I've finished the build of the installation. It has been a very trying few weeks, however I'm more then happy with the outcome.
The structure is of such a large scale to simulate the idea of endless, open space, which I feel it has, within reason, achieved. While the room is a relatively small confine, there is enough space that when standing facing away from the walls, due to the curved surface the area opens up in front of the viewer. Any claustrophobic feeling is caused by the low ceiling, however it is minimal.
Despite being an open space, the projection does make the installation an uncomfortable setting; the constant buzzing of thousands of particles is unpleasant due to the influx of detailed, untraceable movement. Just as one number becomes clear it whizzes away, leaving no reference point. The projector’s beam is enlarged due to the dome mirror to the point where the pixels are visible, sized at roughly 1x 1cm. When viewed up close, the pixels form a stationary grid, where each individual one changes colours, much like a television set when viewed from a similar distance. However due to the size of the installation, this is not noticeable, and the overall viewing of the animation is unhindered.
The sensation amounts to a degree of contained wonder, partly because as light, it can be broken by the shadow of the viewer, and also because as a digital medium there is a subconscious narrative of it as fiction. To be genuinely enthralled by a digital work requires a suspension of disbelief. For this is the reason I have concluded that a digital piece cannot evoke the sublime as it occurs in the natural world; the threat is known not to be real.
There is no way of monitoring if the work is or is not sublime; as the piece applies to the individual, the experience cannot be generalized as a success or a failure. If one person out of one hundred feels emotionally moved and the other ninety nine do not, then the piece has succeeded in terms of the single individual, even if it has failed with the others.
I don't feel capable of judging the work myself; I have too much vested in it to be subjective, and as the creator I understand how it has worked.
What separates the experience from being directly sublime or depicting the sublime is that it aims to evoke other feelings which can collectively produce said feeling. It is a stimulant, a mediator rather than the emotion itself. The piece aims to cause frustration, exasperation, a degree of fear and above all, wonder; ingredients as separate emotions.
When exhibited, the animation and concept will be discussed, however the exact methodology will not be revealed as it is in this paper. The sublime as a total experience can only function through a lack of understanding and contemplation. If the viewer is aware of this methodology, then the animation and experience is conquered, it is no longer as mysterious, threatening or wild. While the lack of a complete explanation may frustrate, this is part of the experience and of the sublime in the traditional sense. Staring at the universe will not reveal its secrets.
To summarize simply, this experiment in evoking the sublime succeeds if the person feels irritation, frustration, trepidation and wonder. If it does not, then it fails. This proves somewhat exasperating, as I cannot prove or disprove if the piece evokes the sublime, however in taking on such lofty emotions and aiming to contain them within an installation, like with any piece which aims to induce emotion, it can never be universal. However I can say on a personal level that while I cannot find the work sublime myself, having manufactured the scenario, I can say that it fully reflects my own relationship with the sublime, and alongside the feeling itself, that is what I hope to convey to others.
Created a film
I've made a film to accompany the installation, it is viewable on the film and video page.
Disposal and storage of shoes
I've drilled and sanded two holes in the plinth which I will have a monitor placed on, one for disposal of the shoe covers, and the other for taking. They feed into a bin liner which hosts them all.
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More gaps
I've taped up the outsite edges with gaffer tape to prevent any leakage inside. It is now pitch black.
Projector problems.
Due to a miscommunication, I found today (Wednesday 7th Sep) that I did not have transport to move the projector from Epsom, so I collected it in person and took it to Canterbury. This meant I could only carry one. On arrival at Canterbury, I found the projector was not working. So far the cause has not been identified. Luckily I have been leant a rather good projector from fine art for cover. It is no where near the specs of the broken one, however it still looks very good and I am happy. It does mean however that I have had to reformat the animation, loosing motion blur and upping the contrast, so the image is clearer.
Sagging
Unfortunately the roof is sagging drastically in the centre, so the dome mirror cannot be fitted.
To counteract this, I have created a very large centre beam to sit over the top of the roof, and then screwed from underneith the roof into the beam to bring the two closer. This involved a degree of guess work, as due to the black background paper I could not see what I was aiming at.
The result is not attractive, but it works. Luckily as it is outside, it will not be seen.
To counteract this, I have created a very large centre beam to sit over the top of the roof, and then screwed from underneith the roof into the beam to bring the two closer. This involved a degree of guess work, as due to the black background paper I could not see what I was aiming at.
The result is not attractive, but it works. Luckily as it is outside, it will not be seen.
Moving the roof
To move the finished roof structure I required the help of my entire class, with one person at each joint. Between us we floated the roof upwards and onto the structure, with a great deal of straining. A real team effort!
Assembling the new roof
I started to assemble the roof today. I created four 2.4m x 2.4m square frames , and laid them out on the floor. The structure is very weak, so to strengthen, I then cut four right angle triangles for each corner, four equilateral triangles to bridge the four frames together, and one diamond to link the centre points. These are all fixed with four to six screws to make sure the structure is robust. Because the total size is much bigger then the ceiling height, I can’t flip the roof over. This causes a problem because I wish to line the underside with seamless paper, however can’t get underneath to do so, as the roof must stay facing downwards so it can be picked up and floated onto the installation itself. To get around this issue, I propped up the roof in nine places with cut off block of wood, and ran a long piece of wood through the tube which the paper came on, which I then wedged behind two breeze blocks, so when I pulled the paper, it unraveled without moving. I pulled the paper out and underneath the structure, moving the wooden blocks accordingly so the structure still floated over the surface. When the paper was in place, slightly overlapping the halfway point due to being 2.8m across, I made sure the paper was flat, then folded the edges around to the top of the frame. I stapled thoroughly along the edges, and secured the centre beams with masking tape. The next half will be attached Tuesday, followed by placement and the dome mirror.
Moving and repairing the structure
When I arrived in today, one of the caretakers came to find me, to tell me apologetically that the night before he had to move my installation. I’d asked before if I could leave the access door propped open which had been okayed, so I built the installation close to the door so I only needed a small corridor to block off the studio. However, when locking up the alarm would not set, and it turned out the access door has a sensor on it, and had to be closed. To do so three of the boards had been pushed forwards to allow the door to close, which meant the tape had been ripped, the walls were no longer circular; relying on the correct angles and the floor was slightly damaged. This is no fault of the caretakers, and they were very sorry; it’s just one of those things. They did their best not to disturb the installation, so there’s no problem there. It meant however, that due to the angles being incorrect, the entire installation had to be moved, which meant removing all the tape I had painted the previous day. With the help of Vickram I moved the whole structure, retaped and repainted. Where the floor had been painted previously to blend with the tape there was now a clear line where the tape had been removed, so a larger portion of the floor has been painted to make the difference up. A new centre point also now needs calculating. A very frustrating day, but at least it happened now rather then next week. It’s back to where it was previously now, and there is little noticeable difference.
Filling the gaps
Today I began to tape up the gaps between boards and floor in the installation. I’ve been using 1 ½” masking tape, ran down the edges of the installation in three layers, to cover the hinges as well as the gap, making the transition more seamless then previously. The same applies to the floor, with three layers bridging the edges, so the seam is slightly tapered rather than a harsh right angle. Once the structure was covered, I painted over the tape with white emulsion, feathering the edge onto the floor slightly, so there isn’t an abrupt line between paint and paper. When dry, the finish blended nicely, the installation now having an intense, white glow, not quite enough to cause arc eye, but enough to induce heavy squinting. When darkened this won’t be an issue. It feels bizarre that I am preparing the installation to be perfectly, seamlessly white, in order to hide it completely.
New new roof
– Due to efoam letting me down, I’ve had to find a new way of lining the roof. Previously in the test rendition I was cutting scraps of black backdrop paper with the hope of lining them to the framework I was due to build. To return to this solution, I have ordered a 2.82m x 11m roll of black backdrop paper from Calumet, who supplied the white paper for the floor, and intend to line the roof in two long strips, with the centre seam covered with a single strip of black tape. As the ceiling is relatively low, this should prevent any light leakage. If it does not appear dark enough, I will line the roof with the tarpaulin I used in the test rendition, which due to the black paper underneath will this time not filter the light, giving the installation the blue shade it previously took on.
No foam roof lining
I’ve been waiting the last week for delivery of the foam roof I previously mentioned I had ordered, which would have been perfect for the installation as it would cover the entire structure seamlessly, filling any small gaps due to the material. I rang eFoam, the company I had placed the order with to find out what was causing the delay, and after giving them my order details and confirmation was told they would ring me back when they have investigated. Half an hour later, I was told that the company could not cut the foam to the specifications I had requested, and had refunded my bank the day after I had placed the order. I had placed the order with no trouble on their website with no indication that there was a limit on any of the dimensions, which considering the sizes were selected from a drop down menu is particularly misleading, and I received no email from the company telling me they had been refunded, or that they were unable to complete the order in the first place, so had effectively waited a week for the delivery with no indication to the contrary. When informing the staff member of this, I was told that if I checked my bank statements, I would see a refund, and this was indication they could not complete the order, which I found incredibly unprofessional. This means I need to find a new way to line the roof. To conclude, should you find yourself in the bizarre situation where you are ordering custom cut foam, do NOT use efoam.co.uk.
Projector difficulties
I’m experiencing some real problems transporting the projectors. Because they are baulky and expensive there is too much risk in collecting them on the train, which is the only way I can get to Farnham. I’ve rung round various members of staff involved in the logistics side of the campuses, and in short there is no form of direct communication between the Surrey and Kent campuses. Post goes through the royal mail, and library books are shipped with a private courier company via Maidstone. I way recommended to seek a private courier company. This is very disappointing; I’ve always thought of UCA as a five campus university, however it would seem that this is a marriage of convencience rather then anything steadfast. I can’t help but feel let down that there is no way of getting equipment apart from in person; I’ve asked for help as its an inter campus transfer, not a request for help from a private company. I can’t afford a courier, as the price is in the hundreds, so I may have to seek a good samaratan, but at the moment, it is looking bleak.
Chipboard in place
The walls are now in place. I identified a centre point on the flooring, and measured 2.35m from it in twenty four directions, to mark out a circle with a 4.7m diameter (the circumference is 15 metres) in masking tape. With help from Onion and Vickram I then moved the boards, which are fixed in pairs to the edge, and was attempting to measure the angle using a set square, until Onion pointed out that because the circle is correctly measured, I just needed to make sure the edges of the boards were touching the masking tape for it to be perfect without the hassle. This simple piece of logic utterly floored me, and surely enough everything was at the needed 150 degree angle. I redrew the screws between the six sets of twos to complete the structure.
Laying the floor
I’ve laid out the flooring for the installation. It’s two 2.82m x 5.3m long strips of polar white photographic paper from Calumet, which I’ve linked together with a single strip of masking tape. I’ll paint over the link at a later point. The outside is stuck to the floor with more robust duct tape. I’m enforcing a no shoes rule to keep it as pristine as possible; everyone must wear the plastic shoe covers.
Canterbury build begins
After a van ride and some heavy lifting, the installation is now beginning assembly at Canterbury.
Visiting Farnham
I’ve had some success locating projectors. Various phone calls led me to the BA Digital Film & Screen Arts course at UCA Farnham, led by Steve Littman. He kindly agreed to meet with me to talk about various issues with the dome projection, and to discuss lending a projector. I took the dome with me, and trialed a 3500 lumin HD projector in the television studio, which has no light sources, so was perfect for this scenario. It worked brilliantly, leaving a clear, bright image on all the walls. It will be perfect in the enclosed space of the installation. Steve also suggested the use of two projectors, to bring a deeper level to the work, and also pointed out that I should be directing the image onto a mirror angled at 45 degrees, as it damages the bulb to be turned upright. He also gave me some great advice to do with HD compression, which will mean the renders are much better and will run more smoothly.
Ordering shoe covers
I’ve ordered 300 protective plastic shoe covers. To make sure the white floor doesn’t get dirty, I’ll ask viewers to slip a pair on before they enter the installation. I’ll also use them when building to prevent unnecessary dirt.
Ordering a new roof
– I’ve ordered a 5m x 4mm foam disc to sit underneath a basic frame for the roofing, as opposed to the pre mention solution. I can staple it to the supporting beams, and it will block out all light, provide a clean finish, and plug any gaps around the top due to the density. Perfect!
Securing a better projector
Due to the diffusion of the image, I’ve been trying desperately this week to secure a new projector to use with a higher lumin count and better quality. The projector I was hoping to procure from the lecture theatre is not as good as I had initially hoped. There are none available in stores at any of the campuses that are of a higher count then 2000. However, I have emailed Steve Littman, of BA Digital Film and Screen Arts, who I’m going to see next week regarding the possibility of borrowing his 3500 lumin HD projector, which belongs exclusively to his course. This will be perfect, as the brightness will hopefully be compensated, and the visable pixels on the walls halved in size.
Things to note from the test build
Eschewing the theoretical choices in material which I’ve already mentioned, the main revelation of the test build is to have a clean, prepared methodology towards how the structure is to be assembled. Erecting the walls first was a mistake, even if it seems obvious, and this in turn caused problems later on. First, the floor must be laid out, and taped flat. Following this, a centre point on the floor is to be identified. From this centre point, a circle centering on the centre point with a 2.35m radius needs to be taped onto the floor. Following this, the boards must be lifted into position in pairs, starting with the main door, facing the access door in the architecture block. Then, the boards can be fixed back together. The edges between the floor and the boards, and the boards themselves can then be taped over, and painted. The roof structure can then be placed over the top, with a plum line in the centre. The plum line must match the centre point of the installation. When it is correctly positioned, the mirror can be fixed into place. The two small boards acting as a corridor to block out the view of the rest of the room can be fixed, and the projector can then be tested. There are issues with the projector to be resolved, however the main objective of the exercise was to test how exactly I am going to create the structure, and I now have a clear, calculated method.
Ordering flooring
I’ve ordered a 2.82m x 11m roll of Polar white backdrop paper from Calumet for the flooring in the installation.
Taking down the installation
I took the structure down today, as I’ve tested it as much as I can at this stage. It was surprisingly easy; I kept the boards as pairs which I numbered so when I put them together again its easier due to the drill holes being aligned. Once I had unattached one in every two, the boards folded perfectly, and propped against a wall. They are however very heavy, and moving them will not be a fun job.
About the roof
– To block out light, I’ve been trying various tactics; however none have been aesthetically placing from the inside. The use of a large sheet of blue tarpaulin made the installation darker, however filtered the light to a shade of blue, even when large offcuts of black backdrop paper from the photography department were placed on top. I also tried to use 8 x 4 ft polystyrene reflectors from the studios, positioned over the top, propped up with spare beams of wood bridging the gap between the walls and the centre panel. All these make shift experiments have made it abundantly clear that I will need to create a real roof structure to have a successful, professional finish. To do so, a set of 4 2.4m square frames will be attached together, and covered with a suitable material, which will be painted black. I’ve been trying to find black membrane from builders merchants in this size and black colour, however to no avail. Other shortlisted possible solutions are foam, cardboard, black tarpaulin and thick paper. All of these can be fixed to the top of the beams. I will not be testing the roof however, as once it is made, the fabric will be unattachable, and the roof will be too big to transport.
Testing the projection
I have been testing how I will map onto the dome mirror with a 2000 lumin NEC projector. Directing it upwards, I’ve noticed that projection beams are all staggered at around 30 degrees upwards, rather than the beam exiting horizontally straight. This is so if placed on a table half the image isn’t lost. However when I am trying to place the projector in the correct place, this does not work, as the thirty degree angle causes distortion, making it difficult to find the centre. It does eventually work, but there seems to be no full proof way of positioning without guess work. The method does work, with the light covering all of the walls. The pixels are much larger then I had thought they would have been, around the size of a fingernail, but the image is still clear from a distance, and this does not take away from the overall effect. One issue is how diffused the light becomes. The installation is not entirely dark, and is positioned below a large skylight, which it will not be in the exhibition. Also the university is only open 9-5 and as it is summer there is much more ambient light. In September the situation will be different, so it is difficult to gage how much of an issue this will be, with environmental factors playing a key factor. With this in mind, it is sensible to find a solution that works in any room, regardless of light, something I will resolve soon. To return to the issue of disused light, the solution is to locate and borrow a projector with a higher lumin count. The more lumins, the brighter the image. I will start ringing around the university to see what is available. Another issue was the position of the dome. Dome projection works in the X, Y and Z axis, so if the dome is not straight, the whole projection will be lopsided. For this reason, more then one beam will be needed, to make sure the mirror does not fall to one side.
Taping the gaps
I’ve covered the gaps between the floor of the structure and the boards, and the gaps between boards themselves, covering the hinges, with three staggered layers of masking tape. I’ve then painted over the tape with emulsion. The improvement is vast; the seams blend perfectly and there are no visible edges. It makes the inside look much more finished, and will help dramatically when the projection is hosted.
Filling the edges
I've been trying out solutions to bridge the gap between the floor and the walls. Cardboard cut to size looks flimsy and draws attention rather then deflecting it, and is difficult to cut to size due to the walls not being perfectly angled at 150 degrees, which is the angle for a dodecagon. I encountered the same problem with coving. I collected fifteen pieces to cut to size, however due to the cheapness of the material (polystyrene), cutting the edges left a flaky edge, and paint did not take well to the surface. I think the simplest solution, which I intend to use to bridge the gaps between boards as well, is to tape over the edges with 1 ½” wide masking tape, and paint over with emulsion.
Flooring
I’ve lined white backdrop paper to the edges of the installation, trying to slide some underneath the boards to create a seamless finish, however they are not easy to move, making the experience more difficult, resulting in the paper having to be cut roughly to size. Next time, the flooring must be laid down before the walls are placed on top of it.
New method for the animation
To create an image of the entire nights sky, rather then using selective elements to translate the image into binary and as an emitter, the entire footage may serve as both, meaning absolutely no elements are rejected. I have created a methodology which allows this.
Using Adobe After Effects, the footage of the nights sky is sped up to two minutes; (the rough length of the experience, so it is digestible, see above) and adjusted using the threshold filter, which translates it into pure black and white pixels (see below). The particle plug in program Trapcode Particular changes the footage into a layer emitter.
The footage taken and edited in its threshold filtered state is set as the layer emitter. The brightness of the image is programmed to control the velocity of particle emission, so where there are white particles, there is a high rate of emission. To put this into a real context, picture a cardboard cutout stencil with paint passing through it. In the animation, cloud coverage and stars appear as white blocks, and so emit particles.
The amount of particles in the scene is the key controlling factor, and is dictated using the following methodology, which also provides the translation of the image to binary.
Emission is controlled on a per second basis, with film running at 25 frames per second. From the two minute film, one frame is taken every second, and saved as a jpeg image file. This results in 120 jpegs. The images are then loaded into ImageJ, a Java based image analysis program, developed at the National Institutes of Health, primarily used for three dimensional live cell shading and radiological image processing. By adjusting the image threshold, the program can analyze each individual pixel, placing the results in various groupings. In this case, the program has been used to count each pixel’s brightness level, on the RGB scale of 0-255, 0 being white, black being 255 (see below).
The results for each second is then logged, and divided by 25, (the number of frames per second) to generate the rate of emission within the final animation (See below).
With only two sets of numbers to work from, each pixel is effectively on or off, in binary 0 or 1. By copying the input data into Trapcode Particular, the particles behave in accordance with the original footage, emitting however many particles are determined by the data unique to each second for the 0’s. Assigning each particle a sprite graphic of the binary number 0, as particles are only emitting from the white, ‘on’ areas of the original footage, means that rather than particles, the image now has a sea of ‘0’s’ instead of small white dots (see above). This method disregards the black areas however, which have their own data, under the number 255, or 1 as it is assigned in binary, being ‘off’. To emit from the black areas, the original footage of the nights sky which is set as a layer emitter is duplicated, then inverted (see below).
This footage is then set as another layer emitter, with the rate of emission per second controlled by the data of the black pixels, or 1’s. a new sprite of the number ‘1’ is assigned to the particles, which are now emitting in the opposite manner to the ‘0’ layer of footage, so the whole image is covered with 1’s and 0’s instead of black and white pixels. It is worth mentioning at this point that both input layers of the original footage are hidden, and not viewable, it is only the particles with their attached sprites that are on screen.
The result of the two combined layers is a mass of thousands of ones and zeroes, behaving independently of each other, some staying fairly stationary, others tearing across the screen ferociously, dependent on whether or not they are conveying movement or steady light sources on the original footage.
Using Adobe After Effects, the footage of the nights sky is sped up to two minutes; (the rough length of the experience, so it is digestible, see above) and adjusted using the threshold filter, which translates it into pure black and white pixels (see below). The particle plug in program Trapcode Particular changes the footage into a layer emitter.
The footage taken and edited in its threshold filtered state is set as the layer emitter. The brightness of the image is programmed to control the velocity of particle emission, so where there are white particles, there is a high rate of emission. To put this into a real context, picture a cardboard cutout stencil with paint passing through it. In the animation, cloud coverage and stars appear as white blocks, and so emit particles.
The amount of particles in the scene is the key controlling factor, and is dictated using the following methodology, which also provides the translation of the image to binary.
Emission is controlled on a per second basis, with film running at 25 frames per second. From the two minute film, one frame is taken every second, and saved as a jpeg image file. This results in 120 jpegs. The images are then loaded into ImageJ, a Java based image analysis program, developed at the National Institutes of Health, primarily used for three dimensional live cell shading and radiological image processing. By adjusting the image threshold, the program can analyze each individual pixel, placing the results in various groupings. In this case, the program has been used to count each pixel’s brightness level, on the RGB scale of 0-255, 0 being white, black being 255 (see below).
The results for each second is then logged, and divided by 25, (the number of frames per second) to generate the rate of emission within the final animation (See below).
With only two sets of numbers to work from, each pixel is effectively on or off, in binary 0 or 1. By copying the input data into Trapcode Particular, the particles behave in accordance with the original footage, emitting however many particles are determined by the data unique to each second for the 0’s. Assigning each particle a sprite graphic of the binary number 0, as particles are only emitting from the white, ‘on’ areas of the original footage, means that rather than particles, the image now has a sea of ‘0’s’ instead of small white dots (see above). This method disregards the black areas however, which have their own data, under the number 255, or 1 as it is assigned in binary, being ‘off’. To emit from the black areas, the original footage of the nights sky which is set as a layer emitter is duplicated, then inverted (see below).
This footage is then set as another layer emitter, with the rate of emission per second controlled by the data of the black pixels, or 1’s. a new sprite of the number ‘1’ is assigned to the particles, which are now emitting in the opposite manner to the ‘0’ layer of footage, so the whole image is covered with 1’s and 0’s instead of black and white pixels. It is worth mentioning at this point that both input layers of the original footage are hidden, and not viewable, it is only the particles with their attached sprites that are on screen.
The result of the two combined layers is a mass of thousands of ones and zeroes, behaving independently of each other, some staying fairly stationary, others tearing across the screen ferociously, dependent on whether or not they are conveying movement or steady light sources on the original footage.
Making the roof beam
To hang the mirror, I’ve made a 6m support beam to fit across the centre of the installation, turned upwards so the wood is thicker and less prone to bowing. To make sure it can hold the weight, I’ve doubled the beam and fixed it at regular intervals with wood screws. The mirror is attached securely, and sits neatly in the centre.
Painting
I’ve rollered the all of the inside walls of the installation with white imulsion. From this experience I’ve concluded that painting in this fashion is utterly brain numbing.
Assembling the outside of the structure
To erect the structure would have been a relatively simple process, had it not been made difficult by the material. Due to the weight of the chipboard, the boards had to be fixed together in pairs by four sets of hinges, whilst lying face down on the floor. From this point they could then be lifted upright, with one edge angled at 90 degrees for support, before being dragged into shape and reattached with one person standing behind the boards, holding them in shape. Without clear floor measurements marked out, which was a very silly oversight, it was difficult to correctly position the boards as a circle; due to the hinges when one board was moved an adjacent one and in turn the one next to that would also move out of place. The lesson of today is positioning before fixing.
Moving the chipboard
Now the private view is over, I can build the installation in the MA Base Room, which is fantastic. It meant today dragging the boards down the four storey ramp on a trolley whilst trying not to let go; very tiring! Now I can start the build.
Chipboard arrives
The chipboard has arrived from Wickes. At the moment I have nowhere to test build the structure; I’ve tried every workshop seminar and teaching room. The only place that has said it is okay to use their space is the canteen, but I don’t think it will be very hygienic due to dust flying everywhere. Because of the lack of space, and private view for students work at the university over the next few weeks, I’ve had to store the boards on level 0 in an outdoor store room which the caretakers use, until the situation is resolved. This also means I will have to carry the boards down the ramp to get them to level 4, which in all probability is where I will be building; level 0 has no rooms for students and the rest are only accessable by stairs/lift, which the boards are too heavy/large for.
Ordering a dome mirror
I’ve decided to use an adaptation of the fulldome method of projection to cover the installation. Due to the throw ratio of the projectors available to me, I cannot cover the entire surface of the walls, or the floor if I mount four projectors facing each other, one every quarter of the installation. I feel it is important to cover the floor with the projected image as well; if the ground, which is taken as stable, moves beneath the person, the effect will be more unsettling, challenging the viewers basic conceptions of what is and isn’t real/tangible. Another possibility was the use of fish eye lenses. I briefly trialed using various prime camera lenses, but the effects were unrecordable as the image was lost. There are various conversion lenses available for projectors, however cost removed the possibility. One particular option was the Navitar HemiStar 180/360 degree fisheye lens, which they own the patent to. The price however was in the thousands. I looked to astrology forums for help, as amautuer astronomy enthusiasts often like to create their own planetariums, covering the sky. This led me to dome projection techniques. Ordinarily, the image would be bounced from the projector, onto a mirror just in front, which is angled slightly, which deflects the image onto a dome mirror. The dome mirror due to its convex shape, throws the image outwards, stretching the pixels but covering a greater area. There is a loss in quality, however this can be compensated using projection mapping, being aware of how the dome will fit into the selected shape. The most cost effective yet applicable solution was to use a dome projection technique. Ordinarily, as the name would suggest, this method lends itself to dome shape structures. I could not find any examples of usage in a cyclindrical shape. However, from UV Mapping experience in Maya, which allows spherical mapping to be applied to a cylinder, mimicking the scenario of a dome projection within my installation, I could plan a UV map which dictates where the projection will fall, and once rendered, change my final animation to fit. To change how the projection system works, I will suspend a full hemisphere dome in the centre of the installation, and project from below directly onto it, covering the surface. This will throw the light out across all the walls and the floor. Detail will tail off at the top of the walls as this is the edge of the image, however adjusting the UV map can counter this. I have contacted a warehouse security company in Plymouth, who make full hemisphere dome mirrors, and placed an order for one, measuring 60cm in diameter, weighing 2.4kg.
Revision again...
While the previous method works, it has a fundamental floor, which is that it ignores everything else in the image except for the stars. The darkness, the clouds, the moon etc are all just as much a part of an image, and selectivity over which elements I choose to track undermines the universal nature of the input.
Motion tracking stars
To extract binary from the filmed footage of the nights sky, I have motion tracked each individual star, mapping its progress on the X and Y co-ordinates to form a set of numerical data, displaying each stars movement per second. There are around fifteen stars in the filmed footage. These numbers can then be translated into binary. Each second of binary can be emitted from an emitter attached to the star, replacing it in its movement across the screen. This replaces the stars with violent eruptions of numbers, which will travel across the walls of the installation.
Making the model
I’ve made a twelve sided cylindrical model from foam board to test if creating a curved plywood surface would be viable. While the effect does create a perfect circle, the cost of both the plywood and wood for the curved supporting beams would run to around sixty pounds per frame. While creating test models in Maya, I noticed that when creating a cylinder, a twelve sided shape (a dodecagon) creates the illusion of a circle without needing the curved edges. A twenty four sided shape would create a complete illusion, however twelve sides has the same effect. There is no real need to curve the wood itself. This means that if I was to use free standing chipboard of the same size, while not as easy to move, it would create the same effect, yet only be 1/6th of the cost, as well as being sturdy enough not to buckle or need support frames. I will place an order with Wickes for thirteen pieces of 18mm 2.4m x 1.2m chipboard. The extra piece is to be cut into two to form a small entrance corridor.
Planning the structure
I have been considering viable options to create a cylindrical shape on which to project. The shape must be at least 2.4m in height and around five metres across in order to contain the viewer without generating any feelings of claustrophobia. While many surfaces will hold the projection, it is a question of practicality and cost effectiveness. An early solution was to hang fabric as a large curtain, however the cost of creating a circular rail on which to run the fabric was too high, as was a 15m x 2.4m piece of thick fabric. Plywood has been suggested, nailing to a curved piece of wood, which I will create in a model to test. Common size plywood is 2.4 x 1.2m, which is ideal, as the circumference of a 5m diameter circle is 15m, just 30cm short of the 14.6m the plywood would cover. The plywood would be nailed to a supporting frame made from two straight pieces of wood and three curved pieces, which would fit neatly together to form a circle. After making a 1:4 size foam board model, I will consider how practical this will be.
A new approach and input
I feel that the use of binary code is still important to the animation. Binary is the atoms of the digital world, and by using it, it brings to the forefront of the animation a number of jarring contradictions; incomprehensible complexity from two digits, a single engulfing image made from thousands of minute images with scale created by minutiae, unique seconds of animation through endless repetition, easily interpreted numbers becoming unreadable, and the invisible data of an invisible universe becoming almost concrete in an enlarged, projected state. Visualizing binary will show the enormity, expansiveness and intricacy of the digital universe by effectively showing the opposite. This will provoke a state of confusion, where the visuals override any form of logic and ordering, as the data displayed is not possible to order. Trying the count or order the binary would prove as fruitless as counting stars.
The importance of projecting the image lies in the state of flux between the digital and the analogue, as the footage changes from a real input, into digital through a secondary device, where it is broken down into the most basic form of digital, before being projected using the most basic component of real existence; light, where the small components are enlarged and dwarf the viewer. By changing format so many times before arriving at the final output, the signal becomes almost a hybrid of digital and reality, with the two states difficult to separate.
While it may seem fruitless to confuse and frustrate the viewer, it is important to provoke these emotions as well as overwhelming them with scale and complexity in order to incite something of the sublime.
With the importance of binary in place, I must now determine both an input and a methodology to extract the binary from an image; something which is not easy as it involves breaking down an image to its most rudimentary state.
I placed importance of Schopenhauer’s interpretation of the highest form of the sublime as the contemplation of the universe (1818: 205). To capture this through a camera for instance is impossible. Time based media can never fully capture the essence of a single moment, due to the limitations of the format. The idea of a transparent window reflecting reality through the medium is more of an ideal then a practical possibility, as there will always be mediation as the capturing device, be it film, audio or even paint acts as a buffer between the person recording and the moment itself. With this in mind, the only possibility, as with the portraying of the sublime, is to capture the personal. By filming the nights sky directly above my residence as I look out on it, I may not be capturing the entire scope, the deep lying levels of the universe, the nebulas and the supernovas, but I am recording what I am viewing, and what, despite being a small segment of a far larger picture, is still filling me with wonder.
Recording over the course of one night serves as the perfect input; it is by accounts the closest I may achieve to a completely sublime experience, it reflects the personal, and it is very much of the real and although mediated through the camera the original footage remains true to my intention of showing the expanse of the universe.
The importance of projecting the image lies in the state of flux between the digital and the analogue, as the footage changes from a real input, into digital through a secondary device, where it is broken down into the most basic form of digital, before being projected using the most basic component of real existence; light, where the small components are enlarged and dwarf the viewer. By changing format so many times before arriving at the final output, the signal becomes almost a hybrid of digital and reality, with the two states difficult to separate.
While it may seem fruitless to confuse and frustrate the viewer, it is important to provoke these emotions as well as overwhelming them with scale and complexity in order to incite something of the sublime.
With the importance of binary in place, I must now determine both an input and a methodology to extract the binary from an image; something which is not easy as it involves breaking down an image to its most rudimentary state.
I placed importance of Schopenhauer’s interpretation of the highest form of the sublime as the contemplation of the universe (1818: 205). To capture this through a camera for instance is impossible. Time based media can never fully capture the essence of a single moment, due to the limitations of the format. The idea of a transparent window reflecting reality through the medium is more of an ideal then a practical possibility, as there will always be mediation as the capturing device, be it film, audio or even paint acts as a buffer between the person recording and the moment itself. With this in mind, the only possibility, as with the portraying of the sublime, is to capture the personal. By filming the nights sky directly above my residence as I look out on it, I may not be capturing the entire scope, the deep lying levels of the universe, the nebulas and the supernovas, but I am recording what I am viewing, and what, despite being a small segment of a far larger picture, is still filling me with wonder.
Recording over the course of one night serves as the perfect input; it is by accounts the closest I may achieve to a completely sublime experience, it reflects the personal, and it is very much of the real and although mediated through the camera the original footage remains true to my intention of showing the expanse of the universe.
Thoughts and changes since the research phase
The conclusion of the research phase of this thesis led to the proposal of a cylindrical installation, filled with an animation translating the movement of elements in a JMW Turner painting into binary digits, designed to evoke the sublime through overwhelming the senses through large amounts of abstract data.
Since completing the research phase, I have rejected the input of a Turner painting and the methodology which formed the animation, whilst adjusting how I intend to use the space to evoke the sublime.
The aim of the previous methodology was to create a piece which remains original, relevant and reflective of my own relationship with the idea of the sublime and the idea of a digital sublime. A key factor in the translation of images in my previous theory was the resolving of the sublime into a format which can be represented and understood by the audience.
This undermines my own relationship with both digital technology and the natural sublime. While I have drawn many parallels between the digital and the natural worlds, from the size and expansion to the finite state of memory, I have somehow overlooked what is essentially the cornerstone of Kantian theory on the sublime, which holds true to both worlds, and this is that the sublime moment is a negative experience of limitations.
As Schopenhauer wrote in The World As Will & Representation (1818), ‘we feel ourselves reduced to nothing’ when contemplating the duration and enormity of the universe (205), leading the mind to the point which he regarded as the highest possible feeling of the sublime.
This interpretation of the sublime is not as a positive experience which can speak universally, but one of isolation, unique to the individual. There can be no generalizations, no relation to another person, which makes the experience so difficult to convey, one of reasons along with the limitation of a secondary format that the sublime has proved so elusive to explain, let alone express. To try and convey an experience, the only possibility is to as Noviselis put it ‘look inwards’. If a piece can speak personally it can hope to convey an element of truth.
I find the experience of the sublime daunting, isolating, and above all else, it reminds me of the indifference of the universe towards anything which I aim to or will achieve in life. It is a measure of time as minute and finite, and reduces the moment, despite its lofty feelings of importance, to something so minuscule, so insignificant that it is forgotten and is dead within a fraction of its arrival.
Although it is not strictly related, I feel I should point out at this point that I do not find the experience wholly depressing; although the sublime may well remind me of the absurdity of existence I do not see this a reason not to appreciate it; to borrow a much quoted expression allegedly from Gandhi “Nearly everything you do is of no importance, but it is important that you do it anyway.”
Continuing on from this digression, the experience of the sublime as a reminder of the futility of the moment plays an equally valid role in the existence of the digital sublime, while on a less elevated level, as an invisible universe cannot have the hold of a physical reminder.
Even as I prepare this text which will eventually be published on an online blog, I am aware that this document will remain a coded CSS sequence on a server belonging to Google, to be visited a few times by a small handful of people (mostly my parents) before the page remains dormant until eventually it is either erased, lost in a server crash or completely forgotten, floating in a nonexistent purgatory with the millions of blog entries documenting people’s lives, likes or even occasionally pretentious pseudo-artistic ramblings relating to their masters courses. If a document is created but never accessed, it is as if the file doesn’t exist, with no physical copy it remains buried, never to be unearthed.
The internet and world wide web are in their infancy, and their evolution has been astronomical; by the time their lifetime has doubled, it is difficult to even speculate what format it will have taken. This means that files, like people, have a lifespan before they die and are forgotten. To relate back to the real world, a study conducted in 2007 by genealogy site ancestry.com found that 1 in 3 US users did not know any of the names of their great-grandparents (ancestry.com, 2007). If the personal is forgotten so easily, this would suggest that the digital is even more transient.
An example of personal digital data being lost is blogging site Greatest Journal, which closed in July 2009, meaning years of its users blog entries disappeared. A google search now brings up a handful of discussions about its closure; however it is now confined to the memory of its former users (google.com, 2011).
Related is the fear of a Digital dark age, in which files of old formats become obsolete and unreadable, meaning a large amount of data could become inaccessible. There are currently many high profile projects to prevent this happening, such as the Internet Archive (www.archive.org), creating a digital library of websites, videos and music, and since 2007 Microsoft have created a partnership with The National Archives to unlock now inaccessible formats (guardian.co.uk, 2007).
With my personal approach to the sublime assessed, the aims of my installation must now change. I hold much admiration for the abstract impressionists, as their paintings aimed to be experiential, rather than depicting the experience. This still holds true for my own installation, as the experiences I have described above are too abstract to convey as a tangible form or clumsy metaphor. However, the strength of artwork is its ability to provoke emotion. My negative experiences of being overwhelmed, exclusion, wonder, confusion, absurdity and perceived meaninglessness can still be held within an installation, however what will be key to the piece is how much is revealed and what is explained from the methodology. The universe may not reveal its secrets upon contemplation; however it still engages, which the installation must do. The worst possible response would be apathy. Therefore enough needs to be exposed to entice and connect to the viewer, but not so much that the ‘reveal’ is given away and the piece becomes completely understandable, as that would prevent any hope of provoking the sublime, which I would hope to evoke through the culmination of the above mentioned responses.
The use of a cylindrical installation remains valid, as the shape has no defined edges, no point of reference, and what projected onto becomes infinite and creates the illusion of endless space. It surrounds completely without resolve, and on a large scale removes any sense of claustrophobia which may be felt; important as large scale is significant if the viewer is to be overwhelmed. The cylinder makes the person confront the piece directly, rather then through the mediation of a television or cinema screen. The shape allows for the animation to cover the floor, walls, and the viewer, moving beyond the surrounding shape, actually engulfing them as part of the experience.
With the above brought into consideration, a method and reasoning behind the creation of the animation has been reconsidered.
Since completing the research phase, I have rejected the input of a Turner painting and the methodology which formed the animation, whilst adjusting how I intend to use the space to evoke the sublime.
The aim of the previous methodology was to create a piece which remains original, relevant and reflective of my own relationship with the idea of the sublime and the idea of a digital sublime. A key factor in the translation of images in my previous theory was the resolving of the sublime into a format which can be represented and understood by the audience.
This undermines my own relationship with both digital technology and the natural sublime. While I have drawn many parallels between the digital and the natural worlds, from the size and expansion to the finite state of memory, I have somehow overlooked what is essentially the cornerstone of Kantian theory on the sublime, which holds true to both worlds, and this is that the sublime moment is a negative experience of limitations.
As Schopenhauer wrote in The World As Will & Representation (1818), ‘we feel ourselves reduced to nothing’ when contemplating the duration and enormity of the universe (205), leading the mind to the point which he regarded as the highest possible feeling of the sublime.
This interpretation of the sublime is not as a positive experience which can speak universally, but one of isolation, unique to the individual. There can be no generalizations, no relation to another person, which makes the experience so difficult to convey, one of reasons along with the limitation of a secondary format that the sublime has proved so elusive to explain, let alone express. To try and convey an experience, the only possibility is to as Noviselis put it ‘look inwards’. If a piece can speak personally it can hope to convey an element of truth.
I find the experience of the sublime daunting, isolating, and above all else, it reminds me of the indifference of the universe towards anything which I aim to or will achieve in life. It is a measure of time as minute and finite, and reduces the moment, despite its lofty feelings of importance, to something so minuscule, so insignificant that it is forgotten and is dead within a fraction of its arrival.
Although it is not strictly related, I feel I should point out at this point that I do not find the experience wholly depressing; although the sublime may well remind me of the absurdity of existence I do not see this a reason not to appreciate it; to borrow a much quoted expression allegedly from Gandhi “Nearly everything you do is of no importance, but it is important that you do it anyway.”
Continuing on from this digression, the experience of the sublime as a reminder of the futility of the moment plays an equally valid role in the existence of the digital sublime, while on a less elevated level, as an invisible universe cannot have the hold of a physical reminder.
Even as I prepare this text which will eventually be published on an online blog, I am aware that this document will remain a coded CSS sequence on a server belonging to Google, to be visited a few times by a small handful of people (mostly my parents) before the page remains dormant until eventually it is either erased, lost in a server crash or completely forgotten, floating in a nonexistent purgatory with the millions of blog entries documenting people’s lives, likes or even occasionally pretentious pseudo-artistic ramblings relating to their masters courses. If a document is created but never accessed, it is as if the file doesn’t exist, with no physical copy it remains buried, never to be unearthed.
The internet and world wide web are in their infancy, and their evolution has been astronomical; by the time their lifetime has doubled, it is difficult to even speculate what format it will have taken. This means that files, like people, have a lifespan before they die and are forgotten. To relate back to the real world, a study conducted in 2007 by genealogy site ancestry.com found that 1 in 3 US users did not know any of the names of their great-grandparents (ancestry.com, 2007). If the personal is forgotten so easily, this would suggest that the digital is even more transient.
An example of personal digital data being lost is blogging site Greatest Journal, which closed in July 2009, meaning years of its users blog entries disappeared. A google search now brings up a handful of discussions about its closure; however it is now confined to the memory of its former users (google.com, 2011).
Related is the fear of a Digital dark age, in which files of old formats become obsolete and unreadable, meaning a large amount of data could become inaccessible. There are currently many high profile projects to prevent this happening, such as the Internet Archive (www.archive.org), creating a digital library of websites, videos and music, and since 2007 Microsoft have created a partnership with The National Archives to unlock now inaccessible formats (guardian.co.uk, 2007).
With my personal approach to the sublime assessed, the aims of my installation must now change. I hold much admiration for the abstract impressionists, as their paintings aimed to be experiential, rather than depicting the experience. This still holds true for my own installation, as the experiences I have described above are too abstract to convey as a tangible form or clumsy metaphor. However, the strength of artwork is its ability to provoke emotion. My negative experiences of being overwhelmed, exclusion, wonder, confusion, absurdity and perceived meaninglessness can still be held within an installation, however what will be key to the piece is how much is revealed and what is explained from the methodology. The universe may not reveal its secrets upon contemplation; however it still engages, which the installation must do. The worst possible response would be apathy. Therefore enough needs to be exposed to entice and connect to the viewer, but not so much that the ‘reveal’ is given away and the piece becomes completely understandable, as that would prevent any hope of provoking the sublime, which I would hope to evoke through the culmination of the above mentioned responses.
The use of a cylindrical installation remains valid, as the shape has no defined edges, no point of reference, and what projected onto becomes infinite and creates the illusion of endless space. It surrounds completely without resolve, and on a large scale removes any sense of claustrophobia which may be felt; important as large scale is significant if the viewer is to be overwhelmed. The cylinder makes the person confront the piece directly, rather then through the mediation of a television or cinema screen. The shape allows for the animation to cover the floor, walls, and the viewer, moving beyond the surrounding shape, actually engulfing them as part of the experience.
With the above brought into consideration, a method and reasoning behind the creation of the animation has been reconsidered.
3.1 & 3.2 begin.
With the research phase over, I am now beginning the realisation phase of the thesis.
Method of abstracting binary
Still unhappy with the method of abstracting the binary code, I am using Maya I can recreate the turbulence within the original painting by Turner, and emit particles in the same direction and motion as the paint strokes. Each particle is either a 1 or a 0, with the amount of each dictated by the binary input from the photograph of the same scene I took in Margate. The amount of particles emitted is controlled, so the scene is made up of the same number of binary numbers. The effect produced is abstract in itself, however two levels of turbulent displacement create a more storm like effect. The final animation is abstract, however with occasional viewable binary gives the viewer a reference point. Due to the speed of movement however, it is impossible to follow, moving the image into the unfathomable. I feel this output is the most complete so far. It utilises digital technology, recreates the power of the natural sublime in a way which is not just imitation, and has a working methodology which relates directly to the goal of evoking a sublime state. The following images show the methodology in four steps. The first demonstrates the motion of the original painting. The second is the emission of particles, assigned with the binary from the photograph, from the key areas. The next image is the final render, with added turbulence, distorting slightly more. The final image is the final output overlaid so it can be contrasted with the original painting.
Binary Input
Rather than using Turner’s painting as the input, I have travelled to Margate and photographed the same settings as the paintings. I have then translated the photographs into binary by recreating them in Maya (3D software) and saving the data out as binary code, the most basic form of computer language. This binary data has become my input, as it the invisible, unreadable, endlessly complex script which dictates anything which happens within a digital universe.
Rejecting Painting Input
Using paintings as the original input that is subject to abstraction is not providing satisfactory. Direct comparison is invited, and the exploration of the digital world is not taking place, as it is using someone else’s work which already exists and obtains its own merit. In order to explore such inputs in a more in depth fashion, a new approach is needed.
Hands Off Approach
I have been randomising the process of abstraction by sacrificing control in order to create something unexpected. This is proving unsuccessful at present however, as the inputs need moderating or they simply don’t work. I had presumed that if I was in control of the elements of the piece, then they would be controlled and therefore lack sublime quality, however I now see that as false. It is the output which must be sublime rather than the process itself. The inputs are the equivalent of paint strokes; many are needed to create the work, however the final painting is what provides the overall impression. This does mean I need to reassess my method of abstraction.
Interaction
While the psychedelic movement was dedicate to enhancing a sublime experience, I am wary of comparison, as it means the work is showing that which already familiar. Ultimately it will be inevitable, as psychedelic is now a descriptive word to describe that which is abstract and mystifying. If it had come before the abstract art movements no doubt they would be called psychedelic as well, as they are mind manifesting, much like the period was. To avoid similarities, it is necessary not to replicate all hallmarks of the era, otherwise I will be creating a pastiche rather than a more original piece of work. However, if a viewer is reminded of psychedelia and the abstract sublime more than a depiction of the natural sublime, it is not a negative, as both are equally as valid.
Evoking Psychedelia
While the psychedelic movement was dedicate to enhancing a sublime experience, I am wary of comparison, as it means the work is showing that which already familiar. Ultimately it will be inevitable, as psychedelic is now a descriptive word to describe that which is abstract and mystifying. If it had come before the abstract art movements no doubt they would be called psychedelic as well, as they are mind manifesting, much like the period was. To avoid similarities, it is necessary not to replicate all hallmarks of the era, otherwise I will be creating a pastiche rather than a more original piece of work. However, if a viewer is reminded of psychedelia and the abstract sublime more than a depiction of the natural sublime, it is not a negative, as both are equally as valid.
Scale
While the romantics believed that the wonder of the sublime could be in any form of nature, from the ocean to a blade of grass, scale has remained an important when considering the sublime. Burke described the causal structure of sublime objects as vastness, infinity and magnificence, and Schopenhauer’s (much mentioned in this document) example of the universe as the most sublime of objects, suggests that larger forms evoke the sublime more easily. The abstract expressionists painted large canvasses to envelop the viewer in the same way. Diane Thater’s work uses architecture as it already surrounds the viewer, and so by manipulating the surfaces, they become part of the artwork. The need for a sizeable installation becomes evident, as to involve, envelop and impress the viewer, they much be part of the installation. If I project a 16:9 rectangle on the wall, it will appear no different from a large television screen.
To fill a wall with a projection is to make it dominate the room through its impressiveness, leaving a great impression through its expanse. With this scale in mind, it is also possible to manipulate the piece to give it a false sense of proportion, so the top of the piece, at well over head height, can be scaled to look down over the viewer, or appear smaller, and even higher than the placement of the element itself.
I observed this technique being executed perfectly in a series of paintings by Sir Peter Paul Rubens, in the Royal Museum of Fine Art, in Brussels. The museum has a large gallery dedicated to his work, painted crimson, standing at twice the height of the rest of the rooms. Immediately on entering, it is evident how huge the paintings are, with each wall hosting two smaller paintings (still huge at around five metres tall) standing either side of an enormous piece which reaches to the ceiling. To take the piece in, you must stand so far back you are underneath the other huge painting on the opposite wall. When observing from a reasonable distance however, you notice the content of the paintings themselves, working from ground level up for instance the side of a mountain or ravine, with the figures corresponding to the height of the their placement, looking down, over you, as opposed to one fixed view point, where everything responds to the eye line of the viewer. Combined with the size of the piece, the effect is immensely powerful. The technique can be used to assign power to an individual as well as a landscape. Sir Anthony Van Dyck was the court painter for King Charles, a short, weak man, who did not have the statuesque presence of Henry VIII and other past rulers. To counter this, he was placed on a horse, elevating his position and giving him a sense of empowerment. Van Dyck knew that this particular painting would be hung in Saint James Palace, high up at the end of the gallery, and so exaggerated the format, painting as if he was looking up at Charles from directly below, rather than on level terms with him.
To fill a wall with a projection is to make it dominate the room through its impressiveness, leaving a great impression through its expanse. With this scale in mind, it is also possible to manipulate the piece to give it a false sense of proportion, so the top of the piece, at well over head height, can be scaled to look down over the viewer, or appear smaller, and even higher than the placement of the element itself.
I observed this technique being executed perfectly in a series of paintings by Sir Peter Paul Rubens, in the Royal Museum of Fine Art, in Brussels. The museum has a large gallery dedicated to his work, painted crimson, standing at twice the height of the rest of the rooms. Immediately on entering, it is evident how huge the paintings are, with each wall hosting two smaller paintings (still huge at around five metres tall) standing either side of an enormous piece which reaches to the ceiling. To take the piece in, you must stand so far back you are underneath the other huge painting on the opposite wall. When observing from a reasonable distance however, you notice the content of the paintings themselves, working from ground level up for instance the side of a mountain or ravine, with the figures corresponding to the height of the their placement, looking down, over you, as opposed to one fixed view point, where everything responds to the eye line of the viewer. Combined with the size of the piece, the effect is immensely powerful. The technique can be used to assign power to an individual as well as a landscape. Sir Anthony Van Dyck was the court painter for King Charles, a short, weak man, who did not have the statuesque presence of Henry VIII and other past rulers. To counter this, he was placed on a horse, elevating his position and giving him a sense of empowerment. Van Dyck knew that this particular painting would be hung in Saint James Palace, high up at the end of the gallery, and so exaggerated the format, painting as if he was looking up at Charles from directly below, rather than on level terms with him.
Digital Animation
One of the advantages of using digital technology is the limitless possibility and creation of form. As mathematical algarhythms and manipulation of the digital canvas can stretch well beyond human capabilities, the ability to process endless streams of data with great ease can create pattern and shapes that would not be possible in physical format animation. Multiple points of animation can manipulate the entire canvas, rather than a single area, fulfilling the criteria which Barnett Newman believed made a painting large in terms of content. Complexity from such points can be subtle in size, however when projected appear much larger, so pockets of movement can be noted all over an installation. The process of abstracting an image requires a starting input and methodology, which is currently lacking from the animations I’m producing.
Input as paintings
The input device has been changed to two paintings, Rothko’s Seagram Mural and Turner’s snowstorm, two classic examples of the sublime in painting, from different movements. I’ve separated the images down to three colours, and recorded the RGB numerical values of each. These numbers chosen randomly form the input numbers for the filters which lead to abstraction. I was curious to see if when distorted, any essence of the original is retained. The finite detailing is interesting, as when projected on a large scale, the whole image moves.
Animation test
This animation does not repeat throughout, instead evolving with advanced complexity as it continues to evolve. The numbers for the inputs are chosen at random in order to remove a level of control from the piece, so I’m unaware of how the piece has been created. The starting point is still blocks of colour, and needs work.
Land Art
Land Art in its most basic sense is the manipulation of natural landscapes for artistic effect, using both natural materials (rocks, water, earth) and/or man made elements (concrete, metals), in such a way that the man made element is part of the landscape itself, rather than an introduced medium using the landscape as its host.
The movement rose to prominence in the mid sixties, and reflects the mixed idealism at the time, with the artists practicing in such a manner not aligned under any particular philosophical banner, often holding conflicting principles. The sixties were a particularly turbulent period of the twentieth century; mass protests were taking place many western countries, particularly of note are France, America and Britain, with an ideological shift away from capitalism, imperialism, and the conservatism of the first half of the century. The prospect of nuclear war was a very real possibility, and countries were still involved in major, unpopular wars, Vietnam being the most notorious example. With ideology causing conflict, even if it was a campaign for unity, and so the mixture of a utopian vision, coupled with destruction and terror caused a paradox which would ultimately reflect within the movement itself.
While it could be assumed that land art is concerned with environmental sustainability due to the medium, this was not always the goal of all the artists; the act of manipulating the landscape itself is editing natural elements, even if it is with sustainable materials, creating a moral conflict between awareness raising artistic statements and whether or not this process would undermine the declarations being made due to the destruction within the action.
This issue could be countered by the usage of land reclaimed from industrial businesses, or temporary words designed to erode over time, with nature reclaiming the work. Other artists implemented a ‘leave no trace’ philosophy, creating temporary installation before removing them entirely, repairing any marks left to the landscape.
These were not the only conflicting issues, with American and European land artists clashing over their economic attitudes towards their practice, Richard Long accusing the Americans of creating ‘true capitalist art’ (Andrews, 1999, p215) due to their buying of land and machinery, as well as reliance on money to be an artist at all, in comparison to what he described as his own ‘thoughtful view of nature…using ideas, walking, stones, tracks, water, time etc in a flexible way’ (Andrews, 1999, p215). In contrast to this admiration, the American artist Heizer declared the atomic bomb to be ‘the ultimate sculpture’, proudly asserting that his sculpture Complex One could survive an atomic explosion (Gabriel, 1982, p48).
While artists may not have been ideologically aligned, there were certain thematic qualities which were shared between them, which while not as decisive as a manifesto or declaration of intent and alignment, still unites them under the umbrella term land art.
The most immediate of these is the direct interaction between both the artist and viewer, and landscape, conducted in person. While records and photographs were recorded, this was not the art itself, in the way a painting can be a representation of a landscape through its medium. The lack of a studio or gallery in which the work is constructed is also important, as it meant the work was outside of the art world’s most foremost circles, although the artists were often sponsored by patrons. It also led to discussions about the reassessment of presentation of artwork, as well as ownership of work.
Land Art relating to the sublime
To investigate land art in relation to the sublime, work would ideally be assessed on an individual basis, as to understand the artists’ intent as well as the nature of the work in terms of material matters, location, etc. This process remove any generalizations, however with such a varied group of artists who are not grouped together, there would always be exceptions to any statements.
It is possible however, to contrast the ideas that define the sublime to the ideas that form land art, even if the artists’ intent is not to have evoked feeling of the sublime as part of the work itself.
This paper would hold that regardless of the form or goals of any piece of Land Art, it can never evoke the feelings of the sublime, as defined by any theorist.
The sublime moment must always have the duality of provoking beauty and terror. The twin formats that this state can be achieved through are certain cases of nature and abstraction, as both move human understanding beyond comprehension, evoking feelings of awe due to an altered comprehension of reality, triggered by the perceived form.
Land art, while using nature, often in an abstract way, should in theory be a perfect example of art work evoking the sublime. However, the manipulation of land by an artist means that the alteration of nature has taken place, regardless of the form of the artwork.
The overwhelming power of nature is therefore compromised, as a human can control and change the course of nature, undermining its power, even if the work can be reclaimed over time. This is important, as it removed terror from the emotions of the viewer; there is a clear element of control.
The scale of work can evoke feelings of beauty and awe; however there is always the interference of man within the scheme of the work, even if it is to draw attention to a natural, sometimes fearsome element.
To illustrate this point, I will use three examples which could be argued as sublime, explaining why each of them falls short of this category.
Case Studies
The lightning field (above) by Walter De Maria is an installation in Quemado, New Mexico, constructed in 1977. The piece consists of 400 steel poles, laid out in a 1 kilometer grid, each pole standing 67 meters apart, with a height staggered between 458 and 815 centremetres, depending on the land elevation, so the tips are all of an equal height. The visibility of the piece varies depending on what time of day it is viewed at; dawn and dusk casting the most dramatic light and shadows, whereas at mid day the piece practically disappears as the sun is directly overhead, however the landscape is still dominating due to the spacing and form of the installation.
The piece is designed to attract lightning, with the poles acting as attractors, and the sight chosen due to its regular lightning storms.
In practice, there is a lack of actual strikes; storms only pass overhead on average for three days a month, with strikes rare within this timeframe.
However, examining the work on its intent, the theoretical experience of a large area experience multiple lightening strikes within a small area of land sounds like it could provoke a sublime experience; lightning proving beautiful yet fearsome, particularly in the isolated location that work is situated in.
This situation could ultimately provide the opposite experience; with lightning raining down overhead, the feelings evoked by its beauty would be dominated by feelings of terror; a deadly force provoked by man would cause alarm and panic in anybody within viewing distance of the work. It would also be the lightning providing the sublime experience, as a bi-product of the installation, making the experience of nature sublime, rather than the work itself. If the lightning is not present, then neither is the potential for a sublime moment.
Wrapped Coast (above) by Christo & Jeanne-Claude (1968) was an installation which, as the name suggests, involved the wrapping of 2.4 kilometres of coast line, with height varying from sea level to 26 metres on some cliff faces, using 90,000 square metres of erosion control fabric, secured with 56.3 miles of polypropylene rope. This huge operation involved a large team of experienced rock climbers and art & architecture students. The operation was funded entirely by the artists, and lasted for ten weeks, before the material was all removed and recycled, leaving the site in its original state.
Christo & Jean-Claudes’ reasoning behind this and all of his pieces of work is that of pure aesthetic enjoyment, saying that “we will build because we believe it will be beautiful.” (Pagliasotti, 2002).
This is the reason the work does not fall within the boundaries of the sublime, although, like the lightning fields, this piece should be utterly within its realms; cliffs, the classically used personification of the state, are beautiful yet fearsome in their structural form. They remain beautiful when wrapped, with their form and shape insinuated by the fabric. Because of their scale, they remain fearsome and therefore sublime, however this is due to their original form, characterized by nature. The act of wrapping highlights beauty, rather than fear, and due to the power asserted over nature by wrapping, undermines the posed threat, meaning that the objects fall into the artist’s aim of making something beautiful.
My final example is New York City Waterfalls (above), by Olafur Eliasson, 2008. Four man made waterfalls, varying from 90 to 120 feet tall, were installed at various sites around New York City, running for four months. Made from common building materials which were later reused in line with the aims for minimal ecological impact, water from the East river was collected in filtered intake pools under the water surface, to avoid the possibility of marine life being introduced into the system, where it was then pumped up to the top of large scaffolding, before dropping across a large trough and finally into the water, creating the effect of a waterfall. In his artists statement, Eliasson acknowledges the waterfall as a sublime object observing that they ‘convey a feeling of powerlessness, or insignificance’, however his aim for the artwork is not to evoke the feeling of the sublime; he continues by saying that he believes the waterfalls can ‘strengthen our relationship to the landscape, while enhancing our feeling of being sensing subjects (NYC Waterfalls, 2010).’ As a naturally occurring phenomena, a waterfall can evoke beauty with horror, however in a mediated environment, the element of danger disappears; water pouring from scaffolding, while impressive in height and power, can never duplicate the surge of a river cascading ferociously over a rock face, carving into stone with its sheer force. Also its positioning in a busy city reduces its dramatic impact amongst manmade objects and buildings, reducing a man made waterfall to another feat of engineering.
Conclusion
I have chosen the selected examples because they are pieces of work that use natural phenomena that when occurring in nature, are capable of leaving a sublime state within the viewer. The Land artists have created beautiful, thought provoking, awareness raising pieces of art, however none could be categorized as being truly sublime, as the moment man mediates nature successfully, he undermines it, removing the fear, as it is the unconquerable element, or the efficient cause, as Aristotle called it, that gives the object its fearsome essence. This is not a criticism of the work; none of the mentioned examples were setting out to try and evoke the sublime, and when examined on another axis, the work could no doubt be recorded as a resounding success. However the purpose of this paper was to remove Land Art from investigation into the sublime, as ultimately man can only edit and add to nature, never recreate its awesome power.
The Digital Sublime
This entry consists of two parts. The first will examine the digital realm as sublime in its existent format, discussing issues of tangibility and ownership. The second will discuss how digital technology can portray sublime concepts in ways not possible within analogue mediums.
To recall Schopenhauer’s previously mentioned analysis, he stated that the highest feeling of the sublime is the contemplation of the scale and longitude of the universe.
The digital realm runs alongside our own existing one, through human made devices, but with limitless freedom and space, its own invisible universe, with parallels to draw with our own reality.
The strongest link is the concept of scale. Neither our universe, nor the digital counterpart, has an outer limit. There is a constant expansion occurring into nothingness, making both impossible to map or to put into perspective. The digital world is neither a container nor an object, and so it can never be filled with data, which serve as the replacement for physical objects in this universe based metaphor. Rather than being added to a form, there is a spread outwards, unconfined as the space has no boundaries. Servers to host web space can be brought and set up, as can new storage devices. The only limitation is the demand of the users; if there is no need for extra space, the demand for the products will stop and the devices will subsequently stop being manufactured. Trying to draw a sense of scale from this immeasurable expanse pushes the imagination to its limits, relating back to Kant’s theory on the sublime as a psychological state where the mind fails to process the information it is presented with.
To address Schopenhauer’s assessment again, duration can factor once again in both worlds. NASA has estimated that the age of the universe is “around 13 billion, give or take a few billion.” (NASA, 2011) The first computer, ENIAC, came to fruition in 1946, 65 years ago, a miniscule amount of time, which may make the comparison of duration sound completely absurd. However the issue is not the amount of time, but the progression of technology within those sixty years, and where it will be in another sixty. The rate of evolution is what gives such a comparison more gravitas; within the said time machines have moved from basic mathematics to displaying interactive virtual environments. The technological revolution is well documented and on-going, however it is the impossibility of prediction what it will lead to in a larger amount of time, for instance 1000 years (still a tiny amount of time when compared to the universe) that engages the mind in implausible speculation that is similar in feeling to that when contemplating the estimated 13 billion years of the universe.
This rate of progression also reveals the fleeting nature of the files with which we fill our digital worlds. As technology updates, so do the formats in which files are stored, as the language from which files are read evolves, and previous forms become inert unless translated and updated, much like human language. Eventually files are left as symbolic strings of binary, the final base language of computing. Even the devices that these are stored on, DVDs, USB pens etc., will become obsolete and unreadable, in the same way floppy discs are no longer in use with personal computers. Photographs, films, personal documents, without a physical copy such as a photo album or film reel, will become lost in the seas of endlessly generating data. In this aspect, data can be serving as a metaphor for human existence; consider how difficult it is to trace a family tree past a few generations. This momentary existence ties into the duration of the earth, and how it will continue for billions of years again, once this moment has passed.
Digital files very existence can be called into question however, removing them from a comparison to humanity. If a file is intangible, it is difficult to prove its existence other than through its presentation as a translated medium displayed via the light of an output device. If a computer is taken apart, the files are not found inside. Even the base language of binary is not viewable, just a collection of connected hardware devices. Timothy Binkley summed up this key difference in type between analogue and digital respectively; “One is focused on concrete preservation and presentation, the other on abstract storage and manipulation”. (1990)
This makes it difficult to place value on a digital creation, as the format is temporary, intangible, and as a string data, repeatable, with the idea of an original invalid after duplication, as Timothy Binkley noted:
“Digital media have no original. The information is immediately spirited away into electronic circuits and magnetic disks that are inscrutable by the human eye and ear. It moves freely from one digital medium to another, and by the time it is finally “saved” in what is likely to be a tentative version after a session at the machine, it has to be reinscribed and masticated numerous times. There is no authoritative original.” (1990)
A file could contain a literary work, a piece of digital art, a mathematical algorithm, any of which could potentially be ground-breaking, astounding pieces of work, but with the above issues factored in, a contradiction is created, and work becomes invaluable unless a physical version can be generated. A piece of digital artwork can be observed, admired, and owned in principle, however like natural elements such as cliffs and waterfalls, remain invaluable.
With the format itself displaying philosophical sublime characteristics, there possibility of the format to convey feelings of the sublime take on a new possibilities, as both medium and metaphor.
Digital artwork has more in common with abstraction by the nature of its medium. The romantics used nature directly to depict the natural sublime, leaning towards the abstract as a method of expressing feeling, whereas the abstract impressionists used abstraction as an experiential device, effectively stepping into the emotional output of the romantics. By combing projections and animation in an environment, the digital medium can repeat the gesture, by bringing the abstraction into a surrounding, responding form, even if the illusion is not concrete. Although installation artists such as Jams Turrell have already explored this gesture, digital projection can be mapped and transferred onto any surface.
One such artist who does this is Diana Thater. Using multiple surfaces of the available space, her work ascends traditional methods of displaying multimedia.
Peter Luminfeld writes “Thater, to begin with, eschews what video artists routinely embrace: the black room fetish, the desire to transform portions of galleries, museums or found spaces into videoteques, darkened pseudo cinemas for the contemplation of video artwork. Instead, she has long held fast to the dictum that her work should be seen in ambient light, that it should function within the constraints of its space and flow plan and work within a video’s limited colour palate.” (2001: 137)
By using multiple surfaces, images can take tangible forms and distort them using light, changing a surface which we would ordinarily regard as static, and moving the viewer into a state of confusion, at the edge of understanding.
Luminfeld continues “Dealing as it does in scale designed to dwarf the body, architecture is the only art that can strive towards the sublime; Thater’s trick is to turn video into architecture, throwing the image up to play over the found space of her installations.” (2001:141
As mentioned in the previous chapter the concept of large scale canvases to evoke the sublime was mentioned repeatedly by the abstract expressionists, as a means to encompass and act as an environment. The Rothko Chapel (above) can draw parallels with the colour washes of White is the Colour (2002) (below), where the entire room is a washed with a calming blue pulsating projection.
Jennifer Steinkamp is another artist who uses computer based projections to create moving canvases of static architecture, using “dead space” to create projection mapped illusions. Her larger works, such as Swell (1995) (above) encourage user participation, inviting the viewer to become part of the environment through the interplay of projection and shadows, offering the person but to participate by no choice by placing the projectors low and at the back of the available space. Through this immersion and participation the person can feel linked to the large images in front of them, as opposed to a distant observer, operating outside of the work.
Projection and digital arts do however, have an underlying link to the natural sublime through the use of light as the method of display for digital art. Be it via a screen or projector, the most powerful element at work in nature still entices the viewer, linking even the most advanced displays of technology to something fundamentally primitive.
Hyper real computer graphics are at the other end of the scale to abstract imagery, however the inability to truly capture natural environments through exact portrayal due to the lack of other sensory involvement, in the same way the Romantic painters could never evoke the scenes they painted with immaculate detail, instead opting to reveal the feelings behind the painting, means a lack of empathetic response, so there are some issues of conveyance which the medium will not transcend. Oliver Grau comments:
“It is not possible for any art to reproduce reality I its entirety, and we must remain aware that there is no objective appropriation of reality – Plato’s metaphor of the cave shows us that. It is only interpretations that are decisive. This has been one of the major themes in philosophy in the early modern era the work of Descartes, Leibniz and Kant can also be viewed as marvellous attempts to reflect on the consequences that result from perspective, the notions of presentation and thus the cognitive process, which ultimately cannot be overcome”. (2003: 17)
Technological advancement has also allowed for the revealing of the previously invisible. Simon Starling’s Inventar Nr. 8573 (Man Ray) (2006) (above), involves an automated slide projector enlarging a photograph by Man Ray. With each image, the picture moves closer, revealing the ink which makes up the print of the image. Using microscopic technology the silver particles become photos in their own right, complex worlds invisible to the eye. The detailed minutiae become as sublime as a grander narrative due to its endless complexity, which goes on indefinitely. This overwhelming amount of detail contained within a small image is reminiscent of Hugh Honour’s comment on the Romantic painters finding the sublime in a single blade of grass. The enlargement process and endlessly generated detail finds itself at home in digital practice, as mathematical algorithms allow the continuous growth of an image, particularly in the form of fractal art, which follows the same form of endless evolution.
These three mentioned strands of digital art all share in common the ability to amaze and inspire awe by creating imagery which challenges viewers perceptions of reality, by editing and manipulating structures, items and surfaces which are tangible to create realities which relate to our world, but in ways which we cannot understand as real, so the seemingly impossible happens before the person. Lyotard refers to the connection between the artistic avant-garde and the sublime with the term novatio, defined as "the increase of being and the jubilation which result from the invention of new rules of the game, be it pictorial, artistic, or any other." (David, 2011) This breaking from tradition comes with the relatively new format of digital art, which can redefine assumptions about what reality means. Lyotard supports this idea when discussing post modernism, which he believes "cannot exist without a shattering of belief and without discovery of the 'lack of reality' of reality, together with the invention of other realities." (David, 2011)
To recall Schopenhauer’s previously mentioned analysis, he stated that the highest feeling of the sublime is the contemplation of the scale and longitude of the universe.
The digital realm runs alongside our own existing one, through human made devices, but with limitless freedom and space, its own invisible universe, with parallels to draw with our own reality.
The strongest link is the concept of scale. Neither our universe, nor the digital counterpart, has an outer limit. There is a constant expansion occurring into nothingness, making both impossible to map or to put into perspective. The digital world is neither a container nor an object, and so it can never be filled with data, which serve as the replacement for physical objects in this universe based metaphor. Rather than being added to a form, there is a spread outwards, unconfined as the space has no boundaries. Servers to host web space can be brought and set up, as can new storage devices. The only limitation is the demand of the users; if there is no need for extra space, the demand for the products will stop and the devices will subsequently stop being manufactured. Trying to draw a sense of scale from this immeasurable expanse pushes the imagination to its limits, relating back to Kant’s theory on the sublime as a psychological state where the mind fails to process the information it is presented with.
To address Schopenhauer’s assessment again, duration can factor once again in both worlds. NASA has estimated that the age of the universe is “around 13 billion, give or take a few billion.” (NASA, 2011) The first computer, ENIAC, came to fruition in 1946, 65 years ago, a miniscule amount of time, which may make the comparison of duration sound completely absurd. However the issue is not the amount of time, but the progression of technology within those sixty years, and where it will be in another sixty. The rate of evolution is what gives such a comparison more gravitas; within the said time machines have moved from basic mathematics to displaying interactive virtual environments. The technological revolution is well documented and on-going, however it is the impossibility of prediction what it will lead to in a larger amount of time, for instance 1000 years (still a tiny amount of time when compared to the universe) that engages the mind in implausible speculation that is similar in feeling to that when contemplating the estimated 13 billion years of the universe.
This rate of progression also reveals the fleeting nature of the files with which we fill our digital worlds. As technology updates, so do the formats in which files are stored, as the language from which files are read evolves, and previous forms become inert unless translated and updated, much like human language. Eventually files are left as symbolic strings of binary, the final base language of computing. Even the devices that these are stored on, DVDs, USB pens etc., will become obsolete and unreadable, in the same way floppy discs are no longer in use with personal computers. Photographs, films, personal documents, without a physical copy such as a photo album or film reel, will become lost in the seas of endlessly generating data. In this aspect, data can be serving as a metaphor for human existence; consider how difficult it is to trace a family tree past a few generations. This momentary existence ties into the duration of the earth, and how it will continue for billions of years again, once this moment has passed.
Digital files very existence can be called into question however, removing them from a comparison to humanity. If a file is intangible, it is difficult to prove its existence other than through its presentation as a translated medium displayed via the light of an output device. If a computer is taken apart, the files are not found inside. Even the base language of binary is not viewable, just a collection of connected hardware devices. Timothy Binkley summed up this key difference in type between analogue and digital respectively; “One is focused on concrete preservation and presentation, the other on abstract storage and manipulation”. (1990)
This makes it difficult to place value on a digital creation, as the format is temporary, intangible, and as a string data, repeatable, with the idea of an original invalid after duplication, as Timothy Binkley noted:
“Digital media have no original. The information is immediately spirited away into electronic circuits and magnetic disks that are inscrutable by the human eye and ear. It moves freely from one digital medium to another, and by the time it is finally “saved” in what is likely to be a tentative version after a session at the machine, it has to be reinscribed and masticated numerous times. There is no authoritative original.” (1990)
A file could contain a literary work, a piece of digital art, a mathematical algorithm, any of which could potentially be ground-breaking, astounding pieces of work, but with the above issues factored in, a contradiction is created, and work becomes invaluable unless a physical version can be generated. A piece of digital artwork can be observed, admired, and owned in principle, however like natural elements such as cliffs and waterfalls, remain invaluable.
With the format itself displaying philosophical sublime characteristics, there possibility of the format to convey feelings of the sublime take on a new possibilities, as both medium and metaphor.
Digital artwork has more in common with abstraction by the nature of its medium. The romantics used nature directly to depict the natural sublime, leaning towards the abstract as a method of expressing feeling, whereas the abstract impressionists used abstraction as an experiential device, effectively stepping into the emotional output of the romantics. By combing projections and animation in an environment, the digital medium can repeat the gesture, by bringing the abstraction into a surrounding, responding form, even if the illusion is not concrete. Although installation artists such as Jams Turrell have already explored this gesture, digital projection can be mapped and transferred onto any surface.
One such artist who does this is Diana Thater. Using multiple surfaces of the available space, her work ascends traditional methods of displaying multimedia.
Peter Luminfeld writes “Thater, to begin with, eschews what video artists routinely embrace: the black room fetish, the desire to transform portions of galleries, museums or found spaces into videoteques, darkened pseudo cinemas for the contemplation of video artwork. Instead, she has long held fast to the dictum that her work should be seen in ambient light, that it should function within the constraints of its space and flow plan and work within a video’s limited colour palate.” (2001: 137)
By using multiple surfaces, images can take tangible forms and distort them using light, changing a surface which we would ordinarily regard as static, and moving the viewer into a state of confusion, at the edge of understanding.
Luminfeld continues “Dealing as it does in scale designed to dwarf the body, architecture is the only art that can strive towards the sublime; Thater’s trick is to turn video into architecture, throwing the image up to play over the found space of her installations.” (2001:141
As mentioned in the previous chapter the concept of large scale canvases to evoke the sublime was mentioned repeatedly by the abstract expressionists, as a means to encompass and act as an environment. The Rothko Chapel (above) can draw parallels with the colour washes of White is the Colour (2002) (below), where the entire room is a washed with a calming blue pulsating projection.
Jennifer Steinkamp is another artist who uses computer based projections to create moving canvases of static architecture, using “dead space” to create projection mapped illusions. Her larger works, such as Swell (1995) (above) encourage user participation, inviting the viewer to become part of the environment through the interplay of projection and shadows, offering the person but to participate by no choice by placing the projectors low and at the back of the available space. Through this immersion and participation the person can feel linked to the large images in front of them, as opposed to a distant observer, operating outside of the work.
Projection and digital arts do however, have an underlying link to the natural sublime through the use of light as the method of display for digital art. Be it via a screen or projector, the most powerful element at work in nature still entices the viewer, linking even the most advanced displays of technology to something fundamentally primitive.
Hyper real computer graphics are at the other end of the scale to abstract imagery, however the inability to truly capture natural environments through exact portrayal due to the lack of other sensory involvement, in the same way the Romantic painters could never evoke the scenes they painted with immaculate detail, instead opting to reveal the feelings behind the painting, means a lack of empathetic response, so there are some issues of conveyance which the medium will not transcend. Oliver Grau comments:
“It is not possible for any art to reproduce reality I its entirety, and we must remain aware that there is no objective appropriation of reality – Plato’s metaphor of the cave shows us that. It is only interpretations that are decisive. This has been one of the major themes in philosophy in the early modern era the work of Descartes, Leibniz and Kant can also be viewed as marvellous attempts to reflect on the consequences that result from perspective, the notions of presentation and thus the cognitive process, which ultimately cannot be overcome”. (2003: 17)
Technological advancement has also allowed for the revealing of the previously invisible. Simon Starling’s Inventar Nr. 8573 (Man Ray) (2006) (above), involves an automated slide projector enlarging a photograph by Man Ray. With each image, the picture moves closer, revealing the ink which makes up the print of the image. Using microscopic technology the silver particles become photos in their own right, complex worlds invisible to the eye. The detailed minutiae become as sublime as a grander narrative due to its endless complexity, which goes on indefinitely. This overwhelming amount of detail contained within a small image is reminiscent of Hugh Honour’s comment on the Romantic painters finding the sublime in a single blade of grass. The enlargement process and endlessly generated detail finds itself at home in digital practice, as mathematical algorithms allow the continuous growth of an image, particularly in the form of fractal art, which follows the same form of endless evolution.
These three mentioned strands of digital art all share in common the ability to amaze and inspire awe by creating imagery which challenges viewers perceptions of reality, by editing and manipulating structures, items and surfaces which are tangible to create realities which relate to our world, but in ways which we cannot understand as real, so the seemingly impossible happens before the person. Lyotard refers to the connection between the artistic avant-garde and the sublime with the term novatio, defined as "the increase of being and the jubilation which result from the invention of new rules of the game, be it pictorial, artistic, or any other." (David, 2011) This breaking from tradition comes with the relatively new format of digital art, which can redefine assumptions about what reality means. Lyotard supports this idea when discussing post modernism, which he believes "cannot exist without a shattering of belief and without discovery of the 'lack of reality' of reality, together with the invention of other realities." (David, 2011)
Abstraction
By using abstract form rather than trying to recreate nature, which will ultimately fall short, the generated image can allow the viewer to marvel at the scale, movement and complexity, assigning their own meaning to form. Having experimented with recreating a waterfall using particle systems, the effect is not satisfactory, in that it pales in comparison to the awesome power of the natural spectacle. Digital form, no matter how accurate, can never replace nature, in the same way Romantic painters knew that the goal was impossible. Abstraction can take the invisible elements which give a seen power; turbulence, scale, gravity, depth, complexity, and give them a visual representation that can hold its own form of sublimity, rather than competing with the natural.
The next two videos are experiments with waterfalls. The first is a literal copy, with the second using an unusual colour palate to remove the literal copying of a natural occurrence and move the interpretation to something more ethereal.
The third video is a slow moving abstract pattern, designed to entrance through its complexity and morphing function.
Abstract Expression and the Sublime
With the turn of Realism and Symbolism replacing Romanticism in response to its dominance and adaptation by nationalist causes, over the next hundred years the idea of the sublime laid dormant within fine arts.
The ideas resurfaced with the advent of modernist thinking. Some exploited the language, such as totalitarian regimes, which used the ability to overawe to control and manipulate, Simon Morley citing Albert Speer’s cathedrals of light choreography at the Nuremburg rallies as such an example. (2010b: 19)
The ideas were taken by artists later grouped as the Abstract Expressionists, who saw the sublime state in a less manipulative fashion, as a transcendent emotion, capable of revealing truths about the human condition and more complex feelings.
Rather than using imagery from the natural sublime as the romantics did, abstraction allowed the paintings to confront the viewer in the same powerful way as nature, becoming the spectacle itself, rather than depicting it. Werner Haftmann wrote on Mark Rothko’s paintings being linked to Friedrich’s: “Absorbed in the study of a very large painting (of Rothko’s), C. D. Friedrich’s painting Monk by the sea came to mind. But I was now the monk and was looking into the great breadth of an enormous, breathing space, stirred by the dark light.” (Baumann, 1971: vi)
This interpretation of the painting as an event would no doubt delighted Rothko, famously commenting “I don’t want my paintings to be of an experience, I want them to be an experience”. Peter Selz recognised the experiential qualities of the piece, writing how “these paintings are meant to be seen, they absorb, they envelop the viewer. We are no longer looking at a painting as we did in the nineteenth century; we are meant to enter it, to sink into its atmosphere of mist and light or to draw it around us like a coat-or skin.” (Mackie, 1989: 196)
Whilst separating the way in which the viewer must examine a painting from the twentieth century, describing with the comforting language of drawing something close, accustomed to the person, the familiar language of Romantic paintings, of mist and light, is still present. Rothko was not the only artist whose work can draw familiarities to other Romantic paintings. The action paintings of Jackson Pollock, splashed spontaneously across the canvas, in a feral, layered fashion are dynamic, passionate and above all, alive. (See above). Pollock noted the aims of his paintings to contain “organic intensity, energy and motion made visible.” (Mackie, 1989,: 144) As mentioned earlier, these are all qualities present in Turner’s paintings. In Rain, Steam and Speed (Below), similar wild strokes swirl around the entire canvas, with no fixed focal point, creating the same sense of uncontrolled chaos.
Barnett Newman painted huge colour field paintings, struck through with single lines. Scale was placed of upmost importance within his work, as he separated scale and size from each other, describing the need to create “total space”, by using the entire canvas in order to provoke transcendence, rather than have a fixed point of reference which thee person can look to. (See below) Instead, the entire painting emits energy, staring at the viewer with great intensity. The entire canvas was treated as equally important, allowing for a far stretching expanse to step beyond the boundaries of the painting.
Newman was particularly impressed by the Romantic painting Raft of Medusa, by Théodore Géricault (below) enthusiastically commenting on the work:
“Fantastic! The scale is marvellous. You can feel the immensity of the event rather than the scale of the canvas. Great! Wild painting! The space does engulf one.” (Mackie, 1989: 153)
From this talk of the immensity of the event overriding the scale of the work, Newman makes the psychical dimensions of the painting unnoticeable, as the space within the painting overrides the need for physical limitations. This evokes earlier romantic thought on how the sublime feeling of being overawed can be found equally in the universe as it can “in a blade of grass”.
However, Newman did paint enormous canvasses, in terms of dimension, so the painting could have far more power, due to being large in both scale and size. Rothko, another user of big canvases wrote:
“I paint very large pictures…The reason I paint them…is precisely because I want to be very intimate and human. To paint a small picture is to place yourself outside of your experience, to look upon an experience as a stereopticon view or with a reducing glass. However you paint the larger picture, you are in it. It isn’t something you command.” (Mackie, 1989: 203)
The surrendering of control that Rothko wished to provoke again mirrors the sublime moment’s overriding power, where the viewer is passive spectator to the events in front of him. (Below)
James Turrell, like the abstract expressionists, wanted to envelop the viewer in his installations, which appear as enormous voids of light, physical versions of the colour field paintings of Newman. Rudolph Arnheim writes how “light is one of the most revealing elements of life, it is the most spectacular experience of the senses.” (Herbert, 1998:196) His works often have a sense of boundlessness, with lighting so even that the viewer becomes unsure of dimensions, caught between impossible boundaries. His work Gansfeld (2001) (first image below) is a rectangular void, lit entirely with even blue, evoking Yves Klien’s IKB 191 (second image below) in both colour and effect. Klien wanted to remove the tension of opposing colours with his custom resin colours that filled canvases, wanting to create the void which Turrell has realised. The compete environment of this particular installation induces boundlessness and intensity, allowing for entry into the work of the abstract impressionists as a tangible reality rather than a cerebral experience.
Morisaw Balka’s installation How it is (2009) (below) shares similarities to Turrell’s Gansfeld, but rather than using light, Balka uses the lack of it to create the boundless space. The work is a large shipping container, accessible only at one end. The darkness quickly surrounds the viewer the deeper they go into the literal void, until they unexpectedly find the back of the container. In the darkness, no dimensions are visible. If the viewer turns, a dim light serves as a vague point of reference, but the expanse is impenetrable, a negative of Turrell’s work, but with the same sublime provocation.
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