Showing posts with label dots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dots. Show all posts

Tuesday, 29 June 2021

Drawing Dialogue Symposium

A first and a last drawing for Drawing Dialogue: Moving from an empty page to a full one. 
Giving space and taking space.

From the Drawing Dialogue exhibition

Last weekend saw a Drawing Dialogue symposium, designed to accompany the Keighley Creative exhibition of work that had been done so far. My contribution was a presentation about the relationship between dots and lines, a subject that reflects my current interest in 'primitives' or the basic building blocks of our visual language. It was very much a 'follow my nose' sort of presentation, but I did write out my main points beforehand, so I thought I might as well host the presentation text on this blog, because a couple of people did ask me if they could get hold of the script I was working from.

Drawing Dialogue is an ongoing project and I have posted about the project in the past. The basic idea is one artist begins a drawing, it is then sent on to another artist, who develops the drawing, and then a third artist is asked to complete it. A form of consequences, or collaborative drawing, that essentially means that each artist has to be sensitive to the needs of others. It is a very interesting exercise in empathy and sensitivity and helps to dissolve artists' egos.  

So here is the full text.

A new life for dots. 

Drawing Dialogue Symposium

 At the core of all our drawing dialogues is the coming together of different drawing languages. In order to explore the implications of these meetings I’ve therefore decided not to focus on one of the actual encounters I’ve taken part in, but to set up an imaginary encounter between points and lines so that you can get some sort of glimpse of the theoretical possibilities that open out within our various collaborations. Tim Ingold has written extensively on the life of lines, he regards lines as essential to our understanding of life. This is an old idea and it goes back to the Anglo-Saxon idea of the Wyrd, a cosmological idea that has at its centre a vision of life that is shaped by fate. 

Cats cradle as life story

Imagine if you will, that on birth you have two umbilical cords, one the physical connection that you have with your mother and another invisible one that connects you to your fate or life. The first one is cut on the day of your birth the other is finally severed on the day of your death. This line will first of all wrap itself around the family core, mother, father, brother, sister and then around the home, the village and the landscape of childhood. As you get older it will tie itself to and around all the events in your life as a pattern is woven and what was once a single thread becomes a thick blanket of interconnections. This is a wonderful metaphor and it has for myself and many people of the drawing community been a concept that has allowed us to develop ideas, images and ways of working that themselves continue to extend and expand the woven fabric of drawing dialogues. However although lines are used by most of the artists involved in Drawing Dialogues, lines are themselves second order entities, they are composed of tiny ideas that we call points and it is the life of dots and their uses in image making that I would like to explore today. 

A point becoming a dot

All forms of drawing are essentially to do with the imagination, and a dot is at its centre an idea of a point. A point is what Euclid called a primitive notion, which means that it cannot be defined in terms of a previously defined object; originally Euclid defining the point as "that which has no part". In fact for Euclid points were all about relationships. 

Points have relationships and these can generate ideas of space

Points were where things met. A line could meet another line at a point, this point allows us then to build a further construct in the mind, a tiny piece of grit around which pearl like we grow ideas, such as three dimensional space. From this thing that has no part we can build an edifice, the three axes of height, width and depth all come together as a point. 

Map of Ghana: Look at the line that separates Ghana from Burkina Faso. 

Lines have certain issues that they bring with them, one of the most difficult being that they also operate as boundaries. When the European nation states were carving up territories they would often do this with maps and rulers; the rule establishing the rule so to speak. Drawn lines would divide peoples from their traditional homelands, would establish new nations consisting of collectives of peoples whose only common issue was that they had been bundled together because of some European game of thrones. We draw lines around things to define them, to fix them in the imagination, this is why so much of our graphic design imagery is sharp edged, fixed by a line often now clarified by Bezier curves as in software programs such as Illustrator or Photoshop. 

A car drawn using Illustrator 

Perhaps the strangest drawing I know of is the one drawn onto the plaque that was fixed onto the side of the Pioneer 10 space craft. Launched in 1972, it was the first manmade object to be sent out into far space, it was designed to be able to travel beyond our solar system and out into the wider galaxy. A wonderful idea, but not so the line drawing of a man and a woman that accompanied the vessel on its journey. The line drawing of both man and woman is from the front, the man holds his arm up in greeting, showing an open hand, the woman, less active of course, stands beside him. The man has short hair and is clean-shaven, the woman has a longer but coiffured hairstyle. 

Pioneer 10 plaque

So many things are wrong with this drawing, from the Eurocentric portrayal of the humans, to the graphic convention of a line representing complex three-dimensional forms. There is no way that any creature on finding this space vehicle entering their star system could deduce any information from these drawings, except that something with some sort of intelligence had had them manufactured. We have been seduced by lines and believe that they can be used to clarify situations. But there is also another problem and that is how lines fix identity and give things a shape that you can put a word to and that word is nearly always a noun. A tree, a stone, a body an arm, a leg. 
Architects' trees

Words are themselves boundaries and although we find them very useful, we also need to be reminded of their limitations. A tree is also a process and as a process it has no edges. It belongs to the soil as much as to the air. As a squirrel takes an acorn away to bury it, the squirrel become part of the tree’s process, as the rain falls, the tree engages with the weather, allowing some waters to pass through its leaves and others to fall around the edges of itself, selectively watering the surrounding soil for other organisms that have become part of its eco system. 

Primary school teaching aid

As you eat that apple, you are participating in the extended process of treeing, your humaning conjoining for a brief time with the life process that we often put a line around and call a tree. But when you use a dot and I use the word dot rather than point deliberately, you can think about these issues differently. 

The edges between things become permeable

A dot has more physical presence than a point. Therefore it can have more of a life of its own and any life form or self-organizing system relies on an ability to interact with its surroundings in order to survive. This ability to self organise is in fact an emergent property of random dynamical systems, that you might think of as chaos. I.e. eventually if you have enough stuff and mix it about long enough at some point order will not just emerge, but a type of order that likes to keep itself in that very order, as well as being able to interact with all the other chaos around it, will come into being. In order to maintain themselves, these orderly systems possess what are called Markov Blankets. If we go back to our tree, there is a core part of the system that is clearly treeing, but there are other parts of the system that are also raining, humaning, soiling and squirreling. That is, that the tree’s Markov blanket touches and enacts with the Markov blankets of other things. These edges between things could be where disaster strikes, but on the whole some form of homoeostasis and autopoiesis emerges, whereby the treeness becomes part of a system that both includes it and other things, helping itself to keep regulating all its internal systems, whilst also forming part of other regulation systems. For example the acorn may help the squirrel survive or the tree's root system may help aerate the soil. 

An amoeba enclosed within a membrane. 

A membrane is a selective barrier; it allows some things to pass through but stops others.

An amoeba on the attack

Why might this idea, that all self-organizing systems need to be surrounded by Markov blankets, be the case? I think it is about the relationship between independence and interdependence. We constantly update our decision making based on past experience and current change. We do this in order to survive or to achieve homoeostasis, but so does an amoeba. We exist like the amoeba in the midst of dynamical changing systems all of which are mediated by certain forces. If these systems are to work together, rather than simply break each other apart, they need to be able to ‘couple’ with each other, in order to create ‘interdependences’. If independence is to be maintained alongside interdependence, then these independencies will need to induce Markov blankets, so that the internal, independent state can be statistically separated from the external state. This enables the minimization of the disturbance of free energy, because the internal states (and their blankets) will engage in active Bayesian inference. I.e. that surrounding area where the tree engages with soil, squirrel and rain is an area of probed uncertainty, whereby updates in decision making based on past experience and current change are made all the time in order to ensure the continuing existence of the core independence, which is also reliant on the continuing existence of the surrounding systems that it finds itself nested within. This process can be statistically modelled and when it is, points are used and not lines. 


We can now get back to drawing again and in particular the issue of collaboration. Perhaps you now have an idea of where all my ramblings are going, I am trying to articulate something about the way artists have to negotiate with each other’s drawings, and that the process is not that dissimilar to the way all life forms have to negotiate with their ever changing environment if they are to survive. Every drawing begins with a dot... the tip of a brush, the point of a pencil, the sharp edge of a broken stick of charcoal or the nib of a pen, touches a sheet of paper, the dot, that material manifestation of the point, becomes the centre out of which will grow more dots, lines and forms, all of which emerge from that initial point. This is the opposite of the point in Euclid. 

The universe as star dots

The point is formed by the coming together of axes of directionality but the dot is the centre from which all forms emerge, it is the cosmic mother of invention. The first imaginative drawing was done in the mind and not scratched into sand or drawn on a cave wall.


The first drawing would have emerged from the field of dots seen in the sky at night, like the Great Bear of astrology / astronomy, it would have consisted of a series of dots that were in someone's mind's eye morphing into forms that emerged from tales of Gods and Goddesses. Dots collaborate with each other to form new things. A broken or dotted line is permeable, it forms a boundary that can be crossed rather than a fence to keep things out. 

A dot doesn’t have to be perfectly round, it can have directionality, it can pulse with life. 

Van Gogh

When Van Gogh draws or Monet paints, their marks or brushstrokes are in effect elongated or distorted fields of dots, rather than filled in lines. The post-impressionists perhaps above all recognised the power of the dot, the importance of a field of marks that were never fixed, but which drifted across the surface and plunged the mind into a floating world of perceptual actions.

Monet

Seurat

If artists were to collaborate with the world they had to allow themselves to dissolve into it. The fixed moment of photographic time had just arrived and like lines, photographs froze boundaries and didn’t engage with process only surfaces. However close on photography’s heels was emerging the technology of the moving image. Initially using drawing to create animations such as in the phenakistiscope and the zoetrope, and then after the pioneering work of Muybridge and others photography itself was allied to movement and as this technology was understood and developed over the next 100 years, it eventually became the norm and the still image was regarded more and more as a technology with severe limitations. However drawing was never really about the frozen moment and its strength was always its ability to simultaneously provide an image for contemplation and provide a surface to unravel. The traces of the maker’s movements captured in the marks and the images made arriving out of the collection of marks as they were developed over a surface. 

Second and third stages of a Drawing Dialogue image

The conjunction of traces of body movement and different marks and lines operates as a simultaneity, and this is what makes the images in the exhibition so interesting, and which opens out opportunities for thoughtful reflection every time it happens. Drawing continues to be done and this exhibition celebrates drawing done as a form of collaboration, each artist beginning each drawing with a point, a dot of intentionality that has at some point to engage with another artist’s field of marks or lines or shapes. The best of these drawings maintain as we do ourselves, a state of homoeostasis, whereby each artist has probed the uncertainty of either a white sheet of paper or the energy fields of other artists’ marks, and engaged in decision making based on their past experience and the new challenge of other artists’ worlds emerging out of the paper. They will partly have to ensure the continuing existence of their core independence, while at the same time allowing the work of others to make total sense, as they build a new world within the one they are nested within. Perhaps this uncertain certainty will open doors, perhaps it will lead to thoughts and imagery unthinkable as solitary endeavours. What is true is that without cooperation and a willingness to soften boundaries and become permeable to other ideas, as people we will become ossified and brittle, easily broken and ripe for being blown away by the winds of change. Collaborative drawing being not just about making weird or strange imagery, but also being a model for survival and a gateway into another world where things are less defined and where words are vowels much more than nouns and where dots are sometimes privileged over lines. 

 See also:

 

Monday, 23 September 2019

Points, dots and spots

Niaux Cave: Paleolithic dots

Dots have been around for a long time, they are found in many of the caves where we can see Paleolithic art.

El Castillo Cave, Spain: the dots represent a river system

Sometimes the dots represent something out in the world, such as the dots above that describe how a river is connected with two others, sometimes they are non figurative. Whether as an abstract form or used to represent something, the dot, point or spot is literally at the centre of the majority of our graphic minds. Every line begins as a point and ends like this sentence in a full stop. 
Euclid describes a point as “that which has no part,” it has no width, length, or breadth, in effect it is a location rather than a thing. This immediately interested me because it suggested that if a point is the elemental thing that is used to construct everything else, and that in effect all it is, is a location, then everything is just a cloud of locations. It feels to me as if Euclid was in some way intimating that at a certain level matter or things don't exist, simply relationships in space. 




As this blog is about drawing perhaps we need to see how a point is formally represented; above left is a representation of a point within a two dimensional plane and within a three dimensional form on the right. In modern mathematical language a point is described as a 0-dimensional mathematical object which can be specified in n-dimensional space using an n-tuple consisting of n coordinates. (I.e. in three dimensions there are 3 co-ordinates) In dimensions greater than or equal to two, points are sometimes considered synonymous with vectors and so points in n-dimensional space are sometimes called n-vectors. A vector is defined as a quantity having direction as well as magnitude, especially as determining the position of one point in space relative to another. So I now become confused and find my lack of mathematical understanding a real problem. Euclid says that a point has no width, length or breath, but a point can be thought of as a vector, which is a quantity having direction as well as magnitude. I can see how a point is a location and therefore can have direction, but where does the magnitude come in? I'll get back to this. 

My first experience of the dot at school outside of geometry was in an art session as taught by my art teacher Mr 
PC Rudall. I was 12 years old and he asked us all to make images of dots. He suggested that we could mass some of the dots together, that we could change their colours and that we could control the way the eye looked at the page by the way we distributed them. I was gripped by this exercise and remember watching how clumps of dots could be made to feel as if they were an emerging mass and open areas of the white page could be activated for my eyes simply by putting in one tiny spot made by gently touching the point of my brush into the white space. I mixed colours carefully also changing tonal values in such a way that the mark energy of the dot changed. I found out that dark dots seemed to push forward towards me and that some colours would also seem to be more active than others. By clumping dots together, by giving other dots more white space around them, by changing their tonal values and by making them different colours, it seemed as if you could make anything happen. There was one rule, you couldn't make the dots different sizes, they had to be as small as you could make them with the point of an 'O' size round brush. I quickly worked out that everything was different if you used a coloured background and tried out the same idea on sugar paper, for the first time realising that white was a colour just like all the others. 

Mr Rudall then introduced us to Paul Klee and his Pedagogical Sketchbook, the first element, a line being taken for a walk, described by Klee as getting going or beginning to move by this quaint sentence, "The mobility agent is a point shifting its position forward". So once we had mastered the idea that points were full of potential we were then asked to make lots of drawings of lines, but the dot images were the ones I remembered most powerfully because they were the first ones to impress on me that there was such a thing as a visual language and that I was excited by this more than anything else at the time. 

When I was a student at Newport College of Art one of my fellow students Diane Cotton, wrote her final year thesis on 'A history of spots from the year dot', a title I came up with for her one day in the college canteen. She was a graphic design student, so had a much more advanced awareness of the importance of basic design; as an at the time, conceptual artist, I felt I had left behind all those formalist concerns. The foolishness of youth. I hadn't realised that nothing ever goes away, you just have to think about things differently. 

There are some amazing ideas contained in the idea of a point. The point that is the centre of a black hole is a singularity, with an infinite density, its mass being condensed into a zero 
volume. Space and time ceasing to exist as we know them and the current laws of physics not applicable. 

When I was young all the TVs were cathode ray models. When you turned them off the capacitors continued to discharge for a few moments, therefore the cathode ray tube would continue to emit electrons. As these were no longer being controlled to move in their regular horizontal pattern, they just came straight out and made an image of a white spot, which would then disappear into blackness.  It was a powerful image at the time and began to stand for the end of things. In particular the static on screen suggested something other worldly, the final white dot in blackness somehow star like in its finality. I found it hard to find a old clip of how it used to be, the simulation below isn't quite right but you get the idea. 





The most interesting issue here is of course how technology changes our ability to use metaphor. That screen of white static and the final dynamic dot was though not far away in visual look to the sky at night, which is probably why it had so much appeal for science fiction enthusiasts, it sort of brought the mysteries of the universe into the home. 
The first dots to make some sort of cosmic significance for human beings were of course the stars as seen from Earth at night. From time immemorial our ancestors must have stared at that mass of tiny lights and must have imagined all sorts of possibilities for the way they might be connected, for Western peoples the one the Greeks came up with somehow stuck, but it is interesting to look at other possibilities. 


Perseus




Some cultural variations  of patterns that include the star Mirphak in their shapes

In the top image of Perseus we begin to see another set of dots and their meaning is slightly different, they are much more to do with measurement and how we divide up the sky and any other boundary-less expanse, such as the sea. I have touched on these lines before in a post on the dotted line but didn't open out the more precision orientated metaphors and the way these are related to our vision of space and of course speculative futures. 


The grid is central to the way we think about these things, especially in science fiction, the images above all coming from shots of consoles in various science fiction films but within the grid we also need to fix exactly where we are, so in this process the grid and the dot or point become related. This can often take us back into ideas related to perspective, however the lines of sight such as vanishing points, now become attractors. 



The central vanishing point in perspective, now in a gaming video becomes something to pass through, it is a sort of black hole doorway into hyperspace. 



The old target form, now looking much more precise and because these images are made in light lines on black backgrounds, they relate directly to our experience of the stars at night. I've used the idea myself in some recent prints.



I drew some library shelves and used their vanishing point as a way of finding specific information in particular books found at the location indicated as the central spot. However I also wanted to suggest a zoning in on this area and as part of the project was about the underlying quantum energies operating on a subatomic scale, needed a visual metaphor to support this.  I wanted to make my audience aware that I was operating in a human sized space/time and that there was also a subatomic world operating at exactly the same time. By using the sharp point of a real compass to reinforce the central drawn point and by making the dashed curve of the compass lines light and the background black, a series of associations via science fiction films of how a quantum universe might look, were built into the image. Well I hoped so anyway. 



These points are very much about fixing direction. In the case above this is a modern day computer interface that works to adjust tyre alignment. The square that surrounds the central dot suggesting a very high degree of accuracy. 


This accuracy is often accompanied by an idea of 'sighting', a dot set within four right angles being  perhaps the clearest example of a visual metaphor for this.  


A swarm of birds

Swarms of insects or birds can be thought of as masses of dots. This takes us back to those images I made as a boy under the tuition of PC Rudall. A collection of dots and spots of different sizes has an appearance of both movement and volumetric mass. The important thing is to carefully adjust size and weight of the marks. You could of course try and copy an image like the one of a swarm of birds but far more interesting to invent ones for yourself.

Dots make spaces and forms


These groups of dots can communicate different types of concentration and dispersion, can be used to show a movement from regularity to irregularity, express depth by implying both distance and nearness as well as having the ability to imply other elements by being clustered into shapes that echo other forms. Above all it is a wonderful visual experience to spend time looking at a field of spots and dots of various sizes. A small three inch square can have an appearance of cosmic significance if you can only just let go and allow your imagination to take over.  

These are dots associated with the visual language of a more natural world where there are a very different set of metaphorical possibilities. For instance the nucleus of a cell is often rendered as a spot or dot. 
The basic elements of a cell

When looking for an image to describe the relationship between a dot and the idea of a simple cell I came across this drawing below. It was captioned. 'How to draw an animal cell' and seemed to sum up perfectly what I was thinking about. 
How to draw an animal cell

The centre of a circle is a point, and when you actually draw one with a compass a faint indentation is always left where the point of the compass dug into the paper. Every compass drawn circle in effect is like a diagram of a simple cell. Of course the difference is that a cell is organic and the edges are therefore not geometrically uniform, such a small difference seeming to separate the organic from the geometric. But that difference allows you to draw a series of freehand dots, each surrounded by a quickly drawn line, and in making a drawing of this sort you begin to have a metaphor for the beginnings of life. 

Drawing of cells

In the drawing above several more elements have been added but the basic pattern of a spot or in this case two or three dark spots within an oval, allows you to build a wall of cells. 

A spot

Our skin is in effect our own paper surface (see here for a more detailed exploration of this) and a spot on our skin can represent disease. It is a flaw, a blemish. 


Detail from Grunewald's isenheim altarpiece 

The spotted body of the crucified Christ in Grunewald's painting above, being indicative of the reality of disease and death. 



Spots are in this case blemishes and need to be removed. A visual language now linked to the stain

Not too far distant in visual language is the finger print. Going back to the spots on cave walls these were often made by simply dipping a finger in paint and printing it by touching the cave wall. 



A fingerprint can be read as a spot, but it is also has complex linear swirls within, as we look closer, it could be argued all dots become much more complex shapes.

Drawing of a printed full stop when looked at under a microscope. 

Hooke's drawing above of a full stop seen under a microscope begins to break open Euclid's idea that a point has no width, length, or breadth, of a dot being a location rather than a thing. Inside the point we have something else, something that could be a whole new world. This returns us to the Idea of a beginning, of procreation and the primordial cell. A dot can mark the beginning and the end of a line, and in the case of the one on an old cathode ray TV screen it signifies an end, just as the arrival of a full stop does.