Patterns

A subtle but important element in my digital imaging is the use of my own home-made patterns. They are incredibly useful, and can provide a background, a texture, or even a discreet colouration that can really lift and unify a composition. I tend to have favourites which I return to again and again, but eventually they become over-used and over-familiar, so periodically I make myself sit down for a few evenings to create some more. It's an absorbing, painstaking business, and surprisingly rewarding. I've got over one hundred to choose from now, mainly standardised to fill an A3 sheet.

The secret (apart from a high tolerance for repetitious labour) is to find the right "seed" from which to grow a pattern. The photograph above, for example – the reflection of a sunset-lit tree in a pool at Mottisfont Abbey – is an ideal source, from which I extracted this small section:

Which, with a fairly simple series of repetitions, became this exotic design:

Nice! It's like an Asian tiger-skin fabric print: I can imagine that selling well as a woman's headscarf, perhaps with the brightness tweaked a bit. The visual pleasure of such regularised irregularity is ancient, of course: there is archaeological evidence that block-printed fabrics were being made in India as long ago as 3000 BC. Even the least prepossessing material can yield an attractive design, when abstracted and repeated. How about this:

Which – again, after some manipulations, inversions, and repetitions – becomes this:

A rather fine carpet or even duvet cover design, I think, from the Atelier Idiotic Hat™, and available only from the classiest retailers at "how much?!" prices. Hey, listen, this kind of quality doesn't come cheap! Of course, a more minimal design is good, too, and often the most versatile. I like this one, for example, using a single feather:

Among its many potential uses, it makes a very useful texture, as for example here:

As I say, subtle, but effective, and well worth a few late nights working on the assembly line.