Experimenting with the "murmuration method"

This series began during a late-night music session, soundtracked by prog and punk, genres that, for me, occupy the same emotional and intellectual space as the images I was working with. 

I had enlarged a set of underwater dog photographs, absurd and endearing, and found myself compelled to layer them with handwritten lyrics from the music playing around me. It felt instinctive, almost compulsive, immediate and playful. Like I was trying to find a way of translating rhythm into mark-making and layering emotion with visual and sonic chaos. 

The process was raw and physical. I ended up squeezing the last of the paint out of my Posca pens with my teeth, splattering colour across the photocopies, my hands, and my face. That energy — unfiltered and urgent — became part of the work. The result feels like a continuation of my exploration into murmuration and collective intelligence: a conversation between instinct, rhythm, and the beautiful mess of human creativity. The phrase "murmuration method" is a development of my reflections on quorum intelligence. A continued exploration of how collective intelligence might inform the act of making itself, and facilitate the collaborative generation of work that is greater than the sum of it's parts.

If anything, I’d like to push the looseness further, to see how much rawness the process can hold before it falls apart completely. To be continued.