Chicago

Living in Oxford, I'm used to the antique, the restrained, the polite view.  It's what we do.  But there are times when it is a huge relief to just wallow in the modern, the unrestrained and unapologetically arrogant environment that man can create for himself when the kid-gloves are off.  This is why a trip to a big city in the US is always a thrill, and can always be relied on to dazzle with a constant parade of eye-catching design - whole buildings, plazas, malls, skylines and smaller fragments, as here.  Sometimes the juxtapositions are deliberate, more often they are unintended, but for those with eyes to see there are magnificent compositions at every turn.   The severely rectilinear habitat we create for ourselves in these places simply acts as a foil for any organic form, and the shivering images all around animate the environment far more than we imagine.  There is almost as much trembling movement from reflections in the glass curtain walls as we pass between them as there is under trees in a woodland, and perhaps it is this quality that enables us to survive in such unnatural surroundings, otherwise largely divorced from the soothing effects of contact with nature.

I loved the looping shape and vibrant colour of this Alexander Calder 'stabile' in the centre of Chicago - but what makes the picture for me is the corresponding square of red in the reflection from the neighbouring building.  A piece of red paper in the window opposite that completes my composition - although I was unaware of it at the time.

Progress

Interesting, the way in which new technology or tools can change the way we do things.  I have posted this photo, in a colour version, elsewhere, but the version above is one that I have earmarked for a future exhibition.  I have started taking photographs with a proper macro lens, and this wintersweet flower was an early favourite of the images I have so far taken.  The lens has made a huge difference to how I view the plant world, and is capable of delivering the shallow depth of field that fascinates and intrigues me.  I'm really excited by the prospects for future photographs. 

The other new departure is the use of a software package which is also changing the images I create.  I have always been a fan of monochrome photographs, and am enjoying using Silver Efex Pro to tone images in the manner of all sorts of film types, photographic styles and papers.  Purists will wail, but I relish being able to compare the results of several film types and tonings before deciding which suits the image best.

So, with new hardware and software, a whole new field of image-making opens up...look out for the results on a blog near you soon!

Objects of Desire 2

Beechwood Lemon Juicer

This is one of my favourite kitchen utensils, the pleasure in using it derived from the beauty of the object, which is entirely due to its function.  There are other juicers out there, but as soon as I saw this I knew I had to have it, and its predecessor was duly filed away in the ever-growing box of objects kept for that distant and probably mythical day when we have a holiday home to furnish.

It seems such a minor thing, but this implement shows that even the humblest object has the potential for great beauty if its functionality comes first.  Here, everything is gauged to work - the tip is sharp, as are the ridges for squeezing the pulp.  The head is broad, preventing the need to wiggle the juicer around in the lemon, but the most aesthetically attractive part of it is the collar, where the ridges meet the handle.  Beautifully sculptural, it gives the whole object an organic presence - there are echoes of seeds, pollen grains, plankton, in its form.  It's no surprise that it was made in Italy...

A quotation...

'The thing that's important to know is that you never know. You're always sort of feeling your way.' 

Diane Arbus

Objects of Desire 1

Celadon Bowl by David Leach

As a collector of modern studio ceramics this bowl is a powerfully realised piece.

Its maker, David Leach, died in 2005 at the age of 93 after a lifetime's work in the teaching and making of studio ceramics.  David was born in Japan in 1911 during the time that his illustrious father, Bernard Leach, was assimilating the techniques and philosophy of handmade ceramics that would see him acknowledged as the founder of the 20th century studio ceramics movement in Britain.

This pot, from David's later years, is a wonderful demonstration of the skills of throwing, carving and glazing that have rendered these fluted bowls iconic emblems of 20th century craft.  The porcelain body, of a mix of clay developed by David and widely adopted, is faceted with narrow flutes, the exposed edges speckled rusty red in parts, possibly where rust from the knife has smeared the damp clay and then reacted with the overlying glaze.  The relationship between the angle of the foot, the dimensions of the fluting and the overall size of the piece are finely judged. The care with which these relationships are expressed demonstrates the immense control brought to bear in the creation of the piece, and speak of a lifetime's achievement in absorbing the skills and design awareness necessary.

This is not, though, a demonstrative pot - it has a simple purity, an unshowy 'right-ness' that reflects the reticence and humility of its maker and gives it a quiet presence, despite its size.  As an object it has much to teach us about the value of skill and that much abused concept, craft.

The S Word

It's a big no-no in some design circles - it reeks of complacency, prestige, dullness. It is safe, unimaginative, old-fashioned, comfortably bourgeois. Symmetry. And yet...we like it.

In nature, symmetry is found on a small scale - individual organisms are often symmetrical (see the dragonfly above) and their symmetry is a vital factor in genetic success; many studies show that, in the animal kingdom, individuals with a greater degree of symmetry are more successful in passing on their genes - they are more appealing to potential sexual partners and so have a greater opportunity to breed. This is even true on a subliminal level in humans. However, increase the scale to anything above the level of the individual and symmetry in nature pretty much disappears - there are far too many factors at play in a woodland, lake or mountain range to permit such refinement, and the effects of weather, accident, uneven erosion all contribute to the geometrically chaotic result.

It is only in the human environment of architecture, planned settlements, gardens and managed landscapes that symmetry and order are evident on any large scale.

I think symmetry appeals to us, at least in the Western aesthetic, because it denotes control and order - it speaks to the deep instinct we all have to create order in our environment, and is a very visual demonstration of that ability.  We keep the chaos of nature at bay, safely tamed and toothless, by channelling it into forms that simply do not exist in the wilderness.  The creation of symmetry in our environment reassures us that we are safe from the wild wood, and its use as a device in our gardens stems from a specifically Western philosophy of the world, developed down the centuries and encompassing great thinkers from Aristotle to Descartes and beyond.

Of course the greater your ability to control, the greater the extent of your symmetrical interventions in the landscape.  The favoured method for shahs, emperors, kings and caliphs to demonstrate their power has been to render vast tracts of land into managed landscapes, symmetrically ordered around their palaces and pavilions - the greater and more absolute the power, the more gigantic the scale of the works.  At Versailles, for instance, the final extravagances of the French kings dominated the countryside for miles around the palace, with great avenues carved into the native forest to extend the sightlines from the terraces and windows of the buildings.  The message was clear - the world revolved around the Sun King; he was the gravitational centre of the country and all lines led to his person. 

These huge estates and landscapes send two messages - nature is subjugated, but so also are the people.  All of these greatest gardens (settings to glorify, in most instances, powerful individuals) were created by the labour of numberless and nameless workers or slaves, pressed into service willingly or otherwise.

Very few of us now have the resources to command these forces, or indeed the acreage on which to deploy them, but we can all still enjoy the calm and sense of order that symmetrical spaces bestow.  Symmetry works its effect on the smallest scale, and in these straitened times, with uncertainty at every corner, I would not be surprised to see a return to its wider use on a domestic scale.  Sometimes the safe, the reassuring, the old-fashioned is what people crave, and if that comes at the price of a new pair of clipped yews either side of the front door then it seems little enough to pay.

Adventures in macro

I started taking photographs seriously again in mid-2008, and my involvement rapidly increased in February 2009 when I bought myself a brilliant DSLR (a Nikon D700 for those who are interested).  With a standard 50mm prime lens and a zoom lens I was managing to get close to the sorts of photographs I love - but not quite close enough.

Last week I took delivery of a new macro lens, and I can see already, after only two or three outings, that it is going to transform my image-making.  I love the shallow depth of field and the impact of the close-up view - the structure of plants is fascinating, and now I can get into close-combat with the veining, patterning and texture of leaves, flowers and, in this case, seedheads I can see that I'll have to force myself to take photographs of anything else!

One of the unforeseen pitfalls is that at this scale almost everything is of note - this doesn't mean that everything is picture-worthy, but you can spend a long time looking at the minutiae of things before deciding what you want to photograph.  It's a big world when you see it through a macro lens, and if you can only see it one minute fragment at a time, you could spend lifetimes in the most unpromising settings looking at the beauty of things in miniature.

So, here's to continued adventures in macro - I hope that you enjoy the work...