Abstract quadriptychs — what pretentious gobbledygook you might be thinking. But wait. I did not cook up this term myself. It’s an actual thing. And it means exactly what it says on the tin: an artwork comprising four panels, each of which is an abstract image. Why are we posting an article about this on Macfilos? Read on to find out.
I like modern art — the more abstract the better. In fact, I much prefer it to traditional, representational art. Such contemporary, abstract art is usually created by painters. But, given we are also exponents of a creative, visual medium, surely there is a role in modern art for photographers too.
We typically consider photography to be a means of documenting the world around us. We even label popular photographic genres as landscape, architecture, sport, street and so forth. However, we can also use it to create images whose relationship to the real world is barely discernible. This is the domain of abstract photography.
Repurposing pixels
Instead of a blank canvas, paint and brushes, we have pixels to work with. A photograph of a scene in nature, or the built environment, is full of them. All we have to do is abstract, then manipulate them to create a new, aesthetically pleasing image.
I have written about this topic several times for Macfilos, and so will not reiterate my thinking on the subject — you can find links in the table below. Instead, I will briefly describe a new aspect I have explored.
My interest in abstract photography has converged with another fascination — composite images. The occasion was a call from our local cultural arts commission for submissions to a forthcoming exhibition: In the Abstract. It was the perfect opportunity to tackle a new photographic project: abstract quadriptychs.
I wrote an article about a particular type of composite image — diptychs — the smaller sibling of triptychs, last year. The idea was to place two different, but somehow related, images on a single canvas. They might be subtly different views of the same scene, two conflicting perspectives, or even the same photograph, mirrored.
The intention was to create a new ‘higher-order’ image which has greater visual impact than the sum of its parts.
Bigger is better
When I first considered exploring the bigger, rather than smaller sibling of triptychs — quadriptychs — the idea seemed barmy. How could one possibly find four distinct, but related, images that would together form a coherent whole?
It then occurred to me that I already possessed them. They are readily available within the collection of geometric, abstract images I have built over several years. Importantly, they are all, purposely, in square format.
If one of these were sequentially rotated, three times, by ninety degrees, I could create exactly what I was after — four distinct but related images. Furthermore, their square format would allow me to ‘tile’ them, establishing a new, higher-order square image.
More than the sum of the parts
When I tried this out on the first abstract image that I felt had potential, the result was surprising and intriguing. I had created a four-fold symmetrical, Escher-like image resembling a confused gear wheel, bristling with multiple, non-interlocking planes. I liked it.
By the way, four-fold symmetry is a scientific term. If you rotate an object with four-fold symmetry by 90-degrees, it looks the same as when you started.
Viewed at a distance, so that it looks like a single image, the quadriptych represents two degrees of abstraction — two steps away from an original photograph. The first is abstraction of pixels from the picture I took; the second, assembly into a composite image.
I decided to keep a border around each sub-image, rather than have them abut one another, so that it is a compilation of four stand-alone images — a quadriptych. Viewers can therefore appreciate the individual panels, and the composite.
I explained how to incorporate multiple images into a canvas, using Photoshop, in an article last year (see link below).
Off and running
I have so far created five abstract quadriptychs using this approach. In each case, I used a root image with geometric features that ‘worked’ when replicated, rotated, and organised in this way.
Two of these, Quadriptych 2 and Quadryptiych 4, have been selected for inclusion in the forthcoming exhibition. As much as I look forward to hearing what visitors to the exhibition make of them, the process of creating them has been rewarding in itself.
I am certainly not the first person to have produced abstract quadriptychs, which are also sometimes referred to as tetraptychs. An online search revealed a large body of work exploiting this approach. However, all the examples I have found to date are paintings.
So, there is plenty of opportunity for us photographers to elbow our way into the abstract quadriptych crowd and make our mark.
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