Exploring the limits of something is an interesting way to see what might be usable in a more controlled context. (Audio distortion is a good example). It’s usually the happy accidents that inspire innovative thinking. Once you see something occurring in a new medium, it presents a whole new way of seeing.
Hurricanes are essentially fractal in nature and the underlying idea is the same: there are simple rules that allow systems to scale up or down in a linear fashion, ultimately controlled by randomness in the top-level system, such as the climate system as a whole, and its own limits: the earth is only so big, and the atmosphere is scaled accordingly. But it can only get so warm, as opposed to getting too cold. Mars and Venus are the examples of systems that reached limits of their scale, then become largely inert atmospheres.
If you are not used to structured creativity, you can easily get lost in options, which can lead to a diminished of motivation. What you want to avoid as much as possible is getting lost in a thicket of technology. As much as it is a tool, don't get bogged down in it. Anything that has a hierarchical menu structure will have the capacity to stall your flow. Ideally you'll want to have the producer and engineer in the role of filter.
Harsh lighting shows all the blemishes. This is a bad thing for art that is photographed or scanned. High-resolution kills the soft retinal distortions of the human eye.
Photographed art, even with the best cameras and lighting, highlights things you wouldn't see standing next to a painting in a meticulously-lighted gallery space.
The best lighting is diffuse natural light with a lower light temperature, and preferably not back-lit, which is a completely different experience of images that have texture.
With photographed artworks you need a form of "age reduction" which takes the natural "bump map" aspects out of a digital image. We see the same texture with our eyes but it looks like normal texture, as opposed to the high-contrast pixelated shadow that can appear in a digital photo.
Screen images naturally look more craggy and have to be smoothed in some way. Nixon was a victim of this in the 1960 debate with Kennedy. Kennedy had the advantage of being younger and less prone to the "bump map" effect, i.e. the flaws in unnatural light to make blemishes more visible. If there were no screens in 1960, perhaps the outcome would have been different simply because of the softness of natural vision. Perhaps there would have been no Watergate--who knows.
"Everything is infused with the consciousness in which you do it.", as has been said.
We always talk about "thought process" but within it is the "sight process" and "sound process" that follow the same laws of perception, such as the law of proximity or law of similarity.
My "sight process" can start with a camera, that functions as a recorder of ideas and lists of ideas. Digital photography and software like Lightroom, have made it easy to form these lists. The "thought process" comes later when sorting and categorizing them (law of similarity). The process naturally reveals itself in the process of grouping them with other similar photos, most often through a computer's directory structure of Folders and Files and with metadata, which can be lists.
Umberto Eco on List metaphors: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxaSillA1uE
Who's/What's Doing What?
Photo-taking usually doesn't have a preceding sight process until there is a strong sense of "me". What the "I" (and "eye") sees is not what the "me" does in photography post-capture. The "I" is "I am taking a picture of that", the "me" is "that is "my" style, and something the "I" likes. Photo-sharing is essentially a list of "me's", as you are saying it's your style, like seeing a shirt and saying "that's me". When people like the photo they are saying either: "I like your style, or "I like that style" which is says "that's me", "I want to make/have that".
What can make a museum membership worthwhile are repeated viewings of works of the Old Masters, and thinking about them chronologically and relative to contemporary art.
In my observations of visitors to the Art Institute of Chicago, Impressionist paintings still get the most "Likes". They were in some sense, the first "postcards", depicting scenes of people reclining, in places such as La Grande Jatte and the Bois de Boulogne. These artists really must have felt that a new zeitgeist had arrived, and perhaps viewers well over a century later are picking up on that feeling. In some ways Impressionism was the foreshadowing of abstraction, something we are now perfectly comfortable with.
"Only with the Impressionists did aesthetic theory begin to accept the view that the pictorial image is a product of the mind rather than a deposit of the physical object. The realization that the image differs in principle from the physical object lays the groundwork for the doctrine of modern art. The similar fundamental break with tradition occurs in the psychology of visual experience a few decades later. The comparison with Impressionist painting can also help us to understand the nature of "visual hints" and "flashes". Instead of spelling out the detailed shape of a human figure or a tree the Impressionists offered an approximation, a few strokes, which were not intended to create the illusion of the fully duplicated figure or tree....The elusive quality of such experiences is hard to capture with our language, which commonly describes objects by their tangible, material dimensions. But it is a quality and valuable for abstract thought in that it offers the possibility of reducing a theme visually to a skeleton of essential dynamic features, none of which is a tangible part of the actual object" Arnheim, Rudolf. Visual Thinking. Berkeley: U of California, 1969. 108
The Impressionist gallery is one of the two "ante rooms" for the museum, the other displays 18th- century religious-themed work by Tiepolo. They are the first two galleries at the top of the grand staircase, and is my understanding has been this way since the museum was built.
(If the museum was virtual, the galleries would be the equivalent of what's not at the top of the stairs but what has ascended to the top of your Facebook feed.)
As you move through the European Art galleries from the 16th-century forward, you realize the painters started having more freedom in what they were doing, from themes to pallets, to artists signing the work. (Artists didn't typically sign paintings and were usually attributed to a collective or studio of artisans.) Painting was gradually becoming more innovative--surely with Van Gogh and Cezanne. Technological progress was evident. Certainly, Monet's Water Lilly series was full of a sense of freedom of experimentation with light effects and use of more high-frequency color (blues and purples) as well as oriental influences such as Japanese woodblock prints.
By the 1900s, technology again was having an influence, with the advent of electricity, radio broadcasts and new forms of automation, as grist for new freedoms of expression. The idea of "pop" must have been there in its earliest stirrings, but the term would take fifty years to be coined. There was also the element of speed; They were simply painting faster, because the allure of abstraction obviated the painting of things like catch-lights with a one-hair brush. By 1950 Pollock was almost "supersonic" in paint application.
Ironically the galleries showing the 17th and 18th-century Dutch portraits seemed to get very little traffic. These were commissioned "look at me's". The gallery with the famous Rembrandt "Old Man With a Gold Chain" was almost empty.
The contrast between the Old Master's work and contemporary work is shocking. It could be that people are still attracted to the ambiguity inherent in 20th-century art. It could be that the "don't make me think" contingent is shrinking. Given the heady nature of contemporary SciArt, we love thinking.
Perhaps the feeling is "we're not going back to the old ways". Painting with a mop and paint bucket is still somehow more interesting and you can tell by its popularity in the galleries, even if people don't get it. But they're getting something...
To be a successful artist you need just a few popular pieces that are completely misunderstood, or understood for reasons other than your own.
The most interesting area for any medium, whether old or new is how users synthesize them, and in some sense "misuse" them for artistic effect. Architects build VR walk-throughs expecting that people will walk around in the rooms and look out of the windows, but some people apparently like to jump out of them as a way to blithely explore the extremes of the technology.
Creativity is like a variable weather system. There is "flow" but patterns can persist into a kind of doldrums. That's why I like to make my own slight perturbations or interruptions of the process, and sometimes decamp to another medium altogether.
There really is no flow when certain parts of a project are tedious and boring (like music mixing), but once something is resolved or completed, there is a kind of flow in retrospect, which is very useful for the sake of perseverance in one's craft.
For example, I hate tweaking individual tracks, but I like the effect it has on the song itself, and in the other songs in an album or playlist. Ultimately there's a flow in a larger system.
I love working in the digital realm, but computers can become too seductive, drawing everything into themselves, such that the spiritual aspects ("soul") can't escape their allure. (Computers can create fake Flow, masquerading as endless editing).
"Flow" is a term of art word that flows and ebbs based on the flows in your inner experience and what the mood is. When Flow is high, the ideas (seem) good, and you're on a High. When the ideas need shaping usually the Flow is low, but can give one the feeling that you always operate in flow in the end, you just don't see it as such in edit mode.
Photographs of banal subjects are interesting because they exist in the gap between pictoriality and nothingness.