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Chiaroscuro

Chiaroscuro is the use of strong contrasts between light and dark, usually bold contrasts affecting a whole composition. It is also a technical term used by artists and art historians for the use of contrasts of light to achieve a sense of volume in modelling three-dimensional objects and figures.Wikipedia

I thought I’d begin this post with a quote from Wikipedia. My recent Tweedle paintings have taken a darker turn, and I thought I might elaborate on them today. IMG_0238   A few years ago I came up with the Tweedles without really knowing what to do with them. They were a creation without a purpose. I have given them rules, emotions, a mind, a soul…  each of them even has its own backstory, and the story of Tweedles as a species (which I am still writing. Maybe I should try making a graphic novel rather than writing a book…) exists entirely in my head at the moment, awaiting it’s manifestation onto canvas, text, video and music. But even so, I still had no idea where I was going with my Tweedles… They were my creations, but they had no purpose. No reason to exist in my artwork. And then I realised that they were my creations. They were what humans are to a god. They were artificial life of a sort, and I began to explore that.


In my fictional world, Tweedles are created with artifical brains, mixing organic matter with analog and digital technology in nano scale. Because of the way they are made, they think, but differently to us. They feel, but do not understand how to express their emotions (especially with a stitched on mouth that holds their head cloth in place). They can sense the world around them, but cannot truly touch it. Tweedles don’t instinctively have free-will, and need to learn how to be free. Their existence is a confusing one once they can actually develop enough to stop and think about it. Their creators are not omnipresent. They are not omnibenevolent. They create Tweedles for reasons more linked to power and greed, and they create the Tweedles for reasons that are not entirely good but in fact selfish in some ways. Tweedles are made to be servants and slaves. The eventual development of true emotion and free will is just a side-effect of their construction.


I thought about how that would relate to what it’s like to be human. To live and die without knowing why. What your purpose is, if you have one. A lot of people live lives dedicated to a god or supreme being, but without ever questioning whether their creator is really omnibenevolent at all. The amount of suffering in this world seems unjust. Perhaps there is an evil, possibly sadistic being that enjoys messing around with humanity for entertainment? I was thinking about these deep philosophical and theological concepts and questions, and then suddenly the Tweedles had purpose after all. They were a vehicle for this philosophical exploration into life, death, morality, the creators and the created… through painting my recent Tweedle pictures, I am confronting some of my strongest fears in regards my spirituality, humanity and existence. IMG_0236 I wouldn’t really call myself a spiritual person, but if there is a god, how do I know they are good? If he told me that he was, could I really trust them? IMG_0239 And in regards free will, I assume that it exists because I think I can make decisions. But do I really have free will? When we look closely, living cells are made up of lots of dead matter and elements that are having a chemical reaction with each other to make the next part have a reaction and so on. Theoretically our entire bodies are a prolonged chemical reaction, so does that mean that we are even alive, or is humanity (and by extension all life) a strange and complicated quirk of chemistry that never was ‘alive’ in the way we believe we are?

Tweedles are made up of a few bio-engineered and grown brain cells linked into mechanisms and machines which allow them to move their bodies, repair it, respond to stimuli and even potentially build more Tweedles… but by our current definitions of life they are not alive because they are not composed entirely of cells.  Are they alive or not?

Is this Tweedle really dead or can it be repaired and brought back? Was it ever actually alive, and were we as humans ever truly alive?

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By using heavy, dark backgrounds in the paintings (a greenish-black colour) I could help express the gravity of these questions and the weight the answers would have on us if we ever knew them. I wanted to highlight the Tweedles in bright colour to emphasize that they are surrounded by darkness. The specific Tweedle that is the subject through my recent series of paintings walks its entire life treading through the unknown. And then, without realizing how or why, it dies.

No-one will ever truly know exactly what when on in our mind; we can only guess. Sometimes you may meet someone so like minded that you think you know what they’re thinking, and they can seem to read your mind, but in the end we can only hazard estimates and guesses as to the thoughts of other human beings. Eventually all our thoughts, our personalities, our very selves will disappear, as they are only made up of memories, and will eventually fade into darkness…

…and whether there is a light after that darkness will forever be completely unknown to us until we actually experience it.

“We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone.” – Orson Welles

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A Tweedle’s Eternal Silence

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What happens when a Tweedle dies?

It can think and feel. Due to variations in grown brain cells, Tweedles even appear to have their own personalities, so does it have a soul?

What Tweedles do have is a partially organic brain. Their ‘brains’ consist of artificially grown living brain cells. These brain cells are shut inside a protective casing that keeps them in a sterile, stasis-like environment so they don’t decay naturally. These cells are linked up to a microscale CPU, both of which are kept functional by a battery that utilizes nuclear fusion on a very small scale. All of these combine to form the mind of a Tweedle.

Surely everything that makes up a Tweedle’s sense of self is part of its mind. So if it had a soul, maybe such a thing would exist in its mind?

Do we even have souls, or are we just a product of our own minds?

Assuming only living creatures have souls, could a Tweedle ever be alive in the first place?

In the fictional world they inhabit, Tweedles are considered as an artificial life form. They can move, respond to stimuli and repair parts of themselves. Although Tweedles don’t have the knowledge, they theoretically could build new Tweedles. They have quite a few of the scientific characteristics of being alive, but do they count as living things?

And are we ourselves actually alive, or just biological machines like the Tweedles?

Forlorn Dreams of Immortality

This is a piece on the self preservation instinct and its eventual futility due to the inescapable nature of death.

A bird reaches towards a key to unlock a padlock on its leg. As the bird flies towards the key, the chain is pulled and the key moves further away.

There is a bit of slack in the part of the chain resting on the floor, giving hope that the key might be reachable after all.

Unfortunately, even if the bird could ever reach the key, it is stuck in a room with neither doors nor windows. Other than the chain, the lock and the key, the room is empty.

No matter what the creature attempts to achieve, it would eventually die of starvation or thirst.

The true message of the piece is intentionally unclear and left open to your interpretation. I’d love to hear what you think of it and thank you for reading!

Off With Your Head!!

When watching the Tim Burton movie adaptation of Alice in Wonderland, I found it strange how the Dodo character only appeared one or twice and then, without explanation, was never seen again. My drawing below is just my interpretation of what could have happened. It may also shed light on how the Dodo became extinct…

Dodo

In the picture, the Queen of Hearts is giving her trademark execution order to the Dodo. The Ace of Hearts serves as the Queen’s bodyguard; his uniform inspired by playing cards. I drew the executioner as some sort of steampunk cyborg. I started off drawing him normally and I have no idea how he ended up that way, it just felt right.

Some of the castle buildings seen in my last drawing can be seen in the background through the windows.

I hope you enjoy the drawing and thank for reading!

Resurrecting Ideas and Dreaming of Immortality

I’ve enjoyed working with spray paints recently, enjoying the interesting effects they can create, and the speed which paintings can be created using them. I have used them in my previous works to create fog and smoke effects. For my most current paintings, however, I have revisited one of my earliest ideas and expanded on it:

SKULL2 (1) SKULL2 (3)SKULL2 (4)

 

 

 

 

(Click to enlarge the above images)

I found the old skull stencil I made almost a year ago. I created a scaled-down version of it for my mini canvases so that I could experiment with my the image, along with the black and white spray paints I have at the moment. I used my new stencil on various different forms of paper as well as canvas, and above are what I feel to be my best of the experimental paintings.

By flipping the stencil over and using different spray paints, some interesting images could be formed; my favourite example of this technique would be the skull on the very left, due to it’s 3D effect which makes it stand out, almost to the point that you could reach out and grab it. With the same technique, a fairly Terminator-esque skull was formed (which can be seen on the right).

Although I had forgotten about my original skull design, upon rediscovering it I was immediately drawn to it. I think that it’s a very powerful image because of the contrast between the white and black, and because of the association we have with skulls and our mortality.

The eerie stare of the skull seems to follow you around the room. Although this wasn’t intentional, I liked how it reminded me that death feels inescapable, yet as humans we try to prolong our existences with medicine and diet, with some of us even seeking the seemingly impossible – immortality.

As an artist, I may be able to achieve immortality through my works and be remembered long after I’m deceased (or at least I hope so!) but realistically prefer the idea of biological immortality, where I can physically live on. At the moment this is impossible, but in the future it may slowly change into the improbable, then the probable, and finally the possible.

Thinking more about it, I wonder if immortality would be as good as it seems. At first it would be fairly amazing. As I’ve gotten older it seems that time has sped up, and as I continue to get older, the years will continue to fly past at an exponential rate. Perhaps centuries will eventually feel like seconds as I progress through an evolving world in a slow, dream-like state. Also, old age is often accompanied with arthritis and memory loss, so spending eternity with increasing joint pains with no memory of who I am or was or where I came from certainly doesn’t sound good at all.

I didn’t know that I would end up writing more of a philosophical post about life and death, but then again, that’s what art is supposed to do – to allow you to admire, experience or think about things in our world. Curious to know what you readers think, I guess I’ll leave you with this question:

Would you want to be immortal?

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Lucy R.I.P.

Painting of Lucy

Painting of Lucy

Sorry that I haven’t posted any new bookmarks for a short while, but I haven’t had any time to create any. On Sunday morning, Lucy (the wonderful subject for two of my paintings), fell ill and meowed with immense pain. I stayed with her as my parents had planned to go out to Killarney, and took care of her as she struggled more and more to move. She screeched and meowed in agony, eventually being in so much pain that her meows became desperate whispers. When my parents came back they immediately took her to the vet, but she didn’t make it. She died on Sunday evening of a tumour that had curled around her stomach. I only have two paintings of her, made when she was alive. Any further paintings I may paint of her will be nothing more than ghosts; created purely from photographs rather than the cat herself.

Lucy

Lucy ‘Singing’

Lucy was a wonderful cat. She was very patient with people (except when it came to food) and would meow in tune when someone whistled. She followed people around the house. She jumped into tiny spaces on shelves or cupboards. She would cover her eyes with both her paws, crossed, when she slept sometimes, and would twitch in her sleep when you said the word cat. She was a very cute cat and everyone loved her. R.I.P. Lucy (2000 – 2012)

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