Serpens, the despicable offspring of Typhons, devours Cupid and is attacked by Venus in a desperate attempt to free her Piscean twin from the belly of the monster, while Aires and Sagittarius, fearful and ambivalent, turn their backs. Or, random abstract shapes—your choice.
This is a rework of a piece called Finding Humor.
My aesthetic sensibilities are heavily influenced by early and mid-century modernists, and I’d love to think that they would appreciate my digital endeavors to modernize modernism. But it’s probably just as likely that that they’d consider it an abomination. No matter, here’s a high-five to Brâncuși’s ghost.
My digital process sometimes leaves behind evidence of the stresses I put the pixels through. We used to call them “jaggies” way back when I was a retoucher in the printing business. It was undesirable in the photographic type of work we did then, and I typically try to avoid or remove any of those artifacts in my artworks. This piece is full of them and I decided that they seemed to belong in this composition—so I rolled with it.
I work in the Tech industry where I’m constantly considering data, structure and patterns. At some level it all breaks down into humanly incomprehensible randomness or complexity—I’m not sure which.
I’m allowed to imagine that I have paint on my shoes and smell like turpentine.
In my 59 years on this planet I’ve seen media-based communication change pretty dramatically. I’m not sure when/where the concept of “spinning” began (maybe in the Stone Age), but it seems to have reached a new level (aka: “lying” and “deception”). It hasn’t seemed to affect person-to-person communication at the same rate, but I’m afraid it’s likely to follow a similar path.
Just about everything I do to make art on the computer could be be done by more traditional means: darkroom photograms and compositing, collage, painting and drawing—but I love the immediacy and flexibility of working in the digital medium.
Sometimes a thing is greater than the sum of its parts. Other times it’s less—which can be caused by the parts being stronger on their own, or by the whole not doing a very good job of dealing with all of its parts.
Memory is such an interesting capability. Especially, long-term memory fascinates me with our ability to dig way back and remember things that we haven’t experienced or thought about for many years. Of course, mine is full of holes.
This piece is looser than usual for me, and it was very dark while I was working on it. In the end I added some bright colors and it changed drastically and became kind of hysterical.
There’s a surprisingly short distance between being ready to give up on something, and going for it with all of your energy.
I complain about both the rapid pace of technology introduction, and the snail’s pace at which so many long-anticipated technologies are progressing. I think it has to do with the fact that far more useless things appear every day than useful things.
Here are examples of the micro-compositions I mentioned in my last post. This piece is taken from a larger piece, and then the two detail sections were taken from that. I love the idea of “infinite detail,” like what you can get with fractal algorithms. Unfortunately, fractals tend to be a little too “same” as you zoom in, and can get boring pretty quickly. And photos don’t often have enough resolution to support multiple levels of detail. My pieces are created at very high resolutions so that they support at least two levels of viewing: a macro composition, and then a number of micro-compositions that hopefully have some unique merit on their own. The applied textures may be a third level.
I tend to prefer busy compositions. They hold my interest longer as I can ponder all the micro-compositions contained within the larger context. And I like they way they make your eyes dart around finding details, patterns and inconsistencies. I like minimalist compositions as well, they just don’t keep me engaged in the same way.
I’ve considered naming my pieces with more than just a date code since I first started making them over 25 years ago. And I’ve always chosen to keep it simple and allow the viewer to interpret each piece without imposing the context of a title—until now.
I started giving titles to new work in late 2018, and later decided to retroactively title all the 2018 work since I hadn’t yet posted any of them. Now, for the first time since I’ve been making art, I can actually refer to each piece by name and remember them! That’s clearly a positive thing since I was never able to remember the names when they were just dates. But, titles “color” artwork by adding words to an otherwise purely visual object. And that’s something I’m not too keen on—at least for my own work. I’d really rather have the viewer take each piece at its visual face value alone. On the other hand, the titles can add a positive dimension to the work as long as the viewer doesn’t take them too literally.
I title the pieces after they are created, so the piece is not made to embody the concept of the title, rather the title is a reference to some (possibly insignificant) aspect of the piece that is just meaningful enough to me to allow me to remember it by name. That said, I hope the titles add a little something to the work rather than take away the freedom to interpret them on their own.
Since I haven’t posted to the blog in over a year, I’ve got a backlog of art to post and I’m still making art roughly on a weekly basis. So, my blog posts are going to be out of chronological order for a while as I post new stuff and gradually catch up on the last year’s work.
Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted any new art. I took about a seven month break from making art when I changed jobs and moved, but also fell out of the rhythm of posting to my blog and social accounts. So it’s been almost a year and half since I’ve posted anything. I’ve got a backlog of about 50-60 new pieces to post and I’ve been making new work at a pretty good pace, so I hope to be able to catch up and get back into the groove.
This piece picks up where I left off after about seven months. You may notice that it has a real title for a change! More on that later :)
There's a fine line between discipline and habit.
This piece is inspired by the the textures and tiles that adorn the buildings in Porto Portugal. I'm always struck by how a beautiful stimulating environment is at once inspirational and also a creative black hole.