Process, Commodification and Subtraction for Rhizome
It’s generally assumed that a creative process is a cumulative series of acquired techniques, applications and knowledge which are combined in order to produce a final, complete work. This is an approach I’ve employed most of my career. Slowly adding a number of skills as and when the work I wanted to make required it. They can range from the mundane and technical, like, how do I get a usb c video signal from an iMac to a hacked Fun 21 video unit then back to a recordable, digitized, format ready for editing? Sometimes the process would be more aesthetic or conceptual, such as, what are the benefits of working with both analog and digital equipment as part of a creative process? Answer: Digital offers a near perfect level of precision and latterly, simulation, whereas analog material has seemingly infinite layers of depth and beautifully unpredictable nature which resonates with the way I want to work.
The tools themselves are quite arbitrary. I often think if I didn't use electronic media to create work, I’d paint, which I did for many years, or work with collage using paper and glue. If anything, working with animation simply opened up an opportunity to also play with sound and music. I think rather than being attracted to any particular medium, I was more drawn to the idea of absorbing myself in making, the self reflexive, meditative quality of creating something ... …anything. I’ve had moments when I’ve even enjoyed the fact that much of what I do has no monetary value. At a time when everyone is rushing to monetize everything they create, all of my labour was going towards something that had next to no financial value. I’ve secretly enjoyed the idea that this is some form of rebellion against rampant commodification, a stance against a broken system in which it seems that all roads must lead to a financial transaction. I’m also aware that I may actually just be comforting myself with this line as it can often feel like a self inflicted injury.
Lately I’ve adopted a more subtractive approach to the process of creating. For a time, I wasn’t really happy with any of the work I was producing and worse, I was no longer enjoying the process of making itself. This is a pretty rare occurrence for me and I’m always surprised when a process that works perfectly for a time, quite suddenly no longer produces results. I’m surprised that I can put so much time and energy into making, yet the outcome can leave me underwhelmed. But at some point, my increasingly arduous process, (always in the search of a new or interesting image) had created a closed loop, a creative cul-de-sac, my practice wasn’t moving forward and I was bored with the results.
After some time, I decided to remove several of the processes I’d been applying for the last few years. What if I didn’t have to worry about ‘moving the image,’ it’s pretty fundamental to an animator but it comes with associations around duration, narrative arcs and conclusion that I’d always struggled with. What if I dispense with the figure for a time? Figurative animation has been the central line of inquiry in my work for the last ten years, but what if I simply didn’t think about that aspect of my practice for a while? What if I even let go of meaning? The self imposed pressure to be saying something that often feels more like an albatross than a supporting structure.
The result of this subtractive process is a series of digital still images called Emergent Pattern, created from a number of frames I’d gathered from early experiments with animation. They were made with no intention other than to enjoy the process of making and to be excited by the odd, unexpected combinations of pattern, colour and form. Of course, none of the other residual considerations are truly gone, they’re still there, just consciously set aside for the time being. I had no real intention of where the work would end up but I’m glad to be able to offer one to Rhizome.org.