryan wanted a pair of the shoes for himself.

While the shoes were originally just a Photoshop design, Defreest immediately set about getting the shoes printed and sent a pair to Bryan, who then called him to thank him, sent a few goodies in return, and invited the artist to come visit the set of the show. While he was getting a great behind-the-scenes experience, Aaron Paul approached Defreest and told him that he also wanted a pair of the shoes.

Afterwards, Bryan Cranston wore the shoes to the IFC Independent Spirit Awards and Aaron Paul carried a pair with him to show off at the SAG Awards. Defreest expressed his gratitude by saying, “In a situation that could have ended with a cease and desist, I have been consistently treated like a friend of the show. I couldn't have asked for a better experience as both an artist and a fan.”

Note: I am aware that shoe designs that start off as Photoshop images might not technically be considered a “craft,” but with a story this cool, it’s hard to resist sharing.

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Berlin Is Now Home to the World's Largest Street Art Museum
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With vibrant murals and colorfully tagged buildings and alleyways, Berlin is internationally famous for its street art scene. Now, the German city is home to a new museum that celebrates urban visual works from around the world, according to Deutsche Welle.

Billed as the largest of its kind, the Museum for Urban Contemporary Art made its grand public debut in mid-September, complete with a street festival that allowed visitors to tag a community wall. The five-story museum is housed in a converted late 19th-century house in Berlin's Schöneberg district, with a façade that's covered in a rotating assortment of murals. Its collections include between 100 and 150 international and local artists, including big names like Shepard Fairey and Banksy.

"Except for two or three historical pieces from the collection that must be shown simply because they are important for the development of the scene, all exhibits were specially created for the museum—all by artists who started on the street and continue to work there," Yasha Young, the museum's artistic director, told Deutsche Welle.

The Museum for Urban Contemporary Art's opening exhibition includes portraits, pop art, and socially conscious works, and serves as an introduction to urban art. Other attractions include a library stocked with street art photographer Martha Cooper's collection of books and magazines, and a central staircase adorned with British street artist Ben Eine's signature colored letters, according to the AP.

Some purists might argue that street art belongs on, well, the streets, instead of inside a museum. That said, the Museum for Urban Contemporary Art appears to be committed to keeping the art form's democratic spirit alive. Artists will be routinely invited to create art on the museum's exterior, special grant programs will provide practicing artists and curators funded opportunities to hone their vision, and the central exhibition space changes every year to highlight different movements and talents. The museum also plans to host workshops, live performances, and art shows.

Plus, some might say that a museum dedicated to graffiti and street art—an overlooked niche that galvanized greats like Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring—is long overdue.

According to BBC News, British street artist Louis Masai shared this at the Museum for Urban Contemporary Art's opening: "It means that the artists who have been a part of this scene and movement for a long time are now getting the respect that they deserve."

[h/t Deutsche Welle]

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Brigido Lara, the Artist Whose Pre-Columbian Fakes Fooled Museums Around the World
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In July 1974, Mexican authorities sent a man named Brigido Lara to jail. His crime wasn't a violent one, but it was serious nonetheless: Archaeologists from the Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia (INAH), a Mexican federal government bureau devoted to preserving the nation's heritage, claimed that Lara had been found with ancient ceramic artifacts looted from archeological sites in the state of Veracruz.

Lara was convicted of stealing and smuggling antiquities, but he insisted he wasn't a thief—and he could prove it. All he needed were tools and some clay brought to his jail cell. 

FORGING A CAREER

Lara grew up in Veracruz, in the village of Tlalixcoyán. While his parents were peasant farmers, Lara showed artistic talent—specifically, a knack for creating figurines from clay. Veracruz is home to many archaeological sites that date back to hundreds and thousands of years before the arrival of before Christopher Columbus, and the young Lara would often find ancient terra-cotta figurines in the fields and near rivers. He claims that by the time he was 9 years old, he was making versions of these artifacts using clay harvested from a local stream.

As Lara grew older, his skill set expanded. He reportedly taught himself how to prep and oven-fire local clay, and began making objects that mimicked those of several ancient Mesoamerican cultures—imitation Olmec pots, Maya polychrome vessels, and figurines in the Aztec, Mayan, and Totonac styles. He began specializing in replicating works by the Totonacs, a culture that flourished in central Veracruz until the Spanish Conquest introduced diseases that ravaged the communities. These figurines ranged in size from large to tiny, and often depicted mythological gods wearing masks and headdresses.

It's not entirely clear whether Lara began making these figurines for fun or profit. But according to the man himself, traveling dry-goods merchants had noticed his talents before he had even reached his teens. They accepted his "interpretations," as he called his early work, in lieu of cash—then sold them on the black market. Looters also came to Lara, asking him to fix and restore stolen works. Eventually, the artist wound up working in a Mexico City atelier that produced forgeries.

No detail was too tiny for Lara. He visited archaeological sites to study just-dug-up artifacts, and harvested clay from the surrounding region to sculpt exact likenesses. He later told Connoisseur magazine that for true authenticity, he even crafted his own primitive tools and stockpiled 32 grades of cinnabar—a reddish form of mercury used by the Olmec, an ancient Mesoamerican civilization that existed between 1200 BCE and 400 BCE—for precise pigmentation. He finished his works with a ancient-looking patina made from cement, lime, hot sugar water, urine, and other ingredients, and coated the final products with a seal made from dirt and glue.

But even though Lara was a stickler for the details, he also took artistic liberties with some of his "interpretations," adding elements that wouldn't have appeared on the original artifacts. Sometimes he would include a fanciful new detail from his imagination: a winged headdress, or one that writhed with serpents; a duck-billed mask, or a dramatic, lifelike pose.

Lara didn't consider himself a forger. "My style was born with me," he told The New York Times in 1987. "I didn't learn from anyone. I studied the pre-Columbian pieces in my town that came from the burial mounds, and I used the ancient techniques. I made these pieces and I am very proud."

But by young adulthood, he'd also become a businessman, selling his unsigned pre-Columbian replicas to middlemen who re-sold them to illegal art collectors both domestically and abroad. "I was aware that many buyers then sold them as authentic pre-Hispanic works," Lara admitted to Art & Antiques magazine years later.

COMING CLEAN

Lara's forgery career may have continued undetected had he and four of his buyers not been apprehended in 1974 and charged with trafficking in pre-Columbian works. The police didn't consider Lara an artist or a forger—his works looked so real, the authorities thought they'd been dug right out of the ground.

Lara was sentenced to 10 years in jail. To regain his freedom, he devised a plan: He asked law enforcement officials to grant his lawyer permission to bring him clay and art tools. Right there in his cell, Lara created replicas of the antiques he'd reportedly stolen. Experts from the INAH examined the earthen artworks, and declared them "genuine" ancient artifacts.

The stunt worked. Lara had proven he had made the works himself, not smuggled them out of ancient sites. Finally convinced of his innocence, prison officials released him in January 1975 after he'd served only seven months of his sentence.

After his release, Alfonso Medellín Zenil, head of the Museo de Antropología de Xalapa, offered Lara a job. "Our policy is, when you can't beat them, hire them," Fernando Winfield Capitaine, then the museum's director, joked to Connoisseur.

The Museo de Antropología is home to an extensive collection of artifacts from Mexico's Gulf Coast produced by ancient indigenous peoples such as the Olmec, the Huastec, and the Totonac. Lara was hired to restore these works as well as to make replicas for the museum's gift shop.

But his career as a forger wasn't behind him quite yet.

REVELATIONS AND REFLECTIONS

In the early 1980s, Veracruz governor Agustín Acosta Lagunes began repatriating pre-Columbian works from abroad, expanding the collections at the Museo de Antropología de Xalapa. But when Lara saw some of these imported works, which had been purchased at Sotheby's auction house in New York City, he pronounced them fakes. He knew, he said, because he'd made many of them—including a figure of a male dancer that had been exhibited at the Los Angeles County Museum of Natural History’s “Ancient Art of Veracruz” exhibit in 1971.

Little by little, it emerged that Lara’s works might have made their way into pre-Columbian art collections around the world, including in prestigious museums such as the Dallas Museum of Art and the Saint Louis Art Museum, as well as in renowned private collections. Lara claimed credit for a 3-foot statue of the Mexican wind god Ehecatl in New York City's Metropolitan Museum of Art, and out of approximately 150 works on display in the "Ancient Art of Veracruz" exhibit, asserted that he had made about a dozen.

Among the most notorious fakes Lara claimed to have created were three life-size ceramic sculptures in the Dallas Museum of Art that had once belonged to film director John Huston. "If you look at them closely, they are copies," Lara told the Associated Press in 1987. The works were attributed to the Totonac, and thought to have been made between 600 to 900 CE. Lara, however, claimed to have produced them during the 1950s: "The details are different than the originals … the details in the breast decorations, in the shoulder patches and so on," he said. "They are very different. They are originals of course—my own."

As news spread about Lara’s forgeries, the Saint Louis Art Museum, the Met in New York City, and the Dallas Museum of Art responded to the controversy by taking works off display. "All three museums acknowledged that many of the Veracruz-style objects in their collections were problematic," Matthew H. Robb, a former curator at the Saint Louis Art Museum who is now chief curator at the Fowler Museum at UCLA, tells Mental Floss.

Nobody knows exactly how Lara’s creations made their way into American museums (Lara blamed various high-profile art traffickers and dealers), but experts say they noticed when suspicious artifacts resembling his work first began popping up in the 1950s, as pre-Columbian art was becoming more and more popular among American art collectors. "They appeared out of nowhere, resembling nothing previously excavated," Edmund Carpenter, a New York archeologist, told The New York Times. "I saw some in New York, Los Angeles, Paris. Museums bought them, big collectors bought them. But nobody asked, 'How come a big find like this?'"

Bryan Just, a curator and lecturer on pre-Columbian art at the Princeton University Art Museum, chalks the phenomena up to scholarly ignorance. At the time, "there wasn't a lot of material available for comparison," he tells Mental Floss. "There are many regions, including Veracruz … where not a whole lot of archeology had been done. So for a lot of these [new] artworks, there weren't great sources to reference that answered questions like, 'How should this stuff really look?' And at that time, what had been excavated may not have been published."

There was also a shortage of experts to consult because the very idea of pre-Columbian relics as art was still relatively new. Connoisseurs only began collecting and selling these works in the early 20th century, and university scholars didn’t begin offering pre-Columbian art history courses until the 1950s, according to Just.

Not that collectors were necessarily consulting scholars in the first place: "If you were considering work that was offered to you by a dealer, you may have not wanted to consult a colleague who's an expert in that particular area if they work at a collecting institution," Just says. "You know, out of concern that they might snag it up before you do."

Fortunately, modern scholars have access to a greater body of knowledge about pre-Columbian art than their predecessors. "In retrospect, when I see Lara's stuff now, it seems pretty obvious to me that it's wrong," Just says. "It doesn't make sense when you think about it in terms of the broader context of what we know about these particular traditions."

But even today, it isn't always easy to ascertain what's real and what's not when it comes to pre-Columbian art. Experts sometimes use thermoluminescence tests, which involve removing a tiny piece of the object, grinding it up, heating it in a furnace, and observing how much light it emits. Ideally, this process can measure how long ago the clay was fired, but the results can be skewed if a work was recently exposed to extreme heat or had been cleaned.

Another issue is that "lots of these complicated ceramic sculptures are pastiches," Victoria Lyall, a curator of pre-Columbian art at the Denver Art Museum, tells Mental Floss. Artists "will use bits of older sculptures and put them back together. So you have to test a lot of different spots to really get a better sense of whether the entire piece is fake."

X-rays are a good way to spot a composite, but they interfere with thermoluminescence test results, putting conservationists between a rock and a hard place. Furthermore, clays from certain regions—like the clay Lara worked with in Veracruz—reportedly aren't as conducive to thermoluminescence testing.

A LEGACY OF LIES

Lara is now in his mid-70s. He no longer restores antiques at the Museo de Antropología de Xalapa full-time, but he still works as a consultant there, and he continues to make art under his own name. However, his legacy will forever be tied with the difficult history of pre-Columbian artwork. According to experts, it's possible that his artworks are still masquerading as artifacts around the world, and that he may have even helped shape modern scholars' perception of pre-Columbian art from Veracruz.

However, it's also feasible that Lara's stories are a composite of fact and fiction—just like his work. The artist claims to have made thousands of forgeries (one estimate places the number at more than 40,000 pieces), but some experts say it would have been nearly impossible for Lara—who was only in his 30s when he was arrested—to have produced so many works in just a few decades.

Plus, the timelines don't always add up: Lara "was about 8 years old at the time that the [Ehecatl statue] was supposedly manufactured and purchased by the Met," Lyall says.

Lara also claims to have been self-taught, but some have speculated that he's stretched the truth about his natural talent. He may have instead learned his trade by apprenticing at a young age in a Veracruz workshop that specialized in forgeries, theorizes Jesse Lerner, a professor of media studies at Pitzer College. Lara "denies all that, but it's hard to know … Just by the nature of his business, it's kind of shady," Lerner tells Mental Floss. (Lerner's 1999 documentary Ruins—a look at the history of Mexican archeology and the traffic in fakes—features an interview with Lara.)

This workshop might have sold both Lara's wares and similar works to international collectors through an established underground market. Such a scenario would explain the artist's familiarity with pieces in faraway collections, like the Met's statue, which he could describe in great detail despite likely having never produced it with his own hands. Because forgeries aren't exactly signed, it's difficult to know for sure which pieces are Lara's and which may have been made by other forgers.

Either way, Lara's frauds are a reminder to avoid believing everything you read—even if it's a label in a museum. And they offer another lesson, too.

"The types of ancient works that Lara and other forgers were imitating, they weren't intended as aesthetic objects," Lerner says. "They weren't for museums. They were representations of this whole world view of cosmic forces."

That makes forgeries like Lara's particularly problematic. "If the only way we can access that worldview is through these objects that survive, [Lara] is just adding bad data to the pool of data that we have available. He's messing up everyone's understanding of who these figures are representing, and how their universe was understood and functioned."

In other words, sometimes fakes don't just fool art lovers—they can also change our understanding of history.

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