Guillemot with Egg (floral map)- Artwork feelings

It may be quite common for artists to write about how they feel about their work, but I’ve personally never come across it. This is probably just my lack of reading (I’m not a big reader, I usually only read to learn something specific – which is quite often).

Yesterday I framed this large canvas :-

Guillemot with Egg (floral map)

After working on the back fixings, I turned it over to see the finished work. In all candour, I thought it looked really fabulous. The heavy black tray (float) frame made the colours pop even more, and the whites to appear whiter. I was really moved and felt a great sense of achievement.

When I think back over the months I have spent on it, the weeks designing it, all the hundreds of hours drawing innumerable curves – that I have meticulously weaved and tweaked; all the colour choices and juxtapositioning… It feels it was definitely worth all the effort – and not inconsiderable cost. It was a truly joyous, uplifting, moment, and I felt very blessed and proud…

This just reinforces why I cannot part with original artwork – and so steer clear from doing non-reproducible art. Most of my artwork I do primarily for myself: mainly to show and express my gratitude and wonder of Nature. Yes, I love to share my feelings of what moves me – often to tears – which is why I have invested so much time and resources into reproducibility (editions as opposed to original art). It is a real privilege that I can produce copies of my artwork, like this one, to a standard that I am very happy with – and can share with many others (some of whom are fortunate enough to have the resources to own copies)… This is immensely satisfying.

If this work can give a fraction of the joy it gives me, to other people, then I am truly grateful and blessed…

Royal Academy Summer Exhibition – Open Letter

Dear Royal Academy Summer Exhibition,

Ever since submissions of works for consideration to the annual Summer Exhibition have had to be done solely by photographs of the works – rather than sending in the actual works – I have felt very uncomfortable and uneasy about the selection process.

Firstly, judging an artwork by a relatively small photograph on a small computer screen (of who-knows what quality…?) is a very disingenuous way of seeing art. This disproportionately disadvantages large works compared with smaller ones. Also it disproportionately disadvantages colourful, compared with monochrome, works. And the quality of the photographs may not do the image justice… I imagine some of the widely established best works of art in history would be rejected based on up to three 1920 x 1080 pixel photographs seen on a computer screen…

Secondly, I am especially concerned by the request for certain pieces of information on the application forms – information that should have absolutely no bearing whatsoever on the selection process. Whether this seemingly irrelevant information is used in the selection process or not is simply not know, but the mere fact that it is requested – and with the process not being transparent – leaves this open to question…

• Why do you need to know if we have exhibited at the Summer Exhibition before?!
• Why do you need to know if we are a Friend of the Royal Academy?!
• Why do you need to know the price of the work (you can ask for this if the work is selected)?

The trouble of this covert digital selection process is that we have no way of even knowing if our photos are reviewed at all – or whether they are simply filtered out as rejects based on arbitrary, but irrelevant, information – or due to some other covert agenda… Who knows if preference is given to Friends of the RA…? Who knows if preference is given to people who have (or haven’t) exhibited before…? Who knows if decisions are based on the price of the work, or expected revenue from sales of the work…?

I am not casting aspersions or making accusations about the selection process, I am merely highlighting that it is not transparent at all, it is far from the ideal way to see art, and it is certainly open to abuse. If you persist with this selection process you should make every effort to make it transparent – and not ask for irrelevant information on the application form. Some information is only relevant if the work is selected – not before…

I mourn the days of simple transparency – when work was physically submitted and paraded in front of the selection panel – and it was sometimes filmed for all to see. This assured us that the visual impact of the whole work – with no irrelevant information – was the only selection criterion. In those halcyon days of knowing the selection panel were seeing the works in the flesh – and with no prior knowledge of the artist or the work – only then did we know that this was the most objective and honest way of a panel of RA artists making a collective subjective decision…

I fully understand that during COVID-19 there was no alternative other than to submit photographs of artwork, but now there is absolutely no excuse not to go back to the tried and tested physically present ways – the method the RA used for nearly 250 years prior to COVID. The reduced cost of using photographs and the sending of emails has considerably reduced costs to the RA Summer Exhibition, but it is to the great detriment of the exhibitors…

The Summer Exhibition is a hugely profitable source of revenue for the RA, but it relies entirely on the trust and support of artists. I will not be submitting any more works to future Summer Exhibitions unless we go back to the tried and tested way of doing it, or until the issues of transparency are completely addressed, and I urge other artists to seriously consider their position…

Yours sincerely,

Michael Autumn

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…

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…

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…

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…

Art work: “Pregnant Reflections”

Pregnant Reflections, 2006, 36” x 52”

(Catalogue _C8L2984_24-01-06: 36″ x 53 1/2″, edition of 100)

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.

Pregnant Reflections – Male contribution

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?

Pregnant Reflections – baby growing inside mother

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.

Pregnant Reflections – Sister

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, fulfilment, contemplation, wonderment on her face…

Cambridge, England Jan. 2006

 Pregnant Reflections in artist’s dining room (click on image to see artists’ home studio, workshop, and gallery).

Art work: “Depth of Tulip Field”

(Catalogue #100_5644-5730: 44” x 66” – edition of 100)

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 in 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 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…

16/05/2004

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Exhibited at Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2006