Mon, 7th of April

My work revolves around anxieties brought on by our rapid development technologically, and how these anxieties manifest themselves in our subconscious minds. The brain wanders around, unable to hold attention, unable to anchor down in an era of 24hr entertainment, communication, and gratification. It desperately tries to piece together meaning from a bombardment of image and sensation but can find no unification. Now that we are moving from the ‘age of the discovery’ into the ‘age of mastery’ where science can start to sculpt worlds of dreams and immersion from an atomic scale; where will this lead our fragile, oversized and overworked minds? ..from what dreams shall we model our new world? 

Dreams demonstrate an interesting problem for 21st century humans. We dont like to not understand things, and we don’t like to think that they dont have meaning. But a meaningful study of our subconsciousness is difficult in a cynical modern age bombarded by content. We are filling our brains with a procession of images and symbols. These images are like pollution, they cloud the brain, causing anxiety, indecision and confusion. Now we struggle to feel time (leaping from screen to screen, at all ages at once, sensation to sensation, clip to clip), and this feeling of fragmented time makes us anxious that we will grow old all of a sudden, having lived a purposeless life, never lived clearly as one entity at all, having never felt viscerally alive.

studiowork   with 2 notes
Fri, 4th of April

Some visualisations of my final show space. Im worried about filling it to be honest, but darkness is on my side!! I want a curved screen with projection and simple box seat in room 1 on the left, and figures set on standing dowels (although this may change) for room 2 on the right. It depends on how things go, if the statues look really lost, ill abandon room 2 altogether

Wed, 26th of March

Wehay! High five everybody!

Work march ‘14.

Wed, 26th of March

Nicey Nicey Waxy Waxy.. Saachi Saachi.

Wed, 26th of March

Spherical Harmonics.

Wed, 26th of March

LONDON FILES: Alan Warburton: Spherical Harmonics.

Stumbled across this one on the way to my hostel. The photographers gallery, right in the entrance, could be seen through the glass in the street beyond.

A beautiful exercise in 3d digital art. And the display worked aswell. Multiple tv screens soon became unnoticed.

'For Spherical Harmonics Warburton draws on his background in fine art and commercial visual effects to produce a short experimental animation. The title of the piece refers to mathematical equations applied in CGI software which compute the behaviour and appearance of light within each scene. This is an example of how modern imaging software attempts to mimic the massive complexity of photographic ‘reality’.


Its amazing how complicated playing with light in a digital platform is. Getting it to look genuine. Sometimes walking around after hours on the computer, i imagine gods massive hand on a little computer mouse, clicking away and swearing.

Tue, 18th of March


History has abandoned time, we have lost our souls.


This world lacks a clear concept of time; we live in emptiness. Right and wrong are confounded! There are no laws, no rules. Lies dominate! Here there are only the cheaters and the cheated. I am a formerly great prognosticator. These days, I practice as a magician, wearing a top hat and tails, a profession of lies! I depend on deceit for survival; people are more than happy to pay me for my lies! Lies are spiritual drugs. When promises fall through, as they always do, lies can keep up appearances, can make everything gorgeous. People wallow in boundless illusion… smiling… Lying, no matter under what circumstances, is doomed to the condemnation of morality, but I am the lone exception. Lies are this world’s only effective ordering principle, because truth never existed. No one knows what is real, knows the standards by which we discern truth. When uncertain, all they can do is pawn their souls, send us their hope! We give them lies in exchange, because lies look so much better than truths… Yes, magicians are authorities! Lies are truths! And so much cheaper! Truth is harsh, but lies in their essence can make the great, the metaphysical, the sublime that much easier. We have boundless power, we dominate the world, we can turn it upside down! Dominate! Kidnapped souls, magicians are the real revolutionaries! Magicians are the most hysterical! Magicians are the ruling class! Anything, everything, no matter its physical properties, can be changed! Must be changed! Lies spread to every corner of the world… until belief or refusal to doubt becomes a form of inertia.


In a world not what it seems, the object of our gaze is empty, without limits. At the end, cliffs and precipices, national movie-theatrism! A row of neat “numbers” lined up on a machine of lies, whether expression or movement, all emit incomparable sincerity and emotion, drunk with affect. This machine spews cold light, fluctuating with the sound of an amnesia-inducing motor… the light and shadows tremble at the edge of the world… full of forgotten happiness, everything is addictive. Behind the shadows, light, colorful and resplendent. Spinning, elegant, blurry… a sleek cane, a suffocating top hat, a noble shadow, a flashy bow tie, perhaps for a celebration, perhaps for a disaster, everything is so overwhelmingly large… a magicians’ ball! This is an empty movie theater, no people. Telephones, microscopes, globes and biology… the holes in our grand system, a parallel order, nothing more than props in the prop case of a magician, archaeology, anatomy, and violins… And— Motley museums, patched monuments, barren galleries, laughing plazas, a theater hung with blood-red curtains, towering T-shaped churches ravaged by time… we mock without dread, this useless edifice no better than a prison!


History is a ring, not quite regular, but more or less round, full of regret. π is no longer a formula for truth: a revolution is but a shoddy compass, turning furiously, revolving in futility, dying without any discernible illness.

Tue, 11th of March

Benedict drew

with 1 note
Tue, 11th of March

LONDON FILES: Benedict Drew, Heads will Roll.

Went a few stops out of central london across a lwafy park, with the first smells of cut spring grass unexpectedly finding us in london of all places, to an unassuming door with a buzzer (apparently this is how the trendy galleries do it now)

We put on headphones and entered a smart white room with a television screen, shpwing images mashed together. Photographs, computer generated graphics, what i imagined was strawberry angel delight. Very trendy, very slick lookin’. Next to a silver spaceship crackly speakers led lighted pathway. Through to a main room. Verious bits make up the whole. Theres a video of an astronaught playing in zero g, pooling his tears on his face.. the briney eye watery image makes me a bit queasy. A wobbly blobby pink creature ubder the stage which i like, a clever oh so smart simple red acetate vindow hewn from the walls. Outside is as alien as inside.

Mon, 10th of March

Went along to oriel mon on saturday, for a show featuring my good friend catrin menai. Mixed bag, bust some real quality at the apex!