The Impossible Machine
MACHINA AESTHETIKA
Artwork has been with me for a long time, since I
used to draw castles, treasure maps, pirates and
cowboys and indians, up until I began exhibiting
artwork around New Haven.
The critical shift happened when I became
interested in symbolism. Aesthetic became a direct
product of the strength of the signifier, or at least
the coherence between the world of art and the
world of symbols, as a codependent
landscape.
I drew on the Japanese "mon" or family crests,
which resemble my logo for the Impossible
Machine. I felt that the idea of ink was alive in
those forms, and equally in calligraphy and certain
forms of abstract expression.
Aesthetic has always been impossible in several
ways.
First, it does not usually serve a mechanical
function, even if it resembles a machine.
Secondly, the impossible is possible in two
dimensions using tricks of perspective along the
lines of M.C. Escher.
Third, while art is a product it does little more than
perpetuate its own impetus; the product of art is
not something else, the way a machine would
produce energy or provide for a function
independent of the machine.
Like perpetual motion would be, it has a way of
seeming self-serving and introspective.
To see what it does you practically have to become
part of the machine.
used to draw castles, treasure maps, pirates and
cowboys and indians, up until I began exhibiting
artwork around New Haven.
The critical shift happened when I became
interested in symbolism. Aesthetic became a direct
product of the strength of the signifier, or at least
the coherence between the world of art and the
world of symbols, as a codependent
landscape.
I drew on the Japanese "mon" or family crests,
which resemble my logo for the Impossible
Machine. I felt that the idea of ink was alive in
those forms, and equally in calligraphy and certain
forms of abstract expression.
Aesthetic has always been impossible in several
ways.
First, it does not usually serve a mechanical
function, even if it resembles a machine.
Secondly, the impossible is possible in two
dimensions using tricks of perspective along the
lines of M.C. Escher.
Third, while art is a product it does little more than
perpetuate its own impetus; the product of art is
not something else, the way a machine would
produce energy or provide for a function
independent of the machine.
Like perpetual motion would be, it has a way of
seeming self-serving and introspective.
To see what it does you practically have to become
part of the machine.
