Thoughts for the Void #08

Hello Void People!

If you look closely to the horizon around this time of year, you can just make out the glimmers of spring beginning to appear, and my god, I can’t wait. The grey, rainy winters in the U.K can be bleak. The country (both urban and rural) becomes a kind of flat grey mass - devoid of colour, light or shadow - which wears at your bones and eats into your confidence. But then the arrival of spring comes along and reminds you it isn’t so bad after all - new growth, longer days, more light and less grey. I can’t wait.

February has whizzed past, which is really its own fault - a month that is only 28 days long? The most pointless month. I have very little to show this month, so instead, let’s talk about amazing animation things. This month, a pioneer of computer animation, the superb Lillian Schwartz.

The Joys (and Horrors) of Lillian Schwartz

I first saw the work of Lillian Schwartz many moons ago when, late one night, I stumbled upon her film Pixellation (1970). It is hard to describe exactly what this film is - one description could simply be a kind of technological experiment of colour, sound, editing and pattern - a kind of play with emerging technologies of the time. But for me, watching Pixellation felt much more visceral - a haunting, intense and deeply impactful trip into the abyss and back again.

Give this a watch on the largest screen you can find, but be warned, it is a pretty intense piece and absolutely jam-packed with flashing imagery and mad sound, so you’ve been warned. This is Pixellation from 1970.

When I saw this for the first time (on a large screen with the sound cranked up) it immediately changed how I felt about abstract animation. Prior to this, the artform had always been a kind of pleasant and charming experiment - the abstract animators of animation theory classes (Fischinger, McLaren, Lye, etc.) were all good fun, but had a lightness of touch that never hit below the surface for me. But then Schwartz came along with this! A mind-bending visual assault - a non-stop, heart-pounding panic attack of strangeness. This wonderful interview with her (surrounded by CRT TV’s and digital equipment) is a gem.

Beyond the creative brilliance of her work, Schwartz was an experimenter and a pioneer. She became a kind of artist-in-residence at Bell Labs throughout the 70’s, producing works with the rapidly shifting technology of the times. And throughout all of this, her work voyaged into new realms that still linger in my brain all these years later. What a joy. Here is a clip from her 1971 film Olympiad.

Lillian Schwartz passed away in October 2024 at the age of 97, and what a life of making and experimenting. If, like me, you need something to knock away the winter cobwebs and reenergise you for the arrival of spring, then what could be better than the raw digital abstract animation of Lillian Schwartz.

Until next time.