#nbnFail - fast internet even slower?

My apologies for all the political cartoons lately. If you're not into politics, then please bear with me while I get this out of my system.

It has been announced this week that our already-slow NBN is to be scaled back even further. This is apparently because, at a time when the rest of the world - even New Zealand!!! - is moving toward download speeds of 100Mbps (megabits per second) and higher, Australia, we are told, doesn't even need 25Mbps.

For people who require the internet to do business, this might prove a little bit frustrating. For people who thought this was going to be the "Innovation Nation", I can only assume this must be a little bit confusing.

Australian Federal Budget 2014

I think this pretty much sums up community sentiment from last night's federal budget.

Joe Hockey

Digital caricature.
Original 1700x2060px

© 2014, Andy Dolphin

This was a relative "quickie", taking a little under three hours from start to finish. I might spend some time refining it, one day.

As always, if you wish to use this image online, for non-commercial purposes, please remember to include a link back here. For any other purpose please ask in the comments or contact me at adolphin@westnet.com.au

Morgan Freeman - finger painting or fake?

If you're into digital art, and if you haven't been hiding in a cave for the last week, you will have seen the hyper-realistic "finger painting" of actor Morgan Freeman.

Apparently artist Kyle Lambert, using Procreate software, created a finger-painting on an iPad that is so realistic it is indistinguishable from the celebrity photo it was copied from.

It's all over social media, and even mainstream news, with the obvious question now being "Real or Fake?".

Not one to turn my back on a controversy, I just have to bite. I can't help it, it's in my genes. And yes, this will be long.

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EDIT: The short version:

I think this is probably real except that, perhaps, Photoshop was used in some way during the process, if only in a supporting role. I certainly don't see it as impossible - assuming the hardware and software are technically capable.

Read on if you want the long version...

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Before I begin, let me say that I don't own an iPad. I thought about getting one as a handy-dandy, full-colour sketch tool but everything I've read about them suggests that painting on one is slightly less gratifying than shoving an old kindergarten crayon around with your foot.

Well, perhaps not that bad but the device works on finger gestures so, unless you-re blessed with literally a handful of pressure-sensitive needle-point digits, it's hardly a precision instrument (yes, there are pens available, but the claim being made here is about finger-painting). Of course, as with all technologies, improvements are made with each generation and developers continue to create better software solutions to exploit any benefits the device might offer. When it comes to the digital world, people should have learned a long time ago not to make blanket statements about what's not possible.

So maybe I need to get myself updated on what can be done with an iPad these days.

Promoters of the Morgan Freeman "finger painting" would have us believe that the iPad's time has arrived and that, for less than $7, and a 54Mb download, you could have a painting tool that rivals Photoshop. 

But can you really do this with your fingers?

The jury may still be out on how Lambert actually created the piece that's being touted as an amazingly life-like finger-painting, but the evidence against it being done entirely in one cheap app on an iPad is compelling.

The image is so accurate there are suggestions around social media that the artist simply started with the original photo by Scott Gries, and "unpainted" it, slowly reducing detail and deleting colour until there was nothing left, and then reversed the video to make it look like it was built from scratch.

While that seems feasible, I don't think it's necessarily the only way this could have been done (update: after some more thought, I actually think this would be no easier than just painting from scratch). Plus, despite claims by some detractors, the Lambert image is not a pixel-perfect copy of the original photo.

When overlaid at full-size in Photoshop, there are notable shifts when the top layer is switched on and off. The most noticeable deformities are around the subject's right eye (you can just see it by using the slider in the small image at this blog). That said, the finger-painting is as good as 100% accurate at the macro level.

But this is a digital image and that opens up other possibilities that don't entirely dismiss the claim that it was created from scratch. For example, with enough zoom, down to pixel level, it would be possible to simply copy every pixel, one at a time, from start to finish. It would be time consuming but at a finished size 740,000 pixels in total, and if my maths is right, it would take around 600 hours to complete at the rate of one pixel every few seconds.

Note that large areas of the background could easily be filled in single passes and adjoining areas blended with painting tools. That's probably hundreds of thousands of pixels that don't have to be painted individually. This makes the author's claim of 200 hours work look like a very distant possibility, even one pixel at a time. No one's claiming it was done that way, and the video suggests otherwise, but it demonstrates the possibility of completing the piece from scratch within a realistic time frame.

Some people seem gobsmacked that it's even possible to paint photo-realistically, but I am not so dismissive of the notion that the image could have been created from scratch. Chuck Close was doing it 30 years ago - with real paint! I even dabbled myself, back in my airbrushing days.

Adding detail to an image is trivial, if time-consuming, in the digital age. Even my simple caricatures of Tony Abbott and Wilson Tuckey have some level of "realistic" detail such as pores and sweat beads, and they were completed in around 10 hours each, including the underlying caricaturing process. And they were done from scratch with no tracing, no photo manipulation and no photo sampling. Plus, caricaturing and digital painting were very new to me when I did those. There are people out there with much better Photoshop skills than I possess. Imagine what they could do with a high-quality source photo and 200 spare hours. In fact, you may not need to imagine it, Kyle Lambert may well have demonstrated it.

I think it's possible. I don't even think it's difficult. Boring perhaps. Mind-numbingly boring. But possible, with time.

One area of concern is that the video of the painting process shows major features being placed early and never substantially adjusted as the painting progressed, which would suggest the image was traced - but the original photo is not shown. If the photo wasn't traced in any way, it's an astonishing achievement that would likely have James Randi waving a million dollars around for a repeat performance under controlled conditions - and a lot of social media commentators eating their hats. Unless adjustments disappear when 200 hours of painting is squeezed into a few minutes of video.

So, was it traced?

Lambert told Gizmodo "...at no stage was the original photograph on my iPad or inside the Procreate app. Procreate documents the entire painting process, so even if I wanted to import a photo layer it would have shown in the video export from the app." 

Forgive me for thinking that answer would be right at home in any parliament, anywhere in the world. It is sufficiently vague as to be of little use at all.

Where was the original photograph? How was it used?

Is it possible, for example, to plug the iPad into a computer and have the iPad screen image overlay an image in Photoshop. This way you could effectively use the iPad as a Cintiq-style drawing tablet whilst watching the tracing action on the computer monitor. Doing it this way, both claims - that the image was painted on the iPad and that the original photo was never on there - could be true.

But is this possible? I don't have an iPad to try it out so I don't know.

One thing's for sure, if this is possible, it might answer some of the questions being asked about the finger-painting image's metadata, which appears only to list Photoshop as the software used in its creation and which also, apparently, lists metadata from the Gries photo in the history of the image's creation. Was the Gries photo in Photoshop, being traced, and were Procreate layers transferred to Photoshop as painting progressed?

When I create detailed colour caricatures in Photoshop, I tend to use quite a few layers. I can't imagine how many layers I'd use to reach the level of detail we're talking about here. 295 maybe? 

I'll reserve my opinion on how this was done but it does seem, from looking at the metadata alone (first created in Photoshop CS5, Mac, in 2011), that there's much more to this story than we're being told from those in the know. I don't necessarily think anyone's lying, but there might be a few important details that haven't been mentioned - yet.

Although, the claim on the Youtube channel where the video is posted does say the image was created using "only a finger, an iPad Air and the app Procreate" - and I think there is some plausible doubt about that.

If this sort of thing interests you at all then you may also like to read more about the metadata at Sebastian's Drawings and The Hacker Factor Blog. Though I should say that while I find their information interesting, I don't entirely agree with the conclusion about this being merely a manipulated photo - unpainted and played back in reverse. But it will explain why I think it could take 295 layers to get the job done properly.

Does it even matter?

I suppose it only matters if you are compelled, on the basis of this news, to buy something that might not quite be capable of doing what you thought it could do. But if the image was actually produced on the iPad, despite contradictory evidence in the metadata, and if it was done in one app using only fingers, then the software is clearly more capable than a kindergarten crayon.

If this level of control and detail is now possible - with fingers - that would be a story even if we knew exactly how the results were achieved.

If this can be done on an iPad with a piece of $7 software and a finger, I'd consider buying an iPad tomorrow. But for me, there are too many questions that need to be answered and I'm not about to buy an iPad to find the answers.

Tit Whale - thanks for the mammaries

Photo by Karleen Minney,
sourced from the Canberra Times

On Saturday, the ACT (Canberra) government unveiled and unleashed Tit Whale, "a 23m-high, 34m-wide hot air balloon resembling a whale-like creature".

Made in the UK, the inflated leviathan, officially titled Skywhale (but Tit Whale seems more fitting somehow), resembles a creature that might be more at home in a George Lucas sci-fi fantasy movie than in a community's centenary celebrations. From the news photo, it appears to be beautifully designed and crafted and I can only imagine how spectacular it looks up close. I don't get what it has to do with Canberra's centenary, but I think I like it as an example of, err, something.

Like it or not, there can be little doubt that, with an estimated price tag in excess of $300,000 – to essentially "borrow" the balloon – this will be another art controversy.

As with most public art, there will be knockers who will no doubt wonder what the boobs in our nation's capital were thinking when they commissioned this thing.

In a valiant attempt to deduce some sort of relevance, I've concluded that, filled with hot air, its voluminous proportions are supposed to represent government bloat. Its whale-turtle characteristics pay homage, perhaps, to the slow grind of government decision-making. I suspect the nearly-exhausted glands hanging over the creature's sides represent the public teat.

I will try to keep you abreast of any interesting and relevant news.

UPDATE:

Interested as I am in Art Speak, I decided to see what my favourite Art Critique Generator had to say about this piece.

The generator works by entering any 5-digit number. I chose Canberra's postcode, 2600, and added a zero on the end for the five numbers. Here's what I got...

I find this work menacing/playful because of the way the iconicity of the biomorphic forms verges on codifying the accessibility of the work.

I think that's surprisingly appropriate.

MORE:

More words and pictures at the Canberra Times.

Art controversy follow-up

Withdrawn in protest:

Jason Wooldridge's popular whale sculpture

The saga surrounding the controversial decision not to award a prize in the 3D category of the Great Southern Art Award continues.

Two artists with entries in that category have spoken out publicly. One of them has withdrawn his entry from the exhibition in protest, three weeks before the exhibition closes.

In a comment on Facebook, sculptor Jason Wooldridge wrote "I was insulted personally but also felt it was an affront to all applicants. The organisers had not considered the possible damage to the reputation of artists who are trying to make a way in this fickle business, a business that is hard enough already without 'experts' telling the public that your work is no good."

On his decision to withdraw his magnificent whale sculpture from the exhibition, Jason added "I had asked them just to withdraw it from sale, but they dug their heels in and said that I would have to remove it....so i did."

Seemingly confirming my suspicion that controversy does not attract artists to competitions, local sculptor Melaine McQuillan wrote "Apparently the judge thought that not awarding the prize would 'encourage a broader approach' what a laugh! I used to be a regular entrant.. I guess I need say no more."

I have avoided the Albany exhibition myself for the last few years – partly due to lighting issues in the old venue (my paintings do not mix with mercury vapour lamps) and partly due to the controversial history of the event. I have sent my works over 200km to a different exhibition instead. With a much better venue for this year's exhibition, I decided to give it another go but I may rethink that decision next year if controversy remains the order of the day.

As an aside, here's an example of the work produced by one of the judges, Philip Gamblen, apparently the person who ultimately made the decision to award no 3D prize. (the picture is from pica.org.au and is reproduced here for purposes of critique and commentary)

In a wonderful example of art speak, the comment accompanying the above image is...

"Thermal Lift is a scaled down miniature domestic ceiling fan, activated by a hand-crank. Like much of is [sic] work, this piece which is suspended just above head-height, creates a sensorial response to both architectural spaces and the natural environment in which we live."

I'm sure it does – although, from the photo, it looks like it's just a small ceiling fan hanging outdoors. I guess it's a case of "juxtaposition".

What's flabbergasting to me is that the person who produces and sells something like this as art, and perhaps it is since a photo tells us little, cannot find a prize-worthy entry among any of the quality pieces on exhibit in Albany right now.

I believe the organisers should think more carefully about their choice of judges next year and decide if they want controversy or credibility. If they want the exhibition to be respected, they have to show some respect to artists who make the exhibition. Without them, it's nothing.

Controversy, in my opinion, is not a winning formula.

RELATED:
Controversy in Great Southern Art Award
Why art speak annoys me

Of objects, juxtaposition and making a mark

When I began this blog I resolved to stay away from controversial issues. But it's not in my nature to bite my lip. The dam might finally have busted.

Consider this a follow-up to my article on controversy in art. It is, in that regard, my second contribution to the controversy which was invited at the City of Albany's Great Southern Art Award.

I've never been much of a fan of the pompous, pseudo-intellectual gobbledegook known as "art speak", or what has now apparently been re-branded as "International Art English", a label which itself reads like nonsense.

As a pursuit with a long history and many different approaches, media and techniques, there's no doubt that art needs its own subset of the language. Genre labels such as impressionism and expressionism make sense in conversations about the art world. Terms like intaglio, chiaroscuro and plein air, while possibly sounding elitist to "outsiders", are a useful shorthand in communication between artists.

But art speak is something different. It doesn't appear to be about communication so much as obfuscation. At its worst, art speak comes across as decidedly elitist – almost as if the very point of using it is to elevate the perpetrator above the supposedly ignorant masses. The in-crowd and wannabes nod knowingly as the art critic waxes lyrical about a blank canvas, while the masses wonder if the artist will ever get around to starting the piece.

What is art speak?

I used to joke that you weren't a real art judge or art critic if you couldn't wedge the word juxtaposition into your commentary on some work.

Juxtaposing is nothing special, it just means to set things side-by-side. Good artists use careful juxtaposition to their advantage all the time, but while it's a legitimate tool in the artist's arsenal, outside of a certain corner of the art world who really uses it in public commentary?

Before I delve into examples of art speak, there are two particularly annoying snippets of it that drive me bananas.

The first is the apparent dismissal of artworks, even great works, as mere "objects". You might hear a critic refer to a particular painting as "a wonderful object", but is it really flattery? An object is essentially something that exists, something that has form, something tangible. So damned-near everything is an object in one sense or another. How is it remotely useful to describe an exhibition of beautiful paintings or sculptures as a collection of objects? It is pointlessly obtuse and no more instructive than calling them "things" or "stuff".

Next cab off the rank is the redefinition of painting to be simply "mark making". What is that even supposed to mean? Am I supposed to feel better knowing that when I'm tearing my hair out trying to get a painting to work that I am only making marks? Frankly, I'm insulted by it.

How does "mark making" differentiate art from any of the other myriad reasons why things, or objects, are painted, stained, coloured or otherwise defaced? Is a fingerprint taken by the police a piece of art? Is the original print the police discovered on a broken safe also art? What about the red wine stain on the carpet from the last office party – is that art too? From my perspective, painting is no more about mere mark making than music is about "sound making" or race-car driving is about "moving around". Not all movement is racing, not all sound is music and not all marks are art. The mark-making label is meaningless. It's gibberish.

In my opinion, the terms, "object" and "mark-making", diminish the efforts of artists and appear to be used so as to open the art world up to people who otherwise demonstrate very little artistic skill or expertise. As a result, Rothko's blurry brown rectangles are heralded as great art alongside, or more likely above, skillful, beautifully lit portraits by Rembrandt – they are, after all, both objective examples of marks that were made.

And that brings me to the most pervasively annoying forms of art speak - the artist statement and the art critique.

James Gurney showed us a very simple Artist Statement Generator in 2009. Used correctly, it will give you gems like:

"My recent work is an exploration of the irreducible act of mark-making which delves into the connectedness of the real and the abstract by mediating clichés through a retro-nostalgic lens."

Simply beautiful, and so descriptive - oh, and "mark making!" Despite housing just 64 possible combinations of output, that boilerplate statement table really knows its stuff.

And of course, where there's an Artist Statement Generator there must surely be an Art Critique Phrase Generator. This handy little web-based tool will have you bamboozling the suburban class quicker than you can say...

"With regard to the issue of content, the disjunctive perturbation of the purity of line makes resonant the distinctive formal juxtapositions."

There you have it - "juxtaposition". It must be good.

With just 50 critique fragments to chose from (offering 100,000 possible combinations), this automated process delivers statements that are indistinguishable from the real thing. And because art speak critiques are so often entirely meaningless, the results of either the robot or the human art critic can be applied to almost any artwork, without even seeing it.

One of the favourite tools of the art speaker is self contradiction. They will begin their statement with one observation about an appreciated artwork, then suggest that this first observation demonstrates a contradictory idea. For example, an elite art critic might look at a splodge of paint on a torn piece of carpet and explain that "its apparent simplicity perfectly illustrates the complexity of the urban experience". It's simple, but it isn't really and its simplicity exposes its complexity. Or something.

I think we're supposed to be impressed by the idea that the critic is able to recognise the complex ideas embedded in what the rest of us might just see as a splodge of paint on a torn piece of carpet. In reality, such nonsensical remarks are like Forer statements in as much as they appear to say something specific while saying nothing useful. A similar technique is adopted in the writing of horoscopes.

To illustrate my point still further, here are a few snippets from the judges' comments at the "controversial" Great Southern Art Award. Remember, these are real comments, read out and posted at a community award, and not made up by me, and not the results of a java-scripted joke website.

Please note that I am not passing judgement on the artworks themselves, many of which I admire for various reasons, and I imagine some of the award recipients were as bemused by the art speak as I was. 

• We enjoyed the use of hand written notes suggesting thoughts that give a strong sense of spontaneity.
• It has a sketchbook-like quality but with the depth and surface quality of a resolved work.
• This work speaks of process and the meticulous labour that has made it successful.
• An intriguing observation of a luscious surface, captured perfectly the layering of paint to evoke a painterly effect. 
• This work has simple abstract forms that suggest complex seascapes and landscapes, hidden in what appears to be an uncomplicated process.
• Hidden within layers, other worlds reveal themselves and surprise the viewer. 
• The successful depiction of these observations is revealed upon closer inspection and the more time spent with these works makes for a more rewarding experience. 
• We enjoy the hands-on approach to pushing the material into another form.
• Leaving the work unframed makes the work more accessible.  
• This work is brave in its simplicity.  
• Removing the reflection of one’s self speaks volumes.

I think my favourites are those that exemplify the self-contradiction rule in art speak – "a sketchbook-like quality but with the depth and surface quality of a resolved work" and "simple abstract forms that suggest complex seascapes...hidden in...an uncomplicated process. ". But making an artwork more accessible by not framing it is pretty good too. I try to make my paintings "accessible" by hanging them where people can see them.

Now, it could be argued that I have cherry-picked these and published them out of context, and it's a charge I'll wear. But I was there when the full statements were read out and, even in context and without cherry picking, they were still art speak and still largely meaningless.

Several of the statements, like "the hands-on approach", are so generic they make no real sense even when you stand before the works they're apparently describing. Apart, perhaps, from entries in the photography section, I'm pretty sure hands were well and truly involved in making of almost all the artworks on display in that exhibition.

Next time you read an art critique or judge's comments, see if you can really understand what they're saying or if their comments are like Jabberwocky, and you just feel like you know what they mean.

Controversy in art awards - a good thing?

Who decided the art world must be constantly embroiled in controversy in order to survive? 

It is with some trepidation that I write this article, as my meaning can so easily be misconstrued. But I'll be as careful as I can and give it a go anyway.

I recently attended the opening ceremony and presentation evening of the Great Southern Art Award, in Albany. The venue for the event, the Vancouver Art Centre, is beautiful. The exhibition is well hung, well lit (mostly) and looks great. As is usually the case in open competitions, the work on display crosses the gamut from expressionist to realist, "traditional" to "modern" and from relative beginner to professional.

Before going further, I should disclose that I have an entry in the exhibition and that I did not win a prize but that's not what I'm writing about. It is, however, why I'm approaching this with trepidation.

During the opening speeches, one official commented that the judges' choices were likely to be controversial. She added that this was a good thing because controversy means that "people are talking about art".

From Duchamp's urinal to Mapplethorpe's explicitly homo-erotic photographs, the "art world" is no stranger to controversy and there's no doubt some of these controversies generate a lot of public conversation. And for major art events such as Australia's Archibald Prize, which is no stranger to controversy, the resulting conversation may well serve to increase public awareness.

So is controversy always a good thing?

To paraphrase a comment by a friend, should we bulldoze native forests because the resultant controversy would get people talking about conservation?

While there will always be questions about pieces selected for prizes (I refuse to dismiss art as mere "objects" as has become the fad), perhaps the biggest controversy from the local art award I attended will be that the two highly-credentialled judges decided not to award a prize in one of the categories. Although I'm aware that some competitions have a "no prize" clause, this is the first time I've seen it invoked and I would usually expect it to apply only if there were too-few entries or if the entries were seriously sub-standard.

I don't have the exact wording of the judges' comments about that category but at the time, I distilled them down to "you all need to try harder". Had I entered that category I would likely have been deeply offended and this would be a very different article, written with no trepidation at all. I might add that the entry form for this particular event does not appear to include a "no prize" clause.

To be clear, the question for me is not whether prizes should go to abstract or representational art, as I long ago accepted that it is subjective and not everyone thinks or sees like I do – and just as well because the world would be a boring place indeed if all art looked the same. My question is whether the conversation that results from controversy is necessarily a good thing for art at all.

Do we have to be cruel to be kind?

Can we assume that any publicity is good publicity, especially in this social-media-age where public commentary can be swift and fierce and have even major corporations back pedalling in an effort to pull themselves out of a controversial mire. Of course, if you're big enough, you'll probably ride the storm until it passes.

Controversial competitions:

Some competitions have a long history of awarding prizes that may be considered controversial outside of a small section of the art world. These awards can draw the ire of the viewing public and may well generate conversation, including letters to the media. But does the controversy elevate art in the community or devalue it?

In the past I have avoided some art competitions simply because they seem to court controversy or, at the very least, to discourage representational artists. Regardless of style or genre, I wonder how many of those artists who had entries in the non-awarded category in the local event will bother to enter the same competition in the future after being told, explicitly, they aren't good enough.

As an artist, there's little point paying entry fees to competitions that you have no genuine chance of competing in because you paint in a non-confronting style. Not only are you unlikely to take home a prize, but these competitions are less likely to attract buyers of your type of work. People who look for beauty and majesty in art aren't being attracted to controversial exhibitions, they're being turned off by them.

Where are we headed?

Perhaps the biggest concern for me is that the "controversy is good" mantra is self-perpetuating. When controversy is considered important, each exhibition must strive to be a bit more bizarre than the last. Over time, it becomes less and less about art and more and more about controversy until, finally, we end up with Piss Christ.

Let me finish by saying that I am open to disagreement. If you strongly disagree with me and think that controversy really is the foundation of art, then by all means accept my commentary as a part of the conversation that this "controversy" has generated and welcome it, therefore, as a positive contribution to that foundation – in which case, I guess, you really don't disagree with me at all :)


RELATED:

Art Controversy Follow-up
ArtSpeak - making a mark