Tag Archives: digital collage

A Tame Goose Never Goes Wild

by Wal Keck

A ragtag bunch of statements that between them might be relevant:

Then

John Renshaw taught me (and others):

“You can tame a wild goose, but a tame goose never goes wild,” he said. “Don’t be in too much of a hurry to bring it under control.”

He looked at work and said “You were coming out from under the table and ‘oooooh,’ you’ve banged your head”

and walked away.

Another time he looked and said “You’re skating, lad. Skating. Oo – Thin ice”

and walked away.

All was metaphor and all, eventually, sank home.

He took some of the students who had spent the previous two weeks in the printmaking department outside to the yard and had them build a large framework to which they were instructed to attach their previous two weeks’ work. He then set about setting fire to the frame instructing the students to grab a piece of A1 paper and to start to draw as their efforts went up in smoke. Most students grabbed their work off the frame and ran. Those that grabbed their paper and drew went on.

He talked in terms of mark making. He talked of lines. He talked of it all being about space. He packed us off to look at Velázquez.

He taught to avoid being precious, to be prepared to overwork a picture to derive more from it. The next picture was the thing.

At the end of the year he brought in some of his own work. I was surprised, given the sort of things he encouraged us to do, at how small the paintings were. I said, “I thought they would be big paintings?” He said “They are big paintings, lad, they are big paintings.”

Now

I look at the work I produce 33 years later and wonder where, in all of the excessively tight control that an I-Pad gives me, lie the ripples of those lessons?

Process

My involvement with the process and its impact upon me are still what interests me most.

Working digitally, it is always possible to retreat in time and to follow a different seam.

I have always in my mind, somewhere, the thought that this is all leading up to “The Picture,” the image that, for me, stands head and shoulders above all others. The product of all of it. The outcome. The result. I hope that I never produce “The Picture” as it ends there.

Potential

I’ve always been more thrilled by potential than realization.

Looking

The images are subservient to the act of looking.

I cannot look at an image as well as I look through the process of cutting, reassembling and/or erasing that image.

I recall J.G. Ballard saying that he did not want his children to read his books as it was too intimate a relationship for them to have with him.

When I erasing areas of old paintings it can also feel too intimate. I enter a room in the National Gallery and seeing one of ‘my’ renaissance paintings across the room blush slightly with the feeling that others know.

Momentum

At full tilt I feel that were I to lay upon the cold wet morning grass then I would sizzle.

The loss of momentum brings the leaden drag of gravity.

Images

The images are diary entries that trigger a recollection of an experience and/or a sequence of thoughts.

Sometimes they are markers, or signposts, of another seam of ideas, sometimes of dead ends.

Mining

Like a hunter, I track images to use. I gather them together and then mine them until I have extracted all that I can currently use.

The potential of a newly struck seam can take years off.

Inevitably the slagheaps pile up around me, making it difficult to find anything and to choose only 15 images.

N.B. No canaries were harmed in the production of the work.

It is all just the act of looking and of being engaged with a process.

It is all process and the impact of the process on the act of looking.

I am not focussed on the images. They interest me, but not as much as the process and the act of looking that they involve.

I see my work as debris, as fall out from my involvement with a process. The pictures were always subservient to the process and the act of looking.

 

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wal-keck-self-portraitArtist: Wal Keck

See more of his work on Instagram: wal616.

 

 

 

 

 

So Close, So Far

by pastiche.in

My surreal world

My surreal world

Welcome to my surreal world. It’s not an effort, it’s a way of life. It is personal, it is intellectual, it is romantic and most of all, it is real.

 

Shaded

Shaded

All of us trying to forget someone. But I know I won’t be able to forget, I can only forgive.

 

Round and Round

Round and Round

Follow me down to the valley bellow. Moonlight is bleeding, out of your soul.

 

Let's go on an adventure

Let’s go on an adventure

Please, take risks.

Fear keeps us focused on our past or worried about the future. If we can just learn to overcome our fear, we can realise that right now, we are okay.

At this moment, you can hear the voices and see the beautiful faces of our loved ones. But that’s not it. Life has much deeper meaning to itself and we must fulfil it. That can only be done by breaking the limits of human imagination, by doing the impossible. You won’t know until you try.

 

Bubble Galaxy

Bubble Galaxy

Never underestimate yourself. Every idea or a thought you get is worth a lot. People often think it’s not good enough and drop it but just give it some time and take it forward. You never know what’s worth what.

 

Unconditional

Unconditional

I will love you like I love the colour blue.

 

Don't hold me back

Don’t hold me back

But, even if you colour them with beautiful feelings, they’ll still cry and they’ll still smile.

 

Coloured Hands

Coloured Hands

Yes, I’ve been failed a couple of times. There were situations where I felt this is just unreal and everything was falling apart. What do you do during these times?

Some people survive and talk about it. Some survive and go unnoticed. Some survive, heal and create.
I survived and inspired myself. Looking back tells me, I found parts of me that I thought never existed. Now, I just grow. The notion of getting better each day inspires me and I vow to help myself love life.

Remember, the pain you suffer is never wasted.

 

Looking for alternate place

Looking for alternate place

Everyone’s talking about escaping. Always thinking. Always dreaming.

 

How can I make it possible

How can I make it possible

So close, yet so far.

 

Inseparable

Inseparable

You can be the ocean, I’ll be the shore.

 

Why

Why

The burden is real, isn’t it?

 

Crooked you

Crooked you

Home? What does it mean? It’s different for different people.It might be a place, a thing, a moment to re-live, a feeling.

For me, it is a person.

 

Blurred lines

Blurred lines

Miles apart
they sat down near a window
face against the glass
He exhaled. She knew it was him.
Never knew the names
only the eyes.
He was a clown, she had cancer,
she never cried around him
he never wore a mask.
They stared at each other
infinity in the eyes
they both saw a never-ending path
they both found destiny.
Then came the day
he was left alone but in abundance
like a shattered piece of glass
with a less comforting silence.
Rest of the life he wrote his heart out
on a paper in his diary.
It was his imagination
and her love.
And every time it rained
each conversation a paperboat
floated away with a secret tale.

 

Desert divers

Desert divers

The worst thing is watching someone drown and not being able to convince them that they can save themselves by just standing up.

It then turns to one of those upsetting moments when you lose respect for someone you really cared.

 

People ruin everything

People ruin everything

One of the things I recently realised is that, people ruin beautiful things.
Travel, love, inspire, experience and tell nobody.
People expect.
People judge.
People kill happiness.

 

Materialistic Society

Materialistic Society

Digital lie.
People matter.
Talk to each other.
Look in the eyes instead of looking at the texts and mails.
Hold hands instead of holding phones.
Gather more moments and less pictures of those moments that you just wasted taking a picture.
Use the digital generation for what they are supposed to but don’t let it consume you.
Don’t forget that we live in a physical world where people, emotions and feelings matter.
Embrace them. Would you?

 

Smoke on the universe

Smoke on the universe

The planet is fine.
The people are fucked.

 

Words

Words

Can you see your days blighted by darkness?
Is it true you beat your fists on the floor?
Stuck in a world of isolation
While the ivy grows over the door – Pink Floyd( Lost for words)

 

Small world

Small world

Let’s celebrate the light and the space. We often underestimate them.

 

Artist: pastiche.in

I’m a Digital Artist from India, currently studying Architecture at Oxford School of Architecture. I make surreal collages to communicate ideas and emotions and I think that I’ve found a way for my brain to have orgasms.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pastiche.in/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pastiche.in/

Society 6: https://society6.com/pasticheart

 

 

Digital artist Taudalpoi presents a jambalaya of his summer creations.

by Taudalpoi

Taudalpoi BED HEAD

BED HEAD

 

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

 

A WAR

A WAR

 

WALL (EYED)

WALL (EYED)

 

Portal to Heaven

Portal to Heaven

 

landmåling

landmåling

 

I Hope You're Happy (Now)

I Hope You’re Happy (Now)

 

 

Taudalpoi tam

tam

 

Bridge Workers

Bridge Workers

 

Building from Outer Space

Building from Outer Space

 

Everything Collapses with logic

Everything Collapses with logic

 

Mural5

Mural

 

SUN+MOON+EARTH

SUN+MOON+EARTH

 

Fiori Guiseppe (part of series)

Fiori Guiseppe (part of series)

 

α▬τ

α▬τ

 

Jonas ArtScope PictureArtist: Taudalpoi

As the son of an artist and an interior architect, I guess I was doomed to do some artsy-fartsy things in life.

I am currently doing a BA in Philosophy at King’s College London, and while I have no formal training in art, I’m self-taught (to some degree) in Photoshop, Illustrator and photography (preferably analogue).

I have been working with Digital Art and Photography since early 2010, and often change style back and forth – everything from abstract, digital illustrations to simple black and white photography.

In 2013 I was awarded first price and a stipend of £1500 in the University of Agder’s Faculty of Arts (Trafo) art competition (Link: http://www.trafo.no/news/detail/2565 – unfortunately in Norwegian)  for my mixed media work «jonnis på Tuben»).

As a philosophy student, art is a form of escape for me – an escape from the hundreds of articles and books I constantly have to read. My art is usually made immediately after reading philosophical ideas and works, the consequence of which is a “wondering” type of art, where philosophical questions and ideas are – although not always directly involved – always in the back of the creator’s (mine) mind. My main motivation for this artsy escape, is to create something visually appealing and beautiful, in contrast with the visually unappealing articles and books I surround myself with. I escape from long philosophical articles, with art, to create beauty, but still carry with me questions and ideas from the texts. At the same time, I hope and intend, that viewers may also escape, for a moment, in my art – escape their daily life and experience something of beauty.

Links:

www.redbubble.com/people/taudalpoi (main online portfolio, where I also sell)
Contact Email:

 

 

 

Modified Reality

by Franck Balestracci

Franck Balestracci-Collage 01

Franck Balestracci-Collage 02

Franck Balestracci-Collage 03

Franck Balestracci-Collage 04

Franck Balestracci-Collage 05

Franck Balestracci-Collage 06

Franck Balestracci-Collage 07

Franck Balestracci-FB Collage

Franck Balestracci  Avatar

Artist: Franck Balestracci

I am a French musician and composer. My music is an itinerary, an invitation into my world perception, my relation to things, to beings etc. In my pictures (digital collages), indirect, transformed, I try to translate modified realities as furtive snapshots. I’ve always incorporated the association and interaction of sound arts with visual arts in my concepts. Each of these visual “samples” is the expression of a view of what surrounds us.

Web Sites:
http://www.franck-balestracci.fr.nf

http://www.franck-balestracci.infos.st

Journey of A: A Graphic Exploration of Self/Other

by Melissa D. Johnston

de-centering

de-centering

refuse from the machine

refuse from the machine

fragmentation and compression

fragmentation and compression

self-other arithmetic

self-other arithmetic

identity in time

identity in time

Necks, Scars, Cancer, and Pink Worms

by Melissa D. Johnston

“It’s a giant, juicy, pink worm tied down by Lilliputians.” This was the answer to my friends, post-surgery, of what my scar looked like. To my parents it appeared that my neck had been clotheslined—not metaphorically, but with actual clothesline wire. This belief persisted long after the stitches came out and persists to this day, echoed in the surreptitious glances of strangers who may or may not wonder if I’d once had a particularly unfortunate day playing Red Rover.

In reality, the pink worm was born as the result of a partial thyroidectomy, a procedure in which a surgeon and his team removed part of my thyroid through a 2 ½ inch horizontal incision in order to whisk away a microcarcinoma (a nice, mellifluous word for a small thyroid cancer) and banish it, after much study, into the biohazard waste basket.

And so they did, and now my worm has advanced to middle-aged skin at the height of a dry winter, where moisture must regularly be applied to keep that plump, pink, youthful appearance. The rumor is that he’ll disintegrate to a ripe, flat old age and then into a grave marked by a bright, thin, barely-there line—where I’ll have to be the one to point him out if I want others to make his post mortem acquaintance. That’s the story according to my surgeon, anyway.

I still have a special fondness for his preteen years, though. The awkward stage where he still struggled with wire braces, the stitches that had to set while he lay inflamed but protected by daily swabs of hydrogen peroxide and generous amounts of petroleum jelly. A time when I made my first public appearance after surgery and couldn’t cover his raw body with a scarf because it was still too sensitive—no small deal since I’d known others with thyroidectomies who’d been asked, in all seriousness, “Did you try to slit your throat?” I didn’t fancy appearing extremely qualified as a candidate for Remedial Suicide Methods 101.

Most folks in the southern U.S. are polite. If they did think I qualified for Remedial Methods, I never knew it. That first day out, in fact, I got plenty of furtive glances, but only one direct stare, from a man whose wife tapped his arm and said, “Honey, Honey—Look!” When I turned my head, she immediately averted her eyes but her husband continued to stare until I wondered whether I’d lost a standoff when I looked away.

One person that day hadn’t seemed to notice at all. She took my order at one of my favorite local New York style delis and looked directly into my eyes, as she seemed to do with all the customers. It was only when I was getting my soft drink that she came over and said, “Do you mind my asking—what surgery did you just have?”

“I had a thyroidectomy.”

“What was it for?”

“I had thyroid cancer.”

“Oh.” She looked down and paused for a second. “I could tell it was fresh…” She finally looked back up and into my eyes. “My son was just diagnosed with leukemia.”

We talked for the next several minutes about her son, cancer, and how crazy life can be with kids. We talked about what we both had been through in the past couple of months and how the cancer diagnoses had affected our families. I walked out of the shop feeling support from someone who one hour before had been a total stranger. I hope she felt the same.

That conversation changed how I viewed my scar. These two digital pieces, which are chronicles of my wrestling with what thyroid cancer means for me, feature my preteen worm in all his pinked, stitched glory.

** 11/19/12  Update:  Alas, my worm never made it to old age. He was whipped out mid-life during a second surgery, where the surgeons, due to finding cancer in my lymph nodes, needed to complete the thyroidectomy and perform a central compartment neck dissection.  New skin puckers where he’d  been, forming glued bumpy borders I’ve yet to explore…**

**7/27/14 Update: My worm rode the wheel of life one more time. As much as he loves me and I him, we both hope it’s his last incarnation. After a third surgery and radiation, I’m hoping to get the all-clear (and it looks good!) to be able to say that I’m a one-year cancer survivor. I’ll know in a few weeks….

Dive I: The Journey Within

Dive II: The Journey Expands

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