Winter days and monotonous grey skies hardly seem like ideal conditions for anything. Despite these conditions the process of image-making finds some unexpected advantages here. The sun, hidden behind clouds, can offer a diffuse light that changes the texture and nuance of surfaces. Looking up into the sky is easier without harsh light and reveals the world you pass by on brighter days. Under gray skies colour photography tends toward appearing black and white with very subtle hints of colour. Contrast can be high and skeletal forms are revealed. The gray of winter means you can see farther into the landscape in the absence of leaves. For anyone living at high latitudes getting out of doors during the winter is critical to health, so as an artist I try to frame the weather in terms of the opportunities it provides! Wake to a grey day? Get outside with your camera or paintbursh and watchful eye.
Over the past few years I have had a chance to work with floor tiles in the Yucatan, Mexico. The experience altered my conceptions regarding pattern, repetition and how a “whole” is created. In the Yucatan the tiles are often laid out in rectangluar areas in the middle of the room and surrounded by a border of tiles of a different colour or pattern – creating the appearance of a rug in the center of the room. This exists in contrast to the repeating designs found commonly in wallpapers and fabrics which lead the eye out into space with their infinite possibilities. Under what conditions do “parts” make a whole? How does prior experience inform? And how do the variations in repetition (number, relative position, orientation, colour, extent of array) affect what we see, either in part or as a whole? Engaging with the visual world and seeking patterns and anomalies with the intent of survival is as old as evolution itself.
Back to grey skies and looking about.
Looking up not only orients you to a part of the world that may be escaping your purview but also offers an opportunity to isolate phenomena and frame them in novel ways. Of late, I have been capturing only parts of objects. This, because of how I treat these photographs, has trained my eye to dissect, to dis-assemble as I shoot, and to imagine what the possible outcomes might be. This mental re-configuration or “framing” means I am building as I am deconstructing. With practice, the world is fracturing before my very eyes, and I am encouraging its dissolution.
The near black and white partial skeletons are (with thanks to Dr. Frankenstein) re-assembled back in my lab – ahem studio. And as many a scientist, ecologist or keen observer knows, there are some rudimentary forms of symmetry that repeat themselves in our natural world. You’re reading this aticle thanks to bilateral symmetry – one half of your body is, pretty much, identical to the other. For me, capturing the world and juxtaposing it with its reflected self provides some gorgeous narcissistic depth. In a world obsessed with perfection how can these new entities be anything but perfect? Is every form of self-reflection a form of obscuring, of blindness? Is information lost or gained?
And intriguing. Once again our desire to comprehend the parts and the whole (and to survive in a increasingly strange world) has us scrutinizing what we’re looking at. Confusing. Surreal. Familiar. Is comprehension always the goal? Can confusion be an endpoint? Strangeness?
And the double, of course, can be doubled again or twice reflected to gaze at its own navel. This imparts something closer to radial symmetry.
So get outside, point and discern, comprehend and gesticulate, couple and twin, mirror and reflect, take apart and re-asseble normal.
You can see more of my work at: www.dandoesdesign.com
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