About

Jeremy Coplan is a professor of Psychiatry located in Brooklyn, New York, and an artist since childhood. Self taught, he ventured into the world of digital art after recognizing the artistic value of neurohistological visuals, and merging that with his his surrealist and abstract roots. Born in Harare, Zimbabwe on March 2, 1960, he left at the age of four and finally relocated to Johannesburg, South Africa, at the age of 12.  At the age of 13, after fortuitously stumbling on a small collection of old but barely used art books at the local library, he became fascinated by the Surrealist Movement and intrigued by the concept that art could represent an outflow of the subconscious mind.  He began painting in oils, depicting surrealist themes derived from imagination and subsequently used pencil on paper to create personalized landscapes and figures. Works by De Chirico, Dali and Magritte were intensely studied and provided a staple diet for inspiration. The surrealist phase continued for 25 years at which point Coplan developed an interest in Abstract Expressionism.  Rather than continuing his work with oils, which, according to Coplan, were limited by virtue of a certain non-plasticity, he began to experiment with art produced on a computer. The goal of this early phase was to generate digital images that capitalized on the potential for rapid application of rich, contrasting colors. Despite the common perception that computer-generated art stands to be emotionally sterile and thematically derivative, Coplan's works attempt to show that the dynamic artistic process behind digital art is fueled by the creative force derived from the flow of the subconscious.

Abstraction One

Personal  Manifesto

The personal computer stands as one of the greatest of all human inventions.  Yet, at the end of the day, the PC remains a tool, just as the Mousterian spearhead represented state-of-the-art technology for Early Man.  Nevertheless, few would argue that the PC, with all its geopolitical implications, has not catalyzed much in the way of spirituality of the intellect. Our spiritual being, if not entirely dissipated by its ubiquity, exists alongside a formidable force, the purportedly sterile PC. However, even the crudest tool, if true to its purpose,  inevitably becomes an object of great awe. 

These images depicted on this website endeavor to reflect the utility of the computer as integral to the creation of art -- for all pieces, no pen has touched paper, no brush, canvas.  Skeptics no doubt will, and have, discounted the creative potential of computer-generated art,  lacking a capacity for both texture and depth, essential ingredients to the aesthetics of art appreciation.

However, as I have delved into a realm reminiscent of the metaphysical -- defined as an otherwordly state of unreality brimming with subconscious  symbolism  --my consternation has dwindled, the voices of discouraging sentiment becoming ever more  faint.  You, as the viewer, may acertain whether the images herein elicit an enigmatic stirring of the soul, an awakening of that mental compartment which is least accessible to our conscious machinations. If I have failed in this humble quest, I have no doubt others have and will succeed in their depiction of metaphysical digitalism.  Will the "sterile" computer ultimately serve as an instrument in the service of that which is quintessentially human -- the creation of visual art? To this, I present to you Abstraction One.

Jeremy Coplan

November 17, 2006. Revised June 28th, 2015.

Additional Notes on Cave Art Influences

Most of Man's artistic history is in fact one of prehistory.  One of the defining features of our species was the origin of cave art.  In fact, no other terrestrial being has devoted valuable time and energy to the creation of images seemingly bereft of direct advantage to the acquisition of food, water and procreation.  Although the precise role cave art played in the ancestral psyche may never be determined, the enduring value of art is reflected in the modern era, where celebrated works command increasingly exorbitant price tags.  No doubt, cave art served a critical and integral process in the life fabric of our primitive hunter and gather forebears.  Rather than being ostentatiously and overtly displayed, consistent with the materialistic demeanor of our time, art was not infrequently located in accessible locations, and could only be viewed following substantial physical ardor.  Whether art provided a crucial component to the ambiance of initiation rituals, or as yet other to be determined functions, we assume, based on their remote location, that art images were intended to evoke an undiluted emotional response, unfettered by extraneous cues reminiscent of daily drudgery.  Based on the techniques employed by the early artists, maximum impact of the art work was elicited by a sudden lighting of the cave surface, presumably achieved by exposure to a bright light source such as a blazing torch strategically placed by an elder of the clan.  Such information underlines the pivotal communicative value art was capable of producing on the highly evolved human sensory apparatus. 

Stemming from observations of extant primary cultures, our ancestors were fervent worshipers of their own ancestral spirits.  Although to many moderns, ancestral worship may appear archaic and primitive,  there are a number of pertinent reasons that argue that this is not the case.  First, based on the existence of their progeny, ancestors had successfully negotiated a hostile environment at least evidently to the procreative phase.  Even to this day, many religions implore the ancestral spirits to guide the embattled individual through the vicissitudes of his or her time with fortitude.  Second,  our species has a singularly prolonged mourning process.  Although mothers of many species may mourn the untimely demise of their offspring,  the concept of an extended parental mourning process, even for decades, if not a lifetime, is an enduring feature of our stock.    The worship of ancestral spirits integrates this seemingly unique human feature into its culture.    Third, the ancestral spirits would have intimate knowledge of the world of the ancients.  Instead, we have conjured up faceless gods, who are aware of our plights only through a projected vague omniscience.  Why all the talk about ancestral worship?  It is speculated that the cave wall was that barrier between the living and the dead.  The cave wall was therefore imbued with supernatural powers, and provided that substrate from which the artistic font arose.  What better place to catch the viewers attention, but at that interface between progeny and ancestry.  However, to our intelligent yet concrete cousins, the Neanderthals,  a cave wall was just a cave wall.  Humans evolved the capacity, instead, to achieve altered states in which the creative spirit could fluidly ascend.  These altered states were frequently facilitated by the use of hallucinogenic plant extracts, but it should be emphasized that the use of extraneous substances was in the service of an active spiritual experience, rather than the passive stance typified by modern hallucinogen ingestion.  In fact, the spiritual human mind is quite capable of experiencing dissociative states, venturing into the hallucinogenic realm, without external props.   The practice of drawing artistic inspiration  from perceptions derived from these altered states are arguably at the root of human creativity, and have been embraced by such artists as Blake, Dali, DeChirico and Miro.  In the context of the rich tapestry invoked by the speluncular cyber-surface, archetypal ancestral worship  and as homage to the hallucinatory capacity of the human psyche, the artist has endeavored to capture images that are reminiscent of this process.

November 23rd, 2006