Swirls

I've been playing with the 'Swirls' series for several years The first public version of it was done for an event in Boston.

The following version is placing the Swirls within the Trails series. For scale look for me- the white dot near the mid right.

This next one wasn't ready for prime time, but was a good idea- mashing up the Swirls with the Substructures series in which there are layers of pattern.

This next is my most recent in the Swirls series. It incorporates the long, harmonious strokes from the  Flow artwork.

Trail

I've been engaging the idea of 'Trails' for many years. It began when I was spending time in Mexico on a stretch of coast that had very narrow beaches. I did several attempts at working with the limitations of the location- the way that the dynamics of the water and land created alternating areas of high and low sand with the low having more space, staying wetter longer, and the high having less area wet, which dried out more quickly. It wasn't until I came across a rendering of the Aztec snake god that I found a way to meaningfully engage the beach, accessing the various changes in width of beach to work with with this undulating version of an Aztec snake

Thus started a journey of exploring the idea of a long, winding path. In this version I deconstructed the winding trail as though the canvas had been fractured and rearranged.

Here I was exploring the 'Glyphs' series in which I developed a set of characters that acted as a sort of alphabet, which evolved into a set of possible arrangements using a 5x5 grid. I placed these design symbols into the trail concept as a long, winding path of glyphs in which the top and bottom mirrored. This one was done on a narrow strip of land that was the tail end of a long finger of the edge of a bay along the Eastern side of Cape Cod. I should tell that story some time.

Cars and dogs are my nemeses. Dogs rip up the beach when they run, slide out, and dig. And cars leave unbroken, parallel lines that look like unmistakeable encroachment of modernity. I've occasionally had to run to head off an oncoming park ranger or lifeguard. Once, I arrived at a perfect, small cove just as a ranger truck rounded the bend and drove loops on it. 

However, upon closer inspection the tracks of vehicles can have a compelling quality. The treads of the tires left behind patterned grooves in the sand that had an evocative quality. I spent a bit of time deconstructing the patterns from various models of tire. I tried doing a piece in which there were treads of different patterns crossing the beach. If I can locate it, I will place it here. 

[photo of 'Treads']

 

While traveling in New Zealand, if the beach were accessible by car then there would be tire tracks on it. That was sometimes disappointing. I  seemed like the tracks were symbols of humanity and it occurred to me humanity had left its tracks all over the world. There are few places that humans have not left tracks of their presence- even if indirectly. 

Well, no need to dwell on the negative aspect of that thought. Where it did send me was thinking about was how every culture leaves its unique imprint upon its environment. I thought about the tire tracks as an expression of the local culture, which had me think about traditional art motifs as being the patterns within the track. This led to many explorations of the concept including this one while in NZ, an experience that also warrants writing about.

After returning home I did another version of a Maori-inspired trail, which I am quite pleased with. For scale, you can see me about the center as a black dot.

This one was a step beyond the discrete glyph components. I used the grid upon which the glyphs formed to create more complex arrangements.

In this one of a glyph trail I incorporated the varying line thickness of a piece I call Ribbons (a whole other line of development) to give the feeling that the line was undulating in multiple dimensions)

Here's a space-filling version of the trail. 

This Too Shall Pass

This piece speaks for itself on multiple levels. It wasn't until I had been doing this art on the beach for several years that its impermanent nature began to have an impact on me and my life. I never set out to create temporary art, though much of my art career had been spent setting up installations for dance parties that would generally last only the night. But I held on to the sculpture frames and materials so that my creations could be reformulated or setup exactly the same on a different occasion. 

But once I began creating art at the beach, I immediately had to contend with their impermanence. This didn't faze me- the act of working on the art was the reward and it became a challenge to race the tide in making my works. 

But at a certain point the deeper understanding of impermanence began to penetrate my bones. Since my art was going to be inevitably erased at some near time in some way, what the experience meant to me as I was making it became the focus. Which easily led to a perspective of how I am engaging and experiencing life in general.  Fully feeling that all things change, that all things will pass had me become more present to the experience as it was transpiring. This is exemplified in my relationship with my son for whom I have deprioritized most other things in my life in order to be part of his life as much as possible in the time he is with me. 

Nothing will last- neither the pleasure nor the pain. Hopefully this awareness can give you perseverance during the tough times, and give you permission to experience more fully the good times.

Pari Ana Te Tai

In 2016 I spent 3 months in New Zealand traveling around the coast of the north island with my wife and then 2 year old boy. I did art wherever I could. I was able to generate a couple of collaborations with Maori artists, which were the highlight of the trip.

When I go to a new country I like to research their traditional arts. I was struck by the complexity, depth and stylization of the Maori arts. I made several attempts at creating something based on what I was learning, but I realized that my efforts were falling far short, and that I was essentially 'taking' Maori art without putting in the time the craft required. 

One of the things I love about Maori art comes from the tattoo craft. When designing a tattoo for someone, the artist listens to their story- their family lineage, their family members, significant events in their life, where they are from, and so forth. Then, they develop a design that includes these elements while maintaining the traditional elements that unite all of the traditional crafts. And they do this in a way that directly and specifically works with the portion of the body where the tattoo will be placed. The first thing you notice when seeing a Maori (or other Polynesian) tattoo, is how well it works with the body- the curves of the chest, shoulder, or hip. The other layers aren't apparent until you can be taught their meaning, though the depth and complexity of the design is very clear from the first glance.

So I went in 2 directions. One was to let go of creating something that had any feel of authenticity and simply go with the inspiration I was receiving. That resulted in pieces like this (for scale look for the blueish-black dot just left of center):

The other direction was to look for opportunities for collaboration. I realized that there were far more capable artists who would do a much better job at what I was envisioning but would never be able to do myself. When I arrived at Mt Manganui (literally translated Mt. Mountain(!)), I took a drone photo of the beach at its base. Through a friend I got connected with an amazing traditional artist- someone who carves bone and wood. After telling him my intention, he decided to connect me with a man who lives in the Manganui area as it would be more respectful, and indeed authentic. The Maori are fiercely connected to their land. One of the ways they identify themselves to others is through the area they come from- the natural landforms of their tribal area. 

Through a friend I was connected with Pohe Luttenburger,  a Maori tattoo artist who was working as a bar tender. I told him my story and handed him a printout of the beach from the aerial perspective I had taken that morning. He immediately began drawing the design in the image below. We made a plan to meet him and his artist brother Rikki at the beach the next day at dawn to recreate his work. My role was to keep the design tight and maintain consistency, but otherwise I was giving the reins to the artist and his brother. Well, that day things were not in our favor- the design was off in many ways and the tide returned sooner than anticipated. We determined to try again the following day. I gave my critiques of the work so we could focus on making the next version better. 

And wow, did the next attempt strike a homerun!  Every time I look at this artwork I am blown away. It tells the story of his people in symbols- the basket weave of the tail, the heartline, the waves. When I asked him if there was a message that he wanted to impart with this artwork, he said that he wanted to spread attention to the pipis, shellfish that  were being lost in the dredging of the bay channel. 

As we were finishing, a local school of young Maori kids with teachers who were friends of the artists working with me, came by to check out the work. Here's a fuzzy video of the kids performing a haka- a traditional warrior dance- within the artwork and then here they are running through the artwork. I engaged the kids and let them try out the rakes. When they left they lined up to say good bye to me. Some said thank you, and some of them pulled my head down to give me a traditional touching of the forehead and taking a breath together. Such a beautiful ritual of greeting and parting, an intimacy on par with the hug of a loved one. I felt touched, feeling accepted. 

Through this collaboration I felt connected to the artists, to the Maori spirit, and to this amazing beach and mountain. Truly a special project that thinking about always has me feeling elated.

Disc @ Greyhound Rock

 

This piece is working with the grid technique discussed in Disc II and it is incorporating design elements from  Maori artwork as discussed in Pari Ana Te Tai. 

This area of the California coast is one I hadn't explored much. There are many pullouts with trails to the beach and one day while traveling with my camper on an overcast, somewhat drizzly day, I decided to see what this beach had to offer. 

Well, there wasn't much space to work with, but after some consideration I decided to have the design partially submerged (that's how I think about designs that merge with features of the beach- as though the design was prior to the landform that has been encroaching on the artwork over the millennia.) 

Part way through working, the dark patchy clouds let loose, and within minutes I was soaked. I retreated to my camper, changed clothes, and had some lunch. As I was sitting in the parking area considering my next move, the rain lessened and then stopped. I decided to see what was left of the artwork, and surprisingly, there was plenty still there. So...I kept going. 

I finished and was taking my photos when the clouds parted for a spell giving this dramatic scene. 

The lesson I took from this day is a reflection of how much work goes into my successes. My goal when I go out to create an artwork is a photo that can be a print that someone would want to place on their wall. That requires so much to go right- the design needs to feel worthy and not still needing further development. I need the beach and ocean to be cooperating. Once, my favorite work beach lost all of its sand overnight in a storm!). Bonus if there's good lighting which ideally means a good sunset in which the sun is not obscured by ocean clouds. So for every design that is worthy of becoming a print, there are many many more that almost made it but lacked something. What I realized is that in order to get the good images, I must be willing to brave the potential of it not working out. I was ready to write this day off due to rain, but because I braved it at first and then went back out after being chased off, I was given this image as a reward. It recontextualizes the 'failures'- the times things did not turn out right for whatever reason. It's as though there must be a certain percentage sacrificed to the gods of art in order to be rewarded- the ever-hopeful attitude.

The design itself comes from design elements I picked up while traveling and working in New Zealand. I was very influenced by the Maori design aesthetic, which I explored extensively for a few years. 

Here are two other pieces inspired by the time in Aotearoa (what the Maori call NZ).

This was done during a workshop. 

Sun

 

'Sun' is another variation that uses the circular grid, as discussed in the entry on Disc II.

It was done at an unusual location, near the outlet of a lagoon just before it joins the ocean. This patch of sand expands or shrinks according to the size of the lagoon and the height of the tide. This day was particular spacious and clean (sometimes it can be quite mucky). 

One thing that stood out for this creation was that I was joined by an elephant seal who watched me work. He/She (?) is the larger lump near the upper right corner. There is a very faint marring of the sand diagonally to the upper left where the seal dragged itself out of the water. I kept a an eye on the large beast as I worked- do not mess around with an elephant seal! But the most the seal did was lift its head above its sausage body and watch me.

Flow

I consider 'Flow' to be among my favorite works. It was also among the hardest. Not the hardest technically. What made it hard was keeping the lines smooth and flowing over such a large area. I did another version of this design the following day with a slightly different fill. 

It did not work out- in a couple of spots the curves did not feel right. In particular the largest curving form has a few curves that are a bit too steep. It throws the whole design off (for me, anyhow). 

My inspiration for the design was a book of Japanese brushwork. I wanted to replicate the feeling of brushwork flowing water. I used a previous aerial photo of the area to develop the design, having it weave amongst the boulders on the beach, making it feel as though the artwork were interacting with, or at least responding to, the physicality of the beach. 

But when working over such a large area, walking hundreds of feet in a gentle curving motion, my only guides were the features of the beach and the other lines far from me. The flowing curves of the photo make me think of an actor who seems to actually be having an experience, only to find out they had to replicate the act multiple times in front of a large crew under strange circumstances. I mean to say that 'Flow' was articifial- there was no real flow in the making of it. Yes, each curve has its flow, and I was able to get the various curves to flow together to feel unified as part of the same movement of something, but it was an act of technical skill and body sense. I feel lucky to have pulled off and captured this design as nicely as I did- and on my first try. 

So from both an aesthetic and technical work, this is among my favorites.

Disc II

 

In my many years of doing this largescale art, I have come up with many techniques for keeping it all together over hundreds of feet. When I develop a new technique, it generally inspires a slew of designs as I play with the new possibilities. In this case I am exploring circular grids and seeing what arises. 

The grid in this artwork quite complex. It is a series of expanding rings with spokes radiating out. But then each spoke has parallel lines alongside it, which creates very wide spokes. If I were to make this one again I would fill in everything that is not a line being "overlapped" in order to create a greater contact with the foreground design. 

The grid method can either be extremely time consuming as when I must set up a grid that is mostly not expressed (as in the last image below), or it can be quite quick as with the first and second image below (which is not to say that the entire design was quick to make!). Grids allow for alignment and sizing over areas that are not connected, allowing for a large spread out design to feel cohesive.

Here are more designs with grids at their core.

Portal II

 

This piece was a test of an idea that spurred its further development.

I made this one during my early years with this large-scale artform. My entry into creating this art was geometry, through which I could achieve such enormous designs in such short time. 

An issue I faced in the early years was that the geometric designs felt static- motionless and lifeless. So very soon I was looking for ways to enliven the designs. 

This design used a simple construction method to create these 'molecules'. Their various orientations give a sense of movement and the semi-overlaid circles suggesting depth.

For my next shot at this design, I shaded in portions and made different sized molecules. The big change was creating a 'mask', an overlay over the design that creates the feeling that an opening is visible to another place where these molecules are floating- hence the name 'Portal'.

Once I had the drone and could take aerial photos, I decided to take another crack at the design. The drone allows me vantage points for photography that enable me to consider the entire landscape. So instead of having a masking layer, the land form itself would be the mask- the molecules would be contained by the features of this beach. To make this piece I brought in friends who worked in groups to enact the design steps to create these elements. I gave each group a different size cord to make their design with and guided where they would work. This final piece has depth enhanced by the layering of molecules in some places. I feel complete with this line of design.

Coordinated Chaos

The Coordinated Chaos series has been a wonderful exploration into the hazy line between order and chaos. The idea of the series is that I create a framework and develop a set of design elements. Then I use a random number generator to randomly select the design elements and how they connect within the framework. 

It has been a fascinating exploration. The images appear to have patterns within them, but none really exist- just momentary alignments that the brain can focus on, but overall there is no repeating patterns. 

The series is an exploration of the randomness of the real world. So much of the world is occurring by chance. We humans are excellent at pattern recognition- so good in fact that we can't really turn off this ability and can see patterns where they may not really exist. Our biology and mental capacity evolved to enable us to navigate complex environments of overlapping patterns from the living and naturally shaped world. This system finds patterns wherever it looks, an ability that often lead us astray, seeing patterns where they do not actually exist (ahem, any conspiracy theory...).

One thing I love about this series is how much the designs feel like something you might find in the natural world. They feel familiar but you can't put your finger on what you are seeing...

Here are various versions I've worked on.

I've done this series as sand paintings in the smaller scale. Here is a playlist of videos of me doing that:

Mandala

This artwork was made freehand, using only my rake and my body as a measuring tool. It is thus a reflection of my own body proportions.

Here's a beautiful video filmed by Jonathan Clark, edited by Little Tao.

https://youtu.be/AYDsFNkG1vE

Imperfection

 

 

 

One of the things I am really appreciating about pouring sand is its imprecision. I have spent so much of my artist efforts in getting things done perfectly. I can't escape the impulse- it is hard-wired into me. This particular sand artwork is done on a precise grid and I'm doing my best to keep everything tight. However, my lack of practice in this medium, meaning lack of muscle control, lack of best positioning to keep my arm or hand from quavering just slightly, combined with the spillage and inherent sloppiness of sand come together to create a whole lotta "errors". I have to pour at a certain rate or else sand piles up. My eyes constantly fixate on the lack of uniformity or straightness in the lines, the variability of the negative space. And yet, I am finding this to be the part I love best about this medium- my mind is forced to free itself of the tyranny of perfection. 

 

I have had a few accusations of PhotoShopping my beach artworks- people disbelieving their material reality. My intensely physical large beach artworks lost their physicality when seen on print or on screen.

 

I love traditional tribal art. Often there is a geometric component, frequently done in an imprecise manner. What this speaks to me is that there is an acknowledgement of a conceptual perfection (of geometry, in this case), but an imperfect human is allowed to be seen as the artist. It is saying that the artist matters- the final form is not the priority, not the true aim. My work is a human creation, not made by a robot or computer. By virtue of being human it will have errors. It's the errors that say "a human made this". And actually, by virtue of being in the actual world, errors will occur- human or not. It's  the errors that say "this was built in the real world." This aspect of imprecise renderings of otherwise precise forms brings a warmth, they are more relatable.

 

In contrast, precisely rendered art can often feel outside of this world, accounting for geometric forms being such an integral part of most religions from the start of humanity. The shapes speak to a  transcendence of 'reality'- something beyond the world of our material form but also at its core.

 

Life, and our species, evolved within chaotic natural systems. We resonate most deeply with that which connects us to this primitive recognition. Hence the therapeutic qualities of being in nature. And geometric perfection presences our awareness to truths that transcend all circumstance. 

I'm finding my path both in art and life is to be unwinding my efforts at control, allowing life to reveal itself in it's unpredictable ways.

We are Creation Creating

We are Creation Creating


I just had a thought, one of those that recurs to me occasionally when something brings my attention to it.










I was in the process of chasing a moth (we are infested with a small, clothes eating variety). Its flight pattern was erratic, making it challenging to swat. The flight pattern of a mosquito is also erratic. Both are programmed genetically to fly in a way that will make it hard for them to be swatted- or more likely to avoid being eaten by a bat.


This ability is part of why they are alive, the ancestors of this moth took on the ability to be this way as a fundamental part of who they are, genetically. This helped them thrive. And when conditions invariably change (as they always will, eventually) inherent in the dna transfer process are small aberrations in the code, which may, but mostly won’t, be the thing that offers greater survival in some other circumstance. The species as a whole may move in a new direction in what they look like, how they behave and what they are capable of, a long, shifting process, with no true end because the goal posts are constantly changing.


I was considering these moths and what their goal is- essentially to mate and lay eggs. There’s no finding those eggs- they are very well hidden. And the moths are tricky, suddenly landing and blending in or walking into crevices.


I am trying to kill it, but clearly many have escaped me because new moths keep showing up. The upshot is that they are ‘winning' the opportunity to release their next generation into the world.


My thought: Life always finds a way. All these forms around us in the world - life finding a way to exist. As a colony, as an individual, as a species. Life finds a way into existence.


The ways that life has found to express itself are as many as the uncountable fellow inhabitants on this planet.


I see a fundamental force driving this process. A force whose goal is its own existence. It is generative, it is forwarding moving, intent-ful. It is self-organization- the opposite of chaos.


.......


Here's where that takes me when I consider the idea relative to my own life...


At our essence you and I are expressions of a Force that is fundamentally about creating itself and keeping itself alive long enough to keep the process moving.


Poetically speaking, You and I are expressions of life creating itself.


When I lead my workshops the most spoken words I hear are ‘I am not an artist’, followed by ‘I am not creative’. These words create division simply by their existence- as though they are things that you either *are* or *aren’t*. But it is a false dichotomy. We are all creators simply though the fact of our existence. At a basic level, our hearts are beating, our eyes are blinking, I am eating- my body and me are keeping me alive.


I envision his creative force as a stream that is passing through me. When the blocks to accessing it soften I find that it was always present.


Bringing this perspective of us being connected to this force of creation, I see that we are all wielding the capacity to tap into the Creative Force, to be energized towards birthing into existence things never before yet seen, something coming through our own unique being.


Metaphorically speaking, Creativity is the product of tapping into this Creative Force. Dreaming up and building from nothing or building upon its predecessors, this is the act of creation expressing itself in the moment through the Creator- the person wielding this Creative Force.


A grounded way this shows up for me is the need to track the tides to find the best times to create my art. This is an act of creation- through charting the tide I am engaging the creation process.


Species evolution is mainly a reactive force, a path of least resistance, engaging practicalities slowly, over millions of years. It doesn’t look ahead. It doesn’t create meaning or analyses.


In contrast, our own level of self-awareness allows us to consider into the future, to feel into possibilities that may never, or could never, be. We can reflect upon our own life experience and divine meaning which can offer both guidance in the moment and serve to evolve ourselves into new imaginings.


Creating ourselves into being, continually.


This is the ultimate place from which to exist in one's life- the place of intentional creation. You are operating from this place simply by being alive- which includes multiple levels of self-creation.


What I have found is that when I connect to this Force of Creation, the more life energy I feel. Through engaging the things that activate within my creative force, I feel energized.


Think upon any experience that had you feeling ‘in the flow’- that state of being in which time slows down and senses heighten, when you were fully absorbed and single focused. I see this in my son playing with Legos or building his marble runs.


Think upon a time in which the activity you were engaging fed you energy to keep going, after a day's work, perhaps physically and mentally tired, but emotionally and spiritually recharged. Creating always is a recharging act.


We are all born as open channels to the Force of Creation. No small child would ever consider the idea that they lack the ability to create. But as they get older it can become easier and easier to create blocks to the ability to access this force. Hurtful comments from parents and peers, lack of encouragement, narrowing conceptions about what art is, self judgement- these can build up internal resistance to allowing oneself to access one’s creative potential.


But it is always there, it never goes away. It may need some rust brushed off, some lubrication and jump-starting, but your channel to the Creative Force is an intrinsic part of who you are as a being.


If you have activities and interests in your life that amplify your energy when you engage them, bravo to you, keep it up! If this creativity connection feels lacking in your life, it is time for change. I am going to be looking more closely at the process of opening oneself to one’s creative potential in coming posts.


To those who would think 'I am not an artist' or 'I am not creative' I say: You are a manifestation of the Creative Force and through you creation actively flows. How this looks for you specifically is your life’s journey.


Life is precious. It is our opportunity to make it as expansive and full as we can.


Enjoy the ride :-)

Shine

‘Shine’, 2014

I created this artwork with my pregnant wife as an offering to our not-yet born son. I designed it with the question in my mind of how I could encode a wisdom that would always offer guidance, regardless of (most any) circumstance. What simple message could I impart to him that would always offer perspective?

The Problem with Goals and Purpose

This is a bit off-topic, but my interests and thoughts range widely and I’m getting back into speaking my mind, so here goes…

I recently came across a motivational speaker, someone famous for their accomplishments. He spoke about the unorganized expenditure of energy for people not connected to a goal and then stressed the importance of having a goal and then driving towards that with everything you’ve got.

I feel differently about all this. I don’t have an issue with having a goal or striving towards something. What I see is that, generally speaking, the goal itself is not the end. Once that goal is attained, then what? A new goal perhaps. Okay, fair enough.

Offset Dislocation

This concept comes from the book The Self-Made Tapestry by Philip Ball, which I speak about in this post.

Offset Disclocation as a concept arose in the section of the book that looks at how markings occur in on biological bodies. This includes phenomenon such as zebra stripes, fish banding, and butterfly wings. Each organism has its own approach to this and so Philip goes through many potential routes. The implications of the principles he engages take him all the way to pondering how a fetus knows where to place its head and fingers (more on that in a post dedicated to ‘Diffusion Fields’). Very cool.

An Offset Dislocation is like a tectonic fault line. A road is going along and then suddenly, after an earthquake, there is a split that cuts across the land and the road is now a shifted few feet to the side. In this concept, the entire field suddenly shift along a a specific (or sometimes gradual) fracture line.

This artwork of mine is almost, but not quite this idea:

Patterns in Nature

I’ve recently gotten back to the excellent book The Self-Made Tapestry by Philip Ball. I began this book at least 10 years ago. It’s a dense read- I need to have head-space available when I approach it (often difficult to come by as parent of a 4 year old!) and I generally need to set it aside for periods of time for integration. This book and other work by Philip about shape, form, and pattern have been highly influential in the evolution of my art.

Impermence II

Part II

Nothing makes me as acutely aware of the changing of all things as experiencing my son age and develop. It’s such a cliché- parents of older children getting misty eyed as they speak about watching their kids grow up. It’s completely true. I reminisce about just a few months ago!

I am grateful for my phone camera. I am soooo grateful for it. They got just good enough and accessible enough to me to have one available as my son was/is growing up. Cameras have been around for a while, yes, but having one right when the action is happening is key to capturing the nuance of my little being exploring the world and himself. I have gotten into the habit of

Impermanence Part I

There are generally 2 aspects of the art that stand out in people’s initial impressions when they first see my art, whether in person or through a photo. Size is the first, about which there is plenty to discuss- ‘the nature of scale and how we relate to it’ being a particularly juicy topic. ‘How to accomplish large-scale’ is perhaps the common thread in all my work and the aspect of the art that keeps me coming back for more as new techniques and the possibilities those reveal continue to develop and evolve.

What 'Punctuated Equilibrium' has come to mean for me...

I'm resurfacing posts from my past blog that have been buried for years. This one is from 7/2006.....
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The Yin Yang symbol has always called to me and yet it has always felt like the kitsch of the zen world- overused and trite in its connotations. Not that I didn't at a fundamental level believe in what it represents, of self-creation, of polarities and balance, of constant flow.

But there's no lesson like the one you teach yourself. And when I came to have a physical interaction with the yin-yang principle, the kind of experience where I fundamentally would from that moment on see the world differently in a way that was encapsulated in the symbol, well, my own use of it would feel more honest.