Completed Painting: [dc]dérive 01

 

'[dc]Dérive 01', Acrylic, Paper Collage & Mixed Media on Panel,
300 mm x 300 mm, 2026

Sadly, the long, droughtful summer of 2026 proved to be pretty unproductive, creatively speaking - although certainly not for want of good intentions. I had planned to split my time/energy largely between screen printing at Leicester Print Workshop and writing the last ‘chapter’ for my long-delayed (but still active) ‘The Basin’ project. Any remaining hours could be used-up in producing more ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ paintings, with a number of panels already prepped and waiting. As it transpired, I only managed a few days of printing, with relatively little to show in the form of well-resolved outcomes. Meanwhile, whilst a brief trip to Bristol furnished a load of additional photos for the proposed chapter - only first drafts and research notes were made in terms of actual writing. Unfortunately, ‘events’ rather took over after that and much of the remaining summer recess was spent shuttling between home and a couple of Lincolnshire hospitals, due to familial health issues.  As is so often the case in such situations, the driving consumed at least as much time and energy as the actual visiting. As a result, the only fully completed product of the summer weeks is this little painting, entitled ‘[dc]Dérive 01’. 

There’s nothing massively ground-breaking about this one. It shares many of the now-familiar features of other ‘DC’ pieces, with its layers of composted map fragments, painterly gestures, delineated imagery and textual components. It is perhaps worth noting that there is here a degree of three dimensional illusion in the main motif - thus allying it with some of the earlier proto - 'DC’ panels [1.], rather more than the floating-plane aspects of later ones. Anyone familiar with historical dialogue between Modernist and Post-Modernist painting may appreciate that this might be a bigger deal than it initially seems (or at very least - it once would have been). I, for one, feel reluctant to commit either way, and so will attempt to still have my cake and eat it.

Thematically, the piece constitutes  a fairly superficial reference to my own long-standing enthusiasm for drifting around the city streets that form my everyday surroundings (on foot or on two wheels - and with camera readily to hand). Such wanderings are generally punctuated by regular stops for coffee and a few pages of whatever book I happen to have on the go, and, for what it’s worth, the dominant motif in this painting does derive from a particular beverage - purchased, documented and consumed in a specific coffee shop. Such caffein-fuelled flâneurism may seem aimless to some (that’s kind of the point, really), but it has long provided the arena within which my impressions and ideas are triggered, and the narratives and motifs within my work gradually coalesce. It’s fair to say that the countless cups of coffee, and the intervals (both temporal and spatial) between them, have become inextricably entwined within the overall process as equally vital components. Also, as my work has become increasingly influenced by a wide variety of literary sources, it seems only fitting that much of my reading should occur in the field, as it were.

None of the above is exactly novel, of course. I’ve written quite a bit on here, over the years, about the whole field of Psychogeography, its engaged wanderings through, and layered narratives, intuitive readings and subjective responses to, the urban environment. The idea of ‘the drift’ (as opposed to simply travelling with a defined purpose) was pioneered by such figures as Charles Baudelaire and Walter Benjamin, before being taken up by the Situationists and numerous later proponents. All of them applied some form of  pyschogeographic mindset to their Parisian wanderings. Such sensibilities might be productively applied to any metropolitan milieu, of course, but I guess there is still a certain romanticised dream of Paris as the archetypal drifter’s city. This is probably because Le Dérive, as a formal activity, was most clearly codified in the contemporary imagination by Guy Debord and his fellow Situationists. 

It was they who not only wandered the rues and boulevards, but habituated the bars and cafe’s of the Left Bank too. Like generations of philosophers, writers and artists before them, they used the humble café table to transform an entire quartier into an urban laboratory for radical thought/discourse. A couple of decades prior, Jean-Paul Sartre himself had transformed the famous Café de Flore into an effective HQ for himself and his Existentialist contemporaries - even going so far as to have his own private telephone line installed. Before them, of course, it had been Picasso, Hemmingway, Fitzgerald, the Surrealists and ‘all that lot’ who had occupied similar venues. If Debord, et al, would go on to espouse an even more explicitly political agenda than many (participating in the events of May 68, for instance), they were also nothing if not recreationally mischievous in their overall demeanour. For them, the city streets were envisioned as an arena not only for fermenting direct action, but also in which to devise absurdist art-games - just as children might imaginatively occupy their given environment.

In reference to all this then, amongst the cartographic references buried (fairly deep) within this painting, are streets in both Leicester and the Parisian Left Bank. I’ll admit that, often - while I’m gazing from the table of some local coffee outlet, part of my imagination isn’t also deludedly projecting itself into St. Germain, sometime during one of the cultural high-water marks of the twentieth century. So far - so pretentious, then. However, whilst this simple little painting clearly represents a degree of pseudo-intellectual self-indulgence, I’d like to think it celebrates small, harmless pleasures too.

[Composed using only H.I.]

[1.]: These were the so-called 'space_time' pieces, which I now realise form the baby steps for all the 'Deleuzian Cartography' work since produced.

Completed Painting: '[dc]Underfall 01'

 

'[dc]Underfall 01', Acrylics, Paper Collage & Mixed Media on Panel,
300 mm x 300 mm, 2026

Having indulged in a relatively rapid painterly critique of the ongoing Iran war debacle, I felt inclined to do something a little less despairing of human psychosis. Hence, the little painting shown here - entitled ‘[dc]Underfall 01’. It clearly fits into the ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ oeuvre, being heavily map-derived, as well as fluid in its attitude to spatial or temporal structure, There’s even a fairly route-one deteritorialising smear placed front and centre. This time, however, I abandoned reference to specific texts or current events, and just made ‘place’ the overriding theme.

In terms of locational reference, the painting overlays map references to my immediate surroundings in Leicester, and Bristol’s equally familiar (to me) harbour entrance/Cumberland Basin/Underfall Yard/River Avon New Cut complex. This zone has featured regularly here in recent years, due to it being the focus of my ongoing ‘The Basin’ project, and ground-zero for my regular trips to that city. What is new, however, is a reference to that region in an actual painting. To date, all ‘Basin’-related material has been photographic, video-based or literary. Without any conscious plan, I suppose this spontaneous little panel (produced after my most recent Bristol trip, a couple of months back) may therefore suggest some move to unify the ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ and ‘The Basin’ work. Of course, I appreciate that such compartmentalising probably feels more significant to me than anyone else, and this piece certainly emerged with little or no prior strategising, either way. All this stuff is really just arepeated attempt to construct narratives in response to the places I find myself in, whatever medium I employ, or label I apply.

The title here relates to Underfall Yard, specifically - a feature of Bristol’s floating harbour that sits adjacent to Cumberland Basin. If the Harbour entrance and associated locks represent the mouth of the old docks, then the Basin itself might represent a gullet through which the water and shipping must pass in a controlled manner, to reach the city docks beyond. In this analogy, Underfall Yard could be seen as the first stage of digestion, given its primary function as a mechanism for processing at least some of the clogging sediment that has always been the curse of Bristol’s maritime traffic. Initially conceived as an ‘overfall’ feature, by which silt-bearing water might flow over a sluice, its operation was subsequently inverted for greater efficiency. This being Bristol, I.K Brunel generally gets all the credit here, although, the truth is that many other eminent engineers were involved in the developing the Yard’s infrastructure, as is true in many other cases routinely attributed to the man in the big hat. And Underfall itself makes up part of a larger mechanised picture in this part of the Victorian harbour with various complex pumping and hydraulic-control systems being operated from here, and from the Pumphouse, opposite. Nowadays, the Underfall Yard houses various maritime businesses (with associated moorings) alongside a cafe/heritage centre, and forms a larger complex with the adjoining  Harbour Master’s headquarters. It also forms an entry point to the southern dockside walk. 

The name is straightforward enough as a descriptor, but potentially freighted with ambiguity at the same time (I’ll let you decide for yourself what ‘underfall’ might mean when separated from engineering terminology). My own relationship with the site is inevitably layered and romanticised accordingly. Whilst I'm unable to ascribe a precise meaning myself, I know there’s strange poetry there for sure. Superficially, the site represents my habitual first refreshment/reflection stop on any visit to the city. Following a few hours of motorway driving, I will normally head straight to Cumberland Basin, park-up and stroll through to Underfall in search of toilets and the first coffee/lunch of the trip. The canopied outdoor seating area provides a perfect vantage point from which to study the adjacent buildings and boats, or the wider vistas of the Floating Harbour as it curves away into the city centre beyond. My meditations may shift from the industrial heritage of the site itself, to observations of the passing customers, dockland explorers and boat restorers, or my own personal history and ‘temps perdu’ in this part of the city (and back again) all in the duration of one cup of coffee. Such pause for thought will often also pressage the first photo-grabs of the trip, or provoke my first stroll along to the ‘Spike Island art complex, or two-wheeled circuit of the entire harbour.

 

Whilst undeniably picturesque as all this is, this portion of the docks also retains a few vestiges of an older industrial grunge. It remains, at least in part, a working environment - with many of the associated textures, odours and sounds one might expect. On my last visit, I was entertained by the tortuous manoeuvring of a large boat, even as neighbouring diners discussed a complex asylum case they were engaged in. I strolled on a few metres to photograph two skips full to the brim with mud-encrusted bikes, trolleys and other  dredged debris, accompanied by a soundtrack of construction work - relating to the restoration of one of the Victorian buildings that fell victim to an arson attack, some years ago. This particular rebuild is encouraging, even if the charred timbers held their own tradgi-textural resonance for several years. As has often been demonstrated on here, where there’s building work - there’s scaffolding and hi-vis to photograph, whilst thoughts of transformation, becoming, and the future unfolding into history can never be far behind. As ever (and wherever), past, present and future, and the familiar and unknown, all nest within each other.

That’s quite a lot for one little painting to carry, so let’s return to more technical matters. It’s worth mentioning the relatively ‘pretty’ palette of colours - a welcome departure from the dour schemes of the ‘Machine’ pieces, but also possibly reflecting some of the confected architecture of Bristol’s hyper-inflated heritage property market. Photogenic rainbows of terraced villas famously gaze down from various Bristol hill tops - a reminder that even were I to attempt to re-relocate there, the cost would no doubt be prohibitive. Accents of fluro yellow allude to both the aforementioned builders, and to the reflected sails of a nearby yacht-training session, whilst an underpinning ground of black might relate to some of the more industrial aspects mentioned above. Oh, and it’s possible that the encrusted central cancellation suggests some aspiration towards greater painterliness in future works.

Completed Painting: '[dc]Victory Machine 01'

'[dc]Victory Machine 01', Acrylics, Paper Collage & Mixed Media on Panel,
400 mm x 400 mm, 2026

'[dc]Victory Machine 01' is the third in my recent trio of small paintings, produced fairly spontaneously in response to the currentsituation in the Middle-East. Unsurprisingly, the war triggered by Trumpo the Clown is far from reaching anything resembling a clear resolution, and has seemingly become one of those 'forever wars' that hubristic American governments have been unable to resist down the years (and which Trump himself stood for election in supposed opposition to). Indeed, one could argue, I suppose, that the perpetual enmity between America/'The West', Israel, and radical Islam (as represented by Iran and its proxies), is the very definition of a forever war. Nevertheless, the news cycle churns on in its default state of attention-deficit (even as the on again - off again - on again  hostilities seem set to crash the entire global economy, along with energy/food/medicine supplies), Trumpo is incapable of staying awake, and I myself feel like I have other artistic fish to fry over the second half of this year. Therefore, this is possibly the last of this little group, for now. Who knows if I'll feel provoked to produce any more? - I'd love to think it might not be necessary... 

Anyway, as any sense of a coherent internal logic behind Trump's gesture war-mongering has never really been evident (Israeli motives may be a little more basic), the narrative essentially devolved into a futile battle over who can claim at least the perception of 'victory' in a world turned upside-down. And the current situation really seems to be one in which all good sense is inverted - given the total impasse all sides claim to be in control of. Trumpo's desperation to claim definitive victory, and an associated end to the conflict (he can no longer hope for a swift conclusion), sees him seemingly concede more and more to a nominally 'losing' side, whilst remaining unable to admit it. Meanwhile, Iran, whilst denuded of much of its original leadership and traditional weaponry - and with much of its infrastructure seriously compromised, has proved itself able to hold the world to economic ransom and demonstrate an ability to subvert any illusory peace 'deal' at will - stripping the American regime of yet more status and credibility in the process. Just as is simultaneously demonstrated in Ukraine and Russia, any clear notion of 'winners' and 'losers' in modern warfare, or of the power dynamics between them, appears much harder to divine of late. No wonder then, that the struggle to control narratives becomes paramount, when events and facts  themselves prove so intransigent. In the context of Iran, can anyone really be surprised that a repressive fundamentalist theocracy might be a match for a narcissistic game-show host when it comes to propagandising? [1.] Perhaps it was always thus - but truly, this feels like the spirit of our age, in all its spectacular delusion.

Analysts are keen to point to this conflict (and to the parallel Russia/Ukraine one) as defining the very nature of 'asymmetric warfare' in the twenty-first century, and so it seems only fitting that images of an Iranian drone and an American fighter jet should take flight across the surface of my painting. The tools each side might employ to gain the upper hand are clearly no longer equivalent in scale, sophistication, or indeed, cost. The degraded field beneath them contains yet even more comprehensive allusions to the idea of 'corruption', as well as fragments of text from Reza Negarestani's 'Cyclonopedia' [2.] (both discussed in my previous post) - along with a barely-discernible mapping of the strategically critical Straits of Hormuz. As before, this painting also employs an element of oily varnish, and multiple weapon-site motifs, for obvious reasons. The latter are somewhat smaller now - but also more numerous, helping to reinforce a slightly greater 'all-over' quality in this painting. If that contributes to a sense of reduced resolution intelligibility - that's perhaps only appropriate.

[1.]:  I note that Iran's recent multi-day funeral demonstrations for its slain Supreme Leader (as reported, at least), appeared to model a scale and supposed unity of purpose only dreamt of in The White House.

[2.]:  Reza Negarestani, 'Cyclonopedia', Melbourne, Aus, re.press, 2008

Completed Painting: '[dc]Petrochemical Machine 01'

'[dc]Petrochemical Machine 01', Acrylics & Mixed-Media on Panel,
400 mm x 400 mm, 2026

Here’s the second of my recent Middle-East war-related paintings, ‘[dc]Petrochemical Machine 01’. Although slightly larger than its predecessor, it’s still pretty modest in scale and  also arrived relatively quickly as the news cycled. Iran’s Kharg Island reappears once again - in slightly more detail this time, meaning we’re still in the world of ‘Deleuzian Cartography’, as far as I’m concerned. Weapons-sight motifs also recur in this one, for obvious reasons.

Of course, the overriding theme here is the importance of oil and other petrochemical products to any discussion of conflict in the Middle-East (or of global politics, economics and trading relations in general, to be honest). None of that is exactly a secret. Whatever other twisted agendas may have sparked this grubby little punch-up (regional hegemony, apocalyptic religious mania, Israeli expansionism, nuclear paranoia, megalomaniacal hubris, macho over-compensation, mortality denial, feigned concern for the oppressed Iranian population - what else have you?) the real story rapidly became how any impediment to the flow of Middle-East oil, gas, fertiliser, etc. effectively equates to a global economic crisis. It’s perfectly consistent with the absurdism of our age that a state supposedly denuded of both military capability and regime leaders within a matter of hours, could subsequently hold the rest of the world hostage, possibly indefinitely, through simple facts of geography. If US threats to obliterate Kharg Island were an early feature of the conflict, it soon became apparent that whoever controls the Straits of Hormuz is the more urgent issue. Cartography, indeed - but I guess reading terrain and interpreting maps is really just the kind of treacherous behaviour one might expect from a devious enemy or nay-saying ‘experts’.

The whole idea of flows, rather than fixable or controllable territory seems key to the current situation, be that flows of liquid oil, flows of commerce and finance, flows of the sea through the Straits of Hormuz and the Persian Gulf, flows of information and propaganda, or, indeed, flows of energy/desire/becoming in a Deleuzian sense. Indeed, it may be that an appreciation of fluidity (or failure of same) as a quality, is a key differentiator between the assumptions of ‘The West’, and Middle-East Eastern/Persian/Arabian mind-sets.

In relation to this, it’s worth mentioning ‘Cyclonopedia’ [1.], a work of 'theory-fiction' by the Iranian writer and philosopher, Reza Negarestani. Whilst I don’t doubt Negarestani’s intellectual rigour or academic respectability, it’s fair to say that ‘Cyclonopedia’ is so arcane and convoluted a read as to become almost unintelligible, in large part, to the lay reader (or is that just to me?). Indeed, were he to admit that the whole thing is actually just a massive philosophical joke, I wouldn’t be at all surprised. However, it is also one of those baffling works by which the sensation of bafflement actually becomes a strangely pleasurable sensation. Though a complex concoction of global politics, geology, Middle-Eastern studies, oil trade mechanics, post-Deleuzian philosophy, esoteric/occult insights, hyperstitional invention, dollops of satire, and much else besides, Negarestani somehow hints at an alternative, distinctly metaphysical schema for interpreting the region’s pivotal significance in a world lubricated by oil flows.

I won’t attempt any more insightful analysis than that, other than to say that ‘Cyclonopedia’, does at least supply some kind of unofficial account of how we may have got here (yet again), when - let’s face it, none of the standard strategies can claim any greater credibility. If the desert terrain of the Arabian/Persian world might be seen as a cradle of the nomadic desiring engine (‘War Machine’) that Deleuze and Guattari outlined [2.], perhaps the idea of a ‘Petrochemical Machine’ is no more far-fetched a concept - as motivating impulses go. Certainly, it’s fair to say that this latest Middle East conflict only seems to reinforce the sense of oil addiction being the ultimate hit as well as the craving that kills. Ultimately, flows gonna flow - for better or worse.

Given all this, it seemed only fitting that my painting should include some physical component of an oily nature. This appears in the form of polyurethane varnish, tinted with black enamel, which continued to slide down the painting for about 36 hours, before coalescing into the slicks and runnels that now remain. Although I habitually employ a variety of media, the majority tend to be water based, or at least fast-drying. Using the varnish was a reminder that nothing else quite replicates the viscosity of oil-based media, or their slow oxidisation.

In addition to the cartographic, textual and oleaginous elements on show, I’d also draw attention to the apparently pixellated geometric field occupying the painting’s upper section. This is something that has recurred several times throughout my ‘Deleuzian Cartography’ work. I’ve come to think of it largely as a signifier of failing or corrupted memory - both metaphorically, and as it might appear on a screen. However, in the context of these war-related pieces, maybe such motifs could imply other forms of corruption too. Whether that’s the corruption of moral integrity, of international law, of political credibility, of democracy - or purely of the venal kind (such as allows real estate deals to be struck on the side of supposed conflict resolution talks), I’ll leave for you to decide...

[1.]:  Reza Negarestani, 'Cyclonopedia', Melbourne, Aus, re.press, 2008

[2.]:  Particularly in: Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari, 'A Thousand Plateaus, Capitalism and Schizophrenia', (Trans. Brian Massumi), London, Bloomsbury, 1987/2001.

 

'[dc]War Machine 01', Acrylics, Paper Collage & Mixed Media on Panel,
300 mm x 300 mm, 2026

Having spent a relatively long period of time methodically developing my ‘[dc]circuit’ suite of paintings, it felt necessary to throw-out something new rather more spontaneously as spring arrived  - and perhaps, something with a few fewer layers of obscure ‘meaning’. As it transpired, Trumpo the Clown and his handler, Bibi, chose to embark on their absurdist attack on the theocratic dystopia of Iran around the same time (what could possibly go wrong?). Consequently, this little panel emerged fairly rapidly as a straightforward reaction to news events. It should require relatively little explanation, I suspect.

Despite its topicality, this piece still finds a place under the general banner of ‘Deleuzian Cartography’. The cartographic element here represents Kharg Island - Iran’s major oil terminal facility, and one of immense geo-political, economic and strategic significance. The weaponry sight motif is an obvious choice, although there is perhaps a small degree of semantic/semiotic nuance to be garnered from the overlaying of a sight, over a site, and the implications one may have for the other. The whole notion of de/territoralisation is clearly at the forefront of any war scenario in crude geographic terms. Sadly, the infantile hyperbole of ‘obliteration’ or ‘decimation’ casually thrown around by the psychos prosecuting this conflict indicates that they’re unlikely to ever get much further than simply grabbing land/assets, massacring school children and blowing stuff up. Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of constructive deterritorialisation is far more sophisticated and nuanced than they could ever hope to understand, and any hopes for a constructive paradigm shift must remain dim, at best.

Similarly, the idea of a ‘War Machine’ is equally clichéd at first glance. However, D&G’s concept of the same is somewhat less familiar - being concerned with the nomadic imperative to be in constant progress towards renewal and innovation. For them it is the engine that drives their desired-for state of perpetual ‘becoming’. The Machine/impulse only becomes about war per se, once it is captured and formalised by the a state in order to further its own ends - be they driven by apocalyptic faith, psychopathic narcissism, all-consuming  greed, or even just the megalomaniacal need to bolster a political base. Thus is it shifted from a vital force, to one with only catastrophic effects.

Inevitably, one thing leads to another, and so there are already a couple more of these war-related pieces also completed. However, as I type this, some kind of supposed ‘deal’ to end the conflict is being touted in the news media, so perhaps there will no real need to produce any more (at least in the interests of topicality). I guess we’ll see…