Daniel Hill: Interminable Circuitries
It’s hard to imagine an experience more mundane and yet more revelatory than tossing two or three stones into a calm, glassy surfaced pond. You see before you, suddenly, a simulation of one of physics’ most foundational insights—the superposition of multiple waves, traveling through a material medium. You can be forgiven for not taking notes, as you’re likely mesmerized by the expanding ripples, radiating outward from each of their points of origin. As the advancing rings begin to collide, you behold one of nature’s most beautiful spectacles, those quintessential interference patterns crisscrossing the pond’s surface, each of the waves passing magically through the others without altering their form.
I cannot think of another occasion that prompts, in equal measure, two radically different kinds of responses--cognitive and aesthetic. Cognitively, you can glean from this animated diagram the fundamental wavelike structures underpinning everything we see (optics) and hear (acoustics); aesthetically, it’s just really beautiful. And for this brief moment, these very dissimilar kinds of experience are inextricably entwined. All this makes for the perfect introduction to the artwork of Daniel Hill.
With all of the artists I feature in the Expanded Diagram Project, I am making the claim that at least one key feature of their practice is fueled by what I refer to as diagrammatic thinking. As much as I’ve thought about diagrammatic thinking, it continues to elude any singular definition or formula, as it manifests in each artist’s work in unique ways. I was initially attracted to Hill’s art not only for its sheer beauty and technical tour de force but because I sensed that “the diagrammatic” might better illuminate what is actually going on than most of the other art labels and categories on offer. Certainly the SciArt category comes to mind and for good reason. Throughout Hill’s own writings he makes it clear how much his visual and sonic art is informed and inspired by scientific discourse and practice. I make no claim to be the arbiter of what SciArt may or may not entail, but I suspect there are significant overlaps with critical features that I see in diagrammatically-based practices.
In my About Diagrams I write: “Diagrammatic art aspires to be more like verbs than nouns. They become fully diagrammatic not as static visual displays but rather as they are being actively engaged and ‘worked’ on.” I think this is a fair characterization of Hill’s art practice which seems to me, at its core, highly performative. In his own writings Hill characterizes his practice as an “embodied process.” Of course, his drawings and paintings exist in the world as static objects, but I would argue that they summon, through their exquisite materiality, the temporal process of their physical making and ultimately point beyond themselves to the workings of a more expansive and highly dynamic reality.
When I first saw Hill’s paintings, I instantly thought back to my past encounters with Islamic art in my travels in North Africa and Andalusia. Superficial and not so superficial affinities abound, such as the numerous bi-lateral and radial symmetrical compositions. I don’t wish to overplay this connection, as Hill’s art and much of what I am generalizing as “Islamic art” are coming out of two dissimilar cultural/historic contexts and are motivated by very different aspirations. Yet I feel the overlaps afford me the chance to illuminate important qualities of his work. For example, when I’m viewing his paintings, I can’t help but channel similar bewitching experiences when strolling among the interior and exterior surfaces of mosques and palaces, teeming with highly intricate, interlacing lines. There are no places for the eye to rest for more than a brief moment—nor are there in Hill’s pieces, even at their compositional “centers” that initially lure the gaze but immediately propel it outward along interminable circuitries of radiating lines.
And there is yet another intriguing affinity that highlights what, for me, is one of the most fascinating features of Hill’s paintings—one that eluded me until I actually saw them in person. Viewing both Hill’s work and so many Islamic artworks and wall decorations, one beholds similar artistic sensibilities that seek paradoxically to both enhance and to dissolve their surfaces. For example, the walls and ceilings of Alhambra, made with stone, stucco, and tiles, seem to dematerialize before your eyes, as you are transfixed by the dizzying arrays of interweaving floral and geometric patterns. A similar effect is conveyed with Hill’s paintings despite their very tangible, material presence. The lines themselves are raised markedly above the substrate, as they are applied not with a conventional brush but through a squeeze bottle. However, their high relief physicality is significantly tempered by the transparent qualities of the “interference” paint he uses. (I should point out that his use of interference paint makes for an insightful pun, considering that the paint is so often painting interference patterns.)
Toward the beginning of this writing I implied that one could engage Hill’s work on both aesthetic and cognitive registers. Aesthetically, we can’t help but respond to the work’s shimmering materiality and its elegant configurations of radiating lines. And at the same time, we are prompted to “make sense” of what we’re viewing, even if on a more tacit level, tracking below the threshold of our consciousness—somehow something is being diagrammatically explained.
So what exactly is being “explained” in Hill’s drawings and paintings? What is the “knowing” component of this aesthetic/cognitive dyad? Ultimately this is for Hill to answer, but I will take a stab and assume that science plays a big part. Although diagrams are not synonymous with science, they have historically been deployed as explanatory devices for any number of mathematical and scientific domains. Again, to quote from one of my earlier writings: “You can say that diagrams are to science what religious artworks are to theology: both address a persistent human craving to visualize that which cannot be seen.” Certainly this would apply, for example, to many theoretical conceptualizations and visualizations of quantum mechanics (e.g. Feynman’s diagrams). Here I’m making the claim that this aspect of diagrammatic thinking also pertains to Hill’s artistic practice, although in a much different context.
In an artist statement, Hill says, “My work is an exploration between vision and sound and the power of this connection to generate compelling visual environments.” So how might this “exploration” manifest in the actual artworks (for now, just considering his visual works)? As this is not the venue for a lengthy investigation, I will point to just one feature that presents itself—those interference patterns that I’ve mentioned several times already. Briefly, interference patterns occur when two or more waves intersect either constructively or destructively (see image below). Indeed, we see in Hill’s paintings how beautifully these kinds of patterns are performed. I emphasize “performed” to call attention to the actual real-time, bodily process of their making and also to what is a pervasive feature distinguishing many conventional diagrams and diagrammatic-based art practices—namely, the transfer of temporal functions and processes to static, graphic displays.
Finally, I need to emphasize that Hill’s paintings and drawings do not purport to operate as conventional diagrams, and thus there are no one-to-one correspondences of his marks to specific referents. And certainly they are not mere “illustrations” of his ideas and explorations. And yet I find that their extended viewing leaves me with a heightened appreciation of the infinitely complex organizing structures underpinning our visual and acoustic surround. Not an easy thing to visualize, but Hill’s artwork is an especially beautiful place to start.
For a more extensive view of Hill’s work, go to: https://www.danielhill.net/ or @kymatiko