Harmonics

Visual Harmonics I,  copr William Cook, 2013

Recently realized that the kind of sounds in this clip are what I hear in my head when I'm making art.  I first began to hear these sounds in 1977, and from then til now is what I've been trying to reflect--a visual expression of a series of sounds.

This piece is created on a heavily textured piece of paper that I made.  The severe wrinkling is a result of the drying process that I don't get how to prevent yet.  Maybe I'll catch on, but maybe not.  I like the fact that it's not a perfect sheet.

Those lines are ink.  I'm very happy to report that it's the sizing of the pulp that makes this possible--a fact that eluded me for 25 years as I searched for the perfect paper to draw on.

Warning:  the visual part of the clip is so inane that you might end up barking, or picking someones pockets--so don't watch, it's like they are controlling the horizontal [and the vertical] like in the "Outer Limits".

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Me And The Monkey

Solar Disc, detail

Solar Disc, cWm Cook 2012 

One of the main things about my work it seems is the complex textures.  The surfaces I make have to withstand a lot of abuse.  The neat thing about these internet presentations is that you can blow up the images and really see these surfaces.  I began this piece 12 years ago [or so], and stuck it in a drawer unfinished.  Posted it last week originally with that diatribe (now gone).  

After a week of observation I decided to deepen and even the background tones so that all the stylus work showed up better.  Now you can see it.  Before any of the tonal layers, a pointed stylus was used to impress texture into the thick paper.  Finally the addition of my beloved spots took over--in many different colors.  OK maybe there are too many, but I love the process of splattering up a perfectly good drawing.  

This is actually a detail also.  The original is 20X26.  About half the real estate was cropped out.  More of the same--you get the idea.  As for the mood of the piece, I wanted it to have more pizzazz, but I don't think a meditation piece needs to be flamboyant--if meditation is meant to quiet the monkey so to speak.  For now I'll let this stand.  Try staring at it for a couple minutes and let me know what happens.  

Devotee:  Master you left your key inside, 
but you're looking for it out here.  Why is that?

Master:  Better light.  

Kyudo telling a Sufi story

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Thoth in the Halls of Amenti

Free was I from the Halls of Amenti

bound not by death to the circle of life.

Far to the stars I journeyed until

space and time became as nothing. 

Then having drunk deep of the cup of Wisdom,

I looked into the hearts of men and there found I

greater mysteries and was glad.

For only in the search for Truth could my soul

be stilled and the flame within me quenched.

Thoth, 11,000 BC

  

Vertical Horizontal, copr 1992 

The above are details of this piece, which is more about sound than visuality.
If you sit quietly for an hour or so you will begin to hear these.
I don't know if they are horizontal sounds or vertical--
probably doesn't matter.  





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The Golden Mean

Five Twenty One Twelve Spiral, copr 2012

Phi, 1.618, the golden mean, the, the golden ratio, the Fibonacci sequence and Fibonacci spiral,  all these are expressions of the same thing. The ancient Greeks used this math to portray perfection in art and architecture, having noticed that it appears again and again in nature from the tiniest seashells to galaxies. Ok I made up the galaxies. But they do follow the Fibonacci spiral.   One only has to look at one's own hand to see the application of the Golden mean proportions in the bone lengths of the fingers.  Waves at the beach follow this exact spiral shape, as do pineapples, sunflower seed heads, pine cones and every other form of life..

The Greeks were way ahead of their time however, because Fibonacci (aka Leonardo of Pisa) didn't show up until 1202 AD.  He talked about rabbit breeding in his book, Liber Abaci.  Must have been one of those one-off  sort of artist books because the printing press didn't show up for yet another 400 years.  I think he shows up in the fifties reincarnated as a piano player.  Anyway his imaginary rabbits reproduced at he rate of the Fibonacci sequence as explained here under Origins.  What all this has to do with this post I can't say.  But I wonder what was really on his mind.  Rabbits?  

I was drawn to the form itself, and how downright majestic it is.  However this spiral is not exactly a pure spiral, it's just a series of quarter circles drawn with one leg of a square as the radius following the Fibonacci pattern of squares and golden rectangles.   A true spiral would be drawn with French curves, a continuously expanding curve.  But who am I to argue with God.  I'm just one of the creeping things.

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Geometrical Contemplations

Five Fourteen Twelve Flower, ink with pastel wash, copr 2012

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What A Day

Seed Meditation,  1979,  Mixed Media on Bristol,  8x10

I always thought of this piece as a prototype for art my making on a spiritual level.  It represents a sort of personal breakthrough on all kinds of levels.  All of the crazy stuff I did here integrates somehow.  Small as it is, when I come across it I get the same fulfilled feeling I had the day I completed it 32 years ago.   This one piece has had quite an effect on everything after it--it seems.  

So I've been watching You tubes on a variety of subjects, and came across the Maha Mrityunjaya Mantra sung by Hein Braat over and over for an hour and ten minutes.  At first it sounded like more new age nonsense performed by some western dude trying to impress everyone with some secret he's discovered.  

and of course I'm better than him for recognizing this.  I wondered what the words meant, and if this guy knew who he was actually praying to.  Of course I had a laugh thinking he was duped into praying for the downfall and destruction  of Western culture like an occupy guy or something, and of course he would be the first to go.  What a putz.   

Well.  

Looked it up.  Turns out this is one of the most widely known mantras of contemporary Hinduism.  It is thousands of years old.  It is the great death-conquering mantra of the Rig Veda--possibly the most significant centerpiece of all religious expression.   Kept listening.   An hour later I'm sitting here tears streaming down my face apologizing to the universe for being such a creep.   It is so beautiful.   Many thanks to Hein Braat for sharing this incredible piece of music.  I so apologize for my arrogance.  

While all this was going on, I was inspired to look through the files, and came across this 'seed' meditation piece from all those years ago.  Somehow the  Maha Mrityunjaya Mantra  and the art connected.  If I may be so presumptuous as to show my silly artwork with it, here it is. 

  

aum tryambakaṃ yajāmahe sugandhiṃ puṣṭi-vardhanam

urvārukam iva bandhanān mṛtyor mukṣīya māmṛtāt

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The Writing Is On The Wall--Simulated Akashics

Simulated Akashics, 17X22", Mixed Media, 5/3/11
    

The very idea of Akashics sends my imagination into overdrive.  The Akashic Record refers to all things known and to be known.  It is said that these records show up sometimes to the highly accomplished sage who can actually read them, and copy them down.  They are coming directly out of the ether (akasha in sanskrit) in the form of the multifarious variations of the AUM (Amen), "... the faithful Witness and true, the source of God's creation." (as discussed in Revelations 3:14).

The Akashic record sort of spells out the very first encoding of the reality we all inhabit, and everything about it.  Examples of this direct interfacing with the creator are found in the holy books of all religions, from Danial's interpretation of the 'writing on the wall' for the idiot King Belshazar, to Mohammad taking dictation, to Gautama accessing every detail of all his incarnations, and so of course he was the Buddha.

Now I ain't no New Ager, and Madam Blavatsky scares the crap out of me,  but this is cool--especially if you bypass all the crazoid nonsense for the past 4,000 years, which essentially takes us back to the Vedic sources--a bunch of rishis staring out into space and writing down stuff  (the ponderous Vedas).   I mean, the very idea of all this lights me up.  What were they seeing?  What do you see?  All I see is dust, which is actually fun to watch.  But never in public.    

This is another mixed media piece using sanded mortar and white glue mixtures, acrylics, acrylic-latex--the standard goop--colored pencils and oil glazes with Liquin--hardboard panel.


A Poem.

Greek Sages were deep.

100 Greek Sages = one Cervantes. 

100 Cervantes = One Bobdylan.

100 Bobdylans = one Tom Wait.

100 Tom Waits = one Zen Master. 

100 Zen Masters = one Yogananda.

100 Yoganadas = one Patanjali. 

continued in some book.

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Give Em Trees--They Love Trees--I Love Trees

Meditation With Cryptomeria Trees, 13X17", Mixed media on Panel, 4/11 

It occurred to me last night that I should be making more recognizable images. from the observed world, not because I need to from some psychological depth, but because it's polite.  What I mean is that, gee, why would anyone want to look at some psycho knot going on in some artist's head.  Give them something they can use.  So, here are some trees to deal with.  Without them there would only be thirty layers of translucent stuff with all sorts of craziness going on such that you could get lost like you went swimming just past the sort of surface tension that keeps it all nicely isolated.  Can't have that at all.  If that's not enough, a couple layers of concrete ought to solid it up.   Thanks for looking.

On the other hand just what does a Yogi see when he first closes his eyes?

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The Lightness Of Looking, The Elusive Form

Garden Notes, 9X12, Pencil

Hillside With Trees, 9X12, Pencil

Gunpowder Riverbed, 9X12, Pencil

Route 7 Bridge, 9X12, Pencil

There's something about just the right amount of information needed to convey a thought.  The mind does the rest.  I haven't figured out yet just what to do with this drawing approach, other than to just let them be what they are--quiet moments in meditative seclusion.  And I've tried making paintings out of them. They just laugh back at me reminding me that gilding the lilly  becomes King Arthur's pet mule all too quick.

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A Springtime Stroll En Plein Concrete

Waning Wendy Super-Burger On Concrete, Snapshot

Expansion Joint With Stain, Snapshot

Brushed Concrete With Utility Marks, Snapshot

"Yeah, I can add sand, sawdust, vermiculite, drag brooms through it, stain it,  anything goes."

"How about actually collaging a real butt right into the piece?"

"Cool!", I said, "And how about a perfectly reconstructed broken bottle embedded into the final glaze? Mondo cool!" I added, and then, "Oooo and how about a syringe.  Ever see a syringe out on a walk?"

 "Yeah, but that's kinda creepy, dad.  Besides then you've descended into mere social commentary."

"Ew.  Good point, forget the glass and the butts too.  I don't even care if they look like concrete, I just like the textures and compositions.  That and the fresh air."

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180 Degree Reversals

YHWH VI, 12 X 16, Ink With Pastel, print

YHWH VIII, 12 X 16, Ink With Pastel, print

YHWH V, 12 X 16, Ink With Pastel, print

If star charts are produced in reverse, and my old series here reminded me of star charts, I wondered what my work would look like in reverse.  Would they remind me of actual stars? What do you think?  Of course I wasn't thinking stars at the time, I was either smacking the drawing around or praying,  Possibly both.  Let's just call it a creative trance.

YHWH V, reversed

In terms of physics, Calabi–Yau manifolds are important in superstring theory. In the most conventional superstring models, ten conjectural dimensions in string theory are supposed to come as four of which we are aware, carrying some kind of fibration with fiber dimension six. Compactification on Calabi–Yau n-folds are important because they leave some of the original supersymmetry unbroken. More precisely, in the absence of fluxes, compactification on a Calabi–Yau 3-fold (real dimension 6) leaves one quarter of the original supersymmetry unbroken if the holonomy is the full SU(3).


Thank you Doc, for introducing me to the Calabi-Yau manifold.  What a precious description (Wikkipedia).  I wonder if I was channeling professor Yau back in 1979.  You're right--my goofy little drawings are stoundingly similar to the visual version of the Calabi-Yau manifold.   I have not a clue what any of the Poindexter stuff in the above description even means, but I am a superstring kind of guy.   Ultra cool comment, Sonya (Sonya Johnson).  

I've just found out that Brian Greene's book on superstring theory inspired a Nova special a few years back.  Here it is.  Sonya, this is just getting better and better.

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Art Secrets At The Air Show

Far Inland There Were Seagulls, 36 X 48, Oil on Collage, buy a print.

I was asked to participate in a theme show.  The idea was to translate a poem into a work of art.  What a neat challenge!  How could I refuse, right?   So I was assigned a poem called "Far Inland There Were Seagulls" (its around here somewhere). 

So there I was sitting in the car at the mall parking lot wondering what in the world this poem was even about to begin with, let alone where on earth was this future "work of art" going to come from.  Besides there ain't no seagulls far inland.  Come on.  I was getting all worked up.  What was I thinking?  Screw it.

Then poof.  There were seagulls all over the place.  Walking around on the parking lot, thinking, I suppose, how incredibly similar this was to the water.  They were doing all manner of loops and spirals and aerobatic tricks right in front of me.  Quite a mystical, magical moment.  Of course they were there all along, but my brain wasn't allowing them in.  Sat there for an hour enjoying the show (and planning my "work of art"). 

My attempts at collage had degenerated into me sticking torn  random shapes onto canvas--once I got the whole thing covered, I was going to start adding crazy random pictorial elements and just see what emerges--kind of like the old scribble approach.  After the parking lot episode all the sudden seagulls showed up and gilded contrails.  Out comes the paint.  Now I'm doing the same thing the seagulls were doing.  Playing, doing loopty loops, paintin, livin and lovin.  I began to realize just how far inland they had come after all. 

The show came and went.  Picked up my piece. 

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There He Goes Again

The Rebetsky Horizontal, 1987, 16 X 21, mixed media. 



Rebetsky detail A



Rebetsky detail B

Rebetsky detail C

This mixed media extravaganza started with a stylus impressing textures into the paper (thick bristol is the only paper I had found to withstand the abuse of one of these), followed by a tripple tone pen and ink stage  (.03 Rapidograph, black, blue and brown ), a series of rubbed pastel dust and tempura powder layers,  prismacolor toning, graphite lining and toning, and splatter layers in several colors.  These details seem fairly close to original size, but you can still click on them for even more of a blow-up. 

I think of this as pure art--playful, meditative, vigorous, silly, serious, intense, escapist--where the purpose of the paper is only to contain all that.   I have no idea what purpose it all serves, or how it fits in to anything in the art world, and I don't really care.   OK maybe I care a little.  I just like to do them again and again. 

Enough said.

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PS   I've added a detail to the previous post, the Arc Ascendant--way better.

Barn Blues And The Arc Ascendant



Arc Ascendant



Arc detail

"The difference between realism and abstraction in painting has nothing to do with the finished appearance of  the final product (whether the subject is, identified artefactual realism, or non-differentiated perception of the process, 'to do').  If the difference lies between artefactual and naturally realistic painting, (which it does not), then the difference can be deduced by just observing actual paintings.  The difference can only be deduced by examination of motive.  When we intend to create a finished piece, statement, work-of-art, any noun will do--we are creating abstraction.  When our motive is to approach, experience, do the doing of, any verb will do, we are intending to under-go the process of natural realism."   

Sounds completely backwards doesn't it--a poorly worded puff of utter nonsense?  But not when you really think about it, the world being backwards and all. 

It was from Unthesis, A Key To The Secrets Behind The Brush, 10/28/77.  It was the "thesis" I wrote [possibly] in reaction to getting the bum's rush from all the grad schools I applied to (I've mercifully never shown any of it to anyone).  I now whip it out with apologies. 

I was actually struggling with just what's the point of filling a couple of country barns with art?  What am I an assembly line here, cranking out stuff to sell in the marketplace?  Is there not a more healthy--a more lofty reason to make art? 

I still make art, but I've sure mellowed out over the years, though.     

Wm

Arc Ascendant, 17 X 22, inquire here for print.

I Was Once A Heathen

Chi Rho 1, 8 X 10, Ink, inquire here for print.

Chi Rho 2, 8 X 10, Ink, inquire here for print.

Chi Rho 3, 8 X 10, Ink, inquire here for print.

Chi Rho 4, 8 X 10, Ink, inquire here for print.

My first encounter with Christ was not pleasent.  He caught sight of me in the throng and with no hesitation charged at me full speed on a white stallion with a four foot long blade drawn, standing in the stirrups, like a Samauri. 

His face was expressionless but intent on his mission.  In one graceful gesture the sword came around and lopped both of my legs off at the knees and I went down onto the stumps.  Definately got my attention.  As I wept bitterly, begging forgiveness for my arrogance and posturing as someone great, I thought in the back of my mind, this is not the whimpy Christ I've always heard about. 

This being was no joke.  He showed up often after that.  Beat me severly about the head.  Now I'm more inclined to forgive my fellow man, and I'm not so arrogant anymore.  The thing is that he was right all along--I was wrong.  Now we're friends at least--first name basis.

Measure twice, cut once.

Wm

Hi Rebecca



Vector 2, 14 X 17, 1979, inquire here for print.



Ywh 3, 14 X 17, 1980, inquire here for print.



Horizontal 3, 18 X 24, 1977, inquire here for print.



Horizontal 1, 36 X 49, 1977, inquire here for print.

 

Horizontal 2, 29 X 37, 1977, inquire here for print.



Meditation 1, 25 X 18, 2006, inquire here for print.

Vector 5, 17 X 14, 1979, inquire here for print.

Horizontal 26, 17 X 14,  1979, inquire here for print.

The concept of doing art "for the right reasons" came to me as a student in l970 during a discussion on what is real or fake art, kitsch or masterpiece. 

I was the straight-laced kid out of an engineering high school, discussing the more intense issues of the art world with Tom Hyatt, whom I utterly revered.  He was US Army guy fresh back from Viet Nam, and was an odd mixture of cynicism, worldly experience and self-confidence.  We were new art students.  I can still hear his voice forming that phrase.  For the next five [student] years, it became the yardstick by which I measured the phenomenological validity of my art making.  Was it the real thing or just an imitation of someone else’s real thing? 

The resulting search came down to one event.  The right reasons—motivations—were more from the soul—the deep interior—not from my self-serving ego in its never ending search for rewards and other forms of stroking.  So I designed this project that would force me to engage in the process of creating, only knowing that the product itself—my ego-serving product at the end of all the effort—would be then destroyed.  All that would be left was the memory of creation itself.

What a revelation.  It was a canvas. It involved oils, PVA, gum arabic, spackling powder, pigment powder, acrylics, graphite, afro combs, cutouts, drawn and painted imagery, and a miniature anvil that swung in front of the piece.  It was incredible.  I even violated my own rule and snapped a slide of it.  Then I destroyed it, lovingly, non-violently. 

I see this event as pivotal.  After it I was no longer a student. 

The above meditation devices are examples of what became of my work after this event.  I think of them as recordings of what was happening to at least one meditator, seeking home in a soul—a sort of ancient patinad evidence or byproduct of an essential process that is both urgent in a universal sense, and personally intimate. 

I have revisited the pure horizontal and it’s variations directly many times over the years, and will have more to say about them in future essays.  As for motivation, you paint because you have to—everything else is just fake.

The above unveiling was inspired by Rebecca Crowell's website and blog that I found completely by accident.   

Wm