Hallelujah!

I have had some weird eureka moments in my life, but late last night takes the biscuit.

I have been doing some very ambitious technical computer software design for iz2u for the last few months, and I had been struggling with a particularly complex problem all week. I had wracked my brains and tried everything I could think of to try and solve it, and I was nearing the point of giving up…

To test that things are working as they should I normally display pop-up messages like “Hello world” or “Here!” at specific points to prove that the computer program has got to a place where I need them to get to. For some reason, last night, to prove that the program reached this particularly troublesome section, I decided to use the word “Hallelujah!”. I honestly do not think I have written down or typed this word in my my entire life – it is simply not normally part of my vocabulary. I even mis-spelt it! The exact debug code I used was: alert(”Hallaugha!”);

The implications of the program reaching this particular piece of code rates as probably being one of the most enabling and significant in my 25+ years of computer programming and design. It would open up so many doors of opportunity, capability, and flexibility. It is not quite on the scale of inventing the wheel or the spiral, but I hope this conveys the concept.

Anyway, I struggled on, hoping, hoping, hoping, to see the message “Hallaugha!” pop up. I carried on trying all manner of things, with interjected research on the internet. The television was on and at some point in the evening, flitting through the channels I happened on KD Lang performing in concert in London. I am a fan of hers and as I had never seen her perform before I obviously wanted to listen and see what she looked like. So while KD was singing I carried programming.

Over the course of half an hour my concentration flitted from programming and testing to watching KD. In fact it was at the beginning of this KD performance that I actually added the debug step alert(”Hallaugha!”);

It was late, I felt very tired, and I decided that this next attempt was going to be my last before going to bed. I was in deep concentration and trying something new when a strange feeling came over me. I wasn’t conscious of the start of a new KD song. I started the process of testing – something which takes about twenty steps over about one minute to complete – when I became mesmerised by, and aware of, the song KD was performing. It was sad, lovely, yet uplifting, and reaching a creschendo when I was clicking through my application to get to the critical test. I was being taken in by the song – on a kind of “high”. When I got to that final it-succeeded-or-failed(again) test button, the message “Hallaugha!” popped up! I couldn’t believe it! It worked! It worked!

My relief was was like getting to the summit of a long hard slog up a mountain. My curiosity was aroused because the song KD had been performing was called “Hallelulljah”, I honestly had never heard it, nor heard of it, before; it was her last song of the concert and the end of the program; and that was definitely going to be my last attempt of the evening… Hallelulljah! (Look out for iz2u version 2…)

Not this year :(

I will not be submitting to this year’s RA Summer Exhibition (2008). No time. Focused on earning a living and iz2u development (link). Sometimes there is as much creativity in trying to provide the economic foundations for the freedom to be artistically creative…

A New Way of Seeing?

Recorded music is ubiquitous and omnipresent: you can play it on a huge and growing number of devices, you can download it from millions of sites on the web, you can amplify it to play it as loud as you like, and you can choose the quality of the reproduction by the device you play it on (although quality of reproduction seems to be getting better all the time and at a more affordable price).Listening to music on the web in no way detracts from the quality of the reproduction or the pleasure you get from listening to it. Musicians and composers will generally not feel misrepresented if you listen to their creations via the web or on various players. There is something extra to be gained by going to a live performance or gig – which has much more to do with atmosphere and ambience – and this will probably always be the case. I would like art and photography to be as ubiquitous, omnipresent, and as accessible as music. Until now, to really appreciate art or photography (or any other two, three, four (video/animations) – dimensional images) you had to go and see them “in the flesh” as it were. This is very unsatisfactory for a number of reasons :-

• It is severely limited by the number of people who can see the work.
• It limits the times people can see the work (e.g. only during gallery opening times).
• Access to close inspection is usually restricted for reasons of security or simply politeness (e.g. not wanted to get the the way of others!).
• Lighting is generally difficult to control and so work may be viewed in less than idea conditions.
• Some precious works may actually deteriorate by being exposed to light and uncontrolled atmospheric conditions.

I set myself the challenge of creating a new web application to display still images on the web in the best possible way and to be accessible to as wide an audience as possible :-

• It should work on any web browser.
• The web browser should automatically maximize to fill the whole screen (where the browser permits this).
• The images should automatically fill the whole browser display area.
• It should have the option to fill the whole screen – without any browser clutter (e.g. toolbars, menus, scrollbars, status bars, address bars etc.) – so you can see the images as large as physically possible without any other distractions.
• The image should “intelligently” fill the available space (initially – until you start zooming) in respect to its aspect ratio and the aspect ratio of the web browser or screen – without distortion.
• There should be no limit on the size of the image – in terms of resolution (MBs/GBs) or physical size (H x W).
• The image should be displayed at the highest possible quality or resolution for any given viewing scale.
• There should be optional data about the image – i.e. you should be able to choose whether or not to display this information – easily and quickly. This should have the ability to display hyperlinks and other interactive web content.
• There should be optional controls and navigation – i.e. you should be able to choose whether or not to display these.
• To harness the full potential of the virtual gallery.

I have been working towards this solution for the last 2 years (with a background of 25 years in computer architecture and software design), and, with a really big push in the last few months (and a huge sigh of relief!) – I have finally achieved my goal. The web application/tool is called iz2u™, and all the images you see in my portfolio and blog (Blog) use it. I have also started a new blog devoted to its’ development iz2u and feedback. (Please do not leave feedback about it on this (MA) blog as this is devoted to art and photography). Viewing images on the web with this new technology could actually be better in some respects than seeing them “in the flesh” : -

• You can spend as long as you like studying the work.
• You can zoom in to any part of the work (try doing this to the Mona Lisa in the Louvre!).
• In principle you can supply any amount of supporting multi-media information.
• You have the convenience of seeing the work any time and from any location.
• Lighting conditions can be better controlled (art work can be scanned or photographed in perfect conditions, digital images remain in their native format).
• There is no limit to the size of the images (you are however restricted to looking at them through the window of your computer screen).
• There is no limit to the number of viewable images.
• You can gain access to artwork and manuscripts etc. that are too fragile or precious to make accessible to the general public – thereby increasing the number of works available to show.

There are some obvious drawbacks I can think of :-

• There is nothing quite like seeing the image/artifact “in the flesh” – even though you may not be able to see it as well.
• There is no replacement for the social experience and ambience of a gallery – similar to the real experience of going to a live performance or band.
• The is no replacement for actually being inside a beautiful building and enjoying art in the context of architecture and history.
• The role of the curator – in terms of juxtaposition, chronology, themes, aesthetics, etc. is missing. Having said that, there is a curatorial role in pure virtual galleries, for example, where the whole virtual space and experience has to be designed…

Having developed this solution, I can see that there are many uniquely web-technology-based art projects waiting to be born. Watch this space…

A slow connection speed opened my eyes…

One gets so used to the speed of broadband that one can forget that a), not everyone has it and, b), one may not necessarily have it all the time. This can have big implications for web design…

I deal with huge file sizes (often gigapixels and gigabytes) because my pictures are invariably large and very detailed. I want to present them at their best quality and therefore I have invested a considerable amount of time designing an internet image display system using zooming technology – where a proportion of the image is displayed according to the viewable browser area and the resolution the monitor can support. This is vital because even with the fastest internet speeds currently available one of my images can otherwise take anything from a few minutes to a few hours to download!

Zooming technology minimizes the time it takes to display the proportion of the image actually being looked at. So far so good. But what about all the fancy web design stuff – animations, menus, effects? These can build up to being quite large in file size and therefore potentially slow to download…

It was only when my wife plugged another phone into a spare socket in the house that I woke up to the fact that my spiraling web design was a potential speed issue. The broadband we use requires special micro-filters (electronic telephone line amplifiers and signal cleaners) on each and every active telephone connection – otherwise the signal quality – and therefore broadband speed – can suffer considerably. And so it did on this occasion – and what a wake-up call it proved to be!

I saw my web site as possibly others may see it – and it looked dreadful! It took so long to display that I can quite imagine that many people would give up! I could not have this! I could not approach galleries and ask them to check out my art/photography on the web with a view to representing me if this is what they might experience!

Thus I have taken some time out to completely revamp the whole web site. I feel the delay in displaying my web site is potentially letting me down and putting some people off looking at it…

Times Square @ Night – Photograph

This is a cleaned-up photograph of the original scan and is available in my photographic portfolio as a very high resolution large archival canvas print:

(Click on image to zoom in…)

Currently working on: Times Square @ Night – Scan…

Here is the initial version of the project:(Click on image to zoom in…)

Casa Batllo is on hold for a while – I have spent so long on it and I am a), a bit tired of it, and, b), conscious that I have many other works (some much simpler and therefore quicker) that I would like to complete and put ‘out there’.This image of Times Square at night I shot back in 2002 on a plate camera. It is quite a nice photograph in its own right and I will present it as a cleaned up photograph for my collection. However, I am more interested in it’s artistic potential…The idea I have in mind is to do something with all the signs…

Gallery #1 didn’t have the decency to reply…

The gallery (which I shall refer to as Gallery #1 because there will be others) didn’t get back to me within a week so I decided to give them a call. I asked to speak to the owner (whom I named – I didn’t just say "may I speak with the owner" – the typical cold-calling approach!) but was told he was not in. I then started having a chat with the man who answered the phone. I said to him that I just wanted to make sure the owner had received my email – in this day-and-age of junk mail there was a good chance that he didn’t. The gentleman asked my name and said that the gallery receives maybe a dozen approaches from artists a day, that the owner generally checks all the mail, and if he hadn’t got back to me then the chances are he would not.

The gentleman said that the gallery doesn’t have enough time in their calendar or space in their gallery to show all the work of their existing artists – let alone taking on new ones. He apologised and said that that was just the reality of the situation. I thanked him and that was the end of the conversation.

I just feel that with a gallery owner making his living from hard-working artists – that at least he would have the decency to reply to a prospective artist who has approached him for representation. Suppose the situation was reversed: I was a famous artist, he was setting up a new gallery aiming for the big time, and he approached me… Did he ever stop to think how he might feel if I completely ignored him?

He may live to regret it – who knows? The search goes on…

Currently working on: Casa Batllo (H)…

Here is the latest version of the project:

(Click on image to zoom in…)

Building No.6 (from the left) is a wry break from traditional architecture. (I never intended the previous pink blurred building to stay – it was just a quick experiment in colour juxtaposition). Here I thought it would be fun and different to make a building in the shape of an owl. The main features, like the face and legs, have been faithfully reproduced and left uncluttered. It is unfinished – this is just showing work in progress.

I wanted the building to be plausible – not just something fantastical but unpractical. It is essentially a tower, skinned with mosaic tiles, and economic reality requires a certain amount of usable floor space and windows. I am toying with the idea of making feather-shaped windows…

What has taken so much time is trying to get the three-dimensional perspective and lighting right and curving the windows on the exterior. I still have a couple of rows of windows and the foyer to do, and some more lighting. I also have to work out how it is going to work at street level – the entrance and the branch it is perched on. Whilst I would like to keep to natural colours of the owl it is too similar to Casa Batllo: I may end up choosing a contrasting colour…

So much architecture is humdrum: based on basic three-dimensional shapes like cubes, cuboids, cylinders, and pyramids – or a combination of these. Most towns and cities are full of concrete, glass and metal phalli. Buildings are so similar these days that ugly architecture draws a lot of attention if it is sufficiently different from the norm: the Pompidou Centre and the Eiffel Tower in Paris spring to mind.

Yes, economics plays a pivotal role in building design – clients usually want the most square footage for their money. However, architecture is just about the biggest aesthetic statement anyone can make, and, if done well, it can define an era, a culture, a nation’s mood, a company’s success – and can even pay for itself many times over as a visitor attraction. Good aesthetics are expensive and take time – however, in the long run they are priceless…

Circa 50 hours work (5 days) so far.

My First Approach to a Top Commercial Art Gallery

Today I made my first approach to a top commercial art gallery to see if they are interested in representing me. This must be something akin to an author approaching a book publisher to try to get their work published. I am sure that, like novels, some will like your work and some will not…

I selected them very carefully on the basis that they deal with famous contemporary artists – including those working in photographic and digital mediums, and I know of them indirectly through a buyer of one of my works.

It will be interesting to see if they consider my work on merit or whether they are more interested in the CV – i.e. something which tells them you are good – or not – as the case may be…

This endeavour has been slightly delayed due to the RA Summer Exhibition – where one of my three pieces was damaged and the insurance claim has taken some time to be settled. It has meant that some of my work has been sitting in their vaults awaiting collection. I did not want to arrange for more than one collection – preferring to await the outcome of the insurance claim. The RA has been very good in dealing with the damaged picture, has resolved it amicably, and they have returned all my work at their own expense.

I am still struggling with the catch22 situation I am in – of trying to get financial security to do more art. I have to support my family and home, and somehow I have to break out of non-art work. Family life is precious, and there can be no better creation than children. However, they do sap art time…

RA Summer Exhibition 2007: How unlucky is that?

After waiting nearly two months I finally got the bad news:

“Dear Michael Autumn Summer Exhibition 2007 11 June – 19 August Thank you for entering this year’s Summer Exhibition. With nearly 12,000 entries the competition was extremely strong. On this occasion, I am sorry to inform you that your works were not hung in the exhibition; two of them however were shortlisted, which is a fine achievement. … [ collection details] … I very much hope that you will submit work in future years. Yours sincerely Sir Nicholas Grimshaw CBE President”

I can consider myself extremely unlucky to have had two of my three works shortlisted, put into one or two gallery rooms to be assessed for hanging with other works in those rooms – and for them both not to be selected! This could have been because there was not enough space or they didn’t make up the hanging aims of the gallery hanger – in terms of symmetry, size, balance, or some other aesthetics.

My work is high risk in terms of the RA Summer Exhibition: it is big – with limited wall space smaller works have a better chance; digital – for a conservative institution this is not universally understood and appreciated; and they look photographic – for a conservative institution this is not universally understood and appreciated.

It is high time the RA elected digital artists and photographers to better represent the diversity of art being produced today. Currently the Academy’s rules are that there must always be at least 14 sculptors, 12 architects, and 8 printmakers; the balance being made up of 46 painters. Things have moved on since 1769…

It is a bit misleading to call it an “open” exhibition when the 80 Royal Academicians making up its membership can each submit up to six works as of right. With room for approximately 1000 works, up to 480 places – nearly half – are clearly not open. Moreover, the Academician’s work can be, and often is, very large, and sometimes huge – like Hockney’s “Bigger Trees Near Water“: it takes up a whole huge wall (about a third of a room allowing for doorways)! Last year, 2006, the Summer Exhibition included two memorial galleries (from a total of thirteen) dedicated to the late Members Sir Eduardo Paolozzi and Patrick Caulfield…

With these “special privileges” I estimate the Royal Academicians take between 30-70% of the available hanging space. I am not criticising the RA as such: it is their club and they can have whatever rules they like. I just question the use of the term “open exhibition” – because clearly is it not entirely that.

I would like there to be a really open annual art exhibition held in London, somewhere prestigious, where the selections were made by a large cross-section of artists (from all fields) – who couldn’t select their own work.

I am not disheartened. I will try again next year because I like the spectacle, and I just accept that there is a large element of luck and a huge element of subjectivity. This is after all representative of art in general…

Currently working on: Casa Batllo (G)…

Here is the latest version of the project:

(Click on image to zoom in…)

Building No.3 (from the left) has probably been the most difficult piece of painting I have ever done – conventional or digital. I have tried to paint the building to look like it is made of gold. I wasn’t happy with the early digital conversion to metallic paint and the colour wasn’t right (see version “F”). Gold is such a difficult colour to paint that I can well understand why artists in the past have simply avoided painting it altogether! Instead they have used real gold directly in their work in the form of gold leaf or liquid gold. This way it naturally has the required colour and reflectivity.

As a digital artist – or an artist painting digitally on a computer screen – using real gold directly is obviously not an option. Given that I had set myself the task of painting a building to look like it was made of gold, I had no option but to try and create the appearance of gold using conventional computer colours.

The problem – or challenge – with gold is that it is roughly an orangey-yellow colour – however it is metallic, and therefore shiny; and so it takes on many different hues and shades depending on how the light catches it, and the colour of that light. To that end I have completely manually painted the whole of building No.3 and have very painstakingly built it up from layers of colour, saturation, and brightness; and then I have overlain the final result with “sheen”. It has taken me about a week just to get the colours to my satisfaction – because it is actually many different hues. I hesitate to say I have achieved the “right” colours: I’ll leave that for you to decide… I spent a further week getting the sheen and shadows.

Please bear in mind that the colour you see on your screen may not correspond completely accurately with that on my screen: I have a special monitor and very accurate colour calibration hardware and software. It is highly unlikely that you will see the exact same colours as I see on my monitor. This is a seemingly unavoidable problem with looking at colour images on different monitors – something a picture at an exhibition wouldn’t have – excepting for different colour-sightedness of different people…

A common problem in art is when to stop – because one could go on and on making small improvements. The end result for building No.3 is not “photographic” quality – which I was striving for – but I think it is close enough…

Additionally I have changed Tutankhamun’s funeral mask. It is in the context of strong directional light from slightly above and to the left – with blazing highlights and strong sharp shadows. It also needed to be made three-dimensional, with perspective – the original shot was taken directly from the front – which gave it a flat/two-dimensional appearance. The side-view, three-dimensionality, had to be constructed. His cartouche has been placed on the upper centre of the gold build.

I also did a little bit of work on the air-condition chimneys of building No.2 – to make them more three-dimensional and with proper perspective.

Circa 120 hours work (12 days).

Currently working on: Casa Batllo (F)…

Here is the latest version of the project:

(Click on image to zoom in…)

(Please note that I haven’t uploaded version (E) – too small a change.)

On a recent visit to Egypt (April 2007), I visied the Cairo Museum and had the pleasure of seeing what I consider to be the most beautiful artifact that Humankind has produced – the mask of Tutankhamun’s mummy. I always planned on putting an image of the mask on top of the gold building – as a bold way of making it stand out. Surely it was pure coincidence that we had a holiday there in the intervening period…

On building No.2 (from the left) I really had to dig deep for inspiration. I tried a few ideas – contorting the building, playing around with colour – even re-shaping each window into a letter to spell a phrase. I wasn’t happy with any of them. I finally decided to try changing its form and context buy converting an early 20th century design into a quasi 21st, with a suggestion of externalising the workings of the building – along the lines of The Lloyds Building in London. However, I didn’t want a chrome effect – that would have been too much alongside the gold neighbour. Instead, I have painted the piping with the colours of the building – in camouflage as it were. For the moment I am reasonably happy with it…

Circa 30 hours work (3 days).

RA Summer Exhibition 2007: nearly missed it!

I have been extremely busy recently – working away from home for weeks on end and naturally very busy when I come home to my family. On Saturday (17th March) I realised that I didn’t have an application form. I quickly fired up the internet and to my horror discovered that I could no longer order one on-line! Bugger! However, according to the RA web site I could order one over the phone Monday to Friday between 10 am and 5 pm. Knowing that Friday 23rd was the last day for application form submissions, I anxiously tried calling the RA at 10 am this morning (19th) – only to hear from a machine saying that it was no longer possible to get application forms over the phone and that you had to come into the RA and collect the forms in person. “Oh dear” I said to myself – NOT! I said something altogether stronger and completely unrepeatable!

What on earth is wrong with their technology? One of the huge benefits of the internet is that you can let people self-serve and save a lot of time and money – and give a better customer experience. Why on earth would they stop allowing people to order on-line and force them to use a labour-intensive, cumbersome, technology – like a phone and a human at the other end? It was so annoying. There was no way to speak to a human. The call just hung up after the message.

Quickly considering my options, I thought: “I’m a Friend, I’ll ring up the Friends department and surely they will be able to help me?” They couldn’t or wouldn’t. I pleaded with them. It was somehow impossible for someone in the Friends’ department to walk over to the information section, put a form in the post and sent it to me! Despite pleading with them that I have been a Friend for over twenty years, and the alternative is that I come in from over a hundred miles away just to pick up a form – they said they couldn’t help me. This is the problem with charities and other non-commercial institutions – they don’t do customer service, and they can’t bend a rule here and there and user their initiative. Bloody infuriating!

I pondered the possibility of getting a biker to pick up the form and either post it Special Delivery or bring it up to the Fens. I thought better of it. Too much to go wrong. I resigned myself to make a fleeting journey into London and pick the darn thing up myself…

I did not get into the RCA: is that a good or a bad thing?!

After all the trouble the applicants go through to apply, to put a portfolio together, the logistics of sending their portfolio in and collecting it (mine was very big: I had to make a portfolio case because you can’t buy them as big as I needed, and I had to hire a van) – if we are unsuccessful, is it asking too much to be informed why?

Was it that they felt they had no one in the department who knows enough about digital art, digital and analogue photography, and natural digital painting – the areas I am particularly interested in? Do they even recognize this as a valid art form? Do they appreciate the amount of effort and skill involved in this art form? Are they relatively new to computing, and is their perception of computing so naive thet they think anything done using computers is easy? Is it just too new for them and do they feel they couldn’t support me at a sufficiently advanced level?

Of course it could have been that the selection panel’s consensus of opinion of my work was simply that it wasn’t good enough and showed no potential or promise. Or it could have been that with only forty-five places available, they simply considered that there were at least forty-five other applicants who were better or more deserving than me? I have no idea.

One thing we were told at the Open Day was that they were looking for applicants who showed a certain “need” or incompleteness: students who weren’t entirely sure where they were going. As soon as I heard this I started to doubt my chances… I am not in the least unclear about the art I am creating. This selection policy is at odds with scientific and social science disciplines (and almost certainly the other arts) – where academic establishments select the best on merit – i.e. those with the most promise, the most talent, and the clearest vision. What is wrong with being clear?! Surely the best artists are clear about what they are trying to achieve?!

Now that the whole process is over and I am no longer trying to get a place at the RCA, I can speak my mind freely. First of all I am not in the least bitter about the rejection – a bit disappointed yes, but not bitter. In fact it takes a huge weight off my mind – the pressure of how to finance it. I confess I was hoping to go there mainly for the kudos, and to have the time to explore new things. I certainly don’t feel I need direction, and if the selection panel think someone else would benefit more from studying there than me – that is their prerogative.

However, it does answer a few questions that I had… I spoke to a number of students on the Open Day and not one of them seemed to know what they were doing – artistically. One second-year student was really quite stressed out by it, and I really felt for her. What do they expect if they select students who don’t know what they are striving for?!

It wasn’t all bad: on the Open Day some of the graduate illustration and animation work we were shown (via the internet) was excellent – but then it would be if you pick the best of the last few years?

The exhibition of work-in-progress was outstandingly bad. It is no exaggeration to say that the whole exhibition wouldn’t have looked out of place in a secondary, or even primary, school art display. There was no display of talent, care, or pride of work (with the exception of some of the textile work). My jaw dropped when I saw it. With utter disbelief I said to myself “Is this the best of the best…?”

If this is what is taught in art colleges, if this is the standard that art students are molded into producing and praised for – then that answers the fundamental question I have with modern art: why is the vast majority of it so bad, shoddy, poor in work-person-ship and professionalism, and almost irreverent? Are the lecturers so embroiled with theory and the quest for originality – almost at any cost – that they have lost sight of what art is about? Art is not about pandering to novelty-seeking academics – who are so caught up in art history and theory that they long for new ideas to muse and pontificate about. Art is for society, it is a public discipline, and as such is judged by the majority – by the public. If it doesn’t communicate with the public in a positive way at some level then it has failed. Period.

A word of advice to aspiring artists, and you can take it or leave it. Academics are not wealthy people. They will not buy your work, or if they do, you will not get much from them for it. Think about who your buyers might be, and consider them, not you tutors, when producing work… If you get a first class degree or some other qualification and nobody buys your work because it is so obscure and inaccessible…

In closing, I would say about the buildings themselves, that they in no way lend themselves to art. They would be better used as offices or a prison: totally uninspiring and with very poor natural lighting. I don’t think I could have spent much time there…

I am not sure why the RCA has the kudos it undoubtedly has. What does this say about “lesser” art colleges…?

£1million Patron Wanted!

I am offering a patron the first print – i.e. #1 – in every edition of all my future work and the same for any work currently unmarketed – for the extremely reasonable price of £1m sterling.

This is a serious offer and will be backed up with a contract drawn up by either your or my solicitor.

I am not young (45), and I have come fairly late to art as a career. I will be very successful, but it will take time.

The reason why I am reluctantly making this offer is because I am in a Catch-22 situation. I have to work to pay for life – family, home, materials – and this prevents me from creating as much art as I would like…

Most of the great artists, and musicians of the past had great patrons – for example Leonardo de Vinci, Shakespeare, Mozart, and Beethoven had the church and nobility; and, perhaps most famous of all, the Medici family for Michelangelo and Donatello – to name a few. You are a vital part of the creative process…

The very act of taking up this offer will generate a great deal of publicity, and in time your investment will be handsomely rewarded…

£1million probably won’t be a lot of money to you – it’s not that much to me either – however, I have calculated that it is about the minimum I need to stop working and concentrate on art without having to worry about money any more – a very liberating and creative force…

Check me out. You can contact me at mail@michaelautumn.com

If you don’t ask you don’t get…

Thank you.

Michael Autumn

Royal Academy of Art Summer Exhibition 2007 – here we go again!

The Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition is the largest, and possibly oldest, open contemporary art exhibition in the world. Although it is meant to be only for living artists (established or unknown), last year one of its’ dozen or so gallery rooms was devoted entirely to a recently deceased Royal Academician – a tad unfair, you might think, for all the struggling living artists out there. Royal Academicians are not graduate students of the college – as you might expect – they are a self-elected, self-governing, board: new members by invitation only…

Without exception the Summer Exhibition has been held annually since the Royal Academy’s foundation in 1768. An essential part of the London art calendar, the show drew over 150,000 visitors in 2006 and over 1200 works were included (out of about 9000+ submissions). Following long Academy tradition, the exhibition is curated by an annually rotating committee – whose members are all practising artists.

The majority of works are for sale (with a commission going to the RA) and there are a few private viewing days before the exhibition opens properly to the general public – where private members – including the rich and famous, and art collectors (not necessarily mutually exclusive groups) get the best pickings…

There will be a BBC2 television programme about it that will be aired just before the opening (last year was the first time they did this in the Summer Exhibition’s entire history).

There are numerous prizes for different genres and one for the overall best-in-show – the value of which is £25,000. This is more than the Turner Prize, but not as prestigious. It’s all down to PR, and the RA is not as good as the Tate at this. It would be much more interesting if the prizes were decided by public vote (alas they are decided by the Academicians), because I think art ultimately has to stand up to public scrutiny. Indeed, I think it is exactly because so much art is not voted on or directly selected by the public that we get such a skewed selection of art in galleries these days – in favour of the new and out-landish – rather than what is good – in some democratic aesthetic…

Royal Academicians have the right to exhibit up to six pieces – they do not have to go through a selection process – so in effect there are only about 600 slots available for about 8000+ submissions – quite competitive. Non-Academicians can submit up to three pieces each at a cost of £18 each.

This year entry forms have to be in by 23rd March, works have to be submitted by early April (glazed works have to be submitted on different days to non-glazed works – which can be annoying if you want to submit both – it means two trips; sculpture is a month later), and notifications of acceptance or rejection are sent out by 1st June. The Summer Exhibition itself this year is from 11th June until 19th August.

At this stage of my career I consider it essential to try to exhibit at the RA. Last year was my first attempt and I was fortunate enough to have one of my three submissions selected (Depth Of Tulip Field). This was no mean feat because despite what they say – the Royal Academy is quite a conventional art institution. Radicalism comes from the new – not the old… It was no mean feat because my work was a digital art print – quite a new thing for the Academy. It was hung in a gallery room devoted to contemporary art, alongside work by Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin, Grayson Perry – to name a few of the best known contemporary contemporary artists. I could complain about the fact it was hung too high to see all the detail in it (a very important aspect of the work), and about the fact it was tucked behind the exit boarding where you couldn’t see it when you entered the room – but I’m thankful it got exhibited at all – so I won’t :-)

This year’s theme is “Light” (there is a loose theme every year. Last year it was “From Life”). I have three pieces that I will probably submit which are broadly on that theme: Pregnant Reflections, Lindisfarne Walled Garden, and Times Square (all are featured on this blog site). I doubt very much if I will have time to finish any new work between now and then (now I am back doing computer consultancy to help pay for the RCA course which I hope to get accepted on…).

There is some tradition associated with the Summer Exhibition – as you can probably imagine of an old English institution (something we seem quite fond of) – not least of which is the Artist’s Hanging Day. All successful artists are invited to attend a day at the academy (the day before the official opening) – ostensibly to tend to their hung works and to make any last-minute adjustments. While this may have been a serious professional, competitive, artistic matter in years gone by – today is it really just a party and celebration for the artists.

On Hanging Day morning last year – and I think the format is the same every year – we gathered in the forecourt of Burlington House (home of the Royal Academy of Art since 1867), amid the joyful, smiley, sounds of calypso steel-drums (the music is possibly not the same every year!). At about 11-15 a.m. a senior-looking priest (in age and probably importance also) – with a big cross in hand – and his entourage – headed out of the forecourt, through the archway, and then turned left down Piccadilly. There was no announcement of what to do, and I for one didn’t really know what was happening. However, I followed all the other (presumed) artists – following the priest and his entourage.

Soon there was a long stream of us with television and still cameras tracking us, walking out of the forecourt, under the arch, and then left down the middle of Piccadilly – where the traffic had been blocked off – just for us! It was a great feeling to have that little special moment with the world looking on (probably wondering what the hell was going on, and as for the stopped drivers – I bet they had a few choice words…). All this was helped by the fact it was glorious sunny day!

It was just a short jaunt along Piccadilly before we turned right and headed into Wren’s favourite church – St. James’. I had never been in there before (much to my surprise) and therein gathered a colourful collection of happy, proud, fellow artists. The Service for Artists that followed, was, as you might have guessed, about art and artists – aimed at artists. There was a particularly eloquent sermon – more like a learned lecture – from the leader of the procession (who was also an eminent professor), on the subject of the meaning of art and how its’ meaning has changed over history. There was singing, poetry, and prayers. At the risk of sounding un-cool, in all honesty it was a very enjoyable and quite a poignant service – especially in such a beautiful setting.

Afterwards, Piccadilly restored to its normal hustle and bustle, we made our way back to Burlington House (along the pavement!), and then we headed for the gallery rooms. At the entrance we were handed an official exhibition catalogue and an artists’ pass. I anxiously thumbed through catalogue – which for me was the final proof that I had got in – looking for my name. I went to the artist index, and, low and behold: I saw my name! It was even spelt correctly! (I was a bit concerned to find it had my address on it – a bit worrying from security point of view.) I then looked up my work, and there it was: number 1013, Depth of Tulip Field. Wow!

In the gallery we were free to explore the exhibition and indulge in free drinks and quite tasty nibbles – which were being continually offered to us by Eastern-European looking and sounding men and women (mostly). It was a buzzing atmosphere – literally we were like bees in a beehive – with the anxiety and nerves and curiosity of findings one’s work. I didn’t just want to go off and rush to find my work: I wanted to stroll around the exhibition and stumble on it. I wanted it to find me, as it were. I was happy to take in the atmosphere, watch the other artists, chat with a few of them, drink, nibble – take my time…

Eventually, right at the very end of the exhibition, in a small room of no more than twenty works, rather disappointingly tucked behind the exit boarding and hung much too high – I found her. I looked at it from the few angles it could be seen and couldn’t suppress my disappointment. In just about all the other galleries the pictures were hung much lower – in fact as many works as possible were squeezed in (albeit tastefully). But not in this room: there was plenty of space beneath my piece, but someone in their wisdom decided it should be high up! I wandered around for quite a while trying to find an official to see if I could get the picture lowered. When I eventually found someone I was politely told that it was up to the hanging committee. As soon as I heard the word “committee” I knew I was wasting my time… In the room where my work was I was pleasantly surprised to discover I was in good company – Damien Hirst, Tracy Emin, Grayson Perry, and some Royal Academicians. It wasn’t all bad. I left with a mixture of elation and disappointment…

Phew! Portfolio submitted to the RCA. Now it is an anxious waiting game…

It didn’t help the fact that the Open Day I decided to go on was the last one of the two-month season – prior to formal applications being required to be submitted (all departments have different Open Day dates because they are sharing the same space and resources). Prior to the Open Day on January 11th, I didn’t even know I wanted to study at the RCA, or whether I would have any chance of being accepted – not having any formal art qualifications. So on deciding that I most definitely did want to study there and that I did have an albeit slim chance of being accepted – this left me three weeks, a), to get my application in by the 22nd of January; b), to get my portfolio together from scratch – and write it up – by the 31st of January; and c), to get paid work to finance the course (if I am lucky enough to be accepted).

I’m guessing, but I suspect most art graduates – the majority of people applying for the MA courses at the RCA? – would already have a portfolio and all the supporting documentation. Of course little old me didn’t even have prints ready (unframed) – and so I had to print them all out (a two-day exercise in itself because they are so large). I decided to submit eight pieces: 6 large-scale digital art works (they are all on this blog), a digital print from a very poor 26-year-old photograph of an oil painting I did when I was nineteen (the only example of a painting I have!); and a black-and-white pen-and-ink drawing I did about twenty-four years ago – to show what, if any, drawing ability I have…

I started some temporary IT consulting contract work last Monday (22nd January – some two hundred miles from where I live) – which left me evenings and the last two weekends to do all my writing up and preparations. So that I can continue with my art and related work while away from home, I ordered an Apple MacBook Pro, Cintiq pressure-sensitive computer screen, and two 500 GB external drives – which thankfully all arrived punctually by last weekend (20th January).

I spent some time making the documentation look professional, with a consistent style and presentation, and included several small detail images to support and illustrate the text. I completed the final print-outs of the documentation this morning, packaged everything up in a huge make-shift portfolio case (portfolio cases aren’t made large enough for my work, so I had to make one from the packaging of some large aluminum honeycomb sheets I purchased last year. It measured approximately 2m x 1.5m x 6cm, or 66″ x 50″ x 2″. I had to cut it down a bit so I could fit it in my wide car, but obviously it had to be wide enough to avoid the folding of any of my larger pieces.). It was with much relief that I personally delivered it to the RCA portfolio room just before midday today (I was taking no chances with postal services).

I probably couldn’t have done a much better portfolio or write-ups. I’ve given it my best shot. Announcements are made by the 2nd March as to whether you have succeeded in getting through to the next interview stage. It’s out of my hands and now it’s an anxious waiting game…

Financing a two year MA course at the RCA

If you are young and have possibly just graduated, your out-goings are likely to be relatively small – and so a bursury that pays your fees and maintenance might be enough to get by for the two years of the course. However, I am not young (45), I have a family and a big mortgage, and loans to pay back (money I borrowed to set up as an artist/photographer). Moreover, I probably wouldn’t qualify for a bursary – which is tiny in the scheme of my finances! Consequently not earning any money for two years is for me an altogether different proposition…

To that end I will have to go back to doing some IT consultancy, and I am going to have to earn as much as I can between now and October – when the course starts. This will involve me being away from home during the week. At the weekends I will want to spend some time with my family – which leaves little or no time for art. However, I have a cunning plan: if I buy an Apple laptop, a small Wacon Cintiq pressure-sensitive computer screen, and some fast external drives (one to work on and one for backup) – then I would be able to work in the evenings while I am away – which would otherwise be dead time. This is a very expensive option, but essential for my art: I want to prepare three new pieces for this year’s Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, and I still have a big backlog of work to finish – to say nothing of starting new work…

This all suposes I get accepted on to the course! But I have to make plans now – the outcome of the application will not be known until April…

Do I think I’ll be accepted? I really have no idea! I’m not sure what they are looking for, I’m not sure if they will value my type of photographic/computer art. I’m not sure about the best way to put together a portfolio – and having quite large work makes transporting and presenting it difficult. I’ll just have to wait and see.

The first part of the selection process involves reviewing the application and the portfolio. The outcome of this will be sent out by March 2nd 2007. The second part (if you get that far!) is an interview – the outcome of which is send out by April 2nd 2007…

This piece of paper could affect the rest of my life…

Having decided that I really would like to study at the Royal College of Art (RCA), I am now faced with the daunting task of actually applying! I have the application form in front of me and have started to fill it in, and the stark realisation has just hit me: what I put down on these pieces of paper could affect the rest of my life…

Should I study at the Royal College of Art (RCA)? Part. 2

Yesterday I went to the Open Day for Communication Art & Design at the RCA. It was the first time I had been there, and I have to say I was deeply unimpressed and disappointed with the buildings. They are clearly not purpose-built, and in no shape or form reflect what they are used for. This is a great shame. Obviously there is little or no money for the buildings themselves. However, I think the school should be temporarily re-housed, demolished, and some really impressive building/s erected to replace them – buildings that symbolize art, architecture, design and creativity – especially considering that the college is, among other things, a leading school of architecture and design! The buildings are neither inspiring nor an attractive place to study or work in, and this must affect the people who work there… Some wealthy alumni, industry, and some other funding bodies – should dig deep into their pockets to help make its’ look reflect its’ prestige and purpose…

There was an exhibition of work-in-progress in various spaces in the buildings, which I had a quick look around before the itinerary started. Works-in-progress are quite daring because I’m not sure many artists or creative people themselves would want others, particularly the public, to see what they haven’t yet finished? Maybe I’m alone in this regard, but if I spend hundreds of hours finishing something, perfecting it – it is because I am not happy with it in some way (otherwise it would be finished?) – so the last thing I want as for others to see it… Yes, it was good for us pretenders to get a feel of what the students do there – and I guess this is the main purpose of the exercise…

We congregated in the lecture theatre and the Open Day “formally” began. The teaching staff sat at the front of the stage in a lecture theatre and spoke very eloquently, unscripted, discussed and showed examples of what previous students had produced – both while they were studying here and what they are doing now . Different members chipped in here-and-there, and there was no vying for space or clashing of egos. It all ran very smoothly and their passion and interest shone through. I very quickly got a good vibe. I was very impressed with the teaching staff: they all seemed very informal, relaxed, friendly, welcoming, creative, and they seemed to gel well together as a team. A very encouraging discovery was that all the staff are practicing artists, designers, illustrators, animators, film/video makers, etc. (and most are very successful in their own right) – indeed they have to be to teach there. So please completely discount the doubting comments about teachers in my previous blog!

The clear message they put across is that in studying here there are no boundaries between the different disciplines – illustration, design, animation, film/video, sound, communication, photography, and typography – and that multi-discipline work and collaboration are positively encouraged. The amount of set work is small and largely based on how much they feel each individual needs it – which is good – because I don’t feel I need that!

There is an ecological aspect to some of the art and practices of the college and this is positively encouraged – something that I am very much in favour of. While they respect the old and traditional techniques and materials – they embrace the new as well. They seem acutely aware of art’s role in both reflecting and shaping society – so it is always changing – and there is strong emphasis on the philosophical/theoretical aspect of art – something very important to me. It is good to know that students have to submit a dissertation on this.

Selection is very largely based on merit – and formal qualifications in art, illustration, animation, etc. are not exclusively and invariantly required – which gives me a glimmer of hope – because I don’t have any! The key selection criteria are one’s portfolio, a demonstration of commitment, professionalism, and interest. But they are also looking for a need to develop and explore… Several staff members evaluate each portfolio and supporting documentation, and a decision is collectively made. So there are no brick wall obstacles to me applying – which is great!

I had a look around the design studios and met and had a chat with some of the students. The work environment was pretty much as you would expect – no great shakes – and it was apparent that many of the students were on a voyage of discovery and experimentation. There was a lot of collaborative working and cross-discipline projects.

I was also able to have a chat with the head of department and explain my situation to him. I mentioned I had had a piece of my work shown (and sold) at the Royal Academy last year, and when he asked me to describe it to him – seeing his notebook on the side I said I could show it to him on the internet. (This is the amazing thing about the internet – you can take art, animation, and music virtually anywhere!) He was a good listener and came across as having time for people – very useful for people management… And the fact he is a practicing artist himself made the discussion flow really easily. I think no harm, and only good, could come from his, and the rest of his staff’s, experience and guidance…

I guess if nothing else, the MA says you have practiced art at a high standard, and have thought quite thoroughly about art, and had your art critiqued, for two years – not an insignificant amount of time…

It could be argued that I have been creating art in isolation for many years – which has given me a fairly distinct style and technique. I consider myself extremely lucky in that I have never being short of inspiration and always seem to have a back-log of work I want to do. All the more reason that during the Open Day it was very refreshing to see so many interesting pieces in many mediums – including mixed media – and to have had several opportunities to share ideas with fellow artists. Indeed I came away from the RCA with my head literally buzzing with new ideas. I realised that this is possibly the single most important benefit of studying there…

Do I want to study art at the Royal College of Art? I better get my portfolio and notes together: January 31st is the closing date for submission…

Should I study at the Royal College of Art (RCA)?

The Royal College of Art (RCA) in London is one of the (if not the) pre-emminent schools of art in England, and probably the world. I am wracked by a comment made by Anita Zabludowicz (a well-know art collector and museum patron. No connection – I just happened to be sitting next to her) during a conversation we had on a flight to New York. I asked her something along the lines of: what, in her view, makes a good artist, or was it: how does an artist become well-known? She said that one of the most important considerations is where they studied. She followed this up by singling out the RCA…

So there I was, back in 2002, flying out to New York on an artistic/photographic trip, sitting next to one of the most influential art collectors in the world, at a point in time I was feelng really good about my art and making it to the top, without any formal qualifications in art or photography – and feeling I didn’t need or want them. And then this bolt from the blue… Up until that point I rather naively thought (and still do to a certain extent) that “good” art stands on its own? You look at a picture, and possibly also read about it – the artist’s intentions and motivation for doing it – and you decide if it is a), likeable, and b), interesting? Simple? If Bacon and Van Gogh could succeed as self-taught artists, then why can’t I…?

From a very early point in my artistic development – back when I was a teenager – I was producing art with meaning. Yes, I wanted/want to create beautiful, eye-catching, work – but I felt art was a means of expression also. After all, I could just take a photograph of something if all I was interested in was to reproduce what it looked like? From my early beginnings I had decided that it was important to write about my work because I think art works on two levels: the purely visual, superficial, instant reaction, dimension (the one most people respond to); and the knowledge, motivation, history, technique, technical, dimension.

The latter dimension can be completely missed, and is completely missed, by the vast majority of people. However, there has always been a lot written about famous works of art. In a sense it has been (and still is) the fact that there has been a lot written about certain works of art that has been necessary, though not sufficient, to make them famous? Writing is the PR/marketing of art. The art itself, especially originals, have very limited historico-geo-demographic exposure, and without writings about them, most art would be unknown by the vast majority of us. Having looked at thousands of works of art and read extensively, and attended many lectures, about art – it was clear to me that without someone writing about this second dimension of works of art that that detail would be missed and lost. This information doesn’t jump out at you when you look at a work of art. Someone has to publish it…

So. I feel my work is interesting and that it is likeable. I write about it, will take it to galleries, show it on-line, and it will sell and become famous. Right? Hmmmm…

I have a real problem in that I am 45 in a few day’s time, I have taught myself most of what I know and, very importantly, I know I can find out anything I want to know, and can learn anything I want to learn. I do this all the time. I am constantly learning new things – like most people, but possibly more than most people, because I am, and have been for as far back as I can remember, an avid learner and a perfectionist, and I have the drive and motivation to do it.

For example, I am completely self-taught in computing: I know about ten different programming languages, several databases, many technologies, design concepts, protocols, methodologies, interfaces, etc. I have frequently worked with computer science graduates and post-graduates, and, modesty aside, I have designed and developed bigger and more complex systems than most. When I was at university I hadn’t heard of the term “computer science” and didn’t do any computer science courses. I did, however, feel it was interesting and important to do a lot of statistics and computer programming and so I taught myself. Little did I know at the time that some of the students I was helping in the computer room were studing computer science. Moreover, many of our lecturers were world famous and had published text books, but lectures were no more than going through a chapter of their books or journal articles! The exams were centred around demonstrating that you had read and understood the books and journal articles. One can read books and journals without going to university… Going to university, it seems to me, gives you a place and time to read the books and journals, but it certainly is not the only way you can read the books and journals.

In academia it is considered that only after you have completed a Ph.D are you sufficiently learned and experienced to be able to carry out your own research – without supervision. This is probably true for the vast majority of people, but history is full of some of the most excellent contributers and inventors who did not follow any formal training. But the important point I am trying to make is that some people can reach a level of dedication, objectivity, hard work, motivation, and self-appraisal – that they can go on and achieve great things – with our without formal training. Not many people reach this level, but people are all different and some reach it earlier than others…

In art there is no right or wrong. There is an expression: “those who can – do, those who can’t – teach”. Whilst this is a gross generalisation and unfair to many very good teachers, most people follow a career that is most secure and highly paid for their skill set and experience. For someone to study art and then teach it probably isn’t saying much for their ability to make it as an artist… But what can one learn at an art college? One has the opportunity to try different mediums and techniques, and one’s aptitude and skill is demonstable and largely objective. But a great deal of art today is not about skill as such, but about very subjective things – like theories and concepts – and what one examiner might like anther may dislike…

For over twenty years I have been reading books about, and learning by practicing and doing, art and photography. I have bought the canvases, oils, pastels, water colours, pencils, inks, gouache, acrylics, all the major types of camera – 35mm, medium and large format (with tilt and shift), lenses (from fish eye to the longest telephoto), flash guns, studio lighting, the most powerful computers, natural art software, photo-editing software, pressure sensitive screens, very high quality scanners and printers, colour calibration devices and software – and I have spend many years mastering them. I am not at all sure what I could gain by going to art college (I thought the same back in my early twenties). I do art and photography all the time and learn and try anything new I want to. Digital art is moving at such a fast rate it is extremely unlikely that an art college could keep up with it. I, as a practicing artist and photographer on the other hand, can move in any direction and keep at the forefront of technology or technical opportunities.

Part of me thinks that going to art college is unnecessary – it would just involve carrying on what I do now. So in that sense it will not do me any harm. However, I think I might find it restrictive and basic. It would also be a very big financial committment – both in terms of fees and loss of earnings (although I might be able to sell work and do some part-time consultancy). Part of me thinks I would just be pandering to the art market’s rules and mores…

There is also the question of would I be accepted? Competition for places is very strong indeed and they naturally have conservative views about entry qualifications (it is exclusively a post-graduate college after all). I have no formal qualifications… However, for me, if I can’t go to the best place to study art, then I won’t bother. With my wealth of experience and knowing what I am about artistically, I’m not prepared to go to an undergraduate college and join teenagers looking for direction, amusement, and the bars…

I think the best thing to do is to go along to their open day this Thursday (11th Jan 2007) and see what they have to offer, gauge if it is the sort of place I could feel comfortable and happy in, decide if I might learn anything there – and take it from there…

Currently working on: Casa Batllo (D)…

Here is the latest version of the project:

(Click on image to zoom in…)

Here I have tried to make building No.3 (from the left) look like it is made of solid gold. This is the starting point for something altogether different…

Circa 25 hours work (2.5 days).

Currently working on: Casa Batllo (C)…

Here is the latest version of the project:

(Click on image to zoom in…)

(Versions A and B are missing because they were relatively un-interesting colour corrections and compositional changes.)

The pink building will almost certainly not stay. However, I am happy with the blue building (No.4 in the block – counting from the left). It is completely hand painted using a stylus on a pressure-sensitive computer screen. With it I am able to literally paint on my computer screen as easily as I can on canvas with a brush and oil paint, and I can simulate the look and feel of oil paints, a mixing palette, and virtually any other medium. It turns up-side-down the notion of a fairly imprecise painting of a very precise building: here the building has been altered to look like it has been very precisely built to look like a very imprecise painting…

As with all the buildings in this terrace block, it has trees, lamp posts, umbrellas, etc. in front of them. I have to very carefully work around these because I want them to stay and look completely natural and unaltered. I want all the buildings, apart from No. 5 (Casa Batllo) to look credible architecturally – so they have to stand on their own in the normal three-dimensional space and perspective.

Circa 50 hours work (5 days).

Fusing Art and Photography

While working on the Casa Batllo project, I wanted to make some buildings really stand out from the ordinary – while still making them architecturally creditable and photographically realistic. I racked my brain for a few days and tried a few things, but I wasn’t happy with anything I had come up with. Frustrated by the limits of photography and photo-manipulation, I thought nostalgically back to my pure art days – where there are no limitations. I quickly got the idea that I should just do some freehand art – digitally. Then I can incorporate the digital art images into the main digital photo image. Voilà!

First of all I need to get some good (i.e. the best) digital art (painting) software, get a few books on it, get to grips with it, then proceed…

Gigapixel Art and Photography

There seems to be at bit of a buzz going around at the moment about gigapixel photography. This is digital photography where the detail or resolution is so high that the number of pixels used to make up the image is in execss of a billion – one thousand megapixels. If such numbers don’t mean anything to you then it might help to say that such images occupy in excess of four CDs, or you might fit one of them on a standard DVD. The average digital camera is currently about five megapixels – so in excess of two hundred of such images would go to make a single gigapixel image.

Printed out they look stunning, and they require special zooming technology for you to be able to see them on the web.

I have being doing gigapixel art and photography since 2003, indeed some of my pictures run into several gigapixels in size. There is a big difference between gigapixel art and gigapixel photography though. Whereas you can get a camera to take a gigapixel image at the press of a button – or you can get stitching software to fit dozens or hundreds of smaller images together to form one larger composite

(e.g. work in progress of photograph of shops)

(Click on image to zoom in…)

- this bears no resemblance to the effort involved in gigapixel art. The work involved in creating, editing, and compositing dozens of photographs, all the freehand work on such large files, and the colour proofing – typically runs in to several hundred hours for me – using the most powerful computer equipment. And that is before doing anything creative with it…

E.G. zoom in to the centre to see the flying doves?
(Click on image to zoom in…)

I hope this puts to bed the myth that digital art is quick and easy – or certainly gigapixel art definitely isn’t!

Just for the record, gigapixel photography is nothing new really. In terms of film photography, large format cameras, like my 10″ x 8″ (this is the actual size of the usable part of the transparency or negative) Sinar P2, took/take the equivalent of gigapixel photographs all the time. Indeed I have a scanner that can scan up to 18″ x 13″ at 10000 dpi (dots per inch). A 10″ x 8″ transparency or negative scanned at this resolution equates to 100,000 x 80,000 pixels = 8,000,000,000 pixels of information. This is 8 thousand million pixels or 8 gigapixels… (For those of you who think in terms of bits and bytes, this is twenty-four (24) gigabytes at 8 bits per colour, or forty-eight (48) gigabytes at 16 bits per colour).

As an artist I am thrilled and daunted at the same time about the prospect of being in control of well in excess of a thousand megapixels. However, the creative freedom this level of control gives is very liberating…

You can see zoomable examples of my work either from links on this blog or on my web site, or at various exhibitions.

Gigapixel Photography

Check out the photo examples they have on the site.

-Chris Pepe

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Ugh?!

After several emails which looked promising – that glass sponsorship or a big discount might be forth-coming – I was eventually offered nothing – i.e. normal trade prices! I don’t understand this kind of behaviour from an economic or ethical perspective. I was making the commercial point that I needed to glaze some of my work to act as a showcase for my work – as well as the glass. This would in all likelihood lead to very good sales of the limited editions – yielding large orders for the glass. Most companies would be interested in this sort of proposition? Ethically, I think it is unkind at the very least, to give hope and then back down. If there is no hope then surely it is ethically better just to say so from the outset?

I wanted to put the email chain on this blog – just for the record, and early on, when I had the distinct impression that the company in question was prepared to help me, out of courtesey I asked if I could use the emails. The person with whom I was in contact declined – claiming that it would be very easy for people to work out who the company was. So I respected his/her decision.

Currently working on: Casa Batllo (Scan)…

This piece doesn’t have a title yet, but it is about a Gaudi building in Barcelona, Spain. I think Gaudi’s work is refreshingly different and of such good quality of craftsmanship, that I wanted to make an artistic comment about it. The building in question is Casa Batllo. The surrounding architecture seems positively dull next to his, even though they are fine buildings in their own right. The great thing about Barcelona is that Gaudi’s buildings do not stand on their own – they are mixed in with other styles of architecture as part of a terrace block (with a few exceptions). But his slot in the terraces is so different and dramatic that they leave a lasting impression. I thought it would be fun to turn this on its head: rather than a standard image of Gaudi’s work – I thought I would make his work look ordinary. What would it take of the adjacent and surrounding buildings to make Gaudi’s work look ordinary…?

Here is the scan of the photograph I took of the block Casa Batllo is part of.

(Click on image to zoom in…)

This is my starting point and as I progress with the work I will keep you posted of developments…

Glass Sponsorship?

Any work I do needs to be presented as well as I can. I am aiming at the higher end of the market and the finished work should have a very high quality look and feel to it. The glass I use is the best there is: it is virtually invisible, has practically no reflections, and it absorbs > 99% of UV radiation – thus preserving the work much longer than otherwise. As I use matte inks on matte paper (because this combination has the most asethetically pleasing finish and lasts the longest), with this glass my work can look stunning from all angles – if I say so myself!

Unfortunately this glass does not come cheap – costing nearly £1000 ($1800) per picture (the average size of my pictures is about 2 square metres). I am desperately short of money at the moment but I really need to get a good size collection (15-25) of my work framed and glazed – so I can go out to galleries and show them my wares.

I frame the work myself for the following reasons: one, the prohibitively high cost of someone else doing it; two, it is far more convenient and I’m in control of the timescales; and, three, it is very difficult to find a framer who can frame to museum standards.

But to glaze this number of pictures is way beyond my budget. One is beyond my budget at the moment! I have been thinking about it for a few weeks now, but today I eventually got around to writing to a major UK supplier of the glass, asking for sponsorship. If, when, I am successful with my limited editions, the glass company stands to make a huge profit. Fingers crossed…

What is happening to art?

Is it only art journalists, academics, and contemporary art gallery owners, who like what most people would call, and sometimes literally is, crap – aka contemporary “art”? I am, of course, referring to the anyone-could-do-that! variety of contemporary art. I certainly don’t wish to dismiss the whole of contemporary art, not least because I am a contemporary artist myself.

(There seems to be a similar trend going in contemporary classical music as well, but I am not qualified to talk about this.)

Maybe I’m weird, getting old, or out of touch – but I simply don’t understand this growing trend towards producing less and less accessible and aesthetically pleasing art – especially the sort that seems unfinished, rushed, scruffy, disdainful, and literally anyone could do (who has the physical capacity to do so). This sort of “art” goes against my senses, aesthetics, and comprehension of human nature.

Newness, for the sake of it, is very easy. Take it from me: as an artist, philosopher, psychologist, and someone interested in the history of art – I could come up with new ideas every five minutes. They would be thought-provoking, but they would look like rubbish, would not enhance the viewer’s lives in any way – just like so much modern “art”. In fact it might even depress them.

I choose not to do the easy. I choose to be faithful to my own sense of aesthetics and value. And, believe me, it is much harder…

Art work: “Times Square”

(Catalogue # 021008-01-08)

(Click on image to zoom in…)

I like to go to really famous, impressive, places to try and capture them, or create an impression of them, in an artistic and hopefully unique way. I don’t always succeed! I went to New York at the end of September 2002 on such an artistic trip. I love the hustle and bustle of Times Square and was staying only a block away from it – as I had done on a previous trip five years earlier. The image I came up with took many days of contemplation and for a long while I was pessimistic that I would fail in my quest…

The two main roads, 7th Avenue and Broadway, run roughly from north to south. There is only a short time window, around about noon, when the sun shines straight down both streets – rather than leaving one side in hard shadow. Time… Time… Moreover, the angle of the sun shining on the buildings is better in the Autumn and Spring – where it is neither too high nor too low at noon. Time… Time…

I was running out of time – nearing the end of my trip but with no inspiration about how to capture this place…

On my penultimate day at noon in Manhattan the light was terrific. The yellow cabs, the rivulets of multi-coloured people, the sheer rock faces of the buildings, the brilliantly lit signs… What is the shot? What is Times Square? I pondered and pondered. Time was running out… The light won’t last…

Hoards of random purposeful people, impatient busy cars, domineering buses, enticing alluring shops, mesmerizing ingenious signs, agitated horns, blinding glare, confusing reflections, killing fumes, incessant humming engines, occasional screeching breaks. I was being bombarded with Times Square but no ideas how to capture it. Then, all of a sudden, and quite by accident – I looked up – directly above me, and I saw this amazing sight: a beautiful tranquil azure blue sky, with brilliantly bright titanium white cloud slowly drifting northwards. I found a bare patch of pavement and lay down on the ground looking skywards. All of a sudden everything was perfectly serenely quiet, and I was transformed into a new timeless silent dimension.

What a transformation! Horizontally it was a torrid river of humanity: noise, zillions of people from everywhere – going everywhere, attention-grabbing economic gimmicks, control, dirt, pollution, unbelievable complexity. Here, in Times Square, it was as if three dimensions were squashed into two: everything happens on street level! Of course! The fourth dimension, time, is upwards… One minute I was in those rapids and the next I had broken free from the surface water tension – like a caddis fly emerging as an underwater grub and transformed into a free-flying insect…

The sun was nearly at the perfect angle – it had just a few minutes to go to catch both sides of the parallel buildings equally. This was central to the shot. I waited for the perfect moment, during which time a typically un-shy American asked “…Hey, what-ja doing?” (This was one of many exchanges I had with passers-by that day.) I told him and he looked up – at an angle he probably wasn’t used to. His expression was at first strained and squinting, and then an oh-I-see smile…

For me the picture works for a number of reasons – some of which I can take credit for and some is just good old-fashioned luck – and, believe me, the best shots need some luck. I love the azure blue of the sky and the cold Arctic white of the cloud – and what a deliciously bright glacial white it is! But I love that area in the middle where the blue intermingles softly with the white. This just seems to epitomize the cosmopolitan nature of what’s happening at street level – different races coming together…

I have rendered the buildings in a perfect square – which says something to me about time – how regular it is. All the vertical parallel lines of the buildings in their infinite perspective converge perfectly in the middle of the picture. The whole scene could be a clock face without hands. Time, like the hustle and bustle of the square, has momentarily paused.

Just think, if you will, how this landscape will have changed over time. Not so long ago the same shot could have had the same sky with trees receding in perspective in place of the buildings…

The time theme crops up in a number of unexpected ways. The clock on the building is very apt and very, very, lucky! The street lamp is off, because it is not time for it to be on. The position of the sun is very time critical – illuminating both sides of the street rather than casting one side into shadow. This is similar to the precise orientation of ancient megaliths like Stonehenge or the many amazing constructions in the Peruvian landscape and buildings – to cast light on to some sacred spot on just a few days at first or last light at the summer or winter solstices.

The shot is an antithesis of what Times Square is all about. I didn’t (and generally don’t) want to capture what most people do. Times Square is one of the busiest places in the world, and one of the most photographed. I wanted to do something completely different… This is possibly the least you could portray about Times Square and it still be recognizable… Less is sometimes more… Minimalism is sometime maximalism…

Cambridge, England 28/12/2002

Art work: “Identity”

(Catalogue #100_1970-1982)

(Click on image to zoom in…)

I’m intrigued, no spellbound, by Nature, and spend a lot of time watching, being mesmerised, and photographing it. Every once in a while I come across something even more amazing than normal and it gets me thinking…

This scene is exactly as I saw it. I have gone to great lengths to faithfully reproduce what I saw in all its detail. It was a very sharp, cold, blustery, early spring morning. The tide was high and these birds were roosting – unable to feed on the mudflats. They were waiting for the tide to go out. Some species like the knot (the predominant grey birds in the 8-10,000 strong flock) huddle together to keep warm, whereas others don’t. Huddling together to keep warm is perfectly understandable, so why don’t the other species in the picture do it? It’s not just down to body size – the smaller something is in relation to its mass, the harder it is for it to keep warm – because there are smaller species that don’t huddle – the turnstone (smallest, short-legged black and white birds) for example. The few individuals of a different species engulfed in the sea of knot – the few lone oystercatchers (big black and white birds with bright red beaks) and the bar-tailed godwits (the long-legged buff-coloured birds with long straight beaks) – almost certainly didn’t land in the middle of all the knot. Instead, they were probably slowly engulfed by them as the numbers of knot coming off the mudflats to roost gradually swelled.

The knot don’t go around in one huge flock like this, rather they normally gather in flocks – of anywhere between a handful to a few hundred. While the tide was out and they were feeding, they would have been in these smaller groups. In the last hour or so as the sea slowly rose and covered their feeding grounds, the scattered flocks would have gradually given up the feeding frenzy and come in to roost. Flying over the shingle bank and into this sheltered hollow on the edge of the gravel pit lagoon, they would have seen some of their own already there and joined them – huddling together. The lone birds of other species would have been on their own initially, but as the mass of knot numbers swelled the “loners” would have been slowly engulfed.

For me this image raises lots of questions. Why did the knot feel comfortable getting that close – literally touching – some of those other species – even some that are significantly bigger than them – and not the cormorant (the big black bird in the middle of the big flock)? Does the cormorant look dangerous to them? Did the cormorant try to attack them? I doubt that very much – since they are fish eaters and are not known to be aggressive to other birds. Is it just the look of the cormorant that makes them feel uneasy? Predators have a knack of looking nasty. So do the knot – and other species for that matter – have an instinct for what-looks-nasty-probably-is-nasty? And what does nasty look like? Two piercing, forward-looking, eyes; a certain stare-you-down-I’d-like-to-eat-you attitude; a big mouth with a sharp beak or teeth? It is utterly amazing to me how such instincts can be carried in DNA…

What did the cormorant feel – being completely surrounded by a sea of small grey birds that would not get close to it? What did the surrounding knot feel – especially those on the inner edge closest to the cormorant? How did they decide what a safe distance from the cormorant would be? Does the black-headed gull flying over the huge flock think “bloody hell – that’s a lot of birds!”? Does it even realise that they are birds at all – and not something like stones that it could land on? How did the “loners” feel as they were being slowly surrounded by the knot? How do animals identify themselves? Why are some “outsiders” allowed to get close and not others…?

Going back to the smaller flocks on the mudflats: if there were 8-10,000 individuals in the main roost, and the average size of smaller flocks was 200, then out on the mudflats there must have been somewhere in the region of 40-50 separate flocks of knot. I am interested to know what defines these flocks; how does an individual know it is part of a flock? Is there a leader of each flock? Imagine 200 individual birds foraging in the sand and mud for food: they can’t all spontaneously decide to fly off in the same direction to a roost like the one in the picture – surely one takes the lead? Is it that any one of them can take the lead and all the rest follow? Or is there a flock leader?

Do the members of the flock recognise each other, or is there just some general sense of belonging and not wanting to be left on their own? I’m not sure it can be the latter because when the main roost broke up, it broke up gradually. A succession of small flocks flew off – back to the mud-flats. There wasn’t one almighty exodus. This implies that while other birds were flying off, something kept the others where they were. Was it that no member of their group had taken flight, or did they have a leader who hadn’t taken flight? This behaviour suggests a high level of small flock individuality. If there was a perceived threat like a fox or human getting too close, then I’m sure the whole roost – all 8-10,000 – would have taken flight; but in the normal calm of the roost each small flock seemed to act autonomously – just temporarily taking advantage of the warmth afforded by bigger numbers. I’m not sure we can ever know what is going on in the mind of one of these little birds, but that would be incredibly fascinating to discover…

The parallels between birds and us humans are quite striking. We have our little groups – friends, family, work colleagues, team members, etc. Sometimes we come together in huge crowds – such as sports events, coronations, concerts, evacuations, etc. And when we are in these huge gatherings we are acutely aware of our group and make special effort to keep in contact and move around together – to arrive and depart together. Something may trigger us all to move off together – like the end of an event, or a fire, but we still keep to our personal group wherever possible. There is usually a leader…

I am also interested in how comfortable we are for different people to get close to us. Speaking for myself, generally I am happy for strangers to get within a couple of feet from me (unless they look nasty or threatening); I generally don’t like men to touch me at all, but for male friends it’s okay; I’m happy for women and children to get very close and even touch me; and it is very special and highly desirable for a woman I’m attracted to to get close and touch me. Indeed, such a woman could trigger off an adrenalin rush – where my whole mind and body would become fixated, excited, and physiologically charged… I’ve no reason to suppose this is abnormal human behaviour…

As for the closeness we will allow other species to get to us, this very much depends on our familiarity with the species, knowledge of their likely behaviour, and our knowledge of specific individuals and their moods. Generally we are comfortable with cats and dogs (the species depends on the cultural norm – so it might be different species in different cultures), but some people are allergic to them, or allergic to specific ones; some people have had bad experiences with them and won’t go near them. Suffice it is to say, familiarity and affection draw us together; unfamiliarity and fear push us apart. It is interesting to note that the young of most species are very cute – giving us the innate feeling of warmth and affection towards them, and wanting to touch them and give them everything they need… It is interesting that many species are programmed to respond in similar ways to cuteness and nastiness…

There is a semi-autobiographical aspect to the picture as well. At the time of writing this and through no fault of my own, I have no family and very few friends, and I spend a great deal of time on my own (most of the time that is through choice as I am very focused on what I want to achieve in life). I often find myself in groups or crowds feeling quite alone – so I can relate to the cormorant… Which of the birds do you relate to…?

Cambridge, England 28/10/2004

Art work: “Pregnant Reflections”

(Catalogue _C8L2984_24-01-06: 36″ x 53 1/2″)

(Click on image to zoom in…)

Pregnancy is the most magical and mysterious process that can happen to a woman, her partner, and existing children. As a father-to-be I felt so unnecessary but constantly strived to be involved. I felt impudent, irrelevant, distant, curious, useless, confused, ignorant. I might as well have been on the moon looking back at the earth – watching as a bystander… I was outside of this on-going, and soon-to-climax, marvel. My role in all this magic was the use of my appendage for a few minutes several month previous – all but a faint memory now…

If that is how I felt with no changes happening to me physically or mentally, I can’t begin to imaging what effect it had on my dear wife who was undergoing all those changes… What was going on in her mind? What was going on in her body? What did she feel and see when she looked in the mirror?

How would I feel if I experienced such transformations in myself? What is it like to have a new small human being growing inside you: feeding off you, moving around and kicking you? Answers to these questions are meaningless because I cannot possibly relate to them in any way. Answers are foreign and can never be translated. There is no male vocabulary to translate into. It is as meaningless as asking a caterpillar what it is like to turn into a butterfly.

And what of our little princess – who was the centre of our universe? What did she make of it all? What was her comprehension and anticipation of it? She was too young to give any coherent articulation. Did she even really understand what was happening and what was going to happen? She was – and at the time of writing this, still is – more or less a completely emotional being. I sensed in her a growing anxiety but never quite understanding…

Will it be healthy? Will it be a boy or a girl? What will it look like? How will the delivery be?

On an artistic note, the transformation of my wife was very inspiring. Women are delightfully curvy anyway, but they enter another curved dimension when with child! It is as if they are three dimensional normally, then they become five dimensional for a few months. Concave, convex, soft, taught, primal. I think the thing I enjoyed most about her being pregnant was the expression of contentment, peace, fulfillment, contemplation, wonderment on her face…

Cambridge, England Jan. 2006

Art work: “Depth of Tulip Field”

(Catalogue #100_5644-5730: 66″ x 44″)
Exhibited and sold in Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2006

(Click on image to zoom in…)

The human eye is an amazing gift, tool, and experience. The power of the brain behind it takes seeing to mesmerizing capabilities. Take focusing for example. That part of the image in the centre of our field of vision is in sharp focus (excepting for long- and short- sightedness), and the rest of the image gets progressively out of focus – the further away from the centre we go. But we are usually not aware of this. Anything we scan our eyes over becomes instantly sharp. The fact is we are constantly re-focusing as we scan a scene. If we are looking at one part of a scene it is in sharp focus. We may not even be aware that the rest is out of focus, because no sooner have we moved our eyes to something else, then that new part becomes immediately into focus.

Focus has a few noteworthy properties. The closer we try to focus, the shallower the depth of focus is. If you hold your hand in front of your face and focus on it, even things just in front of it (try placing a finger of your other hand in front of your hand without looking directly at it), and things immediately behind it will be out of focus – i.e. blurred. This is a “shallow” depth of focus – or depth of field as it is more commonly known in photography. The further away the subject is the greater is the focus depth – the region from the nearest to the furthest part in focus. The focus range is invariably perpendicular to our eye view.

The camera acts like a static eye in that it can capture one static scene and its inherent depth of field. It is unlike the eye in one important respect: we focus on a narrow zone where our two eyes converge, and outside this area – left, right, up or down – but at the same distance from our eyes – things become progressively more out of focus the further away from the centre of our gaze they are. The camera on the other hand focuses on planes. Think of double glazing: the zone between the two pieces of glass is in focus, everything in front and behind are out of focus. As always with focus, there are no sharp boundaries between in and out of focus – just very sharp to progressively less sharp. However, there is a general area where most people would agree is an acceptable level of sharpness – enough to say it’s in focus.

Depth of field can be controlled by the diameter of the iris or aperture: the smaller the aperture the greater is the depth of field. But the aperture can only affect depth of field to a small degree. What also applies to the camera is the phenomenon that the closer the subject is, the shallower the depth of field. There are special cameras/lenses that offer a tilting mechanism that allow you to literally tilt the plane of focus, but these are only effective with flat surfaces – like a road or a lake. Anything in the foreground sticking up or down – rising above or below the narrow horizontal plane of focus – like my tulips – would appear out of focus.

Why am I rambling on about depth of field? When you are confronted with a real life scene you can survey it at your leisure, and it is something we all seem to enjoy. We seem to love being able to see a long way, and climbing/driving to the top of a hill or mountain to see a great view is a common goal we nearly all like to do. Taking a static image of such a scene – from our toes to the horizon – is virtually impossible, especially if there is fast movement in the scene as well.

What has all this got to do with art? If art is about enhancing the viewer’s experience of life, getting the viewer to think about their surroundings, and their perceptions and pre-conceptions of it, then “Depth Of Tulip Field” is very much art.

I use photography a great deal because I’m so moved by reality, and a lot of what I want to convey about my perceptions, pre-conceptions, and ideas about reality I feel are best expressed by being as realistic as possible. I’m completely in awe of vision – it is the most amazing gift. When I see a beautiful scene I’m frustrated as an artist that I cannot transport you there to see it also. So much art is about non-reality, disfiguring reality, or making attempts at copying reality – with varying degrees of success. But reality cannot be faithfully copied – it has near and far properties, and we can interact with it in almost an infinite number of ways – moving to different parts of it, zooming in to any level of detail. And reality’s main quality is, I feel, the freedom we have to look at it in any way we choose.

At a scene we can scan and focus on anything we please, and that is the real delight I want to capture. Conventional photography pre-focuses for you on a static focal plane. The photographer has to decide what he/she wants you to focus on – that is what he/she wants to focus on themselves, and they capture that in stone as it were. You are not free to focus on what you want. That is not necessarily a criticism – indeed it may well be the intention. But in this case my intention is that you should be free to look at any part of the picture in great detail – as I had the pleasure of doing.

The conventional artist – oil painter for example – is severely limited by the materials she uses, and by time. Whilst she doesn’t have the same limitations of depth of field, close up daubs of paint look like daubs of paint. And what would the point of meticulously copy reality anyway in this day and age of photography? The best you’ll ever achieve is a photograph. If Vermeer or Ingres (two of the best detailed artist I know of) were around today, would they reject photography and paint? Was it the process of painting they enjoyed or were they trying to capture something they considered beautiful, captivating, worthy of putting on a pedestal…?

In Depth Of Tulip Field I have gone to enormous lengths to share the freedom of focus I enjoyed on a fateful trip in Norfolk, England. It was early morning, the date was spring 2004, I was driving along and suddenly this amazing field of tulips appeared. The field was huge and the rows ran perpendicular to the road. A striking feature was the bands of brilliant colours. The sun was not out fully (it was burning up the morning mist), and it was at the wrong angle anyway (aesthetically) – so I decided to come back later in the afternoon (the forecast was for sun).

When I returned I went to the far end of the field with the sun shining at me – I love the sun shinning through plants – it really brings out their colour. I spent quite a while admiring the scene and wondering how best to shoot it – how to do it justice. I had all the main types of cameras, numerous lenses, and other equipment with me – so I had very few technical limitations on what I could do. The field was wonderfully long. I didn’t want to crop it. I didn’t want to focus on one part of it. I wanted it all. Eventually I came up with an idea and proceeded to execute it…

There are a lot of different types of birds, insects, and other animals in this picture, but that is only to draw your attention to the fact that there were none! This field – due to modern chemically assisted intensive farming methods – was a veritable desert of life! Everything was either dead (killed by “pesticides” – implying they are pests – probably a propaganda ploy by the agrichemical companies) or the wildlife stays away – perhaps because there is no natural food there and/or because it is such an alien landscape to them and they have no natural cover. I did actually see the hare and the deer running through the field – sadly they were fleeing from a near by gun shot blast – I don’t think it was their natural choice to be there. But it gave me an idea…

Most landscape paintings don’t depict this level of detail, and many animals in the wild are very elusive – indeed a lot of the time their survival depends on them not being seen. So often they are there but you just don’t see them. But for me this is what is fascinating about Nature: it is everywhere. The more you look, the more you see. And the closer you look the more detail you see. You can start with looking at a whole landscape (even my depiction of the tulip field is a small section of the whole), and you can zoom in on a field, then a flower in the field, then an insect on a flower in the field, and see the amazing detail of it. Zooming in still further, you can see the hairs on its body, its compound eye, the structure of its wings. Zooming in on the eye reveals its conical hexagonal lens structure. You can go on to see the structure of the cones, the cells that make it, the internal structure of the cells, the structure of its proteins, the atoms that make up the molecules, the structure of the atom – its subatomic particles. And who knows where this journey ends in ever smaller worlds…?

I have kept the detail in the picture to what you could see with the naked eye, but I hope I’ve got my point across about the detail in Nature.

Sometimes we come across a scene so beautiful that we stop what we’re doing. We stop and stare, remain silent, and enter into a trance-like state. It’s fascinating that our mind should respond so strongly to what are after all just images. It is also fascinating that the vast majority of us will respond in a similar way to the same scenes… I, as a contemporary artist, feel just the same (possibly more?) about such scenes – but I want to respond to them in a very personal and unique way, and to sometimes use them as a vehicle to express certain ideas I’m interested in.

Really this is many photographs (circa 80) combined into one, with a great deal of digital editing – including much freehand work. But it is essentially what I saw. I have spent more time on this “photograph” than I have ever spent on a real painting or drawing. (No, I haven’t attempted to break any world records – some artists will have spent longer on their paintings.) My goal was to try to break the limits of photography, to highlight our wonderful, amazing, delighting, gift of vision; to produce something beautiful – or at least something I consider beautiful. The result is not perfect, but I’m happy it goes a long way to depicting what I saw and the ideas I wanted to convey. It gives me immense pleasure to be able to share that experience.

Nature is not always what it seems, and in Nature reproduction is a vital force…

Cambridge, England 16/05/2004

Art work: “Lindisfarne Walled Garden”

(Catalogue #030525-01-05: 40” x 40” diamond)

(Click on image to zoom in…)

This is another study in perception. Unlike most photography – a snapshot in time – I created this image as an idealized scene that shows the best of what did happen over a short of time in this space. The flying fulmars (sea-gulls in the picture) – who came up close to check me out, the pied wagtail (black and white bird) foraging for flies among the bedded plants, the sunbathing red admiral (red-wing-tipped butterfly), the flying ringlet (brown butterfly), and all the insect and arthropod activity – all this happened in front of me over a period of about half an hour. Conventional photography could capture such a scene in one shot using an ideal camera (which doesn’t exist!), a very fast shutter speed, and a very great deal of luck. I had to resort to less miraculous and time-consuming creative techniques to create this image…

This is also part of my Diamond Series. I wanted to make the white tulips the centre of the picture – almost as if the castle was being held up by them. The natural way our perception follows the lines across the corners of a diamond to locate the centre helps draw you to the tulips. We “know” that the castle isn’t being held up by the tulips, and that the castle is much bigger than them. But this is based on what we know rather than what we can see…

I like the geometry of half sky, half land. I like the textural difference between the top and the bottom half. Standard photography can’t discriminate texture at its finest, pixel, level of detail. I have worked a great deal on the image to achieve this effect.

We can’t produce anything more beautiful than nature – despite our huge numbers, all our technology, and time. We merely re-arrange it for a while. How can this be? We are led to believe that Nature is merely a quirk of chances – trillions of chances. Out of nothing came all this… The lovely castle in the picture doesn’t compare to a single tulip – for beauty and complexity. In gardens we merely rearrange Nature…

Nature is a complex set of forces, among many other amazing things: there are many systems and programs running, sometimes they collide and the programs survive or die. But we never make anything new – we merely convert something that is already there into something else – for a short while. Anything that we re-arrange in Nature is only temporary. All we can do is put a tiny piece of Nature out of equilibrium. The soil, climate, aspect, cover, surroundings, herbivorous predators – all affect what will grow and survive in the longer term. We can fight this, but only temporarily. We are temporary…

Cambridge, England 12/09/2004

Art work: “Le Louvre”

(Catalogue #031018-02-07: 59” x 59” diamond)

(Click on image to zoom in…)

Having an interest in art, it was natural that I would eventually pay a visit to the Louvre in Paris. My first visit to Paris was in November 1998. What struck me most about the Louvre was not its wonderful art collection, but the buildings themselves. I was particularly interested in the glass pyramid (square-based right regular tetrahedron), cutting up through the ground in the Cour Napoleon and its juxtaposition with the magnificent Louis XIII/IV courtyard architecture. It seemed like an ice fissure or glass crystal had been forced up through the ground by some colossal subterranean tectonic force. The weather was appalling but I knew I had to come back and shoot it “properly”…

I returned to Paris on a photo shoot in October 2003. I specifically wanted to do something with the pyramid. As is so often the case, my challenge was how to do a very well know place justice and yet be different or original? I love maths and geometry and so the tetrahedron had extra appeal to me…

I had already experimented with diamonds (squares turned on their sizes – through 45% – so they are “resting” on a corner) on some earlier compositions that year. The appeal being that conventional rectangular shaped pictures are passé, don’t lend themselves naturally to any specific horizontal or vertical alignment, and the centre is not clearly defined. This is not a “problem” for many images but there are a few times when this is a distinct disadvantage, and simply not aesthetically “right” – for me at least.

A diamond on the other hand has clear horizontal and vertical lines that the eye naturally follows (the lines through opposite corners), and the intersection of these imaginary lines is the centre. Our eyes seem trained or are sensitive to vertical and horizontal lines. This may have some biological/physiological significance. For example, our sense of balance is closely tied in with the horizon – to the extent that we can feel sick if the horizon keeps moving around – as it does on a boat in a choppy sea. Any liquid in a container – from the ocean to a cup of water – will level out. Most things fall in straight lines and most plants grow in straight lines. The vast majority of our buildings are built perfectly straight or vertical – I suspect because we would feel uncomfortable working in them otherwise. We are very familiar with vertical and horizontal lines and can tell if they are only slightly out of “true”. We can’t do this with slopes because there is no absolute or “normal” slope. If we see a hill at 40% it is a hill at 40% – so what? It doesn’t particularly register or matter. The fact that we have specific words for two angles – 0 and 90 (horizontal and vertical) – is testimony to their importance to us – we don’t have names for any other angles…
This year (2003) marked the birth of my Diamond Series, where I felt the geometric properties of a perfect square on its side – my diamond – was aesthetically the most natural, flattering, and interesting for certain compositions. It was/is important for me to take the shots in this diamond formation – it’s not a case of cutting up prints afterwards! I have to feel the diamond and go to the extra effort of composing the shot as a diamond (using my square format camera and tilting it – not easy believe you me – especially when the image is back-to-front!).

So I had this idea in mind before going back to the Louvre and its pyramid. The pyramid itself is actually half a diamond – the top half. It didn’t take me long to decide that the best composition I could think of was to use the diamond shape to accentuate the pyramid – whose top angle is very close to 90. Perfect symmetry was an absolute must for such a geometrical composition. The pyramid from a certain angle looks like half a diamond – an isosceles triangle. I wanted to make its base the central line of the diamond.

Why did I shoot this in black and white? Because the shot is about shape and texture – colour would be a distraction. I wanted to contrast the old and the new buildings and their materials: rough stone with intricate carvings, alongside metal and glass – smooth, simple, prefabricated. The original pyramids were made of stone with intricate carvings, friezes, and paintings. The modern has gone the other way – showing it has no real value. If it is destroyed it can quickly be rebuilt. It says something about the wealth and power of the past rulers compared with today’s…

The whole idea of the modern geometrical form in this historical setting, with the light as it was, and the majority of people walking towards the pyramid – conjured up a scene of an alien spacecraft and people mesmerically be drawn towards it – to be taken away to another planet… I decided not to deliberately accentuate this theme…

Cambridge, England 08/06/2004

Time to do it properly

On the 30th November 2005, at the age of 43, I gave up a six digit salary (£ Sterling) in computing to pursue the real love of my life – art and photography. (I wish I had started my blog then – now I have a bit of catching up to do!) (For brevity, instead of constantly referring to ‘art and photography’, I will from now on just call it ‘art’, unless I specifically want to discuss either one of them.)

I had been thinking about doing it for a couple of years, but this seemed like a do-it-now-or-never-do-it moment in my life. Continue with the rat race, get to a ripe old age and wonder what I did with my life, or give up a lot of security and do what I really want to do…?

Don’t get me wrong. I hadn’t just decided to pick up the brush, so to speak, and “have a go” at a new venture. On the contrary, I have been doing “serious” art since I was a teenager. I have spent most of my money and spare time on digital art and photography, and so, in some ways, because the highest quality equipment and materials is extremely expensive, my quite well paid life in computing was a necessary prequel.

Even while working in computing I was doing a lot of art. For the previous five years I was only working three or four days a week (albeit long hours), and I was a busy doing art the rest of the week (I wasn’t much of a socialiser).

I have done just about everything you can do in photography but was always frustrated that I couldn’t achieve perfection. One is never in total control in straight photography, and, as an artist and a perfectionist, I desperately wanted to be in total control. It was only when the digital revolution came along, circa 2000, that I really got excited about the possibilities…