What is the Point?

Standing upon Tettenhall Green, the arson attack which occurred several years ago has left this oak with a hollow void which seems to have given it a focal point, like a heart or an eye. It consists of a constellation of points, formed into estuaries of light, almost crystal like, giving it an ethereal or spectral appearance. The scanner often captures some fascinating images of tree structures.

The ability to record and memorise information outside of the human brain enabled mankind to communicate knowledge and develop intelligence far more effectively and accurately. The tree became an extension of the brain, as the written word and printed page became ubiquitous in many societies around the world. This was pivotal in humanity developing (and possibly surviving) beyond the middle ages and into the Renaissance. As a civilisation we realised we could store, transmit and process far more information than what our brains were capable of. Ironically, we had outgrown the brain before understanding how it functioned. Advanced technologies through each subsequent modernity have only confirmed this.

The network of branches is not only symbolic of the social connections we now make, but also the electrical networks of the brain which we are now discovering and understanding with scanning technologies. The human brain is an enigma machine and scanning is beginning to decode this beautiful mystery.

The oak can be scanned and copied with the speed and accuracy no manual method could ever achieve. When this is applied to a building or a brain, the process of digitisation greatly increases our understanding of a subject and the planning for future generations.

This is Eryk.

Each point represents a specific coordinate of him. Eryk now exists somewhere else as a true entity in a digital environment. So this is not Eryk. This is digital Eryk.

Close to a light fitting in the room where digital Erik flickered on a screen, twitched two members of the diptera order.

“How do I know you?” queried fly #1
“I’m not entirely sure!” replied fly #2
“So how do I know if I’m real?” pondered fly #1
“Maybe you’re not. Or may be you’re too real!” suggested fly #2
“Well if that’s the case, then do I know the future? fly #1
“I’ve heard the universe is not big enough to contain the future my friend” fly #2
“Not big enough?…”

A moment of silence is masked by electrical hummings.

“Then where do we go from here?” fly #1
“We go smaller to find the larger!” fly #2
“Smaller?” fly #1
“The past is forever growing, leaving less space for the future…” fly #2
“But what if the future has already happened?” fly #1
“… and the past hasn’t?” fly #2
“We might think we’re going forwards…” fly #1
“Which way is forwards when we’re surrounded by dark space?” fly #2
“Why is north upwards?” fly #1
“Maybe time doesn’t travel in a straight line, but is curved?” fly #2
“Or a sphere!?” fly #1
“Yes, or even a sphere … with many other sphere’s inside.” fly #2
“Many spheres inside, yes, yes, I am liking this my friend.”

More hummings and buzzings …

“There could be an upper and lower time.” fly #1
“There could, or hard and soft time.” fly #2
“…major / minor…” fly #1, “fuzzy and smooth?”
“We know of our time but not of every time” fly #2
“Indeed, we know a map but not the territory.” fly #1
“There must be others…”  fly #2

And Eryk quietly awoke.

In this scene which I stumbled upon by accident, there is a tension between the two figures, one appears unmoved by the upset girl. What has happened?

In a public space such as this (a bus stop in Greenwich) how much license are we allowed implicitly or otherwise to observe someone else? Passive observation changes immediately when it is recorded and then it becomes a form of surveillance, but intrusion can occur just by being present regardless of any technology. What concerns us is the accuracy of the observation which is inextricably linked to the medium of recording. A person with a sketch book may be deemed less intrusive, offensive almost welcome than say a camera.

Despite the pixelation we are able to recognise many aspects of the two people. Would there be enough detail to identify either of them, or could the data be extrapolated in some way to form a facial recognition? Could a method of pattern matching be used to develop the person’s facial appearance?

1 Across; Evil cured in star, won’t upset benefit (9,6)

So much of the work is accidental. Like life itself; a chance meeting, the right place at the right time (wrong place/wrong time), synchronicity, serendipity. The difference between probability and luck is a regular thought.

Unintended consequences can be beautiful, fortuitous, beneficial. It would be foolish to think we can plan our every move, that everything can be decision driven. Some things have known positions at known times, others don’t. It is these others which we wait for.

There is a wonderful book by Robert MacFarlane entitled “Landmarks” which unearths lost words, traces their heritage and explains their meanings. One such word which caught my attention was “Jackelt” – “a windswept tree”, and I knew where one stood. I rambled over the Birling Gap in East Sussex and eventually found it pointing towards the sea.

Consisting of a constellation of points which form into estuaries of light, the tree has a flame like appearance.

Another one by chance where I didn’t realise until afterwards.

He appears to be made of rain. The scanner swept along his line of direction and created a cascade of illuminance. I then wondered, if it stopped raining would he still exist?

See video feature below.

Like witnessing the Northern Lights, I was amazed how these scanned. Almost velvet in texture and operatic in stature, their unison and symmetry is very appealing.

Their translucency and edges of intense light give an appearance of both fragility and strength – they could explode or flicker off at any moment.

Like twin stars – the ovens of civilisation.

See video feature below.

Like the wind
which always haunts me
then snaps like a snare,
these bones are rigid
with damn winter
I knows it as pleasant despair.

See video feature below.

Some of these cars are people I know, or I was, or still feel like sometimes.

The human brain appears to have a compulsion to have a compulsion – whether it produces good or bad outcomes. We can become very successful at failure, achieved unknowingly through repetition, so the same mistakes are made over and over by relenting control of one’s agency to a specific mental condition or addiction.

The dark room – the chemical process of revealing what lies hidden.

A condition known as “touch deprivation” or “skin hunger” became more widely recognised during lockdown. This was part of a series of work which explored human fragility and the ephemeral nature of our lives by imagining ourselves as exposed, vulnerable, empty, isolated…

A condition known as “touch deprivation” or “skin hunger” became more widely recognised during lockdown. This was part of a series of work which explored human fragility and the ephemeral nature of our lives by imagining ourselves as exposed, vulnerable, empty, isolated…

With this chalk drawing which was based on a scan image I was attempting to express the human form as ephemeral, like how a train may pass by as fleeting ripples of light. The moment is there and then it’s gone. This is how life is to me, a constellation of flickering moments – blink and you miss it. I felt the medium related to the delicate and temporary nature of the statement.

A friend tipped me off about two burnt out motorcycles in South Bromley. These didn’t disappoint.

Their insect like presence has a ghostly fossilization.

This was fun. Working with the brilliant AJ – a UK champion breakdancer from Heath Town, we carried out an experiment of scanning his various moves. This image in particular captured the intense pivotal movement and energy of the windmill – a move which emerged from New York in late 70’s.

Like DNA, break moves have been passed on through generations with new versions and interpretations. This concept of motion, replication and variation would later reappear in later works.

Further experiments in motion. I had no idea how this would turn out but was intrigued by how the incremental movements captured by the scanner formed into a fanned structural effect.

It is like a rush of adrenaline. Phaethon pushing the boundaries due to their over exuberance. The young know not of their limitations until a fall.

We are mere sprites pulsing between concrete, steel, deadlines, coffee, glass, money, wires, dates and dreams, and yet without us places are vacuous spaces.

Bishopsgate. EC2.

Various drawing studies have been done during the scanning years to try and evoke how energy forms structures whilst creating a feeling of transition – nothing is ever still.

Scanning one’s self was and to some extent still is a strange experience. It is as if the form is passing through and not truly present.

Another one by accident – Fungi, chemical spillage or a brain scan?

I loved the colours which emerged by taking a digital photograph of the scanned image whilst on screen. The screen pixelation creates the appearance of a texture which is somewhat ironic as the screen is flat and smooth.

I found it somewhat hypnotic, if not a little unsettling.

In the early 90’s, a friend and I experimented with taking photographs of broadcasted imagery displayed on TV screens. It seemed to capture an “in-the-moment” transmission quality. This was all taken on film so not only did we not know what the outcome would be until the roll was developed and printed, but the process travelled through the various mediums of; TV coaxial transmission, TV screen, camera, camera film, chemical process and finally print. Sometimes we also took photographs from video tape playback as well.

In effect, we were taking the end product, the moving TV image, and recontextualising it into its own event. However, the images always seemed to belong somewhere else and we had merely borrowed them, like taking a page from a novel or catching a butterfly in a net for moment.

After trekking up and sketching this marvellous form entitled Skirrid Fawr on the eastern tip of the Brecon Beacons, I then worked on a studio based piece imagining the energy forms both within and outside of it. What draws us to a mountain?

Up Skirrid, the exposed ribbed-like textures of wind worn rock provided a great little experiment. I stumbled across these recently (Feb ’24) and think more of them now than when I made them.

The intensity of dark joints and deep crevices versus the running entrails and vertical recesses reminds me of both the scanning process and the outcome – the increments of time. Like figures passing through a rainy street.

The rubbing seems to transcend from being a copy to an interpretation – just as the scanner does. In other words, it can never be the rock, nor claims to be, but has captured something of its characteristics in a fragile manner.

Depicting the human form in ruthless raw energy. How everything is a temporary fusion of previous events, where this will also transform or transcend into some other future state.