Art and Social Movement

The first artist who sprang to mind when I read this question was Alex Grey, a popular contemporary American painter. The meaning and agenda behind his work is primarily of a spiritual nature but definitely also encompasses socio-political and environmental issues.

Alex Grey certainly believes in the power of art to transform us, on a very profound level. In fact he has written a book entitled “The Mission of Art” in which he describes his own artistic path, analyses spiritual art through the ages, and lays down a manifesto of sorts. For Grey, a true artist feels an “inner calling to creatively serve our physically and spiritually depleted world” (The Mission of Art, p.18). But how can this really happen?

Alex Grey probably speaks for a lot of people when he says, “Never have the effects of ignorance, greed and hatred been more capable of destroying the fabric of nature and the foundations of life than today” (ibid.). The level of human rights abuses, political corruption and ecological destruction on planet earth is outrageous, we all know that. However, Alex Grey believes that in order to change things for the better, humanity needs to be transformed on a deep level of consciousness. Changes purely in the material world (new laws telling people to behave differently, for example) will only be temporary and superficial unless people feel united on a profound, spiritual plane. This is where the artist steps in – “an artist can serve to remind us of the sacredness of life and create a picture of our transformative and spiritual potential”, he writes (ibid., p.30).

Alex Grey’s paintings are usually a blend of the natural world (“transparent” humans with all the bones and blood vessels visible, portraying a “we’re all the same on the inside” universality) overlayed with aspects of the invisible, supernatural world (auras, sacred symbols, etc.) usually drawn from ancient Eastern tradition. He originally trained as a medical illustrator, which comes through in the sheer perfectionism and level of physical detail in his paintings. Early on in his career he had a very negative, nihilistic worldview, but all this changed when he met his future wife and they “sacramentally ingested” some LSD together. They had a massive shared visionary experience in which they saw their “interconnectedness with all beings and things in a vast and brilliant Universal Mind Lattice”! Good for them, because Grey’s very successful work has been influenced ever since by this experience.

Some of Grey’s paintings are a direct call to increasing awareness of current issues.

In Gaia, for instance, he depicts the mythological “world tree”, the personification of mother nature. On the left we see a peaceful, untouched landscape, and on the right images of man’s destruction of the earth. Spookily, you can see a plane flying over the twin towers of the World Trade Centre – but Grey made this painting in 1989 after receiving a ‘vision’, 12 years before the 9/11 bombings on New York.

Other paintings are more abstract but no less powerful, such as Theologue (1984).

Grey said the idea for this image came to him while he was meditating. He realised that all reality, physical and spiritual, is but a projection from our OWN MINDS, radiating outwards into infinity. It is rather scarily subtitled, “The Union of Human and Divine Consciousness Weaving the Fabric of Space and Time in which the Self and its Surroundings are Embedded”. In creating this painting, Grey hoped that the viewer would experience this eternal truth for himself.

So does Alex Grey’s practice achieve what he intends it to? Does it help raise human consciousness for real change? Many people would say so – some have reported elevated or spiritual states being induced while viewing his images. Follow this link to watch a mind-bending animation he produced for a rock video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GvXASWDMtBM

Grey is convinced that artwork needs to “interconnect with the socio-cultural context within which it arises” by being exhibited in order to begin “a communal and political life for the artwork” (The Mission of Art, p.93). He has his own not-for-profit gallery in New York called the Chapel of Sacred Mirrors (CoSM), which is arranged as a kind of visionary experience for the visitor. The paintings are referred to as “mirrors” because we are supposed to see aspects of ourselves in each of these varied depictions of reality. The gallery also hosts talks and other events to “nurture the creative spirit”.
Alex Grey’s artwork is not confined to the often elitist and inaccessible high culture arena of art galleries; it also finds its way into mainstream culture. Grey has designed album art for bands including Tool, The Beastie Boys, and Nirvana. This has helped his ideas to be distributed much more widely than they would normally be.

Alex Grey has taken on a huge and admirable task in his work, that of influencing the worldview of an entire culture for positive change. Although I wouldn’t necessarily choose to hang his paintings in my home, I find his images very compelling and inspirational. I think his artwork and related projects have already brought about many positive changes in peoples’ lives, though more by osmosis of concepts than direct action, perhaps.

A question of Originality

Originality is a complex issue in this age of postmodernism, irony and intentional pastiche. Culture seems to be divided into two camps: those for whom "uniqueness" is the ultimate goal of any creative endeavour, and those who believe, like M.C. Escher, that "Originality is merely an illusion". Some might even say that all the big ideas and universal human themes were recognised by the Greeks 3,000 years ago and western culture has been rehashing them ever since, albeit in different forms and with more and more advanced technology.
What does it mean for a work of art/literature/invention to be "original", anyway? Does it even matter? Painters of old concentrated on making their works conform to their audience's requirements - they were mainly concerned with technical proficiency and "correctness", not with cultivating a unique, personal style which would make their work stand out. Individualism is a relatively new concept born of contemporary occidental culture.
Even so, in today's field of modern design, and in this era of communication, it is rare to meet an artist who denies any outside influence whatsoever. In the 18th century, Benjamin Franklin rather cynically claimed that "Originality is the art of concealing your sources", but modern culture frequently recognises and even celebrates the inescapable presence of all that has come before. A designer/writer/whatever may pay homage to his influences directly or in more subtle ways. "Don't be afraid to borrow", wrote John Sloan in "The Gist of Art" (London: Dover Publications, 1977), adding, "Assimilate all you can from tradition and then say things in your own way". For those who subscribe to this school of thought, it is important to have a knowledge of old conventions before we can establish our own language. As Robert Henri wrote in "The Art Spirit" (Westview Press, 1984), "All the past can help you".

All the ideas I've explored so far are developed on the assumption that we look outward for inspiration, not within. But where do ideas come from, anyway? The current popular cultural emphasis is on individual psychology, with the assumption that our minds exist as personal, closed-off units. We say things like, "MY idea", "HIS work", believing the output of our psyche to be our own personal property. However, thinking about creativity through the theory of the "Collective Unconscious" (a term of psychology originally coined by Carl Jung) may bring even these basic assumptions into question. According to this idea, there exists a consciousness shared by everyone living now and everyone who has ever lived. It is "a reservoir of the experiences of our species".
Carl Jung believed that this universal mind is part of the reason why many cultures have the same characters and themes in their mythology despite being geographically isolated from one another. It may also be applied to the language of dreams: why do the same images occur in so many people's dreams which are not present in their waking reality?
So, going along with this theory, if we all share the same mind (or "Noosphere" - check out the Wikipedia entry for a nice description of this complex concept), is there really such a thing as an "original idea"? I doubt we will ever be able to say for sure how creativity comes about, but personally I suspect that originality does exist, yet not in the basic sense that we currently perceive it. Maybe if we relaxed our attitude to the "ownership" of our ideas we would open ourselves up to more exciting, distinctive yet universal concepts and images. Possibly.

Time-Based Media

Day One

The new project involving time-based media began officially today, but we have all had a chance to think about the task over the half-term break. By this morning I had brainstormed initial responses to all four images, but I have settled on the fourth image, depicting human legs confronting an origami unicorn, bizarrely.
My response so far has mostly involved the size difference between the human figure and the paper animal. I went off on a tangent thinking about really small things (cells and atoms) and really big things (dinosaurs and space)... I also thought about the unicorn and other mythical creatures. How this will all come together as a film is not yet clear, but I know that I will animate some sections of the piece using stop-motion techniques, so anything is possible.

Does technology inspire you to be creative, or what?

As someone who has only discovered the possibilities inherent in computer-aided design fairly recently, it is difficult for me to really say how my personal design process works. I am a big fan of anything hand-crafted, but as my enrolment on this course shows, I recognise the huge potential in combining the artist and the machine, and the importance of staying up to date with current technologies.

On the one hand, I am a firm believer in the importance of working ‘off-line’, that is, allowing the mind to run free and develop ideas separate from the computer. To use a non-visual design example, I certainly find that I do my best expressive writing by hand before typing it up; somehow the stark format of the word processor seems to get in the way. I think the distraction factor plays a part in this problem (for with the computer inevitably comes tempting access to the internet and other concentration-draining diversions), but there’s definitely something about the visceral pen-to-paper experience that makes it easier to connect to the ‘flow’ of creative thought.

This rule also applies to visual design, for me at least. I can’t imagine doing preliminary ‘sketching’ of images or layouts using Photoshop or Illustrator. Perhaps I’d feel differently if I had a quality graphics tablet, but the software and its necessary in-between steps, never mind the clunky mouse, slows down and distorts the brain-to-physical-image process infuriatingly at a time when spontaneity and speed are of the essence.

Once I’ve had the opportunity to get my rough ideas down, however, I turn to software to take them to the next level. The process here is not so simple as bringing a finished idea to fruition exactly as it was envisaged before laying a hand on the computer, though. The most exciting aspect of digital design is how features of design software open up new avenues for the concept itself. The more I learn about the workings of Illustrator, the wider the range of possibilities for the realisation of any given design. Of course, with greater potential comes greater choice, and with this comes its own problems. It is easy to become overwhelmed by all the options on offer, and for this reason it’s important to approach the design task with some kind of idea of the final result. To impose some limitations can work in favour of the artist.

This issue inevitably brings up a “chicken and egg” type question: what comes first, theoretical art/design training in layout, aesthetics, etc., or technical/software skills? I think few people would disagree that technological wizardry does not necessarily equal design genius. As Pina Lewandowsky and Francis Zeischegg put it, ‘acquiring a mastery of the language of visual communication requires a little more than familiarity with a few software packages’ (p.6, Lewandowsky and Zeischegg. A Practical Guide to Digital Design. Ava Publishing, 2003). They characterise design amateurs as those who ‘use software-specific solutions without really thinking’ (ibid.). Clearly it’s important to remember that technology can only bring to life a design which was strong in the first place. The software alone cannot generate a successful image.

Another danger inherent in computer-aided design is the pitfall of cliché. Thousands of designers using the same programs are bound to generate similar-looking images if they aren’t very careful to maintain their originality. If it is easy to tell at a glance that a design has been created in Photoshop due to its over-use of tired filter effects, for example, then its designer has failed, in a way, because all we see is the software, which gets in the way of the image itself. Lazy over-reliance on the easily generated yet striking (before they become tired clichés, that is) effects on offer through design software makes for dull, predictable, and unoriginal artwork.

In conclusion, while I certainly appreciate the immense possibilities for technology to bring creative ideas to life, I also recognise that it’s very important to keep at least a portion of the design process ‘lo-tech’. There is no substitute for good, raw concepts, and the best software won’t transform a poor idea into something truly engaging.

Welcome

... to my quest for digital wisdom. Or something.