Infinite Canvas is an ongoing series of distinct works. Each installment conceives of a unique form of continuous change.
infinite = process, canvas = visual
Infinite Canvas #2
The series' second installment takes the form of a set of portraits that undergo perpetual alteration. Each stage of the portrait is marked by a change in medium which is documented (either via a photograph if in a physical medium or a saved file if digital). Print, paint, draw, digitally draw, project, photograph, draw, etc... ad infinitum. Through this imposition I hope to test my own limits as to how long I can continually manipulate an image. Portraits are chosen because of their ability to remain recognizable in almost any form; an eye or a nose can indicate so much to a viewer.
To display this on-going work, each portrait is turned into a series of looping animated GIFs that run through each successive change. The first series of changes shows a different digital brush being used and then transitions into physical mediums and finally projection.
Infinite Canvas #3
The third installment records me saying the famous palindrome "a man a plan a canal panama". I recorded this bit 15 separate times and sliced each of the videos to be 1/15th the width of the screen. The final video contains all 15 slices. For installation, the video plays on a monitor with sound in a loop.
Infinite Canvas #4
When we look at a canvas, we often forget the gestural choreography behind its creation. How can the body be more evident in the painting process? To explore this I developed a process of layered projection, creating a potentially infinite loop of painting with past versions of myself. There is an exciting novelty in seeing your own self working in tandem with you: the body reveals something the line cannot. As this process continues, you start to react to past gestures naturally. The performance gives way to painting with an increased awareness of how your body acts on the work.
But this infinitely looping process is also a symbol of the trappings of our own technology. For all the promises of connectedness, a screen, projection, or recording is disembodied. Augmenting our environment with anything virtual comes at a price. My process of self-collaboration attempts to replace the body with a ghost. It is as much a revelation as an abomination.
Initial experiments just scratch the surface of the potential for self-collaboration. How can I expand this process to achieve more desirable final results? And what would happen if other people collaborated in self-collaboration with me?