DEAR CANADA: A Manifesto
By Robert Downing
Please grant me a few moments of your time. I want to tell you that I'm surrendering. I've come to realize the error of my ways and promise that I will no longer be a practicing Canadian fine artist. I well know that this will not be of direct interest to everyone. Indeed, because of what I'll say here it would be ludicrous for me to assume that anyone at all is especially interested in me giving up a forty year calling, through which I've expressed my love for Canada and my enjoyment of life. Nevertheless, I do feel obliged to make public this deeply personal decision, shall we say, for the record.
Doubtless, there will be some who will react to this declaration in rather nasty ways. However, I've learned that it sometimes serves no purpose to concern myself with even those who may respond in pleasant ways. It is well known that the task of striving to be honest demands, at times, a willingness to overlook what others may think. Of course, it helps to also keep in mind that contradictions are an essential aspect of creation.
Let me start by admitting I'm not the only person to have noticed that when the more influential members of a society decide, for one reason or another, the fine arts are essentially irrelevant, most of the population automatically regards fine artists, and what they may have to say, as inconsequential.
Currently, business leaders, government mandarins, academics, people working in the media and our elected political representatives, all plead ignorance about what is happening to the fine arts in Canada. Or worse, they join forces in support of the populist notion that every hobbyist, part-time craftsperson and amateur doodler should be awarded the same degree of social importance as those few seriously dedicated individuals who have given their lives to furthering the fine arts.
In the midst of this bewildering state of affairs one is open to attack simply by raising the issue. For example, art teachers tend to become defensive and those who have lovingly painted a landscape mural on their basement wall demand to know why their efforts should be degraded. The very foundation of democracy appears to become twisted in a time when hairstylists, cooks, journalists and even engineers proclaim that their contribution should also be thought of as artistic expression.
Under such conditions it becomes easy to confuse devoted fine artists with those who may choose to employ their intuitive abilities commercially in the advertising industry. To avoid that fate some fine artists have committed themselves to teaching, in the hope of gaining economic freedom to pursue their fine art interests on weekends and during summer holidays. While raising my children I found it necessary to teach various aspects of the fine arts, both full-time and part-time, at eight colleges and universities in four countries and I learned firsthand how much time and energy teaching takes away from a fine artist's true vocation. Mind you, many people have long believed that a fine artist cannot survive unless they are willing to work under an academic umbrella. In fact, that fixed idea is so entrenched in Canadian culture I'm amazed it hasn't become a law.
These kinds of circumstances are prevalent in most countries of the world, but here in Canada, where we also live under the constant shadow of the American media giants, the dilemma is compounded. For instance, the American entertainment industry dominates our television and motion picture screens and most Canadians willingly submit to that kind of cultural imperialism. Our newspapers often include some sort of arts or entertainment section, yet those sections of our daily newspapers are invariably filled with promotional gossip about American movie stars. The National Post proudly tells us about the international awards it has received for it's Arts & Life section, but close to a year has passed since I've seen them include an article about a living Canadian fine artist.
In much of the western world there is now a great deal of talk about education policies. In the midst of these discussions no one seemed to flinch when Ontario schoolteachers announced they could no longer offer extra curricular courses in the arts because of work overload and lack of funding. This turn of events is not surprising when we allow that most people have never thought about the fact that we lack even the most basic textbook on the history of contemporary Canadian fine art. A proper unbiased, academic reference of Canadian fine artists still waits to be compiled. We are told that grievous cultural omission is a result of there being more important matters at hand.
An example of the bases for that excuse may be seen here in Toronto, where I have spent most of my 65 years. Recently, our city fathers were called upon to spend nearly two million dollars on the production of life-size plastic moose, which were decorated by local "artists," in order to support the tourist industry. Our mayor was so taken by this "expression of creative excellence" that he was inspired to ship five of these grotesque sins against the natural environment all the way to Australia, in support of the city's bid for the 2008 Olympic Games. His fervor for "the arts" further motivated our trusted civic administrators to spend thousands more of taxpayers dollars to produce little furry moose key chains, which were given away free of charge to "art lovers" from around the world. But then, I overheard a neighbour say, "You try to do something nice and there's always some spoilsport wanting to tear off the antlers."
There is no doubt whatever that humanity is faced with innumerable serious problems. We all know, for example, that millions of children die from starvation and disease every year and that millions more are suffering from the effects of extreme poverty. We are told that many people still remain in a state of denial regarding the environment and the horrific changes taking place in our ecosystem. Natural disasters have become so abundant that the media no longer bothers to report on the misfortunes of nearly twenty million people who are flooded out of their homes at this moment. Some claim that today's tragic tensions in the Middle East pose a direct threat to all the oil hungry, consumption structured, socioeconomic systems around the world. Others believe that aliens from outer space are walking among us. What is even more disconcerting is the growing awareness that most people are living such stressful personal lives that they are unable to give more than a disheartened nod to the awesome spectacle.
Turning a blind eye seems to be the answer for those who feel powerless to make constructive changes and for them noninvolvement has become the philosophy of survival. The socially destructive potential of this kind of stance may be glimpsed in the widespread escapist slogan: "We've heard it all before, so let's get on with the party." These days, attempts to discuss social issues are interpreted as nothing more than a negative inclination to disturb someone's tranquility. At the very time in human history when it has become most appropriate, manifestations of passion are dismissed as displays of emotional imbalance and proponents of truth are urged to adopt a more positive attitude.
A short while ago, when I first learned about the death of our former Prime Minister, Pierre Elliott Trudeau, my immediate inclination was to donate an example of my work to The National Gallery in his memory. But having been born and raised in Canada I knew that such a gesture would be viewed as merely an attempt to draw attention to myself. Besides, my social standing as an artist being what it is I recognized that it would be next to impossible for me to donate an example of my work to anything or anyone. It has already been made quite clear to me that my fine art works are neither needed nor wanted.
I've lost track of the number of times I've been told it means nothing to be listed in Canadian Who's Who, and so many people have told me that it means nothing to be an elected member of the Royal Canadian Academy of Arts that I sometimes wonder why the Governor General isn't arrested for being the patron of it. It's the same old story; whatever I do just isn't good enough. For instance, yesterday I discovered my name has been omitted from Anne Newlands' new book, Canadian Art: From Its Beginnings to 2000, in which she lists more than 300 Canadian artists. Call it sour grapes on my part if you like, but the title of her book is not, "My Favorite Artists." How is it possible for that government funded author to overlook the fact that I was the first Canadian artist to be invited to hold a solo exhibition in a major European public gallery? It was held at the Whitechapel Art Gallery in London, England in 1969. The internationally renowned art critic Bryan Robertson was director at the time. Confirmation that my contribution to Canadian culture is considered irrelevant may also be seen in Canadian Art in the Twentieth Century, written by Joan Murray and published by Dunbar Press last year. That government funded author also found it easy to exclude my name and apparently had no problem ignoring the fact that an archive of one hundred and fifty of my works has been in the permanent collection of the Art Gallery of Hamilton, my hometown, since 1986. Perhaps the board of directors for the Art Gallery of Hamilton should also be arrested for wasting taxpayers money to house my fine art works. I know, I've heard it too, who cares?
Several months ago I managed to personally produce a limited edition of sixty-four CD ROM disks. It was a major fine art work of multifarious dimensions. I titled it Purusha, which is a Hindu word meaning one's true self. The disk is described as an introduction to my life's work. It offers 333 examples of my digital art, sculpture, painting, prints and photography, dating back to 1956, as well as a series of images from 1971, when I first made use of the computer to generate fine art. In addition, it also contains 9 written works including "Confessions of a Canadian Sculptor,"my hilarious early memoirs, (1935-67), which unfolds the years of growing up in Hamilton, joining the Royal Canadian Navy at age seventeen, later becoming a police constable and then the hippie owner of a San Francisco furniture shop, etc., et cetera.
I designed and printed a cover for all sixty-four disks and mailed them, along with a hardcopy README text, to selected public galleries, artist colleagues, friends, art collectors, journalists, government officials and a few well known CEO's. The written text informed the recipients that the disk had no fixed price. They were free to send me whatever they may choose. I tried to make it clear that the disk was a concept piece in the whole new category of fine art shareware. I also informed them that the disk contained a half dozen separate image files of recent digital art works, which were large enough to be made into four-foot square prints, providing they sent me something as a gesture of good will.
I've documented every stage of this fine art work in a loose-leaf notebook, complete with a list of the people to whom it was sent. Unfortunately, most of them have never even acknowledged receipt of it. Out of curiosity, three months after I mailed it out, I telephoned a very well known art collector and asked him to send it back if he didn't want it. He told me that he couldn't find it, but that he'd call me when he did. Needless to say, I'm still waiting to hear from him. A couple of friends did send me cheques for $20.00 and one for $100.00, which I much appreciated, seeing as how I worked over a period of two years preparing material for the project. Out of courtesy, I also sent one to the Honorable Sheila Copps, Minister of Canadian Heritage. Her Director General of Arts Policy sent it back to me along with a note saying they had no budget for such works, but they found it to be "a unique marketing tool."
I knew then I was finished, but I wanted to clear up a few loose ends before letting go entirely. Neither the Canada Council nor the Ontario Arts Council had seen fit to give me their blessing since the mid 1980's and I felt that I must take one final crack at them. I shouldn't have done that because once again they didn't give me anything but a hard time and I ended up telling a smooth talking visual arts officer that I hoped the whole lot of them would be punished in hell.
My work has been included in 77 exhibitions in 7 countries and I've completed 16 commissions in 3 countries. I've spent so much time and money making art and representing Canada abroad that I neglected to shore up my Canada Pension Plan for my old age. As a result, now that my health is starting to fade my income amounts to just enough to cover basic living expenses. This means I can't be expected to support Canadian culture anymore. So, in all probability you'll not be hearing a word out of me ever again
Robert Downing
Toronto, Canada
October 7, 2000
WHAT FOLLOWS IS A DESCRIPTION OF MY LAST MAJOR WORK
A SEVEN YEAR PROJECT COMPLETED IN SEPTEMBER 2000
ELECTRIC ICONOGRAPHY
202 SELECTED DIGITAL ART WORKS
1994-2000
(In Chronological Order)
A FIVE-VOLUME WORK
(With Contents Description For Each Volume
EDITION OF ONE COPY ONLY
(With CD ROM Backup Disk)
ROBERT DOWNING
CAR SSC OSA RCA
Introduction:
I believe this will prove to be one of the more important global fine art works of the decade 1990-2000. It offers a documented history of a senior Canadian artist's research into the image making potentials of computer technology during a unique period of time.
Volume One has been printed in the Giclee method, with an Epson Stylus 1160, 4 colour ink jet printer, using Lysonic water base archival dye inks, in combination with both Hahnemuhle and Lyson archival fine art papers. As a result, the prints in volume one will last 75+ years, under normal (tungsten) viewing conditions, without visible signs of fading or colour shifting. They should last even longer when framed under UV safe glass or kept stored in the black leather bound, A3 size, Pampa archival binder in which they are displayed. To insure print durability well into the future the images from all five volumes of this major artwork are also supplied on a Kodak Gold CD ROM, in their original TIFF format.
Volumes Two through Five have been printed with the Epson Stylus 2000P, using pigment inks in an acrylic polymer base, on Epson Archival Matte paper. This new printing technology offers a colour fast print life of 200+ years when protected from direct UV light rays. This particular printer came onto the market after completing volume one, but I decided to leave volume one in it's original state, rather than redo it, as a matter of historical interest; hence the decision to also include the CD ROM. Of course, Volumes Two through Five, like Volume One, consist of matching black leather bound, A3 size, Pampa archival binders. The average size of the prints in all five volumes is 10.50 inches square, or 267mm. Some prints are smaller and some are larger, depending upon page layout and image requirements.
In view of the importance of this fine art work, I have elected to include here the full written "Contents" sections found at the beginning of each of the five volumes. In addition, I also include a copy of a written "Notice," added to the end of Volume Two of Electric Iconography, which was done when some of the earlier work seen in that volume was exhibited at the Japan Foundation in Toronto, Canada between December 5th, 1996 and January 10th, 1997. On the last page of Volume Five I have inserted a one page (short) Biodata.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME ONE
PHASE ONE (1994-96) First Steps
Mother Nature
Ink Paintings
First Steps:
As a contemporary artist who respects classic traditions, I believe any legitimate new art form must also answer in some way to the accepted standards of modern art history. I hope that criterion is manifested in each of the 48 selected works shown in Phase One.
That said I shall focus here upon the technological evolution of these works. I don't wish to appear tedious to the uninitiated, but I've learned that one can't begin to discuss electronic art without mentioning the hardware and software environment in which the digital images were generated. In other words, a computer image is developed within a given context and being aware of that context gives meaning and integrity to the specifics of any electronic fine art work.
But, before even continuing in that vein I'm obliged to remind the reader that an educated judgment about a specific art form must also allow for the economic conditions under which it was produced. For example, African primitive art is normally viewed in a separate category to art made at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. My social standing prohibits me from experimenting with anything resembling the sort of high end technology employed by Hollywood and, therefore, everything I have attempted is limited to "low end" explorations. I'm sure that this is immediately evident in the 20 prints seen in First Steps.
In the summer of 1994 my wife's parents gave her a computer: A 386 IBM clone with a 114 MB hard drive, 2 MB of RAM and a Magnavox Super VGA monitor with no video driver. It was fully loaded with DOS 5.0 and came complete with an Epson 15 pin dot matrix printer. With my wife's blessing I gradually adopted it.
The first software I purchased was a DOS compatible 1.44 shareware disc, called FractalVision, at a cost of$4.95. I was sufficiently smitten to write the author, Dick Oliver, and he agreed to send the full program, along with his book of the same name, in exchange for my first computer print.
That first work, titled Bottom Line, was a direct result of buying his shareware disc, as well as the realization that the "home" computer was essentially a business machine. For example, at that time most readily available software was designed to write letters or to do accounting. That changed somewhat quickly, but even the pixel manipulation software, which interested me, was being produced by technical engineers specifically for use in the photographic and advertising industries. Indeed, I wondered then, as I sometimes do even now, whether it is possible to make fine art with a PC (Personal Computer).
Nonetheless, I was given to persevere and in time I graduated to Windows 3.1 and soon benefited from contact with it's "miraculous" paint program. But, it was not until I was able to obtain a basic video card that I discovered the 32 bit, dithered, RGB colour system. As you will see here it came as a great surprise when the 8 bit coloured patterns, with which I was familiar, suddenly became an option.
Dick Oliver's FractalVision eventually arrived and he kindly included a 1.44 disc of an early version of Fractint, by the Stone Soup group of mathematicians. At first the fractal aspects of that disc overwhelmed me, but I was immediately hypnotized by its colourizer and I've included one example from that discovery in First Steps.
Please understand that all of the images in Phase One evolved over a period of time. That means, for instance, an image like Bang01, which follows Bottom Line, was first made in 1994, in the shareware version of FractalVision, and then modified, as in Bang02 and Bang03, when I later acquired Windows 3.1, then the Fractint colourizer and later still the SoftKey prizewinner, PC Paintbrush. Changes to that same images again occurred with the addition of 8 MB of RAM and a pirated copy of Photoshop 2.5, courtesy of a friend.
Phase One, First Steps, kind of comes to an end with the purchase of another $4.95 bit of shareware; designed to render so called 3-D images.
Regrettably, I've forgotten the name of that program, for in spite of it's shortcomings it enabled production of the bowl seen in Bonsai03, the last print offered from this stage of "my studies."
Mother Nature:
These 8 works evolved from a $3.95 pornographic disk of the sort that was popular before the proliferation of modems and the explosive advent of the Internet. I was constantly in search of some way to get images into my computer, because I couldn't use the mouse to draw anything worthwhile and the price of scanners was still beyond my reach.
In point of fact, I was looking for a human figure to sit at the base of the tree in the "Bonsai" picture. Anyway, I encountered this damaged photo of a model in early 1995 and, although not suited to my intent, she was the right companion to help explore the inner workings of both my mind and PC Paintbrush. In the space of an afternoon she became the foundation for my first palpable series of computer images. Again, these images were reworked over time and what is now the final work in that series was not completed until late 1996.
Ink Paintings:
In February of 1995 I made an effort to step beyond the boundaries of my computer illiteracy and made a few visits to the Computer Sciences Department at the University of Toronto. All I really learned was that I was stuck with my limitations, because at the age of 60 I had no desire to start my life over as a computer scientist. But, during those visits a few bright young students befriended me, and one of them volunteered to scan unto 1.44 disks a series of black ink paintings I had done between 1992 & 1993. From the many ensuing images 20 are shown here. Once more, do keep in mind that each image evolved by being reworked through to the end of 1996. Simplistically, what they represent is an exploration of the magic of electronic filtering and colouring techniques.
By the autumn of 1995, with help from several friends, I managed to upgrade my wife's computer. I became the proud owner of a 66 MHz Cyrex 586, with a 450 megabyte hard drive, 48 MB of Ram and a spiffy 32 bit video driver. During that same period I was also inundated with an unlimited supply of pirated software, including Windows 95 and the new version 3.0 of Photoshop. Unfortunately, without manuals.
Summary:
Computer generated images, more than those produced in any other medium, never seem to be finished. They merely get set aside, for some reason or another, until one is reminded that they are waiting to undergo an entirely new transformation. It is, perhaps, for that reason I feel it's imperative to lock them down now, as captured moments of time, in the form of electronic archival prints.
* * * * *
CONTENTS OF VOLUME TWO
PHASE TWO (1995-97) Geometry Revisited
Desktop Printing
An Exhibition
Geometry Revisited:
From among the "experiments" in Phase One I was most interested in the geometric "studies." This is not surprising for I am one of those people who view geometry as a divine expression of integration between the physical and the spiritual. It is clear to me that whether one examines the structure of plants, the morphology of crystals, or the growth patterns of seashells, geometry is a principle language of nature. Those familiar with my work will know that for nearly forty years the central thrust of my art has been geometrically oriented.
I was also given to recognize that, quite apart from fractal generating software, the geometric aspects of all pixel manipulation programs auto-matically become self evident if one doesn't interfere too much with what they are designed to do. In other words, something as basic as making a radial gradient within a square reflects the computers innate potential to generate geometric shapes.
I realized that I was not so much interested in setting out to make pre-meditated images with the computer, as I was in exploring the kinds of images the computer software automatically generates. To be more specific, I found the so-called "painting tools" to be inherently flawed. After all, if I wanted to "do" an oil painting I wouldn't use watercolours. Therefore, why would I want to use a computer to "do" a watercolour painting. For me, it simply made no sense to use the computer in order to simulate another medium. I was much more interested in exploring a newly discovered characteristic of computer generated images which I'll describe as delicate detailing. The computer offered the potential to manifest intricate pattern systems and dynamic textures, which were virtually impossible to accomplish through the use of any other visual arts medium. As one who has worked in the style of the Post Modernist Pattern & Design Movement since 1966, it obviously made more sense for me to concentrate upon developing a working vocabulary with fractal generating programs, as well as the fills and filters existing in most pixel manipulation programs.
Simultaneously, I was fascinated by the seemingly endless number of variations it was possible to spawn from a single image, particularly when also incorporating a colourizer. In some cases I would modify an image to such a degree that any visual linkage would be lost and it would become unrecognizable relative to its original starting point. Needless to say, the exploration of this direction sometimes required the making of dozens of possibilities. Some computer artists have been inspired to animate that phenomenon but, so far, animation remains an art form, which doesn't appeal to me. Because of the limited size of my hard drive, combined with my perception that it was unnecessary to save every image, countless numbers of those variations were either deleted or they fell victim to a computer crash. What you see in Phase Two, Geometry Revisited, are what I consider to be 29 minor highlights from those early "investigations".
Desktop Printing:
In the autumn of 1995 I managed to buy a new Hewlett Packard inkjet printer capable of making prints as large as 8 1/2" X 11."
Many computer artists do not experience a need to transpose their images from cyberspace into the second dimension, but I found that I was not among them. Not unexpectantly, the purchase of that printer opened an entirely new array of issues to confront. I was reminded of my study of black ink painting. When I eventually achieved something I thought worth keeping I then had to learn the art of wet mounting.
As mentioned earlier, in volume one of Electric Iconography, not only is this an ongoing process, but also that particular Hewlett Packard printer made prints that were so susceptible to the natural elements that the images sometimes appeared to blow away on the wind.
The business community seemed content to solve that problem by either laminating the prints in plastic "pouches," or they were heat laminated onto wood chip plaques, under thin UV resistant plastic sheeting.
Experimenting with the plastic "pouches" released a whole range of possibilities, but I soon learned that prints made on high resolution photo paper could not be laminated between plastic sheets, or in pouches, without the unwelcome addition of numerous air bubbles. I never did discover why that was so, however, using other types of paper I did succeed in producing a dozen or so unique works with that technique. It is clear that I was not content to just bring the images into the 2nd dimension. It seems I had a need to also give them a three dimensional presence.
Unfortunately, my instamatic snapshots of those results leave a great deal to be desired. But, poverty being an accepted necessity for an artist of my social standing, I will ask you to please overlook the poor quality of the 11 reproductions included here. Needless to say, those "pictures" do not pretend to qualify as fine art prints in this portfolio. They are included in Phase Two, Desktop Printing, merely as documentation of finished works from that period.
An Exhibition:
At first, the idea of plaquing my work was so objectionable to me that it took some time to recognize that such a step could serve as a statement regarding "The Business of Computer Technology."
For some time I had been proudly telling all who would listen that I no longer bought my art materials from an art supply outlet. Instead, I was doing all my shopping at stores like Business Depot and I was immensely amused by my departure from established routine.
It seemed to me that artists attempting to use modern technology were blatantly at the mercy of the business community and eventually it occurred to me that plaquing my images constituted the demonstration of a definite modern paradox. On the one hand corporations were dictating to artists and art dealers by demanding large scale works in order to fill their office tower walls but, at the same time, they were manufacturing equipment which made and preserved tiny pictures.
Mind you, I had no personal objection to the size of the fragile prints made by my little printer. If I chose to use that technology there was simply nothing to be gained by arguing with the fact that the print size was governed by the size of the desktop printers available to me. Besides, I've always admired Persian miniatures and micro art. Even in the days when I was making 44' long sculptures I was also making works under an inch. I like small art works.
Anyway, after committing myself to "plaquing," once I held a few of them in my hands, it became obvious that the plaques themselves could be arranged and grouped in such a manner as to not only dominate a larger area of wall space, but I also recognized they could be used to break the restraints of the printed image sizes. Various tiling systems, for example, were readily apparent. In all cases the plaques I used to explore that direction were made up as squares and they varied in size from 4" X 4" to 8" X 8." For Phase Two, An Exhibition, I've made 8 special computer lay-ups into large prints to show how some of those arrangements were displayed.
I'm obliged to also mention that having the plaques in my studio reminded me of those artist, since the beginning of the industrial revolution, who were concerned with finding ways to democratize their art. Or, reduce the cost of production in order to make the work affordable by the common man. For instance, the Hungarian-born artist Victor Vasarely, apart from being recognized as a prominent op artist, was also known as a pioneer in the production of fine art silkscreen prints as a way of making his work more readily available to the general public. Suddenly, it seemed plausible to mass produce digital artwork on plaques and distribute it through chain stores, like Wal-Mart. I was never able to interest anyone in funding this grandiose venture, but it induced me to make samples of T-shirts, fridge magnets, jewelry, a clock and a few greeting cards, which I also included in the exhibition. I wanted to make a large rug and some rolls of wallpaper, as well as ceramic tiles and woven pillow covers, however those, too, were beyond my "financial clout."
Summary:
Having decided to exhibit my digital art I made the rounds of the local public and commercial galleries. But, everyone I approached thought I was quite mad. They all told me that there would probably be no opportunity to exhibit computer art in Canada for another ten years - in view of vested interests.
My wife was a long-standing member of the library at the Toronto Japan Foundation and when she happened to mention my dilemma to the staff they made it clear that they held a different view.
The director kindly invited me to hold an exhibition of 108 of my works at their new gallery, in the Bloor Street Colonnade, between December 5th, 1996 and January 10th, 1997. I was asked to supply a title for the exhibition so I borrowed a line from an earlier poem and called it, "Breathing the Songs of Birds." Mind you, I could as well have named it the story of one person wobbling their way through the unknown. To show the difficulties I experienced in raising the funding for that exhibition I have included a copy of a "Notice" which was made up as a plaque and displayed at the entrance to the exhibition. In spite of sending out several dozens of press releases, no mention of the exhibit appeared anywhere in the media. Nothing sold.
NOTICE
Most people imagine that a senior Canadian artist who has been actively involved internationally for thirty five years would have no problem finding support for their work from Government arts agencies and those doing business in Canada. But, regrettably, I’ve not found that to be true.
For some time I naively thought that corporations making profit from computer related technologies would be interested in how an older artist made creative use of their products, however, I soon learned that not even the tobacco industry gives a toot.
The fact of the matter is that most people are as interested in what I had for breakfast as they are about the work I do and for all the talk about appreciation of the arts it has been my experience that the vast majority of citizens don’t really care.
I believe it is important, therefore, to clearly state that this body of work, indeed this exhibition, simply wouldn’t exist were it not for the kind support of a few dedicated individuals. In other words, what you see here has no integrity whatever unless you fully accept that it has come about only through a commitment from the following friends:-
Gord Smith; Christopher & Katharine Smith; Dr. Harold Strom; Dick Oliver; Victor Ng; Lillian Gliha; Michael Allagia; Dave & Karen Burt; Norm White; Bert & Barbara Stitt; Howard Gerrie; Ratko Kaludjerovic; Victor Belenski; Jim & Nada Haldane; Richard McNeill; Mary Fote; Ronald Weihs & Judith Sandiford; Stan Pavlov, Professor Eugene Fiume; The People at Plax Plus; The Canada Japan Society of Toronto; The Japan Foundation.
I would like to offer special thanks to May Doherty who contributed so generously in memory of her late son - my late student and friend - Greg Doherty.
And, of course, my loving wife Mickey.
Robert J. Downing, car, ssc, osa, rca.
* * * * *
CONTENTS OF VOLUME THREE
PHASE THREE (1996-98) Visual Music
Doing Nothing
Sony Mavica
Visual Music:
By invitation, in August of 1969 I held a large solo exhibition of sculpture at the Whitechapel Art Gallery in London, England. Afterward my condition was best described in an article written by the late Michael Greenwood, when he was curator of the Art Gallery at York University. He said, "Downing was financially, physically, mentally and emotionally bankrupted." At that time, I took a year away from the visual arts and studied the sitar - under the tutelage of a renegade Buddhist monk. I tell you this because I'm not being frivolous when I say that there were moments when the computer became like an instrument that I played. For instance, black ink brush painting can be a fast medium, but the computer can be equally fast, except the sparkling transitions on the computer screen are usually far more dramatic. On those occasions when it was possible for me to work in a talk-back-and-forth rhythm, I was able to experience the visual arts in a manner and tempo akin to making improvisational music.
When I was seventeen I took a victualling stores course with the Royal Canadian Navy. The basic filing practices and record keeping systems I learned about then stood me in good stead when it came to speedily storing files and generally maintaining my computer. The benefits of those systematic housekeeping routines may be seen here, in that they have made it possible for this art work (Electric Iconography) to exist.
Of course, there were times when I could read a book while waiting for the glass faced machine to task out a long algorithm, programmed by a chaotician theorist and merely altered by me within the guidelines offered by the program's author. Indeed, there were times when the computer seemed to perform so slowly under such circumstances that I wished the silly thing had a hand crank or foot peddles, with which I might speed it up.
In early 1996, as my confidence with the computer began to build, I recognized the need to loosen up a bit and to take more chances with my "work." That is not to say I decided to move all over the seemingly endless map that a computer proffers. I simply chose to delve more deeply into those unfamiliar areas of the programs I'd been using, while still working within the same parameters I'd set myself. The result was a group of works that could be said to have little continuity. However, that was a necessary step in my evolution for it granted me an opportunity to apprehend new facets of electronic image making. 30 examples from that stage are presented in Electronic Iconography, Visual Music.
Doing Nothing:
A friend learned that I was finding it impossible to sell my plaqued computer prints, so he offered to show them to someone he knew who collected art. My friend came back to me with the information that the collector couldn't purchase anything because he didn't know how much of the image I had done and how much was done by the computer. I thought to myself, what a wonderful excuse for never having to pay one's income tax. But I said out loud, "Let me be perfectly honest, I don't do anything, the computer does it all. I simply point and click a monstrous mutation of a ball point pen, called a mouse, until I see something happen on the screen that looks interesting to me, for one reason or another."
It could be said that I remain utterly passive, even to the point where I seem to disappear. However, I have no choice in the matter because I don't know a thing about programming nor, for that matter, how the computer actually works. I mean give me a break; I dropped out of school with only grade VIII. So please don't imagine for a fraction of a second that I have so much as an inkling of how these words you are reading get from the keyboard to the spellchecker, much less how they make it through a printer and onto a sheet of paper.
Maybe I'm a fool, but normally I don't worry about those kinds of things. I never did. I've been making art with a variety of tools and materials for nearly fifty years and I've never once made a sheet of paper, nor a sheet of plywood, nor a sheet of metal and if my life depended upon it, I couldn't make a tool as basic as the pencil, to say nothing about an old fashioned hand saw, or a modern T.I.G. welding machine.
Of course, there are always those who would tell you that what I do is not fit to be called art. Well, in certain moods I would agree, but I don't know what else to call it. Of course, that's when the courage is needed and I confess to you there are days when I pray for it.
Another friend, who had tried her hand at making digital art, told me that I was on the cutting edge. I couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever thought about what a lonely place that is to be.
It was the extreme social isolation that prompted me, in early 1997, to go on the Internet. Only God knows where the money came from, but I acquired a 28.8 modem, a basic sound card and another 16 MB of Ram, bringing the Random Access Memory in my computer up to a total of 64 MB. At the same time I bought a Syquest removable hard drive, with the idea that I'd then have some way to free up some space on my computer's hard drive and also be able to archive my work - for posterity. That turned out to be a silly notion because Syquest has since gone bankrupt and now my first web site remains trapped in a magnetic field, waiting for an overly zealous sunspot to erase it completely.
I had a copy of MS FrontPage 95 in my stockpile of pirated software, but of course, pirated software doesn't come with any manuals. On the heels of my spending spree I couldn't afford to buy one. The local library didn't have it so I visited bookstores with a notepad in my efforts to climb the learning curve. I found it interesting to observe that in order to continue with my art I had become a thief. Here in Canada, where taxpayers spend, between all three levels of government, in excess of five billion dollars a year on the arts. I can't figure it out.
I soon learned that the people who cruise the Internet are the same people with whom I share the subway train. Figuratively speaking, 95% of them aren't the least bit interested in the arts. The other 5% of them claim to be artists of one sort or another themselves. I found that 99.99% of those artists tended to be downright hostile toward digital art, even though a few of the better connected among them had their own web sites. Most of the remaining .01% of artists, whom I encountered, appeared to be well versed in computer literacy, but a bit short on visual literacy. Because many Canadians are proud of their art education having come to an end 70 years ago, with the Group Of Seven, (1920-1933), hardly anyone knows what I'm talking about when I mention visual literacy. Nonetheless, I just wasn't impressed by anything more than the fact that my attempts to make contact with the world were costing me time. Time taken away from the kind of computer work I most enjoyed. As a result, there are no prints to insert in Electric Iconography, Doing Nothing, because I wasn't making any art.
Sony Mavica:
In the summer of 1997 I was given the use of a Sony Mavica MVC-FD7 digital camera with a 10X zoom lens. It was so beautiful to look at and the concept was so excitingly fresh, it took me awhile to accept that the poor quality of the low-resolution images was a permanent feature of that camera.
I started out as a victualling storesman in the RCN, but later I was among a chosen few to be trained as military photographers. With that background I found it difficult to comprehend why Sony would make a camera that was essentially useless. It was only when I was able to come to terms with the fact that it was not a conventional camera that I began to detect it's potential as an innovative tool. Providing I forgot about photography, as I knew it, the digital camera, used in conjunction with pixel manipulation software, became a device for exploring a different form of artistic expression. In Electric Iconography, Sony Mavica, I have included 6 examples of those articulations. The first three are built upon impressions of my local environment and the latter three depict my daughter, my wife's teenage nephew, and our next-door neighbour. Needless to say, they represent only a brief foray with this new medium
Summary:
I learned that if I want to put my pictures on the Internet I must accept that some people are going to download them, copy them, print them, and generally fool around with them. That seems to be their idea of being creative. My fine art images are no different than clipart to those sorts of people. Not only do they see it as being free, but also they see it as being theirs to use in any way they may happen to choose. After all, it's on their computer so how could it possibly not belong to them.
There are also those who have been brought up to share, only their idea of sharing often comes down to, what's yours is mine and what's mine is my own. Regardless of what you may say, it's common knowledge that on the Internet copyright laws mean nothing. If someone fancies it they take it. Who is going to stop them? Who is going to know? I've even heard it said, "Who cares?" Indeed, some people go so far as to pat themselves on the back for being laudable consumers.
On the other hand, when an image is saved on one's computer it also stays on the Internet. To all intents and purposes remaining intact. For the digital artist it almost becomes a dimensional issue and one has to ask whether or not it has been truly stolen, in the pre-cyberspace sense that something in the third dimension can occupy only one space.
An aspect of this new global phenomenon, which I find interesting, is that something obtained so easily tends to hold no lasting significance for many individuals. More specifically, it wasn't respected from the very moment it was taken. Because, in spite of not appearing to care, the item has been lifted under a certain amount of subterfuge. Unconsciously, informed people feel that a number of moral, ethical and community standards of conduct have been secretly broken, or overlooked. For those people a subliminal rejection of the stolen intellectual property takes place the very moment it is swiped. It's a basic human defense mechanism. The sense of being a cheat, or a feeling of being unworthy, is projected onto the article causing the discomfort. Therefore, it can't possibly be seen as being valuable. It's something like a flower in a public park, there to be enjoyed by everyone, until it is picked, possessed, and taken home to die. For those who can afford it, this problem may have been recently solved with image encryption software being released by companies like Artistscope.
* * * * *
CONTENTS OF VOLUME FOUR
PHASE FOUR (1997-99) Time Warp
Summer Suite
Windows
Time Warp:
Shortly after upgrading my computer it became necessary to replace the original 14" Magnavox monitor. I had no money and no credit rating, but I found a NEC MultiSync M700 17" monitor on sale for $1,100.00 at Future Shop and a friend kindly agreed to purchase it for me on his credit card, with the understanding that I'd repay him $100.00 a month for eleven months. I never missed a payment. Unfortunately however, by the time I'd paid him back we were no longer on speaking terms. I don't really know why, but it was indicative of, what turned out to be, in 1998-99, one of the most difficult periods of my life. Quite apart from a number of health problems, the emotional pain I endured was such that it remains unbearable for me to describe. Instead, let me offer excerpts from the Autobiography section of my long-form Biodata, which were written as events transpired.
1997 Jan. - Apr. "WEB SITE"
In January of that year a new window on the world was opened for me when I was able to acquire a Modem for my computer and thereby gain access to the Internet. By the end of the first week of March I had learned Microsoft's FrontPage web design software well enough to upload my first web site to Canada On-line.
1997 June - Aug. "CLOSET ART #2"
In late June an array of over 500 of my unsold art works, displayed on the crowded walls and shelves of our two-bedroom apartment, suddenly became overbearing. In setting out to make some breathing space, it took me nearly two months to clean and package everything I could lay my hands on and stack it in the closet of the room that I use as my studio. I gave it the title, "Closet Art #2."
1997 Sept. - Dec. "NEW BEGINNINGS"
In mid November my friend, Prof. Eugene Fiume, appointed me Artist-In-Residence at the University of Toronto Dynamic Graphics Project - and offered to host my Web Site. Hence, I tackled the redesign and updating of this site, with the objective of presenting a retrospective exhibition of my life's work on the Internet.
1998 "TRANSITION"
I am tempted to title this phase, "Never Ending,"
because it seems to have brought a never-ending stream of discouraging news.
I won't list everything, but here are a couple of examples.
The year started off well enough when my friend May Doherty gave me a new
Dell Dimension XPS D300, complete with 128 MB of Ram. As a gesture of
gratitude for her kindness I gave her 12 mounted works from the Brush Painting
Series. Things began to go "funny" when she attempted to donate
the 12 works to the Princes Margaret's Hospital Foundation in memory of her
late son, who had died from cancer at that same hospital. The Toronto
Star article of May 31st, 1998, makes clear that not only were the works rejected
by their donations committee, but that the works were appraised by them as
practically worthless.
After all these years as a struggling Canadian fine artist one would think
that I'd just shrug it off, as I've had to do so many times in the past.
However, that was not to be the case and it struck me very hard. I ended
up doing a 128 page DOCUmeditation Work for May Doherty, in which I catalogued
copies of all the letters exchanged between
me and the people at Princess Margaret's Hospital, the appraisers and various
Government Officials, including Sheila Copps, Minister of Cultural Heritage.
The upshot was that they all told me to go to hell. My health began
to noticeably decline and over the summer I was too unwell to do anything
whatever.
Somewhere in the distant past I'd set myself the goal of presenting a retrospective
exhibition of my life's work on my web site. In early September
I took up that project again and by the end of November I had completed what
was, to the best of my knowledge, the first and only such exhibition on the
Internet. By way of closure, and out of a sense of responsibility to
my work, I sent out 24 copies of the following press release. (18 copies
to the media and 6 copies to various artist friends.)
PRESS RELEASE
Friday, November 27th, 1998
Robert J Downing,
Artist-In-Residence University of Toronto Dynamic Graphics Project receives 38 web design awards from around the world for a retrospective exhibition of his life's work on the Internet.
This senior Canadian fine artist worked for a year to assemble and display 16 written works and 138 images on his web site. He believes it now offers visitors a unique picture of his evolution as photographer, poet, sculptor, painter, print maker, conceptual artist, writer and digital artist.
On the first page of his site he states: During my years as a practicing artist I have passed through many "periods." Some of that work is best described as personal explorations, some as social statements. But overall, I've been given to make art in celebration of life - as a humble song of praise to the Divine Creator of All.
In addition to his poetry and a short story, the written works include his Early Memoirs: A 4800 word autobiography in which he humorously describes, among other things, five years of service in the Royal Canadian Navy and over two years working as a police constable in his hometown of Hamilton, Ontario.
FOR A PRIVATE VIEWING PLEASE VISIT
http://www.dgp.toronto.edu/people/rdowning/
Should you require further information
feel free to contact the artist at
(416) 481- 9023
Or e-mail
rdowning@dgp.toronto.edu
Apart from a single congratulatory phone call from Peter
Kolysnyk the response could best be described as silence. Once again
I was more deeply affected than I expected. Only this time the painful
acceptance of the fact that I had been, for years, working in social isolation,
seemed to weigh depressingly heavy and I could not shake off the feeling
that my society was sending the message that I should just get lost.
Perhaps it comes with old age. Perhaps it is the result of living so
long with poverty as a constant companion. Perhaps it is because there
are moments I despair when it appears we humans have ruined our planet beyond
repair.
Whatever it may be, whether I look at the environment, the national and international
art world's, current Government policies, the increase in child poverty around
the world, or any other aspect of the so called, Global Society in which I
live, I'm afraid I no longer see anything very "inspirational" happening.
On the brighter side, I have succeeded in making a small breakthrough in my
work. Inspired by Tibetan religious art, I'm now exploring the
integration of multiple images within one larger image. Needless
to say, this has been made possible with my new highly efficient computer
- and by the Grace of God.
1999 Jan. - Feb. "NEVER ENDING"
Professor Eugene Fiume, Chairman, Computer Science Department, University of Toronto, terminated my Artist-In-Residency. I deleted my web site and disconnected my computer from the University of Toronto. The details of this "turn of events" are recorded in what may well be my final DOCUmeditation Work, titled, "In The Name Of Canadian Culture Eh." As it happened, this DOCUmeditation Work evolved into a Socially Integrated Conceptual/ Performance Work in late February, when I published 16 copies of the "Work" and distributed them among some of Canada's more influential people. Words cannot describe my state of mind during the week that followed the completion of that artwork. There were times when I felt I had declared war against my own country. My wife said, "It may well be the most significant artwork you have ever done." I don't know about that, but I do have to wonder if I'm done.
1999 May - June "UNTITLED"
For reasons I've yet to understand, I was motivated to make a desktop publication, of nearly 300 pages, showing the highlights of my life's work. I bound it into a black loose-leaf binder and sent it off to the Canada Council, along with a request for a senior arts award. This seemed to be the only way that I could find to present them with my digital art, in view of their unwillingness to accept computer disks. (One has to give them an intended project. My proposal was to continue with my work - whatever that may happen to turn out to be.) Note: A week before Christmas, 1999, I learned my application had been rejected.
1999 Aug. - Nov. "PURUSHA"
During the three weeks following my 64th birthday, the heavens decreed that I should be provided with the right combination of hardware, software and inspiration to make a CD ROM Disk, in the form of a web site, depicting an introduction to my life's work. The disk includes a small number of digital art works, which may be reproduced, (printed), full-scale. It has been done in a limited (first) edition of 64 copies. It has no fixed price. The recipient is free to give me whatever they may choose. This work, too, was met with resounding silence.
Communication is difficult at the best of times. But, in so many respects, this appears to be the worst of times. The current notion seems to be that fine artists make art to please themselves, therefore, why should anyone pay any attention to what they do. Fair enough, if it is to be sincere artistic expression the artist must work for himself, or herself, as opposed to working to please another. But, whatever happened to the knowledge that the artist is, first and foremost, motivated to make art from an inner need to communicate with their fellow man ? What happened to the awareness that an artist makes art in order to share their vision of life with others ? What happened that caused so many people to abandon curiosity ?
There are times when I see myself as being much like Stevie, in Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent: a mentally and emotionally handicapped boy who amuses himself by constantly drawing circles with a pencil and compass. Unlike him, I use a computer to draw circles. But, like him, my circular mandalas receive the same degree of consideration from my society. Let me admit that I believe it remains possible for me to continue making art only because I spend two or three hours a week in zazen.
The 18 prints offered in Electric Iconography, Time Warp, represent a mere suggestion of the many variables it is possible to achieve from a single image. Mind you, the original image, from which these selected modifications evolved, has disappeared somewhere within an electronic time warp.
Summer Suite:
Among the computer-generated themes I've been given to undertake, the 8 works in the Summer Suite are my favorites. As is so often the case with fine art, they came into being quite by accident. You know, one of those simple doodles that suddenly open up and flourish all on their own.
They illustrate one of the most striking differences
between computer-generated art and the making of art by conventional means.
Making anything similar to this group of works would previously have taken
years, whereas with the computer it becomes possible to work through a given
direction in a matter of days. The change in energy commitment is staggering
and it presents a major adjustment in thinking from those of us who are prepared
to "test" this relatively new medium.
I believe the Summer Suite also stands, as an excellent example of the kind
of consistent intricate detailing it would be impossible to replicate through
any other medium. Should one wish to manifest, by hand, a combination of
subtle shading and precise drafting of fine lines that is seen in this series,
it would ask a commitment of skill and time bordering upon the unimaginable.
Windows:
I have elected to make no comment about this series of 9 works, and even resist the temptation to say -
Summary:
At the bottom of the first page of each volume of Electric Iconography I have registered the date upon which I began making the prints for that particular volume. However, while waiting for the Epson 2000P printer to be released, on July 10th I'm told, I've gone ahead with the preparatory work in my computer. This means that the actual date, while writing this Summary, is June 25th 2000.
In addition to editing the images and writing these introductory pages I've also acquired the leather archival binder for volume two, which was a bit of a feat for they are made in France by a company called Pratt. I have three more on order and I've been assured they will be available within the next three weeks. In addition, I have acquired the small, numbered brass tags that I'll be using to identify each volume. They, in turn, require a fair amount of work because the concave backs have to be filled with epoxy, and then sanded flat, before being glued to the outside, bottom right corner, of each binder.
In truth, I would have preferred to prepare the work for each binder as I printed it; because that's the way I prefer to work. Between waiting for the new printer technology to be released and the fact that it has rained almost every day for the past two months, I sometimes feel stretched about as thin as a dragonfly's wings.
In the matter of weather I think it's worth mentioning that part of the reason I thought it may be wise to commit myself to the computer, as a creative tool, was my concern about the environment. Unfortunately, that turned out to be another silly notion. When I think about the vast quantity of waste materials that have been released into the world, just to make the inks, paper, and printers I've used for nothing but testing, in the past few months, my heart breaks. I estimate that between the manufacturing, packaging and shipping of the products I'll use, before this project is finished, I will have been responsible for contributing over a ton of carbon dioxide into an already overburdened atmosphere.
I am forced to ask, in good conscience, what am I really doing in the name of fine art ?
* * * * *
CONTENTS OF VOLUME FIVE
PHASE FIVE (1998-2000) Portfolio 2000
Stone To Pixel
Left Overs
Portfolio 2000:
In January and February of the year 2000, I reworked a selection of 24 digital images done between 1995 & 2000. This group of electronic fine art works is available in a signed and numbered limited edition of six copies only. Each print is 11" square. The first two editions were made on an Epson Stylus Photo Ex printer, using Lysonic archival inks and Hahnemuhle 100% acid free archive grade paper, with a neutral pH, which gives those prints a life of 75+ years without visible signs of colour fading or shifting. The last four editions of this portfolio will be done on the new Epson 2000P, as described on the cover page of volume two of Electric Iconography.
I initially undertook this project in an effort to salvage myself, following the period of rejection and disillusionment described in the contents section of volume four. I also felt the need to sort through six years of work and select what I considered to be my better endeavours. In addition, it had become clear that the large body of work I'd produced during that period was far too diverse in nature. I wanted to find some characteristics in the many images I had archived, with which I could identify. Likewise, I believed that putting this 24 works together in a printed edition offered others the same clarification, or sense of direction. I am proud to present that entire series of 24 images here, in the form of artist's proofs.
In early May of this year, through my web site, I was invited to submit a small number of these works for presentation in the Silicon Valley North publication. The editor asked me to also supply a description of those works and I thought it might be useful to include two of them here.
Chill, 1998: The Eye Candy Water Drops filter is seductive, but I had trouble finding a legitimate use for it because, visually speaking, it tends to make spheres which sit in the foreground, with no direct relationship to the background of a given image. In the case of Chill the effect became relevant when it occurred to me that I could put a twist on the fractal generated pentagon and, thereby, cause it to appear to float in unison with the foreground spheres. The actual title is a result of my stupidity. I was working on the image in Photoshop 3.5 at a 67% magnification and didn't realize it was not a 100% view of the image. When I added the spheres I was unhappy with the saw tooth edges and wondered whether it would be worth the effort to encircle each sphere with a feathered blur. To examine the image more closely I increased the magnification and instantly experienced a physical chill when the saw tooth edges automatically disappeared.
Work In Progress (left), 2000: This image is part of a pair and they are one of the more complex works I've tackled. They were both constructed in Photoshop 4.0 over a period of a couple of weeks. From the outset I wanted to express how computer images inherently lend themselves to change. In other words, any digital artwork is simply a frozen moment of time in an apparently never-ending sea of possible variables.
Building the foundation graph, remnants of which are purposely still visible in the distance, took a full two days. I started with the basic structure manifested in Tibetan sand paintings and felt I'd achieved something interesting when the foreground, middle ground and background layers gradually unified with the inset, filter distorted, fractal images, which were generated separately in a couple of different fractal programs. It was while working on the fractal components, used in both of the images, that I was inspired to set aside the outer spiral form, quite liking the general feel of it, but not recognizing it's compatibility with the pair of images until I thought I was finished with them. While deciding to add it to all four sides of each of the core images, to establish the visual feeling of a circular motion, I was reminded of the Buddhist swastika, which symbolizes the wheel of life. I thought if ever there was a work in progress it certainly has to be creation itself. Hence, the title Work In Progress (left) and Work In Progress (right). Work In Progress (right) is simply a modified, horizontally flipped, colour inversion of Work In Progress (left). I believe that when the two images are seen together as a pair they visually reinforce how digital art works are, by nature of the medium, in a constant state of readiness for transformation.
Stone To Pixel:
In April 2000, the Dutch-born Canadian artist and master print maker, Rudolf Bikkers, invited me to participate with him in a small portfolio, to be printed in an edition of 30 copies. He suggested that we each contribute three works, plus one work in which we combine our efforts, around a concept loosely based upon the orb. He kindly offered to take all responsibility for having the presentation boxes made, as well as helping me with funding to defray my initial printing expenses. Needless to say, I was deeply honoured when he enthusiastically approved the trilogy seen in Electric Iconography, Stone To Pixel. (It was partially his support that enabled me to upgrade to the Epson 2000P technology.)
Left Overs:
The bane of being an artist is that one never feels one's work, as an artist, is completely finished. No matter what a true artist does, there always seems to be more they want to do. I know that I'm driven to constantly say more about how life appears magnificent to me, in spite of that vain ambition causing me no end of problems. In Electric Iconography, Left Overs, I boldly take advantage of that inner need by offering a final 8 works, which I like for one reason or another and yet, didn't quite seem to fit into any of the previous categories, conceivably because of the given size of these binders.
I shall refrain from commenting upon all but one of those images. Dance, the last print in this volume, is a fine example of how a computer-generated image never seems to be done. While working on volume one of this project I couldn't resist the urge to "tamper" with an image completed in 1995. On pages 14 & 15 of the first volume of Electric Iconography, under First Steps, one can observe the potential for the image titled Dance - in the bottom right-hand corner of Four Seasons - by viewing the image titled Winter, (025E1.tif). A simple enough transition, but it escaped me for five years.
Summary:
The very existence of Electric Iconography suggests that my "love affair" with the computer has essentially ended. My work is starting to become repetitive and you don't have to be a rocket scientist to recognize that I've obviously "made my statement." Providing this work survives the rigors of time, future art historians will decide whether or not my modest artistic contribution has lasting merit. I've "done my thing" and what I may choose to think about it, at this point, simply doesn't matter.
During the past six years of my marginal involvement with the computer, the technology has dramatically changed. I have neither the economic means available to purchase the newer hardware, nor the stamina to learn how to operate the newer software. I'm perfectly content, however, to leave that to younger people. In fact, an eight-year-old neighbour, who lives with his mother, told me that I mustn't worry when he learned that I wouldn't be making many more "pictures" with the computer. He resolutely assured me that he'd soon take over the job.
If anything, I feel grateful. I'm thankful for having had the kind of opportunity that history seldom provides. I'm thankful for also having been given the ability to write about it, in several ways, at several different times. But mostly, I'm thankful for having been privileged to briefly enjoy the wonder, mystery and absolute beauty resting within the bowels of this young technology.
Let me repeat what I've said ten thousand times before; I am a vehicle through which the Glory of God is manifested. You may choose to argue this if you wish, though having experienced what I've been given to experience, I think you'll be arguing with a nameless unhewn log.*
* >From the Tao Te Ching.
* * * * *
Robert Downing
Summary: My work has been included in 77 exhibitions in 7 countries and I have completed 16 commissions in 3 countries. I have also taught various aspects of the fine arts in 8 colleges and universities in 4 countries, as well as serving as an art consultant to IBM, Texaco and the Hong Kong Productivity Council. At last count, 207 examples of my work reside in 49 public collections in 15 countries.
During my years as a practicing artist I have passed through many "periods." Some of that work is best described as personal explorations, some as social statements. But overall, I've been given to make art in celebration of life - as a humble song of praise to the Divine Creator of All.
Academic classification: Post-Modernist, and 1966 forerunner of the Pattern and Design Movement. First artist to represent Canada with a solo exhibition in a major European public gallery: Whitechapel Art Gallery, London, England, 1969. Arranged for 150 of my works to be donated to establish the Robert Downing Archive at the Art Gallery of Hamilton, 1986. Offered the first retrospective exhibition of an artist's life's work on the WWW, in 1998, while serving as Artist-In-Residence at the University of Toronto's Dynamic Graphics Project. (Received 38 international web design awards.)
Listed: Canadian
Who's Who
Who's Who in the World
Outstanding People Of The 20th
Century
Elected Member Royal Canadian Academy
of Arts, 1979
Elected Member Ontario Society of Artists, 1971
Elected Member Sculpture Society of Canada, 1968
Founding Member Canadian Artists Representatives, 1967
Served As Royal Canadian Navy Photographer, 1952-57
URL: http://webhome.idirect.com/~rdowning/
Email: rdowning@idirect.com
1602-78 Holly Street
Toronto 0N M4S 3C9
(416) 481-9023