Category: Depression

  • My new 64″ giclée printer delivered and installed

    My new 64″ giclée printer delivered and installed

    Why don’t I use a commercial professional printing service to produce giclée prints for me – like most people?

    Believe me – I wish I could! I searched high and low, but I couldn’t find a printing company that met all my exacting requirements – and I wasn’t prepared to compromise and accept what random permutation of my requirements individual companies happened to offer. My art is too important to me. Most companies were only offering two or three, out of my seven, requirements – which are as follows :-

    1. Using verified archival pigment inks from a highly reputable ink maker (this is currently only Epson UltraChrome PRO inks as far as I’m concerned)
    2. Using a 12-colour printer. None were offering this! This is because 12-inks is new on the market and most printing companies are using older generations of printer.
    3. Minimum of 60 inches wide. Most only offered 44”. 60”+ is quite niche.
    4. Printing on Hahnemühle Smooth Fine Art 370 canvas. I want the texture of the canvas to be as inconspicuous as possible, and this canvas is the smoothest, most archival, canvas that I know of. It also has the brightest natural white (without using the completely non-archival – and therefore completely unacceptable – optical brightening agents (OBAs)). It also has a matt finish – which looks better from all viewing angles and preserves colours best with random, background lights. Most companies use their own preferred canvas and weren’t prepared to use this!
    5. Mount the canvas on aluminium stretchers. Aluminium stretchers will never twist or warp – unlike with wooden stretchers – something that is especially important with large canvases. No canvas printing companies I researched offered this.
    6. Stretch the canvas leaving a precise specified white margin (aka museum wrap – which I use for limited editions – where I add a title, edition number / edition size, and signing in pencil. No canvas printing companies I researched offered this.
    7. Finish the canvas with a completely invisible, waterproof, archival UV-protective varnish (only one offered this).

    Sometimes in life if you want to have a job done well (because you know what well means) then you have to do it yourself…

    Why did I want a 60″+ Giclée Printer?

    Getting the best 60″+ giclée (pronounced “zhee-clay“) printer (as considered by most in the know) was a big decision for me – not only because of it’s expense (and the twelve 1.6 litre inks for it are half as much again!), but also because it needs quite a lot of working space. That’s the room required to handle, cut, stretch (canvases), mount, and frame the huge prints it produces. I didn’t have anywhere near enough dust-free, clean, space where I live, so before buying the printer I bought space for it – in the form of a new 6m x 6m log cabin (see My new big printer requires a new shed!).

    Why did I want such a big printer? I’m an artist, I want to make a big impact. I see big, I think big. I love Nature, and a lot of the time I try to capture or say something about Nature. I don’t like big things being unnecessarily shrunk. Small is easy. Everybody and anybody does small. Point a camera (or more likely a smartphone these days), click, small print. It’s all too quick and too easy, has little or no value, and doesn’t stand out in  the crowd. Small doesn’t have a big impact. Large does. Small is not special. Large is much more likely to.

    Much, though by no means all, of my art is large and photo-realistic – and is intentionally made to look like photographs (although they are not simply photos – very far from it). In relation to this genre of my art, you could say that I attempt to make “photos” – rather than simply take photos. Unlike photos, I don’t want my art to fade – I want them to last as long as possible – hundreds of years – hence why I got interested in giclée printing and museum framing techniques many years ago.

    I’ve been doing this form of art for quite a long time – since the noughties in fact (prior to the that I was doing high-end conventional analogue photography, however, I’ve always conventionally manually drawn and painted as a separate passion). It seemed like a god-given opportunity to me in the beginning of the digital age – and, with my background in computing and photography, I took to it like a duck to water.

    Some twenty years ago I bought what was then the best large format 44″ giclée printer. I started producing and framing large scale, highly detailed, and archival artworks (using museum-grade inks, materials and framing techniques) – some of which were accepted by the Royal Academy of Art in London (although I never got around to other galleries or outlets at the time).

    My life took an absolutely terrible turn (details of which I needn’t go into) and effectively my creativity was put on hold for about a decade and a half. After fifteen years in the wilderness, I am largely recovered, re-motivated, and re-energised.

    Size isn’t everything.

    What about quality? What is a giclée printer? A giclée printer is an uncompromisingly high quality, very high resolution, printer that uses archival pigment inks on archival papers and canvases – and produces superb prints that will keep their pristine colours and vibrancy for at least 200 years under normal indoor lighting conditions. First and foremost a giclée printer uses pigment inks. Pigment inks used by giclée printers are among the purest forms of water insoluble colour substances we know of – which we get from rocks (including clays), plants, metals, and some we synthesize – and are the most lightfast colourants generally available. The key word is colourant, because every printing technology tries to change the colour of the surface it is printed on. The crucial question for me – as it should be for all artists and photographers – is how long will the colours remain as vibrant and pure as the day they were originally printed? In addition to the inks used, a key determinant of lightfastness is the material it is printed on – how stable it is over time, and how well does it present (reflect) colours printed (or painted) on it? In this respect cotton – in the form of papers and canvas – is one of the most colour stable and colour faithful print surfaces we know of and use extensively in high end art and printing.

    Colour Gamut

    Another crucial aspect of giclée printers is called colour gamut. What is the range of colours it can print – and how vibrant are they? Put simply, this is how many colours and tonal ranges a printer can reproduce. In theory only four colours are required to make any reflected colour – Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and blacK (CMYK). But there is much more to printing than this. Basic CMYK cannot directly produce all the colours we can see, and many colours are achieved quite crudely by the placement of small dots of CMYK colour next to each other – to give the impression of the other colours – like red (from yellow and magenta), blue (from cyan and magenta), and green (from yellow and cyan). However, this effect looks pixelated close-up because you can literally see the patches of dots – so effectively the resolution of basic simple four-colour CMYK printing is low. Also, the vast number of shades of blue and green in nature cannot be reproduced very well with this basic approach.

    My printer has twelve colours – the most currently available on any pigment inkjet printer – to give the widest possible range of colours. The set includes dedicated colours for those particularly difficult hues to reproduce by combining other colours – orange, green, and violet. It also has two greys (mid and light), and two blacks – a matte black (for matt surfaces) and a photo black (which reproduces blacks better on a glossy surface) – so it is exceptional at black-and-white prints also.

    So, wanting to make as big an art impact as I can, I thought: if I don’t do it now, I probably never will… This new printer is the best of what is available today – and is really only a continuation of where I left off fifteen years ago…

    Installation was forced on me!

    The steps I went through to get this printer was, firstly, deciding what printer I wanted (back in April 2025), and finding out how much it would cost; secondly, realising I needed to build a log cabin to put it in and researched the options; thirdly, realising I needed a concrete base, researched that, and got one built; fourthly, buying and then building the log cabin, fitting it out, treating the wood inside and out, making a path and building two very large workbenches (I finished in late September 2025); fifthly, revisiting the market to see what the best deal I could get now.

    However, in the six months between the first and fifth steps, something very impactful happened: the company who I originally planned to buy the printer from said back in April that the price included delivery, unpacking, removing all the packaging, installation, and training. Great, I thought – that’s a lot of work and worry avoided. However, when I came to ordering it in late September, that delivery deal was no longer available because the third-party company who provided that service decided, for whatever reason, not to do it anymore – and it turned out they were the only company in the country providing that service… So, I was left with the daunting prospect of doing everything myself…!

    The printer was hands down the biggest and heaviest thing I have ever had to handle – (and I have handled quite a few large machines in my time – including big CNC machines, a big industrial laser, and other big woodworking machines).

    Using my heavy-duty pallet jack, my neighbour and I managed to roll the huge 3.5m x 1.5m x 1m printer box from the driveway (where the tractor forklift took it as close as it could), along my newly built path, into the log cabin (over a carefully designed double ramp I built). We managed to get all the surrounding cardboard and most of the polystyrene off it. There was a daunting number of pieces in bags and boxes of various sizes, and labelled bags of nuts and bolts.

    With the main printer chassis propped up on big dense blocks of polystyrene resting on the huge pallet, we set about assembling all the other pieces as much as we could – including the stand (which also had to be assembled). It was by no means straightforward, and some parts were incredibly confusing as to where they were supposed to go – or how they were supposed to be fixed in position. The instructions were far from clear, and the order some things should have been done was utterly confusing at times. Anyway, after about three hours, all that was left to do was to lift the printer on to the wheeled stand. And, because this required at least five people, we stopped working on it that day – and I was left with trying to rope in a couple of other near neighbours to help. I did manage to get their commitment, and we scheduled a day (the following week) where the five of us could do it.

    It required four guys to lift/move the printer onto the nearby stand – and two people to guide us on to the stand and pull the big pieces of polystyrene out from underneath it. The whole 6m by 6m log cabin felt full to the brim with all the packaging it came in, and the pallet it was transported on was so heavy that it took four of us to carry it out of the log cabin afterwards!

    It was quite a mammoth effort to move and assemble the printer – something that was never even discussed in the sales process – nor even mentioned on the manufacturer’s website…! In hindsight I don’t think this printer should ever be sold without a full installation commitment by an experienced dedicated team. Leaving it to the customer is a huge ask, and, with so much difficult and delicate assembly required by the customer, it begs the question how the manufacturer can offer any warranty – let alone two years…

    Then there was the clean-up of all the packaging. It was one hell of a job fitting all the polystyrene in my hatchback – to take it to the recycling centre. And there were huge sheets and boxes of thick cardboard that I just dumped in my large shed for the time being – until I decide what to do with it.

    Installing the inks was no simple matter either! The instructions were useless, and I couldn’t find any clearer instructions or videos online. The 1.6 litre flimsy-looking flexible plastic bag ink pouches are extremely expensive – at nearly £500 each – so you really want to put them in properly – and not leak or tear them…!

    Ink charging

    The printer comes completely empty of ink, and filling the required system components with ink known as ink-charging. What I don’t understand is why doesn’t the printer come with a small sized set of starter inks for this purpose – like every printer has that I have ever bought up until this one…? And why does this ink-charging process take a whopping 45 minutes – and require two- and a-bit maintenance tanks to be filled with “waste” ink?! The printer came with six maintenance tanks – three of which were already in the printer, however, two of these – exactly as explained in the instructions – were completely filled – and needed to be discarded and replaced with new ones – during this initial ink-charging!

    I compared the weight of a used, full (and therefore needing to be disposed of), maintenance tank, with a new empty one, and I estimate there was about a half a kilo of weight difference. A kilogram is roughly the weight of one litre of liquid (with a similar density to water), and so this means that, over and above the ink used to fill the many metres of tubing in the printer, the ink charging squirted out a total of well over a litre ( spread over all twelve ink pouches) straight into the waste maintenance tanks! That’s about 10% of the £6,000 worth of ink – straight into the bin – including two maintenance tanks…!

    Colour-Proofing

    With the printer all set up, the next task was to load it up with some canvas and do some test prints. A crucial step was to calibrate my new proofing computer monitor with the inks and the Hahnemühle canvas in the printer. Having done a lot of colour proofing before, this should have been quick and easy to do. Was it heck! There turned out to be a completely unexpected red herring in the form of Hahnemühle’s Fine Art Smooth Canvas ICC colour profile. This is the ICC colour profile I should be using: it’s made specifically for this canvas and this printer’s inks – and is supplied by Hahnemühle! However, it consistently produced weird small black streaks on the same parts of the print. Over four days I tried absolutely everything I could think of to get rid of these disastrous black streaks – wasting lots of canvas and ink in the process. In the end, by a process of elimination, it turned out to be a weird fault with Hahnemühle’s ICC colour profile -because when I tested the same print with Epson’s Matt Canvas ICC colour profile for this printer, it printed perfectly every time. I’m really annoyed with Hahnemühle about this because it wasted so much of my time, ink and canvas. What kind of testing did they do – if any – because the very first time I tried to use it, I ran into this problem…?!

    Final Thoughts

    The cost of getting top-quality commercial prints done is very high – often running into hundreds of pounds each – which is okay if you have confirmed sales (or a lot of money). During the creative process there is no guarantee for most artists that any artwork will sell, so the individual cost of experimental or test prints can be quite off-putting, and stifling of creativity.

    By owning such a versatile and brilliant printer as this one, I can experiment with different sizes and media – and can simply re-do prints if I’m not happy with them. So, although the up-front cost (and effort!) was enormous, I don’t have to worry much about each print individual I do…

    The printer is an extremely versatile and power tool, and by owning it I can explore all its capabilities – creative and technical opportunities that would otherwise be completely unavailable to me.

    As an artist, it’s a dream come true to have such a printer – to have such a fabulous creative instrument in my toolbox. And I bought it for that reason alone. However, some companies make good money printing for clients who want the best. This commercial opportunity, coupled with the potential I have for selling my own limited and unlimited edition prints, could mean I will reap financial rewards with it. Indeed, it is far from impossible or improbably that, in time, it will comfortably pay for itself – and more…

    Finally, from a providence and buyer’s perspective, it is surely much better for customers to know that I, the artist, printed and handled the artworks – as opposed to a random commercial printer…?

  • My new big printer requires a new shed!

    My new big printer requires a new shed!

    Much, though by no means all, of my art is large and photo-realistic – and is intentionally made to look like photographs (although they are not simple photos – very far from it). In relation to this genre of art, you could say that I attempt to make photos – rather than simply take photos. Unlike photos, I didn’t want my art to fade – I wanted it to last as long as possible – hundreds of years – hence why I got interested in giclée printing and museum framing techniques.

    I’ve been doing this form of art for quite a long time – since the noughties in fact (prior to that I was doing high-end conventional analogue photography – and I’ve always drawn and painted as a separate passion). It seemed like a god-given opportunity to me of the then new digital age – and, with my background in computing and photography, I took to it like a duck to water.

    Some twenty years ago I bought what was then the best large format 44″ giclée (pronounced “zhee-clay“) printer (a very high quality printer that uses archival pigment inks on archival papers and canvases – and produces superb prints that will keep their pristine colours and vibrancy for at least 200 years under normal indoor lighting conditions). I started producing and framing largescale, highly detailed, and archival artworks (using museum-grade inks, materials and framing techniques) – some of which were accepted by the Royal Academy of Art in London (although I never got around to other galleries or outlets at the time).

    My life took an absolutely terrible turn (details of which I needn’t go into) and effectively my creativity was put on hold for about a decade and a half. After fifteen years in the wilderness, I am largely recovered, re-motivated, and re-energised.

    At the beginning of this year (2025) when I decided to get what is widely regarded (by those in the know) as the best large format 64″ giclée printer, the first obstacle to overcome was where on earth was I going to put it?! At 3.5m wide, 1.5m deep, just over 1m high, and weighing about 250kg – there was no room in my house (in any case it would be impossible to get it in the house because no doors are wide enough!). Also there was not enough room in my far-from-small studio/workshop because it was maxed out with tools, lasers, a CNC machine, and workbenches – besides, I wanted somewhere very clean and free of dust for highest quality printing. Building an extension to the house would have been far too expensive (and slow), so I decided to get a log cabin (that wouldn’t require a lengthy and expensive planning application).

    Originally I naively hoped to get something like a 12m x 8m building, but after much searching for a good quality log cabin supplier, and the shock of how little square meterage you get for your money(!), I plumped for a 6m x 6m x 2.5m unit – that being the minimum I could usefully use and could just about afford (allowing for the fact I had a very expensive printer to buy – along with the also very expensive inks, archival printing canvas, very large workbenches, etc.). Next, I had to decide where to put it. The patch of land between the studio and the workshop seemed the best option.

    The ground where the log cabin is going – between studio and workshop, and just off the driveway
    The site where the log cabin is going – between studio and workshop, and just off the driveway

    I ran the proposal past the county council planning department – just to make sure it came under “Permitted Development” – which it did – so I didn’t need planning permission. I had to get the base area firstly excavated and then get a concrete base put down (this I couldn’t do myself so I used a contractor).

    Construction site with machinery and trees.
    Contractor levelled and prepared the ground for the log cabin

    If I wasn’t watching the concrete base being built, only half of the base would have had a dampproof membrane – until I insisted…!

    Cleared land with concrete base and shed
    The completed concrete base (100mm thick on 100mm hardcore) (done by a contractor)

    I left the ordering of the log cabin (which comes in kit form) until the base was finished. Then I (re-)looked extensively for the best quality and deal I could find. When I came to a decision it was mid August. I wanted to go with a local supplier but they couldn’t deliver until mid October. The thought of putting up the log cabin in mid autumn – with the high probability of rain, frosts, strong winds – put me off. So I checked the delivery estimate of my second choice. They said three weeks. Decision made.

    Undaunted by such challenges, I decided to build the log cabin myself (from a kit) – both to save money, but also to be in total control of the quality of the build and the materials used. From quite a lot of experience, I have little faith in “handymen” – who often cut corners, do things as quickly and as cheaply as possible. I’m quite practical, patient, have some common sense, and can seek advice and/or find out anything I want to know.

    I took my time – doing everything as best as I could, and using the best materials and techniques I either knew or researched. The September weather was absolutely gorgeous – sometimes too gorgeous (too hot)! I had a large tarpaulin to cover the timber over night and when it rained (which wasn’t often).

    I lost quite a lot of time during the log cabin build because of receiving visitors over the North East Open Studios (NEOS) ten open days in early September (which I committed to back in January). But I like/liked meeting people interested in my art. It’s what art all about…? So whenever visitors turned up, I just downed tools, was probably filthy and stinking of sweat(!) – and gave them as much time as they wanted (which was often quite a lot).

    The build was enjoyable for the most part. The instructions weren’t as clear as they could have been, the timber pieces weren’t labelled, and because many were very similar (but subtly different)- and there were unspecified spare pieces – it was very confusing at times. The most difficult part was the path leading from the drive to the log cabin – getting big and heavy concrete paving slabs to slope in two planes from level to the steep slope of the drive. But I got there in the end. It was very satisfying…

  • Guillemot with Egg (floral map)- Artwork feelings

    Guillemot with Egg (floral map)- Artwork feelings

    It may be quite common for artists to write about how they feel about their work, but I’ve personally never come across it. This is probably just my lack of reading (I’m not a big reader, I usually only read to learn something specific – which is quite often).

    Yesterday I framed this large canvas :-

    Guillemot with Egg (floral map)

    After working on the back fixings, I turned it over to see the finished work. In all candour, I thought it looked really fabulous. The heavy black tray (float) frame made the colours pop even more, and the whites to appear whiter. I was really moved and felt a great sense of achievement.

    When I think back over the months I have spent on it, the weeks designing it, all the hundreds of hours drawing innumerable curves – that I have meticulously weaved and tweaked; all the colour choices and juxtapositioning… It feels it was definitely worth all the effort – and not inconsiderable cost. It was a truly joyous, uplifting, moment, and I felt very blessed and proud…

    This just reinforces why I cannot part with original artwork – and so steer clear from doing non-reproducible art. Most of my artwork I do primarily for myself: mainly to show and express my gratitude and wonder of Nature. Yes, I love to share my feelings of what moves me – often to tears – which is why I have invested so much time and resources into reproducibility (editions as opposed to original art). It is a real privilege that I can produce copies of my artwork, like this one, to a standard that I am very happy with – and can share with many others (some of whom are fortunate enough to have the resources to own copies)… This is immensely satisfying.

    If this work can give a fraction of the joy it gives me, to other people, then I am truly grateful and blessed…

  • Resuming My Art Journey…

    It’s been a really long journey, I got lost in the blackest wilderness for a very long time, but I’m finally back on the right track – heading in my chosen direction… Art is not something where you can say you’ve achieved your goal: it’s the exploratory journey that is the pleasure and ambition. Yes, we may enjoy some wonderful sights and places along the way, but there is no particular destination…

    When I left university – after failing in my academic ambitions (principally due to a complete change in interests from economics to philosophy and psychology – but not being allowed to change course) – I tried to make a living from my life-long creative passion – art. But I had no capital or support, and prostituted myself – doing mundane commissions and speculative commercial work – for a full year. I decided this extremely insecure, hand-to-mouth, existence, was no life for me, and I promised myself I would never financially rely on art again – or prostitute my art again – instead I would focus on doing the kind of art I wanted to do – for myself (in the first instance)…

    After the brief encounter with “professional art” I stumbled into computing (IT) – something that came very naturally to me (I got engrossed with programming at university), and I thrived on it. In a very real sense computer programming is the complete opposite to art: programming is mostly convergent and objective thinking to solve very specific, precise, objective, mathematical and logical problems – using nothing but a Qwerty keyboard and VDU – and producing computer code – but it has no direct permanent artifacts. Whereas art is mostly divergent and subjective thinking – and a lot of manual dexterity and very skilled manipulation of physical materials – and is not trying to solve any problems at all – it is most often purely for beauty’s sake. And an artifact is always the end result.

    During a long career in IT, I continued art (and photography – once I could afford it) on my own terms… (In the early years I took out – what was for me – a huge loan to buy professional photographic equipment – that cost about a year’s average salary.) I started entirely with analogue art and photographic equipment, and later evolved with the digital revolutions in both. My IT background helped considerably in this regard, and I was able to do more and more exciting things –making creative use of the extensive opportunities digital technology offered…

    Eighteen years ago (at the time of writing this) I got married, and my wife and I bought a house together – with the main ambition being to develop our art interests and to start earning money from it (on own terms). I built a large studio (from a large barn), a workshop, a framing workshop, and a digital office. I converted a van for the safe transport of large framed glazed artworks. I was able to produce digital art to museum archival standards, and submitted work to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibitions – and sold some limited edition work at a good price. Things started to look up.

    But no sooner had I started to get established, and it all collapsed due to a most heinous, psychopathic, sociopathic, attack by my insecure, irrationally and intensely jealous, (ex-)wife… The art-making complex I created, all my artworks, every photograph I have ever taken, every print I have ever made – over decades – have all gone. But that was as nothing compared to the unfathomable pain of not seeing the children, feeling their pain and confusion of not seeing me; a catastrophic breakdown, the utter terror, despair, hopelessness, blackness, I suffered – and suffer still to this day – thirteen years on… Indeed, if it were not for my son – and wanting him to learn the truth of what happened to him (and me) some day (when he becomes an adult?) – I would not be here now…

    Some very intelligent women psychopaths (like Cleopatra and Livia Drusilla – and my ex), being physically weaker, are sociopaths as well – and often resort to coldly and completely selfishly manipulating others to achieve their nefarious ends – completely oblivious to the harm and pain they inflict along the way. This can magnify their powers enormously. Indeed, I would go so far as to suggest that such women are invariably very intelligent because they have to be to – to pull the wool over so many people’s eyes – often for years… They lead a web of lies and deceit that has to be very convincingly and consistently acted out – and so they have to be great actresses as well…

    Years of depression and PTSD followed (I will never be the person I was, but I struggle on), with no creative output whatsoever for years. Most men suffer trauma like this on their own. For me, talking about it only made me feel worse. So-called “professionals”– who’ve probably never dealt with such cases before – asking naïve questions – is no help whatsoever. They are of the simple-mindedness of thinking that talking about pain helps – when in fact it doesn’t: it makes you feel worse. Re-living trauma is not any help for trauma…!

    I could have produced some of the most melancholic and distressing art imaginable, but I hate depressive and dark art, and I chose not to inflict that on the world… Art for me always has been, and always will be, something positive and beautiful – something to bring light and joy into people’s lives, and preferably thought-provoking…

    I look back now on those darkest years and wonder where the time went. I frequently see TV programmes, films, music, and sport from this period – but don’t remember anything about them – as if they happened before I was born – or I was in a coma all that time. For example, I recently (this late summer 2023) saw cricket documentaries about England winning the Ashes in 2015 and the world cup in 2019. I am a very keen follower of cricket (and played a huge amount in my youth: played for four different teams each week, and captained the school team), but I have absolutely no recollection of either of these momentous achievements…!

    Such trauma, as I have suffered, either kills you – or you very slowly learn to live with it and slowly turn you attention to other things. Very slowly the blackness gives way to light. Very gradually the light started to come back into my life. IT has been good to me (and hopefully I to it), and it has many synergies in art and photography that I have been keen to explore. Among other things, IT has given me the financial opportunity to re-assess my life and prioritise what is important to me. Art is important to me, but I don’t want to be financially dependent on it. So in late 2021 (and largely due to melancholia) I decided to liquidate my assets, downsize, and find a suitable home in Scotland – with good art workshop/studio potential, close to the mountains, sea, and rivers (which I love) – and concentrate on art… Yes, I’d like to get my art “out there”, and sell non-originals – but I don’t want to be financially dependent on it…

    I’m finally getting back unto my stride. I’ve built a reasonably sized workshop and studio (adapted from an empty outbuilding) and fully equipped it. I’ve had the budget to buy and try just about everything I’ve wanted, and have fully resumed my art journey. This time I have seen to it that there will be no disruptions…

  • Art work: “Depth of Tulip Field”

    Depth Of Tulip Field F Brochure Whole

    (Catalogue #100_5644-5730: 44” x 66” – edition of 100)

    The human eye is an amazing gift, tool, and experience. The power of the brain behind it takes seeing to mesmerizing capabilities. Take focusing for example. My Left Eye 100_0002cThat part of the image in the centre of our field of vision is in sharp focus (excepting for long- and short- sightedness), and the rest of the image gets progressively out of focus – the further away from the centre we go. But we are usually not aware of this. Anything we scan our eyes over becomes instantly sharp. The fact is we are constantly re-focusing as we scan a scene. If we are looking at one part of a scene it is in sharp focus. We may not even be aware that the rest is out of focus, because no sooner have we moved our eyes to something else, then that new part becomes immediately in focus.

    Focus has a few noteworthy properties. The closer we try to focus, the shallower the depth of focus is. If you hold your hand in front of your face and focus on it, even things just in front of it (try placing a finger of your other hand in front of your hand without looking directly at it), and things immediately behind it will be out of focus – i.e. blurred. This is a “shallow” depth of focus – or depth of field as it is more commonly known in photography. The further away the subject is the greater is the focus depth – the region from the nearest to the furthest part in focus. The focus range is invariably perpendicular to our eye view.

    The camera acts like a static eye in that it can capture one static scene and its inherent depth of field. It is unlike the eye in one important respect: we focus on a narrow zone where our two eyes converge, and outside this area – left, right, up or down – but at the same distance from our eyes – things become progressively more out of focus the further away from the centre of our gaze they are. The camera on the other hand focuses on planes. Think of double glazing: the zone between the two pieces of glass is in focus, everything in front and behind are out of focus. As always with focus, there are no sharp boundaries between in and out of focus – just very sharp to progressively less sharp. However, there is a general area where most people would agree is an acceptable level of sharpness – enough to say it’s in focus.

    Depth of field can be controlled by the diameter of the iris or aperture: the smaller the aperture the greater is the depth of field. But the aperture can only affect depth of field to a small degree. What also applies to the camera is the phenomenon that the closer the subject is, the shallower the depth of field. There are special cameras/lenses that offer a tilting mechanism that allow you to literally tilt the plane of focus, but these are only effective with flat surfaces – like a road or a lake. Anything in the foreground sticking up or down – rising above or below the narrow horizontal plane of focus – like my tulips – would appear out of focus.

    Why am I rambling on about depth of field? When you are confronted with a real life scene you can survey it at your leisure, and it is something we all seem to enjoy. We seem to love being able to see a long way, and climbing/driving to the top of a hill or mountain to see a great view is a common goal we nearly all like to do. Taking a static image of such a scene – from our toes to the horizon – is virtually impossible, especially if there is fast movement in the scene as well.

    What has all this got to do with art? If art is about enhancing the viewer’s experience of life, getting the viewer to think about their surroundings, and their perceptions and pre-conceptions of it, then “Depth Of Tulip Field” is very much art.

    I use photography a great deal because I’m so moved by reality, and a lot of what I want to convey about my perceptions, pre-conceptions, and ideas about reality I feel are best expressed by being as realistic as possible. I’m completely in awe of vision – it is the most amazing gift. When I see a beautiful scene I’m frustrated as an artist that I cannot transport you there to see it also. So much art is about non-reality, disfiguring reality, or making attempts at copying reality – with varying degrees of success. But reality cannot be faithfully copied – it has near and far properties, and we can interact with it in almost an infinite number of ways – moving to different parts of it, zooming in to any level of detail. And reality’s main quality is, I feel, the freedom we have to look at it in any way we choose.

    At a scene we can scan and focus on anything we please, and that is the real delight I want to capture. Conventional photography pre-focuses for you on a static focal plane. Depth Of Tulip Field F Bruchure Flying BeeThe photographer has to decide what he/she wants you to focus on – that is what he/she wants to focus on themselves, and they capture that in stone as it were. You are not free to focus on what you want. That is not necessarily a criticism – indeed it may well be the intention. But in this case my intention is that you should be free to look at any part of the picture in great detail – as I had the pleasure of doing.

    The conventional artist – oil painter for example – is severely limited by the materials she uses, and by time. Whilst she doesn’t have the same limitations of depth of field, close up daubs of paint look like daubs of paint. And what would the point of meticulously copy reality anyway in this day and age of photography? The best you’ll ever achieve is a photograph. If Vermeer or Ingres (two of the best detailed artist I know of) were around today, would they reject photography and paint? Depth Of Tulip Field Brochure ButterflyWas it the process of painting they enjoyed or were they trying to capture something they considered beautiful, captivating, worthy of putting on a pedestal…?

    In Depth Of Tulip Field I have gone to enormous lengths to share the freedom of focus I enjoyed on a fateful trip in Norfolk, England. It was early morning, the date was spring 2004, I was driving along and suddenly this amazing field of tulips appeared. The field was huge and the rows ran perpendicular to the road. A striking feature was the bands of brilliant colours. The sun was not out fully (it was burning up the morning mist), and it was at the wrong angle anyway (aesthetically) – so I decided to come back later in the afternoon (the forecast was for sun).

    When I returned I went to the far end of the field with the sun shining at me – I love the sun shinning through plants – it really brings out their colour. I spent quite a while admiring the scene and wondering how best to shoot it – how to do it justice. I had all the main types of cameras, numerous lenses, and other equipment with me – so I had very few technical limitations on what I could do. The field was wonderfully long. I didn’t want to crop it. I didn’t want to focus on one part of it. I wanted it all. Eventually I came up with an idea and proceeded to execute it…

    There are a lot of different types of birds, insects, and other animals in this picture, but that is only to draw your attention to the fact that there were none! This field – due to modern chemically assisted intensive farming methods – was a veritable desert of life! Everything was either dead (killed by “pesticides” – implying they are pests – probably a propaganda ploy by the agrichemical companies) or the wildlife stays away – perhaps because there is no natural food there and/or because it is such an alien landscape to them and they have no natural cover. Depth Of Tulip Field Brochure DeerI did actually see the hare and the deer running through the field – sadly they were fleeing from a near by gun shot blast – I don’t think it was their natural choice to be there. But it gave me an idea…

    Most landscape paintings don’t depict this level of detail, and many animals in the wild are very elusive – indeed a lot of the time their survival depends on them not being seen. So often they are there but you just don’t see them. But for me this is what is fascinating about Nature: it is everywhere. The more you look, the more you see. And the closer you look the more detail you see. You can start with looking at a whole landscape (even my depiction of the tulip field is a small section of the whole), and you can zoom in on a field, then a flower in the field, then an insect on a flower in the field, and see the amazing detail of it. Zooming in still further, you can see the hairs on its body, its compound eye, the structure of its wings. Zooming in on the eye reveals its conical hexagonal lens structure. You can go on to see the structure of the cones, the cells that make it, the internal structure of the cells, the structure of its proteins, the atoms that make up the molecules, the structure of the atom – its subatomic particles. And who knows where this journey ends in ever smaller worlds…?

    I have kept the detail in the picture to what you could see with the naked eye, but I hope I’ve got my point across about the detail in Nature.

    Sometimes we come across a scene so beautiful that we stop what we’re doing. We stop and stare, remain silent, and enter into a trance-like state. It’s fascinating that our mind should respond so strongly to what are after all just images. It is also fascinating that the vast majority of us will respond in a similar way to the same scenes… I, as a contemporary artist, feel just the same (possibly more?) about such scenes – but I want to respond to them in a very personal and unique way, and to sometimes use them as a vehicle to express certain ideas I’m interested in.

    Really this is many photographs (circa 80) combined into one, with a great deal of digital editing – including much freehand work. But it is essentially what I saw. I have spent more time on this “photograph” than I have ever spent on a real painting or drawing. (No, I haven’t attempted to break any world records – some artists will have spent longer on their paintings.) My goal was to try to break the limits of photography, to highlight our wonderful, amazing, delighting, gift of vision; to produce something beautiful – or something I consider beautiful. The result is not perfect, but I’m happy it goes a long way to depicting what I saw and the ideas I wanted to convey. It gives me immense pleasure to be able to share that experience.

    Nature is not always what it seems, and in Nature reproduction is a vital force…

    16/05/2004


    Exhibited at Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2006

    2006-06-07-Getty-Images-RA-Summer-Exhibition-press-view

    This YouTube video is using a new video-from-photo technique I developed.