…by chance or by design?

“I don’t have a clue. Ideas are simply starting points. I can rarely set them down as they come to my mind. As soon as I start to work, others well up in my pen. To know what you’re going to draw, you have to begin drawing… When I find myself facing a blank page, that’s always going through my head. What I capture in spite of myself interests me more than my own ideas.”

Pablo Picasso

London Symphony Orchestra – Visualizing Motion and Music (2017)

“Motion becomes music becomes image! I created dynamic visuals based on the movements of the conductor and music, and extracted high resolution stills for the visual identity of the orchestra.
It starts with the arms of the conductor forming a hexagonal shape that propagates like sonic waves in linear space. When the music becomes louder, the linearity gets bended by the motion of the baton, which results more complex visual arrangements. Textures, colors, materials and lights are inspired by classical instruments (wood, brass, wind, strings) and the atmosphere and architecture of classic concert halls. In the last sequence, the conductors motion turns into strings. The waveform of the sound adds to the form of motion, like mixing audio waves.”

Tobias Gremmler

via atlasobscura

More in #SoundToLight:

“For 25 years, I have handcrafted very strange little tales made of motion, color, light and shadow…and in three precise instances, these strange stories, these fables, have saved my life.”

Since childhood, I’ve been faithful to monsters. I have been saved and absolved by them, because monsters, I believe, are patron saints of our blissful imperfection, and they allow and embody the possibility of failing

Guillermo Del Toro

via Jess Fink

‘He was one of the hanging judges of art.’

“My aim is to be understood by everyone. I reject the ‘depth’ that people demand nowadays, into which you can never descend without a diving bell crammed with cabbalistic bullshit and intellectual metaphysics. This expressionistic anarchy has got to stop … A day will come when the artist will no longer be this bohemian, puffed-up anarchist but a healthy man working in clarity within a collectivist society.”

George Grosz

via Daily Omnivore

“Learning to See: Gloomy SUnday” by Memo Atken (2018)

 

“A deep neural network making predictions on live camera input, trying to make sense of what it sees, in context of what it’s seen before. It can see only what it already knows, just like us.

“(not ‘style transfer’!)

“memo.tv/learning-to-see-you-are-what-you-see/

“Music: Diamanda Galas – ‘Gloomy Sunday’

“code based on (but more evolved version of)
github.com/memo/webcam-pix2pix-tensorflow

“model (ie training + inference) based on
github.com/affinelayer/pix2pix-tensorflow

“In turn based on
phillipi.github.io/pix2pix/
arxiv.org/abs/1611.07004

“In turn based on
arxiv.org/abs/1406.2661

“and
github.com/Newmu/dcgan_code
arxiv.org/abs/1511.06434

“In turn based on
github.com/goodfeli/adversarial
arxiv.org/abs/1406.2661

“In turn based on
people.idsia.ch/~juergen/deep-learning-overview.html

…practical and digital and language…

“I studied the classical effects from classical films. I don’t know only the new techniques, I know the old techniques. When you were talking about compositing an image, the language is still the same – matte lines, roto, matte paintings. You’re using the same language as before. Grain, haze, atmospheric dispersion, specularity – the language is the same.”

 

Guillermo Del Toro

to “all those who of set purpose choose to walk alone, who know the special grace attaching to it”

Nature’s particular gift to the walker, through the semi-mechanical act of walking — a gift no other form of exercise seems to transmit in the same high degree — is to set the mind jogging, to make it garrulous, exalted, a little mad maybe — certainly creative and suprasensitive, until at last it really seems to be outside of you and as if it were talking to you whilst you are talking back to it. Then everything gradually seems to join in, sun and the wind, the white road and the dusty hedges, the spirit of the season, whichever that may be, the friendly old earth that is pushing life firth of every sort under your feet or spell-bound in a death-like winter trance, till you walk in the midst of a blessed company, immersed in a dream-talk far transcending any possible human conversation. Time enough, later, for that…; here and now, the mind has shaken off its harness, is snorting and kicking up heels like a colt in a meadow.

Kenneth Grahame