For my end of first year assessment, I set up my provided space as if it was an abandoned museum. It is very similar to what I did at CSN in some ways, but this time I had more space and could decorate the space with a layer of dirt and dust to give it that abandoned feeling. I also had a velvet and mahogany display case, again dusty, that really helped bring out the museum feel, and I typed and printed little information plaques to go with each piece. Like a lot of my work, the museum is set in the world in which the Tweedles live, and the plaques reflect this. I hope you enjoy browsing through my photos and thanks for reading!
I took some clearer more accurate photos of the Tweedle Paintings in good sunlight. Please click below for the full image. 🙂
For a while, I’ve been working on creating a soundtrack for my artwork. I’ve heard of people composing soundtracks for films and even books, but can’t find much about composing for artwork. Yesterday, I finally finished my first soundtrack.
The Tweedle OST is an album consisting of a series of soundscapes, that are supposed to guide your imagination through the world of the Tweedles through the medium of sound.
I’ve created a Playlist of all my new songs, which you can now see on my youtube channel or via the link below. 🙂
My personal favourites from the OST are “03 – Hunted”, “06 – Stealing the Flagship Jabberwock” and “09 – Among Fallen Tweedles”.
Which song is your favourite?
Why is it that we find the dangerous interesting? Action movies, murder mysteries, killer robots, wars, dragons… and it’s not just in fiction. There are people who chase after tornadoes in plated cars. We can be mesmerized by the flickering flames of a fire. We as humans are drawn to the dangerous. The unknown. The fantastical.
Tweedles are equally curious in nature as humans are. The one in the picture above is learning about electricity, carrying it through its metal wires and redirecting it. Should we fear the unknown or should we try to understand it?
The Tweedle doesn’t even know where the electricity is coming from. It could be an angry god’s failed attempt at smiting it down with lightening? Yet it seems unafraid, even happy. Perhaps we as humans could learn a valuable lesson from this Tweedle…
This was a painting inspired by Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam‘. In this painting, a Tweedle looks up at its human creator’s hand, gently reaching towards it.
Tweedles are humanoid in shape. They were invented in man’s image. As Tweedles learn more about the world around them, they attempt to mimic human behaviour but can never truly understand why we do the things we do.
For example, the Tweedle in this painting has adopted a red robe, similar in colour to its face cloth, because it has seen humans wearing clothes. It doesn’t fully comprehend the concept of clothing. It tries to understand by copying us, but ultimately the clothes serve it no purpose.
No matter how much a Tweedle tries to understand its creators, it never will be able to. It can never connect with what it is to be human, and so it is depicted reaching out but not touching the human.
We are reminded of the relationship Tweedles have with their masters. The hand is above the Tweedle. The hand may appear to be reaching out, but it could actually be a commanding hand. The sheer size of the hand compared to the Tweedle shows the power the human has over the Tweedle. While Tweedles are almost completely obedient, the Tweedle is unable to rebel against the human even if it wanted to.
The very hands that made the Tweedle stitched a smile onto its face. Tweedle don’t have real mouths, so the smile is fake. By the way its master has created it, the Tweedle is forced to smile every second of every day. Whether or not it actually would smile if it did have a mouth is another question entirely.
So, in this painting the Tweedle is seeking understanding, hoping that the human wants the same. The human in the painting wants control, obedience and power. The Tweedle’s desires for knowledge and understanding are benign, while the human’s command of the Tweedle could potentially be for their own personal gain.
The Tweedle will never truly know if their creator’s grand scheme is for the greater good… or for entirely selfish reasons.
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?
If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you’ve probably noticed that there are a lot of pictures of Tweedles interacting with chains. Chains in my artwork are symbolic of the master/servant relationship Tweedles have with their creators.
Because Tweedles can act fairly autonomously, they are often seen hanging from the chain or holding onto it, but never actually bound to it. They could easily let go of the chains, but are afraid to do so because they are built with an emotional attachment to their master; an unintentional but useful glitch in their creation.
When a Tweedle fails as a servant and is unable to return to them, it loses this emotional attachment and essentially becomes free. Without a true sense of what it means to be free, most Tweedles that have reached this freedom don’t know how to cope. Some wander aimlessly, some try to find a new master, and some simply stop working.
In this painting it is not entirely clear whether or not the Tweedle is hanging from the chain or standing on the ground holding onto it. For me this represents the lack of control the creators actually have on their creations. This could be further interpreted as the lack of control a higher being or God might actually have on humanity.
As I have quite a few canvas boards at the moment, I’ll be making a series of these paintings, using the Tweedles to explore themes such as free will, servitude, identity, and the problems of mind, body, soul and death.
As the post’s title suggests, I have indeed posted the blueprints of a Tweedle. It is all written in the alphabet I created, which can be seen in my sketchbook photos. The paper is A4 printer paper that has been stained and burned. I then drew with ink pens and coloured it in with watercolours.
Also, I wanted to include a photo of my studio wall space with the aforementioned sketchbook photos but forgot to take a picture, so here it is: