Research Development: Introduction

“No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance,his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead.”
(T.S.Elliot, 1989, pp. 26-27)

It is a common misconception, a product of stereotype and that old romanticism of terrible beauty (Mirzoeff, 2015, pp. 221) that all Artists are portrayed as introverted loners. We are woefully wistful wanderers far from the cusp of society and normality, doomed to be misunderstood and only find fame after enduring and submitting to tragedy. Indeed, the ‘tortured Artist’ is such a widespread idea, one that has existed within the mind share of society for so long, that it is not, in-fact, without merit.
Vincent Van Gogh, heralded for his masterfulness with the brush and canvas in modern times, was plagued by mental and emotional issues, his career starched with failure and unpopularity during his own time. His pain is now seen as portrayed and self evident through his work, yet he yearned for communication: for connection with his audience, and struggled for meaning, searching for the validation of his work to the masses, only to die in poverty. (de Leeuw, Pomerans, 1997)

“…the central function of an artist is to convey an idea. That idea can be visceral or intellectual; it can be conveyed through a painting, a song, a poem, or a guy dancing around in a moose costume. The method doesn’t matter. Artists, both brilliant and hackneyed, create out of the same basic desire to communicate. But it’s we art lovers who invest our attention, our time, in their creations. Why should we invest in a work of art that was created without conflict, or struggle, or pain? Where is the challenge?”
(Zara, 2012)

As Zara points out, what makes a viewer invested in a work is some nugget of an idea: an idea recognizable and translatable through whatever medium the Artist chooses. What, then, makes an investable piece of art? What is it that makes Artists want to keep creating works for an Audience that might not exist or appreciate their work, like poor Van Gogh? If the Audience has such a fundamental role in the creation and justification of the piece, is art the product of them or the Artist? Or is it something more, something in-between? Is art simply a means of communicating the truth we struggle to remember, a collective unconscious we all tap into? These are some of the questions I hope to explore., and as Reiter adds, the new digital frontier is primed for such queries.

“The rise of the social web has changed the relationship between the listener and the artist. This representation has led to redefine the promotion of music but especially how to engage with the audience. The auditor is now active, he involves and advises on social networks. The artists use these social networks to promote, distribute and sell their work. Therefore, the audience and artist are now face to face on the same platforms, in a new type of relationship and exchange.”
(Reiter, 2014)

As social networks and the new age of digital connectivity bridges the gaps between those that create art and those who view it, the ability to publish a piece of work and receive almost instant
feedback has created an almost symbiotic relationship between the ‘Progenitor’ (Artist) and the ‘Auditor’ (Audience). Artists are now able to capitalize upon how their work is received in order to progress their work further, whilst the Audience, who often fail to realise their importance in the creative process, unconsciously become part of the piece. Creating a feedback loop (Saito, 2005), the Artist and Audience have evolved their relationship to a point where this conjoined nature is now far more obvious.

Or is it?

The digital platform has also allowed a far easier transmission of idea that, as such, often times the Auditor takes on the role of Progenitor, engaging in a ‘rebirth’ or ‘remix’ of the idea via Memetics (Dawkins, 2006). That is, the concept of a piece of art, thought, or belief existing within the mind of everyone and transmitting and reproducing itself into someone else (Barthes, 2006). This concept touches on the theme of Appropriation in art, and the possibility of certain signs and symbols having dual meanings, yet still part of a singular whole. An example of which is Roy Lichtenstein (Fig 1) aping another’s work (Fig 2) or the Pop Art of Andy Warhol (Fig 3).

Part of my goal with this research project is to explore the possibility of the Audience becoming the Artist unconsciously: creating their own interpretations and remixes of the work without even knowing they are doing it. Ultimately this research project, and eventual Masters project, looks to explore this co-dependent relationship between Artist and Audience. The final output is intended to take the form of an interactive installation performance piece, using the form of shadows and light, as both metaphor and example of the transmission of art and idea. It is also meant as a personal challenge to myself, to force my often rather frigid ‘loner Artist’ demeanour out from its comfort zone, and into the socially connected Art world.

Fig 1. Lichtenstein, R. Drowning Girl, 1963. Oil paint on canvas, 171.6 x 169.5 cm

Fig 2. Abruzzo, T. (ill), ‘Secret Hearts’ DC Comics, 1960

Fig 3. Warhol, A. Campbell’s Soup Can (1 of 32), 1962, Polymer on canvas, 50.8 x 40.6 cm

Chaotic creativity and the reflective regrets

When I think about the quality of my thinking, and further, the quality of me, I cant help but wonder what series of unfortunate events managed to put together such a ramshackle of a being.

From scruffy untamed beard to lopsided, windswept and wholly uninteresting hair to the beady framed eyes and my obtuse weight. Perhaps, when the blue prints for me were being written, it was that old scoundrel Terry Pratchett who narrated my appearance and demeanour and indeed, it often seems like my internal monologue has shades of old Terry’s humour.
For one thing, I write and draw without barrier, without constraint. Small flashes of ideas, music, pictures, videos, comics and more stream into my head all the time. Writing this sentence, I’ve began humming Purple Pills by D12 despite doing nothing at all related to the song, the band or anything else.

My thoughts are sporadic, mad even.

I see flesh melded to bone and sinew, mouths were eyes should be, and more and more. David Cronenbergs body horror ebbs its way into my art more often or not, often with flourishes of Hellraiser and Cyberpunk style.
Its is almost as if I cant control the stream of information being barraged at me via the world, and need a way to actualize and realize the orgy of thoughts. Perhaps this is why I always have to be doodling, or doing something. Its almost like an involuntary reflex. It just….doesn’t feel right when I don’t have a pen or a keyboard or a piece of paper in front of me.

However the sheer amount of rubbish I mentally vomit is unreal.
Somewhere, in the mess that is my mind, there is however the odd nugget of gold.
In a way, as I’m barraged by media around me, and regurgitating that into something new, I exist within a collective, a sort of meta-social Oroborus, and perhaps even my ideas have inspired others akin to me, never ending the stream of unconscious reflexivity.
My process is quite simple, I just put pen to paper, or finger to key, and out comes the wonderful stream of whatever Freudian inspired thoughts have been lurking away in my unconsciousness. But the key thing to my process, is to try and analyse myself and the work both after and during the creation of the works.
In my previous study, I examined and quantified 2 other distinct aspects of myself, via Jung’s archetypes; The Persona, my guardian protector and jagged mirror to societies ill wills, and The Shadow, the sleuthing guard dog, ready to spring up and seize control in response to denying parts of myself. I wrapped this up in forming the holy trinity of the Id (Shadow), Ego (my self), and the Super Ego (the Persona) and created a sculpture piece in response to my thought process.

Whilst I might exist within a small trinity of emotions and aspects, I don’t exist within a vacuum, and how I interact and contribute to the wider creative world not only allows me to exert influence in however a minute force, but allows me access to another potential source of cultural barrage to feed my chaos.

Part of the way I have done this, and wish to continue exploring the chance to do so,
is via autoethongraphy, the critical examination of the self as to how it relates to the world.
But wait, there’s more!
The things that now gnaw at my mind, besides Lovecraftian horror, group narrative as a means to tellstories and the concept of the spectator, is investigating anthropology and philosophy.

We humans are such a lovely conundrum, and art and creativity allows us to actualize parts of our own personal and societal discoveries.

I want to explore that, I want to dig my fingers into the filth and mud we
have made for ourselves called humanity and find those golden nuggets.

…..

And now I’m humming “I’ve got a golden ticket.” from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.

I. Minotaur

Last year, I had such hopes for the works I might do during Creative Skills 1. I had wanted to get away from animation, illustration, sculpture and focus on filming, writing and perhaps even acting. Yet, for the majority of the first trimester I did none of these new exciting things and, rather bleakly, relied on my old skills for projects. It was only until the last half of the trimester that I managed to break away from my self defined limitations, and create a music video.

I will not lie. I enjoyed the process thoroughly. Yet, the video itself existed as a self commentary and reaction to the emotions and feelings I had at the time. I had taken something, normally meant to simply sell albums in my mind at the time, and turned it into an wholly personal thing. I was hesitant to show it, as I had naught but my own direction and vision inspired by other music videos, and felt like I would be shunned and mocked by my peers. I remember wringing my hands over and over again before I hit play on the button. I was going to get laughed at for this.

Imagine when my surprise when it wasn’t. People clapped even.

Coming into this new trimester, I was determined to actualize on the ideas I had hoped. I was going to submit writing this time. I was going to film more things, another music video even.

I can happily say I have done that, and heck, I’ve even managed to squeeze the beginnings of an animation in there, working in collaboration with German students.

The other part of the module, to create and instigate an ongoing creative identity and brand had been an easier one for me, desperate to get away from my old branding as simply an illustrator and graphic designer. Yet, the new identity of DEAD END MAZE originally found its life in my journal. My journal is an incredibly private thing, and I always hesitate to mention it. Gifted by a good friend, who had been going through a troubling time with her mental health, it has catalogued the majority of every wry thought, escapist doodle, confession of the heart and suicidal tendency I have had.

It is a book of nonsense and wonderment, and my new brand found its origin in the margins between emotional fatigue and a page of drawings of teeth (I hate my teeth).

I had been stuck on the concept of things being trapped. Halfway between something and something else. I had noticed repeating patterns to my behaviour, my mental state and my work, and was desperate to progress on: to escape the cycle.

That had been written in 2014.

Here I was,  three years later, in the same old pattern. In between drawings of heads trapped in boxes and mosquitoes in amber, I had written DEAD END MAZE. I was stuck in my mind, forever repeating the same.old corridors and avenues. No matter where you go, escape is almost impossible.

I remember smiling when It all finally clicked. Like the Minotaur in the fables of old, the Labyrinthine maze was my domain. There was no escape from this mental state because truthfully,  a part of me enjoys it. Part of me believes I create my best work whilst running from emotional high to mental low.

Part of the module, the whole ‘professional practice’ section, never felt it applied to me. Some people have dreams and lofty goals for their careers, for where they might take their work further. I applaud those people, and want to do everything i can to help them achieve their way. Lecturing and a practice based PHD have been on my mind for a while now, and is likely the avenue I aim to proceed down.

I no longer have such dreams, perhaps beyond entering into a few competitions and festivals with my film work. I was once told by my supervisor Blane, that I will never be a commercial successful artist, and i should be okay with that, because that isn’t what my work is about. It took me a while to get past what seemed like an insult, but it is now advice I rely upon often.

I’ve felt at odd with the sentiment that our careers need to go ‘somewhere’. I understand that progression breeds new ideas and development, but my own work is a product of me at that moment, and the summation of everything i have been through and are embarking upon. It is not that I am languishing forever in a mode of stale creative work, but rather using my experiences and life to fuel aspects of my creativity.

I will never feel comfortable working in an office creating designs and illustrations for faceless companies and boring clients. There was one time I wanted that, but no longer.

I am here.

Stuck.

Lost.

Trapped in the DEADENDMAZE.

….

Come on in and get lost with me.

-Ed

The Moral Quandary of Art Theft

I’ve been following the guys over at Abandon Ship Apparel (https://www.abandonshipapparel.com) for a while now, and I would be amiss for not pointing out how their brand, message and graphic styles have been a huge influence upon me and hell,  even this DEADENDMAZE thing.

Here is a company, local to me, who exudes a style, identity and collected work that I would die to have, as they are exactly the sort of indie creative force I wish to become.

An issue, however, recently saw the company at the whims of an Art Thief who, not only having the balls to blatantly rip off their work, but then attempted to ruin Abandon Ships name via proclaiming their theft ‘was for charity’, and that they were, in fact, stealing food from children’s mouths by asking the Thief to cease using their intellectual property.

Fuck using charity as a preamble to your theft. It is an easy lie for you to hide behind as you profit, knowing full well you do not give a damn about those people.

I suppose what I want to talk about is the silly excuses we use for ourselves to justify doing a morally questionable creative thing. Is it okay for me to trace such and such?  Is it okay for me to just use this logo for a minute or two or a whole book?

Its a shitty thing to do, to hide behind the lie of charity as a means for stealing someone else’s work. It taints a wholly good thing, an incredibly human concept and a worthwhile ideal. It’s a down right disgusting thing to make a profit from.

Effort, especially creative talent, deserves to be rewarded. Full stop. For someone to simply just steal, blatantly in some cases, the work that people have made is deplorable. Artwork demands a certain price from a soul, from an artist of any discipline.  We pay it in the pain in our fingertips, the tears of our performance, the hoarseness of our throats and more.

Art theft fucking sucks, as not only do these people bypass paying the blood price for their commitment to a craft few others want to do, or who fear the time commitment for getting gud,  they usually get away with it. Hell, they usually profit from it. And in this case, the actual charity got nothing. Abandon ship began their own, genuine campaign, of donating the proceeds from a new shirt to throw in the face of this Thief and liar.

Art demands effort. It demands a heart strong enough to love and bear with it.

There is no morality to Art Theft. there’s no good reason for not asking first, to gain permission.

My heart goes out to Abandon Ship, as they truly do not deserve the fallout from this, especially when they are the victims. The charity, the other victim in this, do not deserve to have their name tarnished and the people they help be at fault for the actions of a poor excuse for a human being.

 

-Ed

I Am Jacks Utter Lack of Self Reference

So part of the CS2 module was that we had to document and evidence how out creative journey with a journal or diary or two.

As someone who is still very uncomfortable showing off my inner thoughts, to the point where its likely not healthy, this mandate was met by the usual trepidation and loathing I cast at the likes of Nazis, People that Hate Cats, Movie Talkers and Tom Cruise.

But alas, needs must as the devil does.

Whilst I am uncomfortable showing off my whole diary, due to the personal and intimate nature of my writing, I have found a few selections here to allow for viewing.

Please, no judgement here.

Im already too busy doing that to myself.

-Ed

When you can’t sleep, Draw

I’m too punk rock for this shit…

Well.

Fuck.

I don’t do well online blogging. I snapchat the shit out of my mates, probably too much, but when it comes to this downright corporate blog writing crap I couldn’t give a damn about it.

I am not a professional person.

I am not a commercial artist.

I like drawing, and filming, writing and creating for me, and for others when I feel like it.

But hey, part of my Masters course is to create a ‘professional programme of practice’ which I guess means ‘selling my creativity for a pound a blow’.

I kid, obviously.

The truth is, I don’t have the heart for the commercial world. You need a certain level of savvy and ruthlessness that, frankly, I lost to naivete and poor self image.

I genuinely admire people, especially the folks within my class and peers, who can actually make a living out of what they do, or strive to do so with determination and eagerness. They are your true professionals, the Working Artists. I find myself looking to philosophers and poets and artists that nary made a pence upon their work, as example of what I am.

I’m trapped.

Stuck in amber.

Lost, In this DEAD END MAZE.

and i like it here….

-Ed

This mind of mine

Too drunk with merry wine

This heart

Abrim with mindless art

I dare not care

About the princess, fair

I am, tales will always sing

A Jester, A Bard, An Artists fling.

 

 

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