Painting with Light

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The Quantel Paintbox was one of the first computer systems designed to create and manipulate digital graphics in a manner that was much closer to painting and drawing than computer programming. The technology was launched in 1981, and was essentially Photoshop ten years before Adobe Inc. announced its own image-editing system. Rather like the Fairlight CMI, being a pioneer had its disadvantages for Quantel, one of them being the enormous expense of the Paintbox system. Photoshop was never really cheap if you were buying it new but it was still only a software package; with the Fairlight and the Paintbox you also had to buy the computer and all the peripherals that ran the software. Consequently, Paintbox systems were mostly used by TV studios for on-screen graphics during throughout the 1980s, although Quantel also created a parallel system for print graphics which was used for image processing and photo collaging until Macintosh and Adobe started to dominate design studios.

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David Hockney.

Painting with Light was a BBC series intended to explore Quantel’s technology by inviting six artists to spend a day playing with the Paintbox. It was the recent news about David Hockney that reminded me of this series. I definitely remember watching the first episode when it was broadcast in 1987 but couldn’t recall anything of the rest, which suggests I may not have seen them all. Each episode is narrated by Leslie Megahey who also receives a credit as executive producer. Nearly everything that Megahey was involved with at the BBC had some connection with art or painting which suggests the series may have been his idea.

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Larry Rivers.

It’s been fascinating watching these programmes after 40 years of technological development. In 1987 I was working with pens and sheets of paper most of the time, and didn’t give much thought to the idea of creating computer art since all the most interesting gear was prohibitively expensive. How things change… I now find myself watching the reactions of these artists as they struggle with a rudimentary version of the kind of technology I use every day. I also sympathise with their frustrations. The Paintbox was a magical device for the time but the brush settings are very limited when compared to the endless variety that Photoshop offers. The drawing table and stylus of the Paintbox are also big and bulky in comparison to one of today’s small and very precise Wacom tablets.

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Howard Hodgkin.

David Hockney was an obvious choice to open the series when he was often described as “Britain’s favourite artist”. Popularity aside, he was a good choice for his restless curiosity and interest in all forms of pictorial representation. That curiosity prompted his famous and controversial theories about the use of optical devices in the creation of paintings from the Renaissance on; it also kept him experimenting with different media, leading eventually to the iPad paintings he was making in the last years of his life. Of the other contributors we have an American Pop artist (Larry Rivers), a British abstract painter (Howard Hodgkin), an Australian painter (Sidney Nolan), an American painter (Jennifer Bartlett), and a British Pop artist (Richard Hamilton).

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Sidney Nolan.

Hockney and Bartlett both use the technology for painterly improvisation, with Hockney drawing continually over the same piece, while Bartlett draws different versions of a glass of water. The latter sounds boring but her curiosity about the new medium makes her the only artist of the six to try out all the available drawing tools. Rivers, Nolan and Hamilton all begin with scanned photographs which they manipulate in various ways, Rivers by painting over his, Nolan (via a Quantel assistant) creating photographic collages that are forerunners of the familar Photoshop style.

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Jennifer Bartlett.

Hamilton does something similar but also takes over from the Quantel assistant in order to paint onto the image in a much more careful manner than the rest. Of the six artists he’s the only one who attempts to create something that might be exported as a properly finished piece. He also notices how the cut-and-paste concept which was becoming widespread in word processing was now applicable to digital graphics. As for Hodgkin, I’ve always regarded him as a limited and not very interesting abstractionist, so it was no surprise to see him creating a pixel imitation of the same lines and blobs he was always doing in his paintings. Hodgkin’s film is the least interesting one to watch but his encounter with the technology is just as revealing about his character as an artist as the other films are for the individuals involved.

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Richard Hamilton.

• Further reading: The Quantel Paintbox

Weekend links 829

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In the Constellation of Pisces by Adolf Hoffmeister.

• “Comb through many of the numerous ‘greatest post-punk albums of all time’ lists that you’ll find dotted around the internet and one fairly continual omission is Thirst, which is something of a travesty. It’s difficult to think of many albums that embody the more pioneering and progressive elements of the post-punk spirit than Thirst.” Daniel Dylan Wray on the early, anarchic performances of Clock DVA.

• Warner Brothers have decided at long last to allow the world to see a complete print of Ken Russell’s The Devils, a film they’ve effectively been censoring since 1971.

• A psychedelic Texas company powered hippie culture—then vanished. Gwen Howerton explores the history of the Houston Blacklight & Poster Company.

• “What is the world made of?” A long read by Felix Flicker looking at the nature of reality via the properties of fundamental and emergent entities.

• “My body ached from the volume”: Makoto Kubota remembers his time with the enigmatic and fearsome Japanese rock band Les Rallizes Dénudés.

• New music (and a psychedelic video by Robert Beatty): Introit / Prophecy At 1420 MHz by Boards Of Canada.

Stellar Iris, a new short film by Thomas Blanchard.

• Steven Heller’s font of the month is Puffery.

• At Dennis Cooper’s it’s Zoetrope Day.

This Website Cannot Save You

Der Prophet (1982) by Rolf Trostel | Prophecy Theme (1984) by Brian Eno, Daniel Lanois & Roger Eno | Prophecy Of The White Camel / Namoutarre (2011) by Master Musicians Of Bukkake

Weekend links 827

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Dante in his Study with Episodes from the Inferno (1978) by Tom Phillips.

• “This set, featuring two of the surviving members of Cabaret Voltaire, is as clear and powerful as any of the live albums the group released while Richard H. Kirk was alive.” Derek Walmsley, reviewing what we’ve been told will be the last ever Cabaret Voltaire album. I can also vouch for its excellence but then I’m not what you might call an impartial listener. My copy arrived in the post only a couple of hours before Boards Of Canada made the announcement they’d been teasing for the past two weeks—the new BOC album, Inferno, will be released at the end of May—a coincidence that felt vaguely significant. “How random is random?” as William Burroughs used to say. It’s tempting to describe the moment as the passing of a creative torch but I doubt either of the groups would agree. Boards Of Canada’s approach to electronic music has always been very different to that of Cabaret Voltaire: less aggressive, more melodic, more pastoral, more concerned with memories and the past than with the present or the near future. But the promotional videos for Inferno are reminiscent of the scratch videos that Cabaret Voltaire were creating in the 1980s: degraded VHS assemblages collaged from TV broadcasts and home-movie footage, visual equivalents of a tuning dial running through the shortwave radio spectrum. Then there’s the latest BOC album art which, when taken with details from the teaser video, foregrounds the same fascination with American bastardisations of Christianity that the Cabs were referring to in Sluggin’ Fer Jesus and The Covenant, The Sword And The Arm Of The Lord. I’ll leave it to others to play with the interpretations that can be brought to an album title like Inferno. We’ll no doubt be seeing a great deal of journalistic musing around this and related issues before and after the end of May.

• Jiří Barta’s Expressionist animated adaptation of the Pied Piper story, Krysař (1985), has turned up in high definition at YouTube. Ignore the credit for Wilfred Jackson, an American animation director who had nothing to do with Barta’s film.

• At Public Domain Review: Magic by return of post: Allan Johnson explores the history of those mail-order occult outfits whose ads fill out the pages of the early American pulps.

Visual Music: a lecture by Simon Reynolds describing the use of electronic music as a soundtrack for abstract cinema.

• At the BFI: Anton Bitel selects 10 great Brazilian horror films.

• There’s more intermediate eyeball fodder at Unquiet Things.

Your Name in Landsat

FruitierThanThou

Disco Inferno (1976) by The Trammps | Inferno (Main Title Theme) (1980) by Keith Emerson | Om Riff From The Cosmic Inferno (2005) by IAO Chant From The Cosmic Inferno

Visions of Light

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Good to see this again even if it is an unofficial “remastering” of the original. Visions of Light is a feature-length documentary about the art of cinematography as practiced in (mostly) American cinema. The film was made by Arnold Glassman, Todd McCarthy and Stuart Samuels for the American Film Institute in 1992, and is unique in being related solely through the words of cinematographers; there are no actor-narrators, actors, directors, academics or celebrities blathering about “iconic” moments. The format is very simple and direct: short clips from feature films showing the evolution of photographic styles and techniques from the silent era to the present, with each clip being commented on and contextualised by the cinematographers. Each clip includes an on-screen caption listing the title of the film, the director and the cinematographer. Most of the interviewees are Americans but there are a few notable Europeans such as Néstor Almendros, Sven Nykvist and Vittorio Storario.

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The version of the film archived here is an unofficial “remastering” which has upgraded the original to high definition. I haven’t seen Visions of Light since it was broadcast on TV in the 1990s so my memory may be faulty but I think the incorporation of some of the interviews as picture-in-picture overlays may be a new addition. While it’s good to see high-quality extracts the real attraction for me is the interviews. The people who photograph feature films are essential to the film-making process yet they’re seldom given the opportunity to talk about their work outside extras on hard-format releases. And now that the masses have stopped buying films on disc the opportunities for this kind of discussion are limited once again. The interview with Conrad Hall was one I found especially revelatory for his discussion of breaking the studio rules when filming Cool Hand Luke in 1967. This was the first major Hollywood film to show sunlight flaring into the camera lens, an effect that would have had the shot rejected in the days when studios policed each production with great rigour. Once Hall had got away with this everyone started doing it, with the result that American film and TV after 1967 is filled with lens flares. Cinematography, in other words, creates and follows trends as much as other film-making techniques.

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Ninety minutes is too short a time to cover a hundred years of cinematic history in any depth. It would have been better for the AFI to produce a multi-part TV series but I doubt there would have been the audience for such a thing. Aside from actors and the occasional high-profile director most film-viewers are happy to remain ignorant about the identities of the people who make the films they watch. Visions of Light was obviously edited down from a great deal of interview footage which makes me wonder now what happened to the material that didn’t make the final cut. Will we ever get to see it?

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Previously on { feuilleton }
Vilmos Zsigmond, 1930–2016

Weekend links 821

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The first UK paperback edition, 1976. Cover art by David Bowie’s illustrator friend George Underwood.

• At the BFI: “Humanity, lost and found”. The original Sight and Sound review by Tom Milne of The Man Who Fell to Earth which was released 50 years ago this month. The film is another Nicolas Roeg project whose lofty reputation today has made everyone forget the bewildered or even hostile reaction it generated at the time, including from the US distributor, Paramount, who hated it. Milne, by contrast, had read the novel it was based on, and paid close attention to what the film’s writer, Paul Mayersberg, described as its “minefield of images”.

• Among the new titles at Standard Ebooks, the home of free, high-quality, public-domain texts: The Varieties of Religious Experience by William James.

• Issue 13 of Verbal magazine features an interview with Michael Moorcock, Iain Sinclair in the “Talking Books” section, and more.

• New music: 4 Hours (DVATION 2026 Version) by Clock DVA; -Music For Oriental Hotel Okinawa Resort & Spa- by Harikuyamaku.

• The Shaw Brothers Cinema YouTube channel has whole feature films from the studio’s huge archive free to view.

• At Colossal: “Historic architecture emerges from stone in Matthew Simmonds‘ ethereal sculptures”.

• “Music with Balls”: Terry Riley performing live with an arrangement of shiny silver spheres on KQED TV in 1969.

• Mixes of the week: DreamScenes – March 2026 at Ambientblog, and Motorik by Jon Savage.

• “What is electronic music?” Daphne Oram explains.

• RIP Country Joe MacDonald.

Stardust (1941) by Artie Shaw And His Orchestra | Stardust (1959) by Martin Denny | Stardust (1985) by Yasuaki Shimizu & Saxofonettes