Studying Chance in Fine Art

THE EVEL KNIEVELS OF CONTEMPORARY ART

It’s a risky business but you can’t reap the big rewards without taking big chances. The Movement of Aleatoric Modern Artists are a new breed of risk takers who willingly allow the forces of nature to play a part in their work. And the results are naturally amazing. When an element of uncertainty is intentionally incorporated into the concept and creation of a work of art it is referred to as “Aleatoric Art.” Examples of aleatoric methods can be seen in fine art from thousands of years past up to recent periods- the method became a style, then a school and now thanks to the dedicated efforts of its founders and members, the Movement of Aleatoric Modern Artists (MAMA) is coming on strong with 50 representatives displaying works in a variety of disciplines, all with one thing in common: their collaboration with nature and the laws of that govern the universe. From this microcosm of natural selection only the strongest survivors are presented. You will at times be fascinated by how nature mocks the forms and figures of traditional art, or marvel at the beauty found in chaos when captured and presented by an Aleatoric Master.

-Ray Cabarga

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A partnership with the universe
— Ray Cabarga

 As we advance half-wittingly toward a future portending undereducated artificial intelligence and cultural sensory deprivation, the needs of the techno-industrial-economic event horizon, by its own all-consuming power, taking priority over those of our fragile mother planet and it’s hapless inhabitants, an equal and opposite reactionary movement has been quietly set in contrary motion with the human desire for the perpetual celebration of mellifluous cacophony as its primary impetus. We call it the Movement of Aleatoric Modern Artists. For in fact the gift of our existence was never in any peril as we seem to believe having apparently forgotten one of the first laws with which Sir Isaac Newton attempted to nullify our inertia toward ignorance.

The counterbalancing force of which we speak has already taken root and broken ground, the evidence of which is the art within these pages. Art that was inherited as a gift, a gift we valued, preserved for posterity, and used to seed our creative fields in cyclical cooperation with our fertile benefactor. Art that refuses to be denied by the myopic philistines who’s only gauge of excellence is their own inability to discern the illusiory from the material.

With monetary value in the mass consumer market as the validating criteria, many among us continue to deluge the venues meant for the sacred brainchildren of true masters with commercialized, decorative, wall filler, formulaic falsehoods not worth the frames with which they’re fitted, lowering our standards and perpetuating the cultural decay that undermines the power of discernment that has been all but lost in our society.

And so, like an accidental army of brilliant blunderers, we the aleatoric artisans of the modern era gather up the sacred relics thoughtlessly discarded by the blind and belligerent, wipe the dust of despair from their tarnished facades, nurture their timeless beauty back to it’s original luster and hold them up to the sun, high and proud as a tribute to our humble beginnings and our ultimate inevitable departure. A legacy of our collaborative partnership with the universe. Evidence for future generations that some of us did respect our distant ancestral forbears, we did revere the primordial ooze whence we originated, we did give credit to the stardust that gave us the gift of life and we did live for something greater than ourselves. We lived for art. (Background painting by Allan Rodewald)