Archive:
November 2004 - March 2005
23/03/05
Grim
times of late. I have seperated from my girlfriend of many years.
I don't feel comfortable talking about it on the site - at least
not right now.
So,
in other news - a while ago, I had root canal treatment on a large
molar right at the back of my mouth, The process was incredibly
uncomfortable, time-consuming and expensive. It was the only time
I have ever had any major dental work but it needed to be done.
I've never suffered crippling toothache but I've always been in
fear of it. The tooth was repaired. After three appointments,
I had a shiny new metal cap to fill the excavated void in my tooth.
However,
in recent years, I have noticed minor discomfort in the tooth
slowly getting worse and worse. Not pain as such but more a kind
of dull ache that has increasingly been demanding my attention.
Occasionaly, I would look in my mouth but I have never closely
examined the problem. Partly because inspection would be difficult
but also because I would dread the possibility that more major
work, possibly extraction would be necessary.
In
recent weeks I detected a crack, a fissure between my tooth and
the metal cap. The problem was getting worse. My dread increased
and I knew that dental malfunction was inevitable. Still, it took
me by surprise and with a mild shock when the cap suddenly seperated
from my tooth. Suddenly, this gap in my mouth is exposed, a void
that feels so unusual. I worry about losing this protection, the
functionality of the metal cap, something that has been a part
of me for so long. But I also feel relief alongside the discomfort
- the matter has finally been brought to a head.
___________________________________________
07/03/05
I
was in the Louvre today. I suppose it must mean many things
to many people - repository of art, painting's greatest
hits, or maybe just history in freeze-frame. It takes lot
for me to feel comfortable in a gallery. So many people
in one place, shuffling to take their turn standing in front
of some centuries-old canvas, well, it doesn't feel natural
after I spent so many hours lying in my bath in the country,
flipping through pages of prints and reading commentary
at my own pace.
The
Louvre is a huge building and home to enormous amounts of
historical, biblical, or classical examples of painting
and sculpture. Like most national museums, only a small
proportion of the total stock is on display at any one time
- the rest being safely tucked away in a cavernous vault
or delicately being cleaned and restored with meticulous
patience and cotton buds.
Much
of the work I want to see while in Paris is housed elsewhere
in the city. Many of the painings that I consider "old
friends" - many from less classical eras have seperate
museums and galleries. |
|
There
is so much on display that it doesn't make sense to try to see
as much as possible in one day. Myself and Matt walked through
the main wing containing Spanish, Italian, and particularly the
classical Florentine paintings. As to be expected, there was much
to see from the early rennaisance masters, displayed with the
typically disturbing Christian imagery of sin, atonement, hallucinations
and sacred violence. Each "masterpiece" proudly displays
virtuoso handling of awkwardly-applied tempera pigments, gold-leaf
and lapis-lazuli adorned symbols of wealth, staus and power. Biblical
imagery and humility in the face of God (not to mention an all-powerful
papacy) were clearly the order of the day and probably the reason
that the majority of "art" left from centuries ago has
survived within environments that have changed little, if at all
- i.e. cathedrals, churches and palaces. The artists of those
times seemed to have little creative opportunity beyond these
bounds but rather were shaped into a world of strict adherence
to classical craft and apprenticeship. One cannot deny the wonderful
attention to human anatomy, posture and the rendering of fabric.
But it is so repetitive that I can clearly sympathise with the
western world's desire to challenge every single rule of classical
art. I live in a culture where it is acceptable for me to produce
imagery out of a desire to simply create. Had I lived in the 1500s
- well, who's to say what I would have ended up working on? Still
- small but powerful examples of creativity unfettered by the
church can be seen with the ghosts of Greek antiquity not to mention
with the grotesques of Arcimboldo and the wondeful and terrible
ramblings of Hieronymous Bosch.
 |
Of
course, the Louvre is famous for famous paintings and none
are more famous than the Mona Lisa. In a cosmopolitan city
with tourists from around the world trying to cram as much
into the day-trip, they have to see it. Sheer weight of
numbers requires that the painting be displayed on an otherwise
bare wall, flanked by security and museum staff who yell
constantly to keep the crowd moving and prevent people from
taking photographs - hardly the most relaxed environment
to in which to appreciate great art. A nylon barrier herds
the public from halfway down the nearest immense corridor,
preventing congestion.
I
didn't have the inclination or time to wait in line to see
the thing close-up. I had a brief glimpse from the other
side of the room. A security guard caught me trying to take
a picture so I was reduced to facing backwards and attempting
to capture an image with my camera secretly poking out from
under my right arm.
And
this was the result. |
___________________________________________
20/02/05
When
spending hours in front of the computer, I've been anticipating
the desire to get out and about. However, I'm getting quite engrossed
in some of the design work I'm doing for the project. Apart from
interface stuff and general web aesthetics, there are some graphics
I'm producing that have been produced entirely by Photoshop. No
sketches, no drawings, and nothing scanned in - I have been using
the computer as a sketchbook, scrapbook and easel all at the same
time. It is as if my studio has shrunk from the massive two meter
easel to a single monitor on a little wooden desk.
I
have been wandering late at night. I leave the flat and walk up
to the Bastille, then the Seine, and finally I complete a loop
around Notre Dame and head back again. My living conditions are
cramped and a brisk walk is always welcome after a day of chasing
pixels. I expected to feel nervous wandering around a strange
city late at night but I haven't seen a sign of trouble anywhere.
In fact, when people have passed me on the cold empty pavement,
I'd swear that they were giving little old me a wary eye. I can't
imagine I appear threatening in any way. Maybe the sounds of Testament
blaring from stereo headphones gives me a defiant march and a
glint in my eye. I have been told that this is a very safe city
- most of the trouble is confined to the estates and the suburbs.
My late-night route has taken me along a variety of empty river
walkways which I would normally think to be nocturnal death-traps
- but there's no-one there to rob me, stab me, or drunkenly ask
for change. Granted, I have seen a few derelict buidings that
one would not normally associate with the romantic trappings of
Paris. Clearly, some kids are getting to them with the spray paint
but the decoration is artistic rather then the sectarian football
scribbles of Scottish graffiti.
For
the most part, the Parisien architecture is beautiful but repetitive.
Every building seems to have the ubiquitous, wrought-iron adornments.
Here and there, a singular and world-famous structure sticks out
from the crowd. Notre Dame is a spectacular building but it still
pales next to Cologne's cathedral. I'll take the trip to the top
at some point soon - it looks like a good vantage point to see
the city. I have also glimpsed the top of the Eiffel Tower on
my wanderings. There is some kind of huge flashlight that revolves
at the summit of the tower. It spreads a great beam of light over
the city in a boisterous and proud display that I can't imagine
being repeated from any similar buliding in Britain. Not that
it is easy to tell from where I am but the height of the thing
must be stupendous. We'll see how the timing of the project allows
it but I'm going to have to visit the tourist spots.
I'm
slowly feeling more confident about speaking my broken French
to the natives. Strolling back to the flat, triumphantly grasping
my newly acquired french loaf, having bought it by uttering the
devastatingly complex "Un pain, s'il vous plait" really
puts a spring in the step. Much of what I hear really makes me
realise just how inappropriate the classical French I learned
in school would be. Not that I actually learned much of it - language
lessons were fantastically dull for me. I have never had a natural
aptitude for languages and being immersed in the middle of another
culture has to be the most effective way to take it in. It brings
back memories of sitting in my French classes taught by Mr. Latimer
(his nickname was "Smate", taken from "See me at
the end"). Learning language consisted of daydreaming while
staring at the meaningless squiggles on the blackboard, the colours
in the trees outside the window, and the clock on the wall that
had the slowest second-hand you have ever seen.
___________________________________________
13/02/05
It's
been an eventful couple of weeks but here I am at last - Paris
.Settling in to the surroundings doesn't seem hard. I have enough
understanding of the native language to get by and most people
seem happy to speak English if I at least make the effort to speak
French. Shops and restaurants are no difficulty as long as no-one
attempts to engage me in a heated political discourse.
I've
only been here a few days. I was staying with friends in Cologne
for the Karneval. I had never heard of this tradition although
all Germany celebrates it. It seems to be a particularly big deal
in Cologne. Much of it reminded me of the Hogmanay celebrations
back in Scotland except there are more people in the streets,
everybody is in fancy dress and it goes on for a week - a real
assault on the senses. The whole thing now feels like a blur of
Kolsch beer, giant chickens, drummer groups and parades of people
flinging literally tons of sweets into the crowds. It would never
happen in Britain. A British version of Karneval would be twice
as messy, involve a lot more broken glass, car alarms and fighting.
For such a huge celebration, I was amazed at the general good
feeling and a thus a noticeable lack of police presence. Most
of the main celebrations seem to work on a repeating cycle - a
day of partying and then a day to recover. A real highpoint was
visiting the Cathedral - I think the largest gothic building in
the world - utterly stunning. I normally have no problem with
heights, but the relentless spiral staircase and a hangover even
had me feeling a little edgy toward the top. It was worth it though,
the view was amazing and the cold blue sunny day was just the
right way to see the city laid out with the Rhine stretching through
it.
More
than anything, I've been aware of the sheer scale of the infrastructure
here in Europe. Public transport, airplanes, trains, subways and
all the technology and communication holding it all together -
I've been observing and admiring it during all the stresses of
passports, baggage and incomprehensible underground diagrams.
Edinburgh feels like a backwater by comparison. In the meantime,
I'm enjoying this city. There's some great stuff to see when I
take a break from the project - any place where red wine is this
cheap and plentiful and has double-decker trains can't be wrong.
Cologne Train Station
___________________________________________
27/01/05
I'm
twitching with ill-restrained nerves. Four years I've been in
this city and now everything seems to be wrapping-up, snowballing,
rushing onward to my departure. All tickets, paperwork, money
matters and so on are in order but I still have that horrible
nagging sensation of having missed something. Well, I still have
all my packing to do. Drawing materials, the laptop, camping gear,
the tent, sleeping bag, etc - there's a lot of stuff to remember.
Saying goodbyes, notifying changes of address, all the emails
flying around, my mind is whizzing.
Paris
is unknown to me. I hope that, in between the work, I'll get time
to tour around some of the sights. It's intimidating to think
of wandering around the huge galleries, but old friends that I've
only ever seen in print populate them. Sometimes seeing a painting
in the flesh for the first time can be a bit of a let down. The
colours aren't always as bright as a glossy enhanced print would
have you believe. The compensation is getting a true sense of
scale as well as observing the archaeology of the painting - every
little strand of hog's hair can be seen in some of those impressionistic
works.
Still,
when I arrive, I'll only be in Paris for one night. Matt and myself
are flying to Cologne to stay with another old flatmate and friend,
Steff. He's been living in Germany for some years and this is
my first visit. Cologne (and all of Germany to some degree) will
be celebrating Karneval. I know little about it but I understand
it involves a lot of drinking, silly music, and everyone in the
city dresses up for the occasion. I'm looking forward to it -
especially the site of Steff dressed as a giant chicken. I have
only been in Germany once before, many years ago, when I skied
through a bit of it by mistake.
Interesting
times ahead, but the reality of the people and places I'm going
to miss are beginning to hit hard. Particularly concerning one
young lady who I'll miss very much indeed.
Time
to pack - my next entry will be from France.
___________________________________________
20/01/05
Travelling
on the coach is hell. Apart from the discomfort and antisocial
commuting hours, weather conditions have delayed the journey between
Edinburgh and Glasgow by as much as two hours. The storm of last
week closed the entire M8. Apparently, the high winds dislodged
a hazard sign suspended above the carriageway - it had to be removed
to prevent it falling and causing a motorway pile-up. How ironic.
The
journey is always tiring and uninspiring. It has left me time
to get my nose deeply into current affairs again. Newspapers keep
piling up on the seat next to me. George Bush's second inauguration
takes place today - let's hope it's even more of an embarrassment
for him that his first was.
| Far
more importantly - the Huygens probe landed successfully!
For once, the media treated the event with some respect
as opposed to the usual indulgent half smile and idle quip
that it tends to dismiss space exploration and research
with. Cassini has taken four years to reach Saturn. The
Huygens lander detached, coasted to Titan, plunged into
the atmosphere taking readings and photographs as it went,
before landing exactly as planned in freezing hydrocarbon
"mud", reporting back it's data, relayed through
Cassini, back to the earth.
Titan
was an utter mystery - an orange blob in space, features
hidden by cloud. I think it is hard for the human imagination
to grasp how astonishing it is for such a custom made piece
of technology to rendezvous with another planet after four
years of hurtling through one billion miles of howling darkness
and cold of space. No air pressure, unexpected collisions
with dust and rock at mind-bending speeds, and solar radiation
are all some of the environmental challenges that this thing
had to contend with, without any possibility of maintenance
or repair. Hats off to the boffins. Let's shave a miniscule
fraction off the arms budget and send a few hundred more
out to other places. History will thank us for it. |
Surface of Titan
ESA/NASA/JPL/University of Arizona
|
___________________________________________
11/01/05
2005.
How odd.
As
a child, you only have the most distant conception of the future.
I remember playing with my toys by the radiator in the living
room while my brother and father watched the usual Sunday afternoon
war films on television. I remember sitting, off in my little
dreamworld, trying to imagine a couple of decades or so into the
future and I was filled with glee at the prospect of spaceships,
hover-cars, teleporters, etc. Now, I'm looking around at the world
in the new-year wondering where all this stuff is. I still have
this childish longing and we haven't even landed on Mars yet.
Nevertheless, these computers are helping me show art around the
world and we are all carrying walkie-talkies - there are some
small consolations. Further technological mysteries I have been
pondering include the principal materials of two separate Christmas
gifts: a gore-tex raincoat and silly putty. The former product
is waterproof by virtue of the nine billion perforations per square
inch that prevent liquid water transfer but permit the gaseous
form - the silly putty was apparently an accidental bi-product
of one scientist's attempt to create a rubber substitute in the
fifties. Fascinating stuff. It's a liquid but bounces higher than
rubber and shatters if hit with a hammer. Fascinating and completely
useless.
A
bad time for many over these holidays though. It's a pretty miserable
time on the other side of the world as a result of that earthquake
and subsequent tidal waves. Apparently the planet has had a few
of its basic physical characteristics altered. The oblateness
(flattening at the top and bulging in the middle) of the planet
has decreased - the Earth is now more spherical. As a result,
the poles have changed position by one inch and the length of
a day has decreased by 2.68 millionths of a second. In the midst
of my very traditional Christmas (plentiful food and alcohol and
absolutely no religion) I felt pretty much tranquillised by excess
as I watched each news outlet scramble to show the latest camcorder
footage of swearing middle-class holiday makers shakily filming
the oncoming muddy waves while yelling at their sunburned children
to get indoors. I can only imagine how horrific it must have been
for the areas that were hit badly - the satellite
images are unbelievable.
A
Richter scale reading of magnitude nine is immense but it was
a seismic event that still pales in the face of Tambora or Krakatoa.
Apparently, the boxing day tsunami wave was ten metres in height.
Compare it to this
account.
I'm
physically exhausted but teeming with energy if that makes any
sense. I have to endure three weeks more of commuting between
Glasgow and Edinburgh. Three weeks away from the easel and three
weeks without painting. But I don't mind. Soon I will be jetting
off to Paris, then Cologne and back to Paris again to collaborate
with a very old friend on a web project.
I
wont go into any detail as to what it is for legal reasons but
I can say that it will be an entertainment website that we have
been bashing around conceptually for the last three years. His
expertise will be applied to the coding and technical development.
Mine will be applied to the artistry and design. Somewhere in
the middle - hopefully something that's a lot of fun will arise.
I'm excited and nervous. Taking this time out is the only way
to get this done. We need to put some hard work into this and
hopefully we wont starve to death in the process. It'll be a nice
change to spend time in another country, that's for certain. I
like to think that by not painting, I'm saving up a stockpile
of artistic fuel to make something quite special when we get to
work. We'll see. I plan to do a lot of drawing - not just for
this project but also because I'll be in a different city, a different
country. I've neglected my sketching in favour of colour work
for a long time. It will do me good to get back to it.
I'm
bored with the capital. I've been living here for five years,
experiencing what Edinburgh has to offer. The festival, the fireworks,
the cultural stuff - believe me, it's all second to none - but
I can't shake the feeling of wondering where it all goes from
here. Regardless of what goes on in the city, it still feels like
a small and stunted place. I'm tired of the bus routes, the cobblestones,
and the litter in the streets. For every beautiful piece of architecture
in the city centre, there are ten run-down council estates sprayed
with graffiti. It gets me down.
Still,
I can't write it off forever. Edinburgh is a remarkable place
- but I've got itchy feet. My father told once that the key to
living in the city is to get out of it now and again. Well, I'm
sure Paris will be a huge, bustling, claustrophobic place - so
I'm bringing the tent and sleeping bag. Once the work is done,
I'm going to go for a wander. No paints - no plein air - just
the sketchbook and the pencils, tins of beans and the raincoat
- bliss.
___________________________________________
21/12/04
There
are some big changes going on. I no longer live in Edinburgh.
After
a particularly stressful weekend of moving furniture and paintings
(also involving my first asthma attack in years), my studio materials
are in storage. All I can say is that I'm very glad to have all
this done before Christmas. The idea of sitting watching movies,
full of food, knowing that I had this moving to do would be utter
hell - better to have it out of the way.
I've
had this low-key panic about not having a paintbrush on hand.
The studio space is more than just a practical working area. I
get a real sense of security from having that easel in front of
me. Not having that base for a while is going to take some getting
used to. If past experience is anything to go by, I'll feel a
little lost for a while and then begin seeking out other ways
to use up the energy.
My
analogy is of a basin with drops of water falling into it. When
the basin is full enough, there is significant energy to create
something large and ambitious. Once this is complete I have to
allow time for the basin to fill up again. Of course, if there
is no outlet then the basin overflows and work is created far
more spontaneously - haphazardly. It'll be good to keep pencils
and pastels close to hand. Just because I don't have the oil palette
nearby doesn't mean that I won't create something I'm pleased
with.
Its
almost like not having the easel is like losing a small piece
of my identity - I think. I worry that not having the ability
to paint on the scale to which I am accustomed will somehow drain
the basin without any creative payback. I was mulling this over
while sitting on the coach to Edinburgh this morning. I was feeling
tired from the early start, not to mention the exertions of the
weekend, and the morning was particularly grim. This is the shortest
day of the year and frost lies everywhere. The sun began to rise
and, within seconds of observing it, the old familiar love of
colour settled into my mind. There is no manifestation of light
quite like those that the sun barely manages in winter and I am
all the more appreciative of it, believe me. On a morning like
today, as it so often does, nature conspires to make beauty. So
will I.
___________________________________________
09/12/04
Everything's
on hold right now. The knowledge that I am soon going to have
to start packing up the contents of my flat has pretty much halted
any artistic endeavours. Perhaps I need to feel relaxed and secure
in a location before the urge to make stuff pops into my brain.
It'll
be good to get away. These dark winter months can be demoralising
and Edinburgh feels tired and gloomy right now. I was walking
back up from Leith late last night - found this sprayed on a wall.
Isn't
that the whole point of hell - that you can't leave? Is Leith
hell? Certainly Edinburgh feels grim right now and I can't help
feeling there are nicer places to look at. Hopefully, I'll get
to see some in the new year.
___________________________________________
29/11/04
While
waiting for the glue on the back of the painting to dry, I tried
taking some long-exposure "portraits" of three wine
glasses against a variety of different coloured backgrounds -
don't ask why. I'm still prone to playing around with the shutter
speed and aperture of my camera and decided to set it to the longest
exposure, turn all the lights off and waggle a laser pointer through
the glasses, really just to see what might turn out.
 |
The
laser light behaves strangely. Its intensity seems to pick
up every little nook and cranny of the otherwise smooth
and flawless glass. The actual trace of the point of light
throughout the fifteen-second exposure leaves its own peculiar
little artefacts too. But what really seemed to work was
simply de-saturating and inverting the image. Suddenly,
one is presented with this stark image of wineglasses that
seem pure but also tainted and dirty - tainted and made
dirty by light, strange as that seems. I'm pleased with
this image. |
Next
I got thinking about the colour and saturation of the laser light
as it appears in the initial photographs. The laser produces very
intense, monochromatic light and, when I opened it up in Photoshop
to play with hue and colour balancing, well - there were no other
colours to balance, obviously. Colour management histograms show
very sharp distinctive spikes.
I
duplicated the initial image twice and altered the output to green
and blue respectively - my thinking was that combining the three
images would produce a "white laser" effect in the same
way that a cathode ray tube will utilise these three colours to
produce white light.
 |
Well,
the resulting image might be theoretically interesting to
produce but it doesn't really work for me. |
Photoshop
colour picker
|
Being
aware that three constituent colours have the potential
to produce white light and a variety of different tones,
I thought about ways of developing this technique. My final
experiment (up to this point) was to take three separate
photographs in which the movement of the laser pointer is
both different and directed from a different angle. Then
I changed the output of two of the resulting images to green
and blue respectively before combining the three images
to form the white-light image again.
My
thinking was that different colours of laser light would
be evident in the image, occasionally coming together to
produce three new tones when two beams combine and producing
white light when the three beams intersect. The technique
seems to be a partial success. Ultimately, the random element
of waggling a laser pointer through glass is imprecise in
the same way that flinging a pot of paint over a canvas
is imprecise - you know roughly what you're trying to achieve
and why you're doing it but you're also apt to make a lot
of mess and may not get what you expected. Repetition of
the same technique may produce startlingly different results. |
In
any case, I like the outcome of this experiment, although it is
reminiscent of some kind of nightclub advertising - maybe I should
try other glass objects. Again, I actually prefer the inverse
of the same image. It makes me think of paint trapped inside solid
glass, somehow leaking into the surroundings.
___________________________________________
22/11/04
Disaster!
Well,
not so bad really. I was full of enthusiasm, getting ready to
work on the big acrylic beast again. Over the weekend, I moved
it onto my home made easel (basically a huge thick slab of hardboard)
and, while my back was turned, the entire painting slowly keeled
over and crashed face-first onto the floor. The side of it caught
the edge of the piece of glass I use as a palette for oil and
smashed it to bits. The wooden supports glued to the back of the
painting came undone with the bending of the hardboard. Actually,
maybe they were already partially undone and that's why it toppled
- hadn't thought of that.
Anyway,
I got off light - the supports can be glued back on and there
was miraculously no damage to the painted surface of the image.
It could have been so much worse - my heart was certainly in my
throat just after I heard the crash.
So,
there I was, all geared up to get my teeth back into that thing
and get it finished and now I have to wait two days while the
repairing glue does its job. I've got it now, face down on the
carpet with a load of books pressing down on the timber to help
it stick firmly. Meanwhile, the easel is reproachfully blank.
| |
waiting...
|
I'm
so tempted to grab a new canvas and just start something, just
to satisfy the urge to make something, anything - I'm that twitchy.
I'm amusing myself with taking some late night panoramic shots
of the city and experimenting with slow shutter speeds, glasses
of water and laser pointers. Hurry up, glue!
___________________________________________
17/11/04
I'm
glad I finished that big painting when I did. I'm moving out of
here in a few weeks and I really had to stop adding big swathes
of oil to that thing otherwise it wouldn't dry in time and I would
never be able to transport it anywhere. Having made space on my
home-made easel, I've actually hung the painting on the wall to
dry. That'll stop me from making any "afterthought alterations".
So
finally, I'm going to get this acrylic thing completed. A few
more weeks should see it done. By then I'll have blistered fingers,
a paintbrush in splinters and I'll be standing knee deep in paint-stained
masking tape. This is why a traditional oil painting was a welcome
break. I created a particular technique of using acrylic, finely
blended by multiple rapid jabs of the brush onto a hard surface
to produce a slightly textured airbrush effect. Varying the dilution
and consistency of the acrylic, I can produce a variety of texture
and glaze effects. Then I started using masking tape to create
crude stencils. The image then builds up in a series of layers,
not dissimilar to using the marquee selection tools and layers
in photoshop. Because of the "pointy" nature of this
painting style, I affectionately named it "pointyism".
At the time, I had also been very taken with Steve Martin's poem
from The Man With Two Brains. Kept me giggling for weeks.
Oh pointy birds,
Oh pointy pointy,
Anoint my head,
Anointy-nointy.
Genius.
I've
spent years since, refining the technique - learning to cut shapes
in the correct brand of masking tape with a craft knife, diluting
the acrylic to varying degrees without letting water soak under
the tape, trimming the brushes to produce a finer blending. The
results are rewarding but painfully slow. I've never attempted
a pointyism painting on this scale before - it has been a labour
of love but I don't think I'll be attempting another image in
quite this level of detail for awhile. Like many so-called practical
innovations in my art, pointyism falls into the category of "interesting
but inconvenient". Other notables in this category include
painting on MDF and using my own hair clippings as a texturing
agent - bad idea.
Good
to see Langlands & Bell are shortlisted for the Turner this
year. Their work is highly intellectual and very much ballerina
for the London elite, but I do admire them. It makes me smile
that an interactive rendering of Bin Laden's house has caught
the judges' eye - presumably not many of them are familiar with
the world of 3D games engines. I've long been an admirer of just
what companies like ID and Raven can produce - I even produced
a series of acrylic and collage works inspired by Quake some
years ago, entitled: Its
Amazing What They Can Do. As works of art, the people
that actually develop the engines and create environments are
some of the most skilled artists around as I'm sure Langlands
& Bell are well aware.
___________________________________________
16/11/04
I've
just finished updating the easelcam page - happy to say I've finished
the large oil painting based on the New York sketch. I'm pleased
with it for a number of reasons. Well, first of all, I like the
way it looks of course. But I started work on this piece promising
myself that I wouldn't get bogged down in it. If I found myself
hesitating over a particular facet of the image I would try to
move on swiftly and intuitively.
Being
able to stick to that plan is a big deal. I've completely ground
to a halt on some paintings in the past. There's nothing worse
than planning to do an afternoon's hard work only to find myself
staring at the canvas for three hours, pacing around the room,
drinking tea and listening to Radio 4. This painting has been
completed relatively quickly - taking into account the scale and
medium.
Like
most of my work, I knew instinctively that I was nearing completion
when the final elements seemed to tumble into place without me
having to think about it too hard. This painting was supposed
to be a break - a brief excursion back into traditional territory
before returning to the painstaking acrylic cityscape that I've
been working on for pretty much throughout this year.
A
ridiculous amount of time to be working on a painting - I'm going
to try to get it done by Christmas. Here's hoping.
___________________________________________
14/11/0
The
latest large scale painting I've been working on features tall,
slab-like structures, inspired by the skyscrapers of New York
City. Indeed, the basic outline and underpainting was lifted from
a very quick and scrappy sketch I did sitting in Central Park.
The portrayal of bright light hitting buildings is such a common
theme to much of my painting that I've recently begun identifying
common elements to how lighting informs the geometry of my cityscapes.
Below
are two examples of a geometric exercise within photoshop to study
the effects of lighting and shadow within a hypothetical city.
In the left image I produced a cross-section view of the city
being lit from the top left corner. As can be seen, the taller
structures (represented in green) cast a more dominant shadow.
In the second image this aerial view shows that the taller structures
increasingly filter out direct lighting with the result that there
are seemingly random shafts of light that less frequently gain
access to the nondescript, smaller buildings elsewhere in the
city.
In
the aerial view, the buildings make me think of some sort of particulate
matter held in suspension like light shining through sand held
in perspex, or some kind of tainted crystalline material.
In
the narrow streets and great avenues of Manhattan, I felt that
my traditional experience of light was being challenged on a grand
scale. I was lucky enough to be out and about in the city in a
very sunny September, gawping like an idiot. Shadows could be
sharp and indistinct by turns, giant megalithic structures could
lurk improbably in darkness, and the murkiest and grubby little
alleyways could bloom small yet startling islands of dawn sunlight.
I hadn't even begun to take into account the reflective properties
of some of the more modern glass skyscrapers. The passage of the
sun across the sky was rarely visible but the progression of shadows
across neighbouring buildings marched relentlessly.
In
the top right portion of the painting currently underway, I have
represented the largest structures as being almost triumphantly
lit from one angle while holding the stark shadow of the city
on the adjoining face. Something of the crystalline imagery definitely
seems apparent to my eye although I'm not sure it was intentional.
This representation of a sunlit city will hopefully be complemented
on the same canvas by a murky, damp implication of rain. It remains
to be seen if the combination works. I worry that the painting
will become too busy and blatantly cubist. The square canvas allows
a neatly halved composition and lends itself well to playing about
with the sharp angles of buildings. I really don't know how the
whole thing will turn out yet - it'll be an odd painting for me.
I've
done a lot of work on the painting this weekend, but I'm getting
wary of over-absorbing myself in it and thus spoiling it. This
painting was supposed to be a break, a chance to fling some paint
on a canvas without a care in the world - instead I've produced
a load of sharp angles and straight lines with almost the same
attention to detail as the big acrylic work. Oh well.
___________________________________________
05/11/04
I've
had the great pleasure of creating a tattoo design for someone
again.
Sending
jpegs about the net is fun and displaying work on this site brings
a certain thrill too. Better still is the feeling of knowing that
someone wants to hang a print or original work of yours on their
wall. There's also huge gratification in creating a custom made
piece of body art for someone. Think about it, someone is prepared
to let you use his or her own body as a canvas. Also, you get
to work and consult with someone, refining the design until it
is exactly what they desire. Can a painting ever be so tailored
- even a portrait? Probably not and probably just as well.
This
time, I was working on a design that was inspired by an image
taken from a wine bottle - a lion and the sun together. I started
working on a series of rapid sketches, trying a variety of different
styles and concepts until the lion's posture looked natural even
though it had to be simplified for the outline.
Eventually,
the image took shape and I neatened it up digitally, trying to
ensure that the line work was thick enough to translate onto the
skin without distorting the image. From this image, photoshop
allows experimentation with shading techniques and colour. Hopefully,
this will allow her to try out different colour schemes and shadowing
effects. I'll be curious to see what she opts for in the end.
Arafat
was in a coma last night - then pronounced brain dead, then mysteriously
came back to life, then died and recovered another four times
during the night, was blessed by George W Bush before dying and
recovering once more - the media are putting out a lot of confused
messages. It reminds me of the early eighties when the Soviet
Union seemed to go through eight new leaders in one afternoon.
___________________________________________
03/11/04
I've
been advised in the past that it can be beneficial to keep a journal
throughout the process of creating new art. Apparently there is
some benefit to organising thoughts and keeping track of new developments
on paper. I'm unconvinced but also willing to give it a go. Writing
here seems to make more sense to me - at least this way there
is an audience, albeit blessedly anonymous. Otherwise, what's
the point? I'd never read what I write anyway and at least this
way I can get some feedback.
So,
what's going to appear here and is it worth reading? Well, to
be honest, I don't know. I'm going to try to talk about my art,
what I'm working on, what it might mean, and any thoughts on future
work. I'll be referring to a variety of external influences and
pointing to them via the web. the green section on the right will
contain more formal writings that I'm working on for a variety
of purposes - these include cathartic ranting, examples of creative
writing and stabs at journalism.
It
seems fitting that any creative urges I might have are very unpredictable
and unfocused at the moment. I'm working simultaneously on large
format works in oil and acrylic, figurative and abstract. Hard
to stay focused when the train I was on today was shot at by someone
in Fife. No joke - broken glass and everything. The girl sitting
closest to the window was very upset and the police took statements
from the handful of people on the carriage before they let us
off. Other notable confusing and distracting events of today include
viewing a variety of grim slides depicting advanced adenocarcinoma,
dropping a plate on my foot and finding out that Bush won the
election.
Here's
a puzzle - follow the arguments...
- The US president firmly and vocally believes in the existence
of a God.
- Regardless of faith, the majority of the world's population
pray to prevent US president's re-election.
- US president is re-elected.
Possible explanations:
1. There is no God.
2. God is deaf.
3. God is a Neo-Conservative
4. God hates us all.
So,
alas - more pre-emptive military intervention, more division,
more fundamentalist christianity in the seat of power, and of
course, less Kyoto - four more years... time for bed.
