establishing a process of selection by creating conditions in which random glitches can be observed, types of promising fertile data collected. Maybe it is the geek, the accidental anthropologist, maybe a quasi-scientist experimenting with cross-fertilisation of frames, of data types, of meanings. What do they reduce, call into being, fetishize? Who is this cosmic automatic artist whose brush strokes paint across the screen?
Could this be a continuation of cubism, of abstraction, of surrealism? We have a deconstruction of familiar images, sets, tropes, appealing nudes, colour palettes exploding in raw honesty, freely showing us everything with erotic abandon. ghOst transmissions, the romanticising of an electrical-mechanical age where static and noise were commonplace, out of phase, radio, television, the humming refrigerator, the fly suiciding itself with a blue buzz and flash, what is captured with the flash, at that instant. The grain of data being eroded, corroded, corrupted, dented, smashed. Non-professional, homegrown and uniquely itself. I love the idea of wrongness within the context of printmaking. Just as with Bridget Riley, Op Art, psychedelic experience there is ornament, repetition, and just as with sampling from an old jazz record, a new entity is born
In the video, motion determines directional colour shifts corresponding to a very perceptible and definable logic. The signal is broken, and the message is repeated according to its logic of digital data and compression, creating a uniformity and linearity Is the thing still recognisable? What does this inform us about language and the modes of communication?Ī moment of fragmentation is itself a kind of orgasm, an obliteration of consciousness, rearrangement of particles into a new whole, an optimistic chaos, an abstract mirror to feed the imagination Otherworldly beings manifesting or showing their true face in between frames, in between dimensions, banal cheesy mindless pornographic drivel split apart with an axe spilling glorious error paint … wiping the glass with a technicolour bleeding mess of random ocular stimulus, visceral, smearing away the intended message of conformity and normal to be replaced with a clue to the absurdity of the medium’s intention, of its fabricator, of its intended audience, there is a surreal horror lurking cthulhu-like, awaiting its arcane and improbable instruction to appear before our eyes Reminding us of simplicity, of tribal signals, magical patterns and freedom in non-determinism, inspiring us to happily make mistakes and understand a different beauty than the one delivered to us daily in media and advertising
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