Carnivale

This is a 'digital painting' that I completed today. Adding left/right symmetry to random phenomena always, for me, brings out faces. This form of assisted pareidolia (seeing patterns where there are none) always makes me wonder about the baroque facial recognition algorithms hard-wired into the human brain; at certain times - when rationality is weakened - even furniture can gain an expression. The world is so quickly turned in to the Beast's Castle (in the 1991 Disney movie) where every stick of furniture has a personality. And what is more, when we share our observations we often find that people will agree that, say, a certain jug looks pleased with itself, and another jug looks glum. (Indeed, it is not only in English that objects such as ceramic vessels share our anatomies; lips and feet, necks and bellies). Whether we learn all of it from experience, or have some basic physiognomy hardwired, we all infer character from appearance, and our inferences often agree.

The Trees of Whiteladies

Found Paintings

I took these digital photographs at the Bristol School of Art. This kind of suface is the result of layers and layers of accidental painting and repainting. Contriving to produce such a surface rather defeats the point, and (like the difference between distrssed furniture and an antique) often looks daft. Of course, the act of framing a section of a rich, paint-spattered environment is a powerful one. Compositional beauty (perhaps all beauty) lies in the correct application of a grid, and I am no photographer. Often, the beauty my eye finds in these found paintings in the environment relies on a semi-conscious editing out. I cannot photograph what I see.

I have a passionate attraction to all things distressed, dirty, moldy, verdigris or patinated. Looking at lichen or the cracks in leather can occupy me for hours. I think it has something to do with the scale-invariance; aerial photographs and microscopy have much in common. Staring into rockpools, I lose my sense of scale. For a feverish moment, my sense of myself expands and contracts at the same time.

I seem to loom, ballooning, yet simultaneously, vertiginiously, to dwindle down to a mote. I call this sense 'the giantiny'. Along with this scale trick, the kind of surfaces in which I find most pleasure have that quality of Leonardo's Wall (which many men have spat upon). Yet even this rich hallucinatory material does not fully explain the almost culinary attraction I have to this kind of thing. They are a feast for my eye (I have but one). On seeing such a surface in life or art, I almost need to lick my lips. Reach out and grasp with my hands. Open my mouth. I cannot fully describe the sensation, the hunger I have for the speckled surface amazes me.

I have a troubling 'Truth to Materials' Leech-style superego, which takes an offence (comic in its intesity) to material made to look like something it isn't, but in a half-arsed way. A copy of a copy. Why, for example, do cigarettes have mottled orange filters? The filters were once made of cork. Accident lazily becomes tradition. The reason such a thing as the colour of cigarette butts makes me so angry is, I hope, bcause it is emblematic of a wider trand in culture. The future becomes a thoughtless shallow copy of the mask of the past.

The Gatehouse

The Gatehouse is a hybrid image I made in 2006 from a number of digital photographs, combined mainly by abusing the Photoshop healing tool. During my late teens most of my work was made in this way, using Photoshop to combine scans, sketches and photographs to create this kind of lyrical gothica. The Gatehouse was the first such image I had made for a couple of years, and I was pleased to find that working with 'real' media (drawing and painting) had improved my Photoshop skills. Mammon and my Collapsed Notebooks notwithstanding, I have yet to return to digital imagemaking. During the next round of The A Game, my current project, there will be ample opportunity to rediscover what is possible; the progress I have made over the last few years with my penmanship will, I think, stand me in good stead when I come to experiment with web-based work. The most challenging part of this next phase will be learning about vector graphics, a whole new breed of digital techniques far removed from playing with pixels.

Dryads

From time to time I find myself drawing dryads.

Infovis

This is my first expriment with information visualization using the publically available software Many Eyes, charting simple correspondances between myself and some of my favourite artists.

The Fall of Language

This is an ink and graphite drawing on reclaimed sunbleached card. The composition was influenced, Surrealist-style, by the characteristics of the surface. Hidden within the inked swirls are the letters of the Alphabet and the Arabic numerals. The pale tower has onehundred and fourtyfour layers of assymetric bricks, hand-drawn with technical pencil.