Violet Darling
June 2nd, 2010
Eightball #22 (Icehaven) Daniel Clowes 2001
Tweethome of matt pearson, maker of abstract things.
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The Smile of Gordon Brown
May 18th, 2010
Who knew the smile of Gordon Brown could be such a beautiful thing? After thirteen years in power, culminating in the intense three part drama of the televised debates, we had become over-familiar with Gordon’s “TV smile“, a cartoon contortion so unnatural and forced it looked almost painful. So to see, for the first time, the genuine joy on his face in this photograph bought a lump to my throat.
The photo is one of a series taken by a Guardian photographer Martin Argles documenting his final hours as Prime Minister last week, just before handing over to a waxwork phallus who was now claiming the job having won 36.1% of the popular vote. Behind Gordon, figuratively, is the job; over his shoulder are two of the men who may succeed him as Labour Party leader. Before him, and embraced by him, is his immediate future; some long overdue time with his two boys.
I was only dimly aware that Brown even had children, it is to his honour that they hadn’t been paraded out as electioneering assets during a campaign which, more than ever before, was fought on the message boards of mumsnet.com. By comparison, David Cameron wrung every drop out of the unborn foetus he liked to ferry around with him.
Gordon’s two kids are roughly the same ages as my own boys. I miss my boys while I’m out the room, so seeing this photo really hit home what a shitty stick any leader is struck with. I could never say I loved my country more than I loved my family; whether I should feel pride or shame in that I don’t know, but I think it goes without saying that Gordon’s evident joy at the relinquishment of responsibility, and the opportunity to, for the first time, get to see his boys grow up, is very deserved. Particularly remembering that, during his time as chancellor, there was a first Brown child, who never got as far as her first birthday.
Despite my political leanings being more toward the Liberals these days, I believe history will be kind to Gordon Brown’s legacy. He steered HMS Britain through some very stormy waters, rather than just catching a swelling wave and riding it home like Blair did in his first term. But, as Iraq, and the Digital Economy Bill proved, when an administration starts to listen to lobbyists more than the people who elected it, the time had come for them to go.
I am cautiously optimistic about the new boyishly handsome civil partnership we now have leading our big gay village. If we have to have a Tory in charge I’d rather it was one so vain and desperate to be popular that he will actually attempt to win the favour of the electorate, rather than just obeying the lords, financiers, and newspaper magnates who gave him his slender lead. Although the idea of multi-millionaire expenses fiddler, George Osborn as chancellor, in such an unsteady economic climate fills me with fear, and may already be the first firm flush of a country about to disappear down the toilet.
Seeing the shiny faced smarm of Cameron, next to the youthful eagerness of Clegg, recalling also the maniacal grin of Gordon’s predecessor Blair, it makes me wonder if we will remember Brown as the last of a certain breed of UK Prime Minister, those with camera unfriendly faces. There is no sane reason for a leader to be required to look good on TV, and, as Gordon proved, some faces shouldn’t be made to smile. Not until there is actually something to smile about.
TweetWhat Frosti Did Next
May 12th, 2010This is what my Frosti video ended up as. An experiment done in an afternoon has turned out to have a decent pair of legs on it. FutureDeluxe are the folk responsible for turning my austere little sketch into something so sexy.
The original Frosti (see here) is also now one of two films I have in competition at the Alys Beach Digital Graffiti festival next month.
I share the mathematics and methodology behind Frosti in the book, which I’ve now finished (first draft anyway). Hopefully I’ll be able to share with you a release date for this very soon.
TweetArtist / Wanker
April 20th, 2010Of all the social networking sites, I think I hate LinkedIn the most. Which is why, I am very proud to say, I committed my first act of social media suicide this weekend, and erased my profile. The impetus behind this wanton self-destruction was having, what alcoholics call, a “moment of clarity”, when I was suddenly so disgusted by the profile update I was almost considering that I had to change my ways there and then. Struggling once again to hammer the round pegs of my working life into the square holes of LI’s horrific corporate pastel, I had found myself considering the use of the word “artist” in my job title.
LinkedIn represents everything I hate about our box-ticking, tie-wearing, caffeine-addicted soulless capitalist machine – the teat we all suckle to feed our children/mortgages (/narcissism/drug habits/… delete as appropriate). And, ultimately, as someone who only ever takes full-time work for the nihilistic joy of quitting when someone looks at me the wrong way, LinkedIn is utterly useless to me. At least FaceBook has a point (keeping in touch with people you can’t be bothered keeping in touch with).
But when I found myself considering the A word, I knew it was time to get off the bus. Despite occasionally doing work that I call “art”, and writing a book with “art” in the title, and doing the kind of stuff that could only be called useful if it were to cover some discoloured paintwork on a gallery wall, I would never use the A word. And I was only being forced to consider that as job title as a way around the inflexibility of LI’s imagination-free way of ordering its human cattle.
“Artist” is an entirely useless term. Everyone is an artist. To call yourself an artist is about as meaningful and descriptive as saying you breathe air, or that you “work with computers”, i.e. it’s hard to find anyone who doesn’t. “Painter”, “Musician”, “Interaction Designer”, “Programmer”, etc; these all have meaning. But “artist”, on it’s own, is meaningless. This is why, whenever I see “artist” as someone’s job description, even those who I respect and whose work I admire, I subconsciously read it as “wanker”. “Art” is something we all do, but only the most perverse individuals like to advertise the fact. Much like masturbation.
Every scribble, gesture, utterance, movement or expression we make can be art if we decide to call it so. The route we take to work is art. The last tweet you wrote: art. Every stool we leave in the cistern of life can mean something to someone. So to say that you are an “artist”, by which you are saying your output is more “art” than the next fool, just screams WANKER.
This in mind, those of you who are hanging on to your LinkedIn accounts, perhaps you might consider changing your current job title to “wanker”. It is not only refreshing, iconoclastic, eyecatching and indicative of a “GSOH”, but is also, frankly, probably more honest that whatever you currently have in that slot.
TweetWearied About Front Direction
April 9th, 2010More old media. French magazine Regards Sur Le Numerique, is running a well-cool two page spread on me in the latest issue. I’m so chuffed I can almost ignore the fact that it’s published by M*******t.
Being in French, it’s kinda difficult to tell what they are saying about my work. So I asked Babelfish:
TweetMatt Pearson, alias Zenbullet, programmer in Brighton the day, is explorer in “abandoned” creation the night. He asserts this term of “abandonment” on two accounts. “I experienced my programs the night and gives up them, with the clean of term, front direction to be wearied about it. In addition, I approach these creations ‘with abandonment’, without restriction nor inhibition.” Its work, which raises of art generated hair, consists in using mathematical algorithms to produce random forms that model Matt and that it divides on line, thus opening them with other creativities. It does not expose, but dream to make use of a webcam and projectors for other projects.