I grew up in a small community four miles by paved road from a tiny town in Northeast Texas. It was comprised of the Spring Hill Presbyterian Church and a scattering of surrounding farms. Though I shared no blood with anyone other than my immediate family, I had a plethora of Aunts, Uncles, Grandmas, and Grandpas - all the elders were honorary members of the family to the children of the community. We were all hard scrabble farmers, but a child could not have had a richer start in life. That spot of dirt is sacred to me to this day even though it has since been mostly abandoned, split in half by a new interstate highway, and gouged to create a pipeline serving the future water needs of a spreading metroplex to the south. My roots are there and they run deep.

I wasn't thinking of those old "stomping grounds" when I began my latest project. I had been inspired by a story in the New York Times about a study conducted using nonsense words to describe images. It turns out that human beings across all sorts of cultures respond in remarkably similar ways in terms of associating sounds with shapes (if you are curious, look up "Kiki or Bouba" or the work of psychologist Wolfgang Kohler in the late 1920s). I'm still fascinated by that original idea and I'm likely to return to it at some point. But this project took on a mind of its own and I found myself compelled to follow. From maps of my childhood landscape, Quadrangle grew to offer you topographical maps of imaginary places, our own internal landscapes.

I have been creating generative art for almost a year now. From the beginning, I have wanted to incorporate my experimental photography into my generative work, believing deep in my heart that the combination of the analog and digital offers a rich vein of creativity that surpasses either used in isolation. This is the first piece in which I have allowed myself to delve into those possibilities. Honestly, I was put off by the disdain that I sometimes felt coming from the genArt community for works that used any pre-rendered components. I also wanted to truly learn the art of creative coding. I wanted to stand as strong in that practice as I did in my long standing experimental photography practice, and I succeeded in reaching a point of competence. However, I have, throughout that process, remained a photographer. My truest delight comes from the generative power of light and chemistry.

These Quadrangles are multi-layered compositions. Bits and pieces of my chemigrams form one of the layers. And perhaps it is entirely appropriate that my call to incorporate my photography is honored, for the first time, by a project that so intimately harks to my deepest being.

What are these chemigrams, you might ask. A chemigram is produced by repeated applications of photographic developer and fixer to black and white darkroom paper in the presence of light - ordinary room light, or even bright sunlight. Resists are typically used, and as they erode away, intricate patterns form. Surprisingly, color also develops. The process is a symphony I conduct, making split second decisions that influence the output, but never fully in control of the agents of chemistry and physics in performance. Add to the mix the fact that old, expired papers are often the best substrates, though wildly unpredictable, and you have an endlessly fascinating way of whiling away whole days.

In Quadrangle, I offer you the opportunity to share in this process with me. To play in these fields. To get lost in your memories and emotions. There I hope you find the landscape of your very own being.

Love and creativity always,

Wanda