1. Settled for ‘hopelessly pretentious’ for my 200 word artist statement. SORRY.

    Who in public shall express the unseen adequately? It is private life that holds out the mirror to infinity; personal intercourse, and that alone, that ever hints at a personality beyond our daily vision.
    — E M Forster

    “I have come to realise that the thing which interests me most is the concept of the ‘in between’. There are imagined spaces; virtual worlds, dream worlds and the world wide web, intangible things which can be impossibly huge, but perceived by different measures than physical space. And there is the space between ourselves and everything else, the fundamental truth that we will never know what it is like to be someone else, to occupy their cell structures. The camera is not an adequate record of experience. So how best to represent it? And the recurring patterns and symmetry in systems illustrated in science and maths which can be found at every scale and which we crave as a means of defining our experience. To link ourselves to the rest of existence, to rationalise and try to reduce that intangible gap.

    There is an imaginary space that is between me and everyone else, between you and everyone else, between everyone and everyone else, and I would like to talk about it. The space in between.”

     
  2. An excerpt from last month’s Reflective Journal, I’m making a statement about my work for an exhibition so I thought I’d dredge it up while it’s still semi-fresh.

    Diane Arbus exhibition, Jeu de Paume, Paris

    Despite her being famous for photographing the margins of society, the social outliers and the freaks, these are not my favourite of her works, particularly from the perspective of inspiring my own work and thought processes. My favourites of hers are those that document the in-between places, the unrealities and facades which are simple images but expose something about the nature of our society.

    An empty movie theater, N.Y.C. 1971

    Clouds on a Screen at a Drive-in, N.J. 1960


    I’m not sure what it is that draws me initially to image-within-an-image photographs. I think maybe it is as simple as the quality it gives the photographs, the difference in texture between a print and a photo of a print. I worked with it myself in my series of projections, layered images composed of two projector outputs on a corner wall and then photographed, that photograph being a final outcome as much as a byproduct of needing to document the work. Whether digital or analog projection, there is an interesting quality to the image.


    I found this quote (by Arbus) particularly apt:

    “They are the proof of something that was there and no longer is.
 Like a stain. And the stillness of them is boggling.
 You can turn away but when you come back they’ll still be there looking at you.”


    There is something particularly keenly felt in a still image of a picture which should be moving. There is the context that is instantly obvious, just from clues like the style of seating, the image onscreen, the all-but extinct drive in cinema. The stillness is absolutely boggling.

    In her photographs of films with womens’ faces in, Carroll Baker onscreen in ‘Babydoll’ etc, they are exceptions to the general rule in my interest in the depiction of people in art. While there is plenty of art that features people or faces or bodies in whatever way, it isn’t something I can imagine ever doing very often myself, certainly not as the focal subject of the piece. It doesn’t occur to me to, I don’t find it interesting or at least I don’t have anything I think is worth saying. People are fundamentally disappointing; much better to make a piece of idealism or beauty which isn’t quite real, which can’t be so neatly cut down by the banality of existence. Patterns and nature, our behaviour as part of a system holds much more interest and relevance to me.


    But these photos are not about the woman in the film, they are abstracted and blurred and they are about the artificiality of the scene (cinematic), frozen within a scene (cinema), suspended moments of a place which doesn’t really exist, on the level that this is an actress in a story and that story is being shown to people who congregate to momentarily forget their own lives to submit to an artificial one and to be entertained. It’s a created image of an experience, it is not the real experience. Layers of artificiality. The composition and contrast is also stunning.

    Kiss from “Baby Doll”, N.Y.C. 1956

    Some of her object-based photographs also expose facades, almost, failed and not-quite images like many of the characters she photographed. I love the gaudy failed glamour and surprise they contain. Even though they are failed and faded, they are still somehow quite beautiful, some of the attempted mystery is maintained and there is a beauty in the effort made by whomever pasted these landscapes onto their walls in an attempt to bring some of the mystique of the images to their own small corners of the world. They are sad, and frail, these are photographs of a bygone era and the buildings these photographs were taken in are probably no longer standing.

    “I don’t know what good composition is…. Sometimes for me composition has to do with a certain brightness or a certain coming to restness and other times it has to do with funny mistakes. There’s a kind of rightness and wrongness and sometimes I like rightness and sometimes I like wrongness.”

    A lobby in a building, N.Y.C. 1966

    New York skyline in a lobby, N.Y.C. 1971

    A castle in Disneyland, Cal. 1962

    House On A Hill, Hollywood, CA. 1963

     
  3. Reflective Journal

    5th February

    Tour of smaller Parisian galleries


    “This occasion mainly holds merit as a discussion point only because I found it so utterly, utterly depressing and enraging. I saw lots of very bad, lazy, ideologically empty, boring, poorly constructed and expensive pieces of art. I saw lots of presumably affluent but vacuous gallery owners extol the beauty of large square grey paintings which said “Lavatory, Laboratory” and “Spirit, Fuck, Painting” in large point Helvetica. It was hateful and I hope I am never part of it unless I am offered a truly colossal sum of money, in which case I will use it to employ a private contractor to terminate Damien Hirst and donate the rest to charitable causes.”

    Just a small sample of my charming polemic against pretty much everything which is due in around about 8 hours’ time. Potential titles so far including, “Sunday, Bloody Sunday”, “It’s All Happening!”, “Youth Hostelling With Chris Eubank” with an accompanying photo series & details of Parisian hostel experiences (Alan Partridge references), “IN Which I Bitch About Contemporary Art, Gallery Culture, Technology & General Incompetence of People” or simply, “Mein Kampf”

     
  4. Yesterday evening I went to this exhibition at the Fondation Cartier, a stunning piece of architecture.

At either side there is only one sheet of glass between you and a grassy space, no building, and then behind that houses on other streets, a beautiful shock when you look past all the reflections and realise.

The exhibition inside managed to be, for me, simulataneously a little hit and miss and also very inspirational. The list of artists involved was impeccable (David Lynch and Patti Smith, most notably) and the contributions from the mathematicians perfectly measured, imparting enough knowledge and passion in simple enough terms for the layman to comprehend. Maths and science is beautiful, and there should be more of it in art. There is no purer kind of beauty than that which is naturally occurring, exposed by genius and by chance.
The art involved, however, was somewhat lacking. It represented a frustration I have with a lot of art that ventures into the sciences: it was too literal, too simplistic. It amounted to an enlarged spider diagram occupying a wall and detailing important mathematical discoveries through the ages, and a paper collage featuring miniature representations of phenomena which equations can be applied to: a parrot for Bernoulli’s flight principle, Morphogenesis and the predictabilty of animal patterns by a jaguar, a flame for Diffusion principle. There was an animated version showing the physical phenomena which various principles can be applied to and then their equations, but much too quick for the viewer to properly comprehend them. It was all a bit Primary school.

David Lynch’s contribution was most disappointing of all, because I’m a big fan- Mulholland Drive is sublime, Good Day Today is a great song- but the ‘Library of Mysteries’ was a glorified powerpoint presentation (replete with naff grinding sound effects every time a book appeared onscreen) of important mathematical and scientific publications, projected in a pure white room shaped like a zero. The typography choices weren’t very good. Overhead, on a curved ceiling, was (as far as I could tell) Patti Smith sing-talking with her hands over her eyes about nothing much. It was a dreadfully clunky way of representing some of the most worthy and pure endeavours of man.

They also didn’t line up their sodding projectors properly, which seems like the most obvious thing in the world for an internationally acclaimed gallery.

The best things about the exhibition, though, the things that managed to inspire me, were the moments of pure maths without much intervention from art: interviews with mathematicians, sharing their passions and interests, and a particularly beautiful animation of Penrose tiling unfolding, projected inside a half-sphere, the curvature of which confused the eye in a lovely sort of way. I watched that for half an hour. I bought the accompanying book too, and it works much better in that form, as a structured discussion of maths which can be returned to at will.
I spent this evening reading about Entropy, Infinity, Ulam’s spiral, and iridescence. I am sure I can do a better job of incorporating these into something than some of the artists there, and if I find I can’t, I’m not going to stick it in a gallery.

    Yesterday evening I went to this exhibition at the Fondation Cartier, a stunning piece of architecture.

    At either side there is only one sheet of glass between you and a grassy space, no building, and then behind that houses on other streets, a beautiful shock when you look past all the reflections and realise.

    The exhibition inside managed to be, for me, simulataneously a little hit and miss and also very inspirational. The list of artists involved was impeccable (David Lynch and Patti Smith, most notably) and the contributions from the mathematicians perfectly measured, imparting enough knowledge and passion in simple enough terms for the layman to comprehend. Maths and science is beautiful, and there should be more of it in art. There is no purer kind of beauty than that which is naturally occurring, exposed by genius and by chance.

    The art involved, however, was somewhat lacking. It represented a frustration I have with a lot of art that ventures into the sciences: it was too literal, too simplistic. It amounted to an enlarged spider diagram occupying a wall and detailing important mathematical discoveries through the ages, and a paper collage featuring miniature representations of phenomena which equations can be applied to: a parrot for Bernoulli’s flight principle, Morphogenesis and the predictabilty of animal patterns by a jaguar, a flame for Diffusion principle. There was an animated version showing the physical phenomena which various principles can be applied to and then their equations, but much too quick for the viewer to properly comprehend them. It was all a bit Primary school.

    David Lynch’s contribution was most disappointing of all, because I’m a big fan- Mulholland Drive is sublime, Good Day Today is a great song- but the ‘Library of Mysteries’ was a glorified powerpoint presentation (replete with naff grinding sound effects every time a book appeared onscreen) of important mathematical and scientific publications, projected in a pure white room shaped like a zero. The typography choices weren’t very good. Overhead, on a curved ceiling, was (as far as I could tell) Patti Smith sing-talking with her hands over her eyes about nothing much. It was a dreadfully clunky way of representing some of the most worthy and pure endeavours of man.

    They also didn’t line up their sodding projectors properly, which seems like the most obvious thing in the world for an internationally acclaimed gallery.

    The best things about the exhibition, though, the things that managed to inspire me, were the moments of pure maths without much intervention from art: interviews with mathematicians, sharing their passions and interests, and a particularly beautiful animation of Penrose tiling unfolding, projected inside a half-sphere, the curvature of which confused the eye in a lovely sort of way. I watched that for half an hour. I bought the accompanying book too, and it works much better in that form, as a structured discussion of maths which can be returned to at will.

    I spent this evening reading about Entropy, Infinity, Ulam’s spiral, and iridescence. I am sure I can do a better job of incorporating these into something than some of the artists there, and if I find I can’t, I’m not going to stick it in a gallery.

     
  5. Simulated Life: Can art and identity survive online?

    This essay doesn’t explore the ideas I presented nearly enough, but it’s still pretty solid and useful in the ideas and artists I drew together. If you are interested in further reading I would point you in the direction of http://www.amandawasielewski.com/writing.htm, I used several of her very interesting essays.

    *

    The arrival of the world wide web and its accelerated permeation into our media, culture and daily life has changed things so suddenly that we have barely time to consider collectively about what it means for human development. As an artist and witness to this cultural shift, perhaps the most fascinating influence has been on the way we represent ourselves, and the possibilities it creates for artists and the presentation of work. Though not immediately related, as part of the network of information flowing in every direction across the connected earth, both the artwork and the identity as profile, website, blog, are subject to the same limitations of transmission, the curious concept of simulated space and the resistance from the established ‘old’ media in various forms. The different forms of information communication, artworks, messages, video, music, data, are jumbled together with the erratic viewing patterns of the average internet user. They also frequently cross paths as social media becomes a key platform for distribution of all forms of creative output and the discussion surrounding it, both high and low-brow. The relationship works both ways, with artists ‘crowdsourcing’ work, soliciting contributions from the online public to create artworks.

    Mimicry and Legendary Psychasthenia (Caillois, 1935), used the term ‘psychasthenia’ to describe how the relationship between the self and the space we exist in can be disrupted. He did so by comparing it to insect camouflage, some of which does not appear to protect the insect from harm, some markings in fact causing them greater danger. He posited that they experienced a ‘depersonalisation by assimilation into space’ in a way that humans can too- blurring the distinction between the self and the space until they merge and one is absorbed by the space, losing any sense of identity.

    In terms of rigorous scientific process, and with the development of biological and psychological theory in the intervening years, Caillois’ text is outdated. However as an ambitious piece of theory on the human mind and it’s sense of itself, it has a new and provoking relevance with the arrival of the internet. Here, we have the perfect example of the abstract but no less engrossing space in which a person could lose themselves through depersonalisation. The best example of this is the social media profile, Facebook the most common. Users are invited to share thoughts, tastes and aspirations with friends and acquaintances through a limited profile. The sum of a person is reduced to a series of photographs, lists of interests, films and books, and a chronological stream of shared content. The identity is in many ways stifled.

    In this environment it seems very possible to experience the kind of depersonalisation that Caillois described- here the user is one person amongst a ceaseless flood of predictable information. Patterns of behaviour and taste, the banality of existence becomes pronounced in the form of a Facebook live feed. At the same time as this dizzying sense of scale, we experience the alienation of communicating whilst alone, Baudrillard’s “astronaut in a bubble” from The Ecstasy of Communication (1988). We are detached from the stream of living, of occurrence happening before us, our profile is part of the furniture, something the eyes of another blankly skip over in the quest for the next distraction. Amanda Wasielewski (2010, pp27) states: “The Twitter feed and the Facebook status update are indicative of the suspension of life in lieu of representing life.” It is the paradox of the network of individuals, alone, together.

    In this way, then, we experience a kind of “disorder of spatial perception”, in that we are presented with a simulated space with no real life equivalent, despite language used to suggest otherwise- the chat ‘room’, browser ‘window’, online ‘forum’. The function of these concepts is in common with the physical equivalent, but these spaces don’t actually exist, except as strings of code transmitted globally, so we have this curious experience of existing in an intangible space which the brain struggles to rationalise in the moment, and resorts to perceiving as another real world space- the ‘disorder’.

    This homogenisation of output can be observed in creative areas online, too, if not in the upper echelons of the art world, then in the flickrs and tumblrs of amateur designers and musicians, as evidenced by the popularity and pervasiveness of the mashup, the remix, the collage of found media to create something new. Many of these sources will have been commercially successful songs and images themselves, chosen partly to ensure the success of the new creation through familiarity to the audience. The creator is suddenly and unknowingly colluding in the power of commercial media, and all the unseen wheels of corporate interest as much as creative that go to manufacture the modern commercially successful musician or designer.

    Another fundamental feature and influence of the online identity or artwork is its position as part of an unfathomably vast network. So vast, we are compelled to ‘surrender to the ecstasy of communication’, the luminous eyes which project into our private spaces. The way we allow broadcast mediums and the internet to invade our lives and minds is unparalleled. Art, as part of that network, is now reaching us at home, in bed, on the sofa, and this is drastically different to the experience in a gallery setting.

    In a gallery a work is given context and validation as a ‘proper’ piece of art, a saleable physical object with a value. It is surrounded by other artworks, curated in a neutral environment without distraction. This is a luxury which is mainly relinquished online- even a curated online exhibition on a carefully designed website cannot control the exact process of the viewer. (Barthes’ Death of the Author perfectly represented) They can swap between windows and do any number of things which might affect their individual experience of the piece, the mindset they have when they approach it, the associations they might make, which aren’t present in a physical gallery space. There is no obligation to look at the piece for more than a microsecond and infinite opportunities to revisit. The colours of the screen might be calibrated incorrectly, or the screen too small. They must conceive new ways of adapting to the situation.

    The internet as a medium also brings a change in definition of the piece. In an online exhibition, the intangible digital image, as the thing displayed in its proper context, becomes what Vierkant (2010) terms an “image-object”, as important as a physical piece of art, but now liable to infinite reproduction. It has no physical value, and every reproduction is of equal status to the original. It can be easily distributed with or without the permission of the artist and the details of the original creator are easily separated as it traverses blogs and articles. Lack of consequence and the desire to claim ownership and acclaim from an image by sharing it mean that in many thousands of personal blogs particularly, authors are unscrupulous in the crediting of artworks.

    The ease with which creative works can be appropriated has lead to a swathe of flawed legislation attempts and much critical discourse on what should be done to protect the author, and what rights they have as creators. Many of the ‘old media’ giants of film, music and press treat the internet with fear and contempt, hoping to prevent its progress in order to protect financial interests rather than attempt to embrace it- their protestations appear increasingly unreasonable. Since the arrival of widespread internet access the tide has irrevocably turned on the old, inefficient systems of distribution which favoured the corporation, and the creative individual is beginning to find means of income online where the old media claimed was only indiscriminate ‘theft’ of content. US comedian Louis CK is a recent success story, independently offering a live show download for $5 without DRM, against the advice of distribution companies. It has now earned him a million dollars.

    All of these implications mean the work which has made most successful use of the internet as a medium so far is the interactive piece, which requires the viewer’s contribution and implicit involvement in the work. This taps into a movement which has become popular in recent years- the idea of ‘crowdsourcing’. Jeff Howe introduced the term in 2006 to refer to the idea of someone making an open call for help or submissions from the public to aid a project. The idea is that if the audience is big enough, menial tasks can be completed efficiently with a small effort from many, and members with specialist skills can be located more easily than through traditional methods. The work is completed for free on the basis that the participant sees the value of the project in some form or in the hope of renumeration if their creation is selected by a company fielding submissions.

    This is a business model which deserves criticism in many instances for devaluing the skilled labour of creation- those not selected by a company in whatever capacity receive no reward for their work, in opposition to the traditional commission model where a company employ a creative on the basis of past work and pay them whether the outcome is used or not. The internet facilitates this devaluation by the volume of labourers connects- there will always be someone available to complete the work to a reasonable standard for less, the downside (for the creative) of a global network.

    One of the most successful (and less exploitative) examples of crowdsourcing is the project Learning To Love You More, a collaboration between Miranda July, Harrell Fletcher, Yuri Ono and members of the public worldwide. It comprised a website and a series of exhibitions of work made by the public in response to assignments given by the artists. The assignments were instructions such as, “Make an exhibition of the art in your parent’s house” and “Feel the news”, and the project attracted 8000 participants during its 7 year duration. In their own words, “the prescriptive nature of these assignments was intended to guide people towards their own experience.”

    The success of the project in attracting participants stemmed from a combination of the tasks requiring just enough effort to feel a sense of achievement, and their charm in encouraging the participant to do something out of the ordinary in aid of a greater cause. There is also a degree of exhibitionism involved, with the participant knowingly having a captive audience for their submission through the involvement of the artists.

    Amanda Wasielewski (2010, pp12) suggested that despite the voluntary nature of the projects, “The underlying exploitation here is similar to the exploitation that occurs on Web 2.0 sites generally.” That is, the artists compelled members of the public to generate free content which was then presented as a project authored by the artists. I disagree; I don’t think the project could have been more sensitive in its desire to invoke reflection in the participant and to benefit further than just the exhibition of something they produced. Realistically there will be few, if any, artworks of any form which genuinely and tangibly change someone’s life: invoking the participant to view and approach the minutiae of existence slightly differently, more positively, as this project endeavoured to, is perhaps the best an artist can hope for. This, coupled with the sense of earnest community the project developed, the documentation of the tiny variations within the banal, make this project a beautiful reflection of human experience both in real life and and online.

    Learning to Love You More represents many of the benefits of the internet and the positive involvement it can have in peoples’ lives, far from the cynical interpretations of our reaction  to intangible space and unlimited communication posited by Caillois and Baudrillard. Both interpretations keenly distance the simulated world of the internet from the real one, but the reality is less defined. Though the online world we navigate is conceptually one we struggle to comprehend, it is still one where people are broadly ‘themselves’- an extension of real life. Though there are of course many opportunities for a user to fabricate an online persona, in the burgeoning sector of social medias such as Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr, the majority of users will share their real name, a small photograph and a description of themselves. (Indeed, Facebook requires accounts to be genuine, though this is hard to enforce.) The user has control over what aspect of themselves they project, so we see a kind of ‘edited’ reality, but it is by no means a fiction and is, pragmatically speaking, just a development of the ways we project idealised versions of ourselves in real life: appearance, the company we keep, where and what we spend time on.

    Having established that our presence on social media does not appear to be motivated by escapism, it is easier to see the internet and the way we have colonised a lot of it as simply an extension of our real-life behaviours. Learning to Love You More invited the user to share something about their life, to reacknowledge the specialness of existence- the self-affirmation that can be found in the commonality of shared experience juxtaposed with the entirely unique experience of every person in existence.

    Twitter, at its best, serves as a simple way to share brief pieces of information, humour, opinion and other media, to generate discussion, and mainly to pass the time a little faster. It is a social leveller, with celebrities who might have been portrayed as inaccessible by old media now sharing parts of their lives just the same as friends and colleagues. The tired trope spun by the media of its use purely to inform the world of what you had for breakfast is not really true- mundane tweeters don’t get followers. Overall there is nothing radically different here from the ‘old media’ equivalent of phoning a friend to share a joke, or the content of regular conversation- except now these can also be shared with friends who live abroad or simply likeminded strangers. Fundamentally, humans enjoy sharing things, and services like Twitter and Tumblr, which have so far broadly resisted the lure of intrusive but lucrative advertising, and share a vaguely liberal sensibility opposing censorship (including SOPA, the law currently passing through American Congress which seeks to censor sites without due process and has attracted the opposition of the majority of internet users) means they are pretty benign services to employ.

    Another respect in which social media may appeal to us is the need to find our place in society, to find a community of like-minded individuals in which we can feel accepted and validated. Twitter, Tumblr and Last.fm allow the user to make connections with strangers based on common ground- the endless chain of links woven between people, their output, and other people, facilitate a journey which allows loose communities to form based around any interest imaginable, and to enrich their lives in the knowledge that whatever they think, someone somewhere will fervently agree. In this way the notion of identity is perhaps strengthened by the increased presence.

    The theory that a Facebook profile is the homogenisation of personality, as suggested by Merrin- “What one hopes will add to one’s distinction only adds to one’s depersonalisation: how many images of friends posing with drinks are there already on Facebook?”1 - holds merit, but again does not take into consideration its relation to real world behaviour. Exactitudes, an ongoing project by Ari Versluis and Ellie Uyttenbroek, presents a collection of portraits of people grouped by every conceivable demographic, exposing the uniform we all adopt, knowingly or not. A truly unique individual is either fantastically rare or nonexistent. We might be uncomfortable in this knowledge, but Exactitudes illustrates that we are guilty of it in real life just as online, and so while a social media profile does inevitably limit how well we can express ourselves, more so than in real life, it is still not a flaw peculiar to online representation that should necessitate rejection of the medium.

    The internet, despite its growing artist subculture and new avenues of exploration, (or perhaps because of) is yet to become an established medium. There are a number of differences which will have to be adapted to or accepted before we can expect to see a market for ‘internet art’ like other media. Stallabrass (2010, pp165) notes, “Art history— in the paradox of an art history of the contemporary— is still one of the necessary conduits through which works must pass as they move through the market and into the security of the museum.” The internet embodies the opposite of values the established art holds dear- it is uncensored, egalitarian in the way media is deemed ‘successful’- based on pageviews, not the opinions of a few commentators, and lots of it is free to consume, severely limiting its interest to the profit-hungry art world. It is the arena of the everyman, free of the exclusivity of conventional markets, at least in theory.

    It lacks a conventional means of exhibition, it defies categorization and most of its pieces lack an inherent value because they have no physical form. If the art world continues in its current form there is unlikely to be any place for internet art in the mainstream because it can’t be monetized. It also removes the sense of mystery and grandeur a piece exhibited in a gallery can infer through solemn display and reputation- online it has to compete for attention with memes, lolcats, videos of baby sloths, every kind of lowbrow entertainment. It also suffers insignificance amongst the volume of output generated online, which is far greater than that of the insular and selective art world.

    Internet art perhaps has more in common with other online movements than the mainstream art world- the Open-source movement, promoting free distribution and open development of software and electronics amongst other applications, and the Creative Commons organization which seeks to resolve the middle ground between maintaining ownership of an image and freedom of distribution.

    With internet access in the Western world rapidly approaching the inescapable, it seems impossible that the traditional art world will be able to continue rejecting Internet Art indefinitely. Increasing numbers of artists are addressing the medium and responding through it, and the internet is concurrently changing consumer attitudes to the value of media and forcing media industries to change their dated systems of profit and distribution. We have experienced alternative methods of distribution through the internet which are fairer and cheaper for artist and consumer and don’t need corporate representation at all, and that movement is gaining momentum. The individual is at the heart of this, the online identity now the primary distributor of art and media.

    Art will surely not escape this global reevaluation as artists expand to all forms of digital production. For the moment, internet art exists on the fringe of culture, waiting patiently to be accepted by the mainstream art world, but in the near future the notion of art history and the market may be forced to adjust just as much in order to survive in the digital world. As for the online identity- it will surely become more prominent as everything evolves around it. We only risk losing ourselves if we lose sight of what is real. If our media profile is sterile, it is immaterial. It is just a means of reaching new, imagined spaces, we are safe as long as it is the not the goal. And the wealth of knowledge instantly available with the internet means the notion of a knowledge specialist is moving towards obsoletion. Instead we have moved into an age of curation of knowledge, and art, by the individual.

     
  6. I have a huge collection of images I took while we were driving across France, and videos, I am so glad my newer SLR captures video because sometimes the mesmerising preciousness of a moment is not captured in a still image, I can’t remember it. The way I use photos is developing, they are becoming notes and sketches as much as images to use, things are things captured to think about later or to draw later. I have always used images to capture memories, there is something lovely about the chronology of a recorded journey and the thoughts it triggers, but I have never thought so consciously about how important it is to record and remember, and what the best way is to do so, how best I might use it later.
I recently watched The Diary of David Holzman at a screening at school, and it was serendipitous in the way it addressed the need to capture and record our lives just as I was thinking of it, asking whether capturing a true experience is possible or if film and photography come out as flat, false records, which only serve to expand the collossal gap we feel (I feel, I presume everyone else feels it) between our personal experience and everyone else’s, instead of narrowing it.
There is something fascinating about recording different perspectives of the same moment, and being able to revisit them presented in different ways. I haven’t yet been able to decide exactly why I like it, but it struck me a lot this holiday as we drove across France to the Alps and I recognised various sets of pylons and bridges from last year’s photographs, and captured them again, the same structures in new photographs, the same but also different. The same happened in a moment in the film where David is filming his girlfriend and asks her to take photograph of him filming, which then appears in the film for a few seconds before returning to the David’s perspective through the camera. I thought the same when I took cameras up the mountains to photograph them and found myself standing only metres or centimetres away from where I had stood in previous years, already having these images stored on my hard drive, but compelled to take more very similar images in case there was some brilliant composition I had missed before (I’ve found it’s very hard to take a remarkable photograph of mountains. The view is so beautiful the compositions are often obvious and gorgeous without my intervention and there is little to be done to improve them. I persist anyway.) I think this partly stems back to this need to capture everything, the fear that even as we record our lives more and more with digital tools, life and the true record is slipping away from us. As I look through the images I did take now, I think of other shots I could have taken, things I should have tried, moments that have been lost and are now inaccessible.
Perhaps all this pleases me because it introduces more sense of perspective to a moment, when you can see it from different angles through time or physical position in space. Perhaps that is what I should be looking for in making new pieces, some way to represent separate experiences simultaneously, and not jarringly. Certainly my only interest in any kind of installation work before has been the idea of creating an experience, not just an image. There is something lacking in a projector atop a white column shining on a wall. There is more to remember when you are enveloped.
And there is question of the best way to record things: is it better to be factually correct or to represent the individual experience, skewed as it is by memory, time and personal opinion? How big is the space in between? What is the best way to represent it? One of my favourite moments from the film was a part where David set the camera in front of the television and recorded everything he watched, a new frame every time there was significant change in the shot on screen. The effect was mesmerising. One of my new habits, fascinations recently is the notion of using arbitrary statistics to measure time, borne of my tiny home-anchored brain attempting to rationalise 4 months spent in a foreign country. It is only equivalent to 3 hair dyes, 4 trips home, 5 megashops at the supermarket.
All this rosy commentary ignores, of course, the fact that the film, which seems engrossingly genuine, is a fake, acted and part-scripted. It is a lesson for angsty creatives (probably me) in how just because the camera is filming, it does not mean perfect, fascinating truth will automatically pour forth. And it is an effective lesson, but it is not the part that interests me most. I am still interested in how best to record and share an experience and the attempts made in this film, though it serves in many ways as an example of how not to do it, which traps to avoid as the young creative in a world where every thought has been covered and revisited a hundred times.
It also made me think of this quote, which I’ve posted before:

“The true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever.  The true life takes place when we’re alone, thinking, feeling, lost in memory, dreamingly self-aware, the submicroscopic moments.”- Don DeLillo

How to link all these things that make up human experience together? What we see, our thoughts as we perceive it, the numerous distortions and influences? There must be some way to represent it, a better way than what’s been covered so far.
And last semester I wrote an enjoyable essay on the internet and the way we present ourselves, and art, online, the idea of the ‘simulated self’,  an exaggeration of the distance between all things when we are reduced to terminals sending and receiving data. I might post so it is recorded here, so it is altogether. It is all about the same things.
There is an imaginary space that is between me and everyone else, between you and everyone else, between everyone and everyone else. The space in between.

    I have a huge collection of images I took while we were driving across France, and videos, I am so glad my newer SLR captures video because sometimes the mesmerising preciousness of a moment is not captured in a still image, I can’t remember it. The way I use photos is developing, they are becoming notes and sketches as much as images to use, things are things captured to think about later or to draw later. I have always used images to capture memories, there is something lovely about the chronology of a recorded journey and the thoughts it triggers, but I have never thought so consciously about how important it is to record and remember, and what the best way is to do so, how best I might use it later.

    I recently watched The Diary of David Holzman at a screening at school, and it was serendipitous in the way it addressed the need to capture and record our lives just as I was thinking of it, asking whether capturing a true experience is possible or if film and photography come out as flat, false records, which only serve to expand the collossal gap we feel (I feel, I presume everyone else feels it) between our personal experience and everyone else’s, instead of narrowing it.

    There is something fascinating about recording different perspectives of the same moment, and being able to revisit them presented in different ways. I haven’t yet been able to decide exactly why I like it, but it struck me a lot this holiday as we drove across France to the Alps and I recognised various sets of pylons and bridges from last year’s photographs, and captured them again, the same structures in new photographs, the same but also different. The same happened in a moment in the film where David is filming his girlfriend and asks her to take photograph of him filming, which then appears in the film for a few seconds before returning to the David’s perspective through the camera. I thought the same when I took cameras up the mountains to photograph them and found myself standing only metres or centimetres away from where I had stood in previous years, already having these images stored on my hard drive, but compelled to take more very similar images in case there was some brilliant composition I had missed before (I’ve found it’s very hard to take a remarkable photograph of mountains. The view is so beautiful the compositions are often obvious and gorgeous without my intervention and there is little to be done to improve them. I persist anyway.) I think this partly stems back to this need to capture everything, the fear that even as we record our lives more and more with digital tools, life and the true record is slipping away from us. As I look through the images I did take now, I think of other shots I could have taken, things I should have tried, moments that have been lost and are now inaccessible.

    Perhaps all this pleases me because it introduces more sense of perspective to a moment, when you can see it from different angles through time or physical position in space. Perhaps that is what I should be looking for in making new pieces, some way to represent separate experiences simultaneously, and not jarringly. Certainly my only interest in any kind of installation work before has been the idea of creating an experience, not just an image. There is something lacking in a projector atop a white column shining on a wall. There is more to remember when you are enveloped.

    And there is question of the best way to record things: is it better to be factually correct or to represent the individual experience, skewed as it is by memory, time and personal opinion? How big is the space in between? What is the best way to represent it? One of my favourite moments from the film was a part where David set the camera in front of the television and recorded everything he watched, a new frame every time there was significant change in the shot on screen. The effect was mesmerising. One of my new habits, fascinations recently is the notion of using arbitrary statistics to measure time, borne of my tiny home-anchored brain attempting to rationalise 4 months spent in a foreign country. It is only equivalent to 3 hair dyes, 4 trips home, 5 megashops at the supermarket.

    All this rosy commentary ignores, of course, the fact that the film, which seems engrossingly genuine, is a fake, acted and part-scripted. It is a lesson for angsty creatives (probably me) in how just because the camera is filming, it does not mean perfect, fascinating truth will automatically pour forth. And it is an effective lesson, but it is not the part that interests me most. I am still interested in how best to record and share an experience and the attempts made in this film, though it serves in many ways as an example of how not to do it, which traps to avoid as the young creative in a world where every thought has been covered and revisited a hundred times.

    It also made me think of this quote, which I’ve posted before:

    “The true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever.  The true life takes place when we’re alone, thinking, feeling, lost in memory, dreamingly self-aware, the submicroscopic moments.”
    - Don DeLillo


    How to link all these things that make up human experience together? What we see, our thoughts as we perceive it, the numerous distortions and influences? There must be some way to represent it, a better way than what’s been covered so far.

    And last semester I wrote an enjoyable essay on the internet and the way we present ourselves, and art, online, the idea of the ‘simulated self’,  an exaggeration of the distance between all things when we are reduced to terminals sending and receiving data. I might post so it is recorded here, so it is altogether. It is all about the same things.

    There is an imaginary space that is between me and everyone else, between you and everyone else, between everyone and everyone else. The space in between.

     
  7. Could do with a little more optimism over realism regarding my looming trip to Paris. (I leave on January 21st. For FOUR MONTHS. at Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. I have nowhere to stay yet.)

    It is a pity that I am the happiest and most productive I have ever been in my life and now I have to leave all my friends and security and the little channels I have cultivated for myself for a foreign country. I’m having trouble thinking in terms of creative benefits, only damage limitation and how not to be very lonely.

    It will be very good for me though. I could probably do with a break from the party weekends lurching between consciousnesses and I have project ideas coming out of my ears which want long evenings of attention.

    How long is 4 months?

    4 + 4 + 4 + 4

    16 weeks

    1/3 of a year

    10,518,975 seconds

    probably not that long, really.

     
  8. I’m not sure what there is I can add to the literature and myth and adoration surrounding the Beatles and all their output as a band and as individuals, except that Martin Scorsese’s documentary on George Harrison, Living in the Material World, was beautiful and inspiring and I am so grateful that his widow and son allowed it to be made and provided all the wonderful footage and stories. I didn’t even know that much about Harrison before I watched this, but I cannot put into words how moving and important and inspirational I found it. I didn’t think for three hours while watching it.
His legacy as an artist and as a person who simply lived beautifully seems so perfect (even in its imperfections, which were probably bigger than this film showed). As someone utterly without belief in any kind of higher power, defiantly so and all the prouder of my existence for it, this is the first time I have come across a person that made me reconsider that, even for a second. The first time. I don’t know a great deal about Indian spirituality but the way his beliefs developed as he got older, informed his work; the struggle to balance the two worlds he was so heavily a part of, the glimpses of perfection when it did work, made sense in a way that I have never experienced before. A new avenue of reading and learning awaits.
“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger,    I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.” 
- Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

    I’m not sure what there is I can add to the literature and myth and adoration surrounding the Beatles and all their output as a band and as individuals, except that Martin Scorsese’s documentary on George Harrison, Living in the Material World, was beautiful and inspiring and I am so grateful that his widow and son allowed it to be made and provided all the wonderful footage and stories. I didn’t even know that much about Harrison before I watched this, but I cannot put into words how moving and important and inspirational I found it. I didn’t think for three hours while watching it.

    His legacy as an artist and as a person who simply lived beautifully seems so perfect (even in its imperfections, which were probably bigger than this film showed). As someone utterly without belief in any kind of higher power, defiantly so and all the prouder of my existence for it, this is the first time I have come across a person that made me reconsider that, even for a second. The first time. I don’t know a great deal about Indian spirituality but the way his beliefs developed as he got older, informed his work; the struggle to balance the two worlds he was so heavily a part of, the glimpses of perfection when it did work, made sense in a way that I have never experienced before. A new avenue of reading and learning awaits.

    “But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

    - Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

     
  9. The Colours of Infinity- a documentary about fractals by Arthur C Clarke.

    Boom, the mind explosion/expansion continues. I can’t believe I didn’t take in a basic understanding of how fractals work before- it’s like being able to see the Matrix. Why don’t people lie in fields all day long just going WOW at everything? Seriously? It’s nuts, no mind-altering substances necessary. Try the doc- it’s from 1994 and looks a little lo-fi now but the information is all there, and presented by one of the gods of sci-fi.

    It’s curious how all the things I read about and absorb seem to fall together at the right time. It’s partly confirmation bias of course, but the places I read about generative design, the fractal image that caused me to find this documentary, the liquid light visuals, the LED cubes, the book Be Here Now by Ram Dass I bought earlier about spirituality and expanded consciousness (bought mainly for the illustrations and patterns), they were all completely separate sources that all seem inextricably linked, in my head at least. It’s fascinating. I feel like there’s all these ideas floating about and every time I read something new they get a bit closer to me, and by now some of them must be touching me on the nose but I don’t quite know how to see them yet, I need to read more. And then I get bogged down with the next thing and the moment’s passed and I find myself looking for a whole new set of ideas. I should do more work.

     
  10. TODAY I BOUGHT

    A RED AND GREEN LASER

    IT DOES AWESOME SHIT LIKE THIS:

    AND THIS:

    A SMOKE MACHINE

    AND THIS:

    A strobe light!

    And Amazon are sending me vouchers with which I will buy a UV blacklight. And then my new pad will become the houseparty venue to end all houseparty venues. THE NEW HUB OF WINCHESTER.

    If I’m not very careful I will blow my own mind, what with all these goodies in the post and my LED walls. Me and Hope are going to recreate the beginning of the Pulp gig we saw last Sunday (it was amazing), I’ll put the Pulp logo up in the lights, hang a black veil in front of it, pump out loads of smoke and then blast Do You Remember the First Time?

    I am slowly acquiring every form of light emitting device possible. I have a slide projector, glow sticks, loose LEDs, star lamps, I’m in the market for an OHP too so I can do liquid projections and big drawings and things. Light makes me unnaccountably happy.

    We are going to have every kind of party in my house. We will have tea parties and dinner parties and Doctor Who parties and all-night parties and daytime patio parties and painting parties and parties where it is only me and one of my housemates and toasted sandwich parties. Then eventually I will turn into Daisy Steiner from Spaced and it will all be perfect.

    I don’t have any money now though, so I will rely on charitable donations from attending revellers.