Rating: 4.25/5 
In the introductory essay to Art-Toys, leading media zeitgeist theorist Douglas Rushkoff spends a few pages hashing out some of these thoughts. The brief essay wisely holds back from over-intellectualizing the matter; though he does assume that when he references the “lessons of Duchamp” you know what he’s talking about. But in line with the intent of what is essentially a photographic collection, he lands on the right note, championing the visual delight and offbeat integrity of Art-Toys and their makers.
What follows is an assemblage of over 100 full page images of toy photographer Brian McCarty’s work from the early ‘00s forward. In some cases the focal point is the toy-as-object – “Turtle Camper” shows a creature that is part turtle, part human skull, part camper van emerging all innocent-eyed from the shadows of a rocky canyon terrain. Other shots are reliant on the background for impact such as in “Frogger,” which shows us from a wheelwell perspective Frogger’s high-speed darting between lane-changing semis. McCarty’s contextual decisions reinforce that silly but ever-present notion that these toys have their own lives, their own feelings, their own biographies. They come across as alarmingly sentient. At first glance “Oklahoma Sunset” looks like real-life portraiture; the sunset casts a creamy glow, loving shadows play across her face as the prairie breeze sweeps a few strands of raven black hair across her cheek. She is a doll but it’s hard to remember that, as doll hair just isn’t supposed to be alive that way.
The book’s composition takes into account the diversity of the collection, understanding that readers are jumping universes as they flip the pages. For most images, the accompanying left hand page is blank, listing only in small text the name and date of the piece. This openness encourages us to consider the photographs closely and without hurry. Too often books like these congregate too many images and clutter with expositional text. The luxury of free space here mimics the white walls of a museum and invites you to take your time. Best of all, Art-Toys concludes with a section entitled “Behind the Scenes” in which McCarty chooses stand-out shots and relays his experience with them. Whether he’s talking about artistic intention, the freakishness of various shot locations or the lineage of particular Art-Toys, his insight is immersive and seems to predict the very thing you might’ve been wondering about. His uncanny ability to size the world down to a toy’s eye-level (or, conversely, to scale up the toy to meet the world’s eye-level) through manipulating depth of field, maximizing light and exposure or choosing a landscape that works symbiotically with the object is a methodology that he describes in storytelling (as opposed to mechanical) detail.
You will see some familiar plastic-molded faces in Art-Toys: your friends from [adult swim], Master Shake and Mothmonsterman from “Aqua Teen Hunger Force,” Phil and the Bear from “Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law”; the Gorillaz; Frogger; President Obama and Barbie. Even the diva herself, Hello Kitty, makes a cameo appearance. Included too are some designer plushes: a hairy, pink, one-eyed Furilla cavorting in the desert sand; Honk-Honk Ashoo, a naptime friend whose head is an overstuffed pillow and Gary Grenade, a mustachioed pineapple grenade who by all appearances is quite cuddly. Much more than a catalog-style roll call of the best and brightest, Art-Toys is art to the next exponent, art objects that are photographed to produce a reconstitutive work of art. Art within art. But aside from all of that – and perhaps more importantly, since it’s toys we’re talking about after all – it’s just fantastical, absurdist fun.
