The Art Journal
The Ancient Mariner's Sentience
The Ancient Mariner's Sentience The New York Times Book Review of Other Minds: The Octopus, the Sea, and the Deep Origins of Consciousness by Australian philosopher and diver Peter Godfrey Smith resonates strongly with the influences in my art and how viewers might perceive it. As a philosopher, Godfrey-Smith is seeking to explore and discover the elements of sentience. Sentience is defined as the capacity to feel, perceive, or experience subjectively. In Eastern philosophy sentience is a metaphysical quality of all things that requires respect and care. He has chosen the octopus as the backdrop for this journey as a result of his diving experiences interacting with these highly intelligent creatures in what he calls a "mutual engagement" observing their different individual personalities in behavior, at play and in recognition. Godfrey-Smith is more interested in his own behavior and intelligence as he interacts rather than the octopus. What is it he is feeling and how is he behaving in order to understand the world of the octopus and his interaction with it. This is the state of mind I am traversing in my work with the abstraction of reflections. I am not sure what a snapshot of a reflection might reveal until I have examined it. What aesthetic is the reflection revealing, how is it making meaning for me how does it affect me subjectively. Likewise how does it affect those who view, how does it make them feel , what do they think the image is about. As Godfrey-Smith writes...."Contrary to some philosophers’ assumptions, consciousness doesn’t just project out; it is a relationship in traffic with the outer world. Consciousness did not “suddenly irrupt into the universe fully formed,” Godfrey-Smith says. “Perception, action, memory — all those things creep into existence from precursors and partial cases.” Asking whether bacteria perceive or bees remember “are not questions that have good yes-or-no answers.” From minimal to elaborate sensing there’s a continuum, “and no reason to think in terms of sharp divides.” How beautifully he sums up the Ancient Mariner’s Sentience!
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2026: New Currents
“Embarking on a third career has filled me with purpose that has been therapeutic and fulfilling." A Change in the Business Model. After running commercially successful galleries for over a decade, I’ve decided the Manly Gallery will close on February 15. This isn’t a sad note — it’s a positive pivot. A physical gallery is a demanding full-time rhythm (and occupation) in itself, and I’m ready to focus my energy on the next phase of the work. For those who enjoy seeing the art in person: my Australian Sydney-based studio will be available for private visits by appointment — a chance to view work and talk through potential acquisitions in a quieter, more personal setting. 2026: The New Currents This year I’m concentrating on three key things: Building an online-first model (with pop-up exhibitions) I’m going to focus on an online-first approach, rather than the ongoing, day-to-day demands of a permanent gallery space. This will allow me to stay connected with you while creating more work — and creating it with more breathing room.It won’t preclude short-term exhibitions in different locations around the globe — if anything, it makes those opportunities easier to say yes to.Creating new work more regularly (and exploring new directions) I want to spend more time doing what I love most: making new work — more consistently, and with the freedom to follow some fresh creative paths.One direction I’m particularly excited about is developing a mixed media exhibition: a series of one-off artworks combining photography with acrylic on canvas. FLOW — a major project five years in the making I’ve been developing a multimedia experience built around my work, titled FLOW. I’ll share more as it takes shape through the year, but it’s a project I’m deeply excited about. A Heartfelt Thank You From Austria to America to Australia - not to forget Brazil, Canada, China, England, France, Germany, India, Ireland, Italy, Latvia, Lebanon, New Zealand, Norway, Portugal, Scotland, Singapore, United Arab Emirates (and my apologies if I have missed your country) — moments from a decade, generously shared by collectors and clients. The only reason I can make this shift with confidence is because of you — my collectors and clients — and the genuine belief you’ve shown in my work. Whether you acquired a small piece or a major work, your support has helped build what has become a highly successful international practice in fine art photography over the last decade. I’m honestly proud of what we’ve built together, and I feel very fortunate to have met so many of you through my work or in one of my galleries. Collector Photos and Reviews These collector in situ photos mean a lot to me — thank you for letting the work live in your homes and lives. If you’re not included here, please accept my apologies. I have many more wonderful photos than can fit in a single email and a lot more I need to add to the collectors' collection — and I’m grateful for every one. Thank you again for your support, your encouragement, and for being part of this journey. Wishing you a brilliant 2026 — productive, peaceful, and full of possibility. Warm regards, Ralph
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The Future of Brightness 2: After the Unthinkable
The Future of Brightness 2 - “Brightness isn’t naïve—sometimes it’s what we reach for after the unthinkable…” Ralph Kerle I’m still trying to make sense of what happened in Bondi Beach, Sydney this week. I’m probably as confused as everyone. I can’t get my head around how a father and son — regardless of colour, creed, or religion — could join together in something so brutal that it destroys not only the lives of the people they killed or maimed, but also their own lives and the lives of their families. This simply doesn’t feel like Australia. Signing the condolence book in Manly, I felt a familiar national reflex: the instinct to stand together, to look after our own — and, honestly, the blunt desire many of us feel right now to ban guns completely. Not as a slogan, but as a protective impulse. A collective “never again”. Then, this afternoon, something genuinely strange — almost serendipitous — happened. While I was searching for a new work to release this week, an image I hadn’t looked at since the bushfire horrors of 2020 suddenly popped back up: The Future of Brightness. Not planned. Not searched for. It simply reappeared in the archive at a moment when the country feels unsettled and bruised yet again. Back then I named it The Future of Brightness because it seemed to hold two realities at once: the harshness and shock of fire… and also a stubborn, glowing sense of the land — ancient Australia, the wide country, girt by sea — still there, still bigger than us, still carrying on. When I returned to look at the series as a whole, the next image surfaced beside it — a work I’ve now released as The Future of Brightness 2. It carries elements that are hard for me to ignore. There’s an epicness in it — awe, scale, and a kind of luminous heat — and beneath that, something that feels deeply Australian: togetherness, mateship, resilience, and a clear-eyed optimism that refuses to vanish, even when we’re shaken. I also can’t look at this work without acknowledging Tim Storrier’s influence on me — not in imitation, but in spirit. Storrier’s love of the Australian landscape, his insistence on its authority and its emotional weight, has always resonated. The land in his work is never just backdrop; it’s witness, pressure, endurance. That way of holding the landscape as something vast and morally present has stayed with me, and it’s part of how I understand what my own images are doing when they arrive at moments like this. Maybe that’s part of the old story we carry — the sunburnt country, the myth of Gallipoli — not as nostalgia, but as a reminder of who we can be when things go wrong. I’m offering The Future of Brightness 2 as a meditation: on our harsh and beautiful land, on our human tragedies, and on the light we try to protect — together — as we find a way forward.
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Metallic Witness: How a Community Named a Work of Art
Metallic Witness - Named by Shane Smedley, Melbourne. Australia Every artwork begins with an intention, but I’m reminded again and again that its life begins when it enters the eyes — and imagination — of others. Over the past month, I invited my Art Journal subscribers into something I’ve never done before: a genuine co-creation. A new artwork of mine, previously untitled, was placed before you all with a simple question: What should this work be called? Thirty-one people responded. And what unfolded was one of a most fascinating exercises in understanding perception, naming, and the beholder’s role in my practice. The Clear Winner: Metallic Witness Metallic Witness - named by Shane Smedley, Melbourne Australia From very early on, one title started to rise above the rest: Metallic Witness, submitted by one of my longtime collectors, Shane Smedley from Melbourne. Shane’s title earned 19 votes — miles ahead of the next closest options (Espresso Chemistry and Liquid Resonance), both with two each. Even my personal favourite, Alchronea, only received one. What was remarkable is that even when I completely changed the order of the options in subsequent MailChimp emailings — moving Metallic Witness from #3 in the first mailing to #18 in the second — the voting pattern did not budge. It remained the dominant choice throughout. That told me something. People weren’t simply scanning a list — they were responding to a narrative. And that narrative came from Shane’s beautifully articulated explanation of why Metallic Witness emerged for him. Why the Title Resonated With Me As soon as I read Shane’s response, I understood why it struck such a universal chord — and why it aligned so closely with my own thinking as the beholder of my own work. Matisse famously said:“The artist never really sees his work.”I feel this every day. Shane turned the image 180 degrees and saw something I had not consciously articulated but fully recognised once he put words to it — a silent, metallic being standing at the edge of a void, watching, witnessing, absorbing the scream of empty space. His words captured the tension, stillness, and otherworldly presence I felt but had not yet named. Here is his full response: Why did you choose the title “Metallic Witness”? I turned the image 180 degrees. The image showed me a metallic being. A being witnessing the silence. The silence of space. The scream of the void. Filled with a single planet. An expressionless being. It witnesses the scream of the void. It doesn’t care. It only witnesses. The cold hard metal. The steel of the witness. What feeling, story, or idea does the work evoke? Through the interplay of light, reflection, and form, Metallic Witness explores the tension between presence and absence.A reflective surface transforms into an anthropomorphic figure — a silent observer in space.Why is there an observer here? What is the bigger purpose? The silence. The scream. Cold. Hard. Dark. Devoid of light. The very thing that defines photography.The emptiness. The witness. The metal. The question.Organic forms yet metal. The fluidity of metal. Metal is fluid at temperature. In this cold place, it is solid yet fluid.A juxtaposition of cold and hard with something wet and fluid, yet not.It is devoid. The blackness of velvet. The silence within a scream. The futile scream without oxygen.Yet no oxygen is needed for this being. It is a witness. A being with a purpose that one can only consider the past, the future, the intention. The question. The work invites contemplation of perception, isolation, and the blurred boundary between the mechanical and the organic. What struck me most was his framing of the work not as an object, but as a presence — something alive. That insight is at the heart of my practice. My Personal Favourite: Alchronea Though not the winning title, I want to honour another extraordinary contribution — Alchronea, submitted by smartenstyn@gmail.com. Unfortunately, I have no record of this contributor’s name. This reflection captured the work through the lens of alchemy — transformation, heat, time, and ancient craft. It moved me deeply: Why Alchronea? I was taken to an ancient place… observing a pot or forge heated to alchemize and transform substances.The image has the real sense of alchemy — heating, cooling, vapours, evaporation.It evokes the past and the present, and ideas of future possibilities forged from ancient wisdom. And further: This piece represents a moment of stillness in time — yet the vertical and horizontal lines move energetically between the past and future.They evoke vapours emitted during the alchemic process and the electromagnetic connection between ancient practices and unknown future technologies.Your transformative process of changing the background… feels like the very definition of alchemy. These words reaffirmed something powerful for me:The act of naming is itself a creative process — a form of beholding. What This Experiment Taught Me This naming experiment revealed more than just a title. It confirmed my belief, inspired by Dr. Eric Kandel’s notion of unconscious inference, that viewers bring their own histories, emotions, and subconscious associations to my work — often seeing what I cannot. And that is the true beauty of this art form. From today forward, this artwork carries its new name: Metallic Witness A name gifted by the community, shaped by perception, and chosen by the collective eye. Thank you to everyone who took part — this has been one of the most engaging and illuminating experiments of my career.
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Nature’s Faces: The Artwork That Revealed Itself in an Instant
I photographed this reflection yesterday. There was no long contemplation, no weeks of uncertainty — just that electric moment when something catches your eye, and you instinctively know: there’s something here. At first, what drew me in wasn’t the faces at all. It was the three-degree effect — that razor-thin angle where the water’s surface tilts just enough to bend the world into abstraction. For me, these moments are pure instinct: immediate art, created in real time, guided by perception rather than intention. Looking at the raw photograph, I was fascinated by the distortion — the way metal, sky, and shadow melted into soft curves and fluid geometry. I wasn’t thinking about meaning. I was responding to movement, light, and the way the harbour seemed to paint with its own hand. Then, almost immediately, something shifted. Within minutes of reviewing the file, I saw eyes appearing. Contours forming. Profiles revealing themselves. It felt like the image was opening itself up — as if nature had taken the lead, and my only job was to witness what it wanted to show me. Curious, I asked ChatGPT to help me understand why these faces appeared so clearly, even though I hadn’t seen them when I pressed the shutter. The explanation was simple and yet deeply aligned with my practice: The water offers the distortions. Light shapes the forms. And the subconscious completes the picture. Photography becomes a translator between three worlds — the physical scene, the fluid behaviour of water, and the human impulse to find meaning in the abstract. This is why Nature’s Faces feels like it exists in two dimensions simultaneously: the literal world of reflection and the imagined world of identity and expression What should be a flat image instead carries presence — a sense that the water has momentarily shown its personality. The title came immediately: Nature’s Faces. Because that’s exactly what it felt like — nature revealing the many selves hidden within its surface. To push this discovery further, I created a short AI-driven film that visualises this moment of emergence — the way an abstract reflection suddenly takes shape, shifts, breathes, and becomes something more. I invite you to watch the film. The faces that appear may not be the ones I see — they’ll be the ones you bring to the encounter.
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Just Gentle: The Day the Water Smiled Back
There’s a very particular kind of moment when I know I’m no longer just out on the water – I’m on the edge of an artwork. Most days, that moment never comes. People sometimes imagine that every time I take the kayak out, I come home with something magical. The reality is very different. I can paddle for days – even weeks – without seeing anything that feels like a real possibility. The weather might be flat, the wind might be up, the tide might be wrong. The sun is too high, or too low, or behind cloud. The water is choppy, the reflections are dull, or the colours simply don’t speak. Those days are part of the practice. They’re like turning up to the studio and sweeping the floor. Necessary, but unglamorous. And then there are the other days. Every now and again, nature decides to shine on you. The light is right, the wind drops, the surface of the water turns into something between glass and silk. You feel less like you’re on top of the water and more as if you’ve been invited into it – embedded in it, if that’s possible. The physical, spiritual and mental all seem to line up. Your body is paddling, but your mind is very, very still. Just Gentle came out of one of those days. I remember feeling as though I wasn’t separate from the scene in front of me. The reflections weren’t just “out there” to be captured; I felt like I was inside them. The blue was soft, the ripples were slow and unhurried, and there was a lightness in the air that I can still feel in my shoulders when I think about it. When I raised the camera, it wasn’t a dramatic “this is it!” moment. It was quieter than that – a calm certainty. Something in me recognised that this wasn’t just a beautiful patch of water; it was the beginning of an artwork. I took the photograph almost as a reflex, as if the water and the camera had already agreed what they wanted to do and I was just there to press the button. Back in the studio, when the image came up on the screen, I had the odd sensation of stepping back into the kayak again. Every time I look at Just Gentle, I feel as though I’m right back there on the water, in that exact patch of blue, taking that exact photograph. It’s not nostalgia – it’s presence. The work doesn’t so much hang on the wall in front of me as open a little door back into that moment of stillness. And the artwork smiles back. That might sound strange, but that’s how I experience it. There’s a softness in Just Gentle that feels almost like a personality – calm, welcoming, quietly joyful. It doesn’t shout for attention. It doesn’t demand interpretation. It just sits there, breathing slowly, inviting you to do the same. As an artist, there’s a wonderful and slightly dangerous test for a new work: “Would I live with this myself?” Most works I’m happy to send out into the world for others to live with. But every so often, something appears that touches me so deeply I have to seriously consider keeping it. Just Gentle is one of those pieces. I can very easily imagine it on my own wall, printed very large, filling a room with that soft, blue stillness. Perhaps that’s the real sign that a moment on the water has become more than a photograph. It has become a place you can return to – not just as the artist who made it, but as anyone who stands in front of it and lets themselves be carried, for a few seconds, into something just… gentle.
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The Untitled Artwork Experiment A Collaboration Between Artist and Beholder
Artwork Awaiting A Title The Story Every artwork starts with an intention, but it really comes alive when someone else looks at it. For months this new piece has sat in my “possibilities” folder – a dark, mysterious field with a single golden sphere glowing at its centre. I knew there was something powerful there, but it still felt unfinished without a title that came from beyond my own point of view. That's why I launched "The Untitled Artwork Experiment." The goal was simple yet profound: to step back and allow the Art Journal community—you—to title the work. I asked you to look, to feel, and to tell me the story, idea, or feeling that led you to your title suggestion. The response has been incredible, transforming a solo creation into a genuine public collaboration. Below is a short summary of the findings, dissecting the 21 unique responses and the dominant themes. After reviewing the short summary on themes, you'll find the individual submission responses below with a link for you to caste your vote on the favourite title. The author of the winning title will receive a 50 x 50 signed limited edition with a Certificate of Authenticity in the chosen name of the artwork. What you saw in the image Twenty-one of you responded, and every single person offered a different title. Some were anchored in mood and atmosphere. Others leaned into science and energy. And then there were the poets and storytellers. The Themes that emerged: A play between darkness and light – shafts of brightness cutting through a deep, almost cosmic black. The sensation of looking into water rather than at it: depth, reflection, “something beneath the surface.” A tension between calm and unease – words like “calm,” “silence,” and “stillness” sitting beside “suspense,” “storm,” and “tension.” An ongoing fascination with alchemy and transformation – elements combining, time passing, something changing state. And, again and again, the sense of a watchful eye – that golden ellipse in the centre reading as a gaze looking back. In other words, you confirmed something I’ve always believed: the artwork doesn’t really “exist” until it meets the beholder. Each response completed the image in a unique way. Now it’s time to choose the title The Untitled Experiment: Full Viewer Responses See all 21 reponses. Please choose one title only – one vote per person. When the poll closes, the most-voted title will become the official name of the artwork, and I’ll share the result (and a little reflection on it) in a future Art Journal entry plus the winner’s name (if the winner permits it to be published). Submission 1 Midnight Dreaming 2. Title Reason: It darkness is midnight dark, but the dreaming light, soft ochre and blues are calming, almost like you are half awake and half asleep, just in that intersection of conscious and unconscious 3. Evoked Idea: like i sad above, the intersection of conscious and unconscious, i feel a sense of calm, i feel like my breath slowed to a steady pace, and the air i breathe out it cool, like i feel my body sinking and slowly relaxing, i can feel all the muscles in my body relax Submission 2 Electric Blue 2. Title Reason: A cathode ray in its dying days melting into oblivion. The last ray of sunshine before its inevitable demise. 3. Evoked Idea: A sad farewell to a bygone era that can only be felt with the experience of aging Submission 3 Espresso chemistry 2. Title Reason: that beautiful crema coloured circle reminds me of a morning coffee freshly made by a barista artiste. Love it 3. Evoked Idea: rich, luxurious feeling supported by the dark mysterious background. The movement of the barista is captured along with the machine making that cup of gold Submission 4 The Metallic Witness 2. Title Reason: I turned the image 180 degrees. The image showed me a metallic being. A being witnessing the silence. The silence of space. The scream of the void. Filled with a single planet. An expressionless being. It witnesses the scream of the void. It doesn’t care. It only witnesses. The cold hard metal. The steel of the witness. 3. Evoked Idea: Through the interplay of light, reflection, and form, Metallic Witness explores the tension between presence and absence. A reflective surface transforms into an anthropomorphic figure — a silent observer in space. Why is there an observer here? What is the bigger purpose? The silence. The scream. Cold. Hard. Dark. Devoid of light. The very thing that defines photography. The emptiness. The witness. The metal. The question. Organic forms yet, metal. The fluidity of metal. Metal is fluid at temperature. In this cold place, it is solid, yet fluid. A juxtaposition of cold and hard with something wet and fluid, yet not. It is devoid. The blackness of velvet. The silence within a scream. The futile scream without oxygen. Yet no oxygen is needed for this being. It is a witness. A being with a purpose that one can only consider the past, the future, the intention. The question. The work invites contemplation of perception, isolation, and the blurred boundary between the mechanical and the organic. Submission 5 Dielectric Closeness 2. Title Reason: The term "Dielectric" is a scientific term referring to an electrical insulator that can be polarized by an electric field—meaning it stores electrical energy without conducting the current. In a physical sense, it is the medium separating two charged conductors (like the space between the plates of a capacitor). I chose this term because it perfectly captures the state of erotic tension: Tension Without Release: The "bodies" or charged elements in the photo are intensely close ("Closeness"), but the medium separating them (the tension, the anticipation, the protocol) prevents immediate contact. Maximum Potential: The forces of attraction are maximized and stored, creating a powerful, humming potential energy. The erotic charge is palpable, yet insulated and contained. Sci-Fi Feel: The word "Dielectric" grounds the concept in cold, clinical physics, providing the necessary futuristic, slightly sterile framework for the abstract image. 3. Evoked Idea: The primary emotion is Agonizing, Clinical Yearning. It is desire stripped of sloppy human emotion and rendered as pure, geometric force. There is a deep, controlled frustration—a recognition that the peak experience is not the contact itself, but the sustained, razor-thin distance just before it. Submission 6 Insects vibes 2. Title Reason: Because I saw a cotchineal beetle there & it can be used for many things ,products ,& the surrounding force field electric blue . 3. Evoked Idea: The unknown magnetic field & forces insects experiencing. Submission 7 Sailing on a Changed Mirror 2. Title Reason: I see Ralph's continued devotion to nautical reflection and feel that he might be a bit ambivalent about the new alteration, and I hope he embraces happily the changed mirror in this image. 3. Evoked Idea: Stepping forward into a new space, wondering ... Submission 8 Canoodles 2. Title Reason: I can see canoe oars pulling spaghetti through the water 3. Evoked Idea: I feel I must focus on the light and stay away from the dark Submission 9 Natural high or relaxed chaos 2. Title Reason: Because it looks like a misshapen bong 3. Evoked Idea: Relaxed chaos Submission 10 Liquid Resonance 2. Title Reason: When I looked at the image, I felt an immediate sense of vibration — as though light itself was humming through the surface of the water. The reflections aren’t static; they bend and pulse, creating rhythmic waves of line and color that feel almost musical. The deep indigo tones give the image a meditative depth, while the golden and ivory highlights ripple like sound made visible. The title “Liquid Resonance” expresses that interplay — the idea that water holds memory, vibration, and energy. It’s not just reflecting what’s above, it’s responding — resonating — to it. The image feels like a visual echo of something unseen, a moment where light and movement find harmony in fluid form. 3. Evoked Idea: For me, “Liquid Resonance” evokes a feeling of quiet intensity — a moment suspended between calm and movement. There’s a sense of mystery beneath the surface, as if the water is translating unseen energies into shifting light and form. Emotionally, it feels meditative yet alive — the kind of stillness where you can almost hear the silence hum. The distorted reflections suggest the fluid nature of perception — how reality bends, reshapes, and reflects differently depending on where we stand. It also carries a sense of connection: between light and water, matter and vibration, the seen and the sensed. There’s beauty in its ambiguity — a rhythm that feels both natural and otherworldly, like the quiet pulse of life beneath the surface of things. Submission 11 “Positively Negative” 2. Title Reason: Love how the negative space highlights the essence! 3. Evoked Idea: We immediately saw it being a perfect companion to our much loved Yellow Masked Mast!! Submission 12 Alchemy or Alchronea - a blend of alchemy and time (chronos) -description would be "an elemental force of time and transformation." 2. Title Reason: I saw the alchemic process and felt the sensation of time immediately and loved it. I was taken to an ancient place where I was observing the pot or forge heated to alchemize and transform substances. The image has a very real sense of the process of alchemy- the heating and the cooling, the evaporation of vapours as the alchemic process takes place. It also has a very strong sense of time - the past, as well as the present moment as the alchemic process is conducted and evokes enticing wisps of ideas of future possibilities pushing the known boundaries forged from ancient wisdom. 3. Evoked Idea: To add to what I have already said, this piece represents to me a moment of stillness in time - a still capture - and yet simultaneously, the vertical and horizontal shapes and lines move energetically between the past and future. They represent the vapours emitted in the alchemic process as substances are brought to a new form through the heating and cooling processes and they evoke a strong electromagnetic connection between ancient past practices and the mysterious excitement of unknown future technologies and possibilities. All of that that was my instant reaction when I saw it, and then when you described your transformative process of changing the background of this piece to see what new possibilities transpired from that change, that seems like the very definition of alchemy to me. Thank you for sharing your beautiful work. Submission 13 "I will arise and go now ..." 2. Title Reason: W B Yeats' "Lake Isle of Innisfree" is much on my mind recently; one of my favourite poems. 3. Evoked Idea: I see here a fragile spirit rising from the waters of the lake, moving tentatively into an unknown, but much longed for, future. Submission 14 Crazy Serenity 2. Title Reason: There are elements of speed but also such calm 3. Evoked Idea: Serenity in this crazy and fast paced world Submission 15 Smell the coffee 2. Title Reason: Reality’s ambiguity. 3. Evoked Idea: Settling into cozy comfort of living the unknown. Submission 16 "Echoes Beneath" 2. Title Reason: I think this is the first black / dark and moody artwork I've seen from you - at least from what comes to mind! I felt a sense of depth and mystery with this one, like there’s a hidden story or echo beneath the calm surface, waiting to be heard. 3. Evoked Idea: The piece makes me feel calm but also a bit uncertain... like there’s something just beneath the surface I can’t quite see, yet the deep blue and black tones feel peaceful. It's giving vibes of those drifting thoughts and memories that come and go when you lay your head on the pillow at night. Submission 17 Alquimia en proceso (Alchemy in Process) 2. Title Reason: Porque veo transformación y diferentes estados del agua 2. Title Reason: Because of transformation and different water conditions 3. Evoked Idea: Misterio por descubrir y emoción 3. Evoked Idea: Mystery to discover and emotion Submission 18 "Suspenseful Imagination" 2. Title Reason: There is a great degree of suspense in this artwork. The image appears to be suspended, but it is ambiguous, which in itself creates a suspense, and allows, or indeed requires, the observer to reach a conclusion as to what the image is that they are imagining. No conclusion is wrong, but the viewer doesn't know if they are right, or indeed, if there is a "right" conclusion. It leaves them in suspense. A suspense increased by the naming of the work currently being suspended! 3. Evoked Idea: Delight, in the viewing and intrigue The black background emphasizes the illuminated colours and randomness of the pattern provided by the abstract trailings, drawing my eye into the work for the pleasure of repeated viewings. I feel that this is a work that will remain fresh and exciting, because of the ongoing multiple images and meanings contained within it. Submission 19 Beyond the Blue 2. Title Reason: The dark contrast flips the narrative of what is normally expected from your art. The subtle sections of perfect blue in the background located in various areas hinting at the original author's work but also showing their 'alter ego'. It's marvellously different! 3. Evoked Idea: Moody, modern and a sense of dark deep relaxation highlighting the lighter side of dark colours with the perfect amount of blue and other colours in the picture. It reflects my style of preferred colours in my everyday life (black) for a various range of clothing, appliances - even my car colour is black, and my favourite colour is blue. Combining the two with a flare of gold and yellow really does grab my attention in the same way that your 'Clearing the inner blueness' grabbed my attention on display in Manly corso. Submission 20 Suspenseful Imaginations 2. Title Reason: This is an amendment to the previously supplied idea, I have added the letter S to the word "imagination" in my previously suggested title, as an alternative form of that idea. It better reflects that with the multiple interpretations of the work, there will be many "imaginations" invoked 3. Evoked Idea: AS PREVIOUSLY PROVIDED IN EARLIER SUBMISSION .......... Submission 21 Eye Of The Storm 2. Title Reason: The shape of the patterns rejecting the swirling water on two layers as lightening strikes the water. 3. Evoked Idea: Dark, ominous and strong. Help Name the Artwork You’ve seen all 21 responses – now I’d love you to help choose the final title. The winning title will be given to the artwork, and the person who suggested it will receive a free copy of the work as a thank-you for collaborating. How to vote Click the button above or below to open a short poll, read through the title options, and select your single favourite title.One person, one vote – just follow the prompts in the poll.
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Vein with a View: When the Image Looks Back
You know that feeling when you stare at an abstract work and it suddenly stares back at you? That’s exactly what happened with Vein with a View. When this image first appeared on my screen, I didn’t immediately think “artwork.” I thought: What on earth is this? I could see a funny cartoon character – a slightly ridiculous “Snoz” – but at the same time I felt I’d slipped inside the body, travelling through blood vessels. The red field became plasma. The soft vertical shadows became the interior walls of a vein. The silver curve turned into a needle. And then there were the dark hollows. They refused to stay as simple shapes. The more I looked, the more they became eyes – small, watchful presences looking out from somewhere deep inside. I realised I was having one of those classic moments of pareidolia: the mind searching for meaning in abstraction, finding faces and figures where none were intended. It’s something that happens to many viewers with my water reflection work, but this time I was the one caught in it. Rather than force a title onto the piece, I decided to treat this as an experiment. I wrote a description of everything I was seeing and feeling and sent it to ChatGPT: “When I look at this I see a funny comic character, the Snoz, perhaps blood vessels, perhaps the interior of a vein, maybe a needle passing into the vein. There appear to be eyes looking at me from deep inside those black hollows through red plasma… I am not sure what I am seeing or what I should call this artwork.” ChatGPT came back almost instantly with a title: Vein with a View. As soon as I read it, I felt my shoulders drop. That was it. The artwork had named itself. I typed back, “Vein with a View breathes life into the artwork.” The AI replied that the title suddenly made those dark hollows feel like witnesses rather than shapes, and the silver line like a passageway through the image. What I love about this exchange is that it reflects something I’ve always believed: sometimes the work knows more than the artist. The photographer in me captured a reflection on water. My subconscious turned it into a comic character in a vein. Then the AI helped me language that intuition and give it a form that others could enter. In that sense, Vein with a View isn’t just an image of a possible interior. It’s also a record of a conversation – between perception and imagination, between artist and machine. The artwork shows how Klee’s idea still rings true today: “Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible.” In this case, what becomes visible is the strange feeling that the body – or perhaps the image itself – might be quietly observing us in return. When you stand in front of Vein with a View, I invite you to notice the moment your mind starts to make sense of it. Do you see a cartoon? A vein? A needle? Eyes? Something else entirely? Whatever appears, that’s your own “view” emerging inside the vein – a reminder that seeing is not just a physical act but a deeply creative one.
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The Gift of Sight: A Journey Through Reflection
On Saturday 15 November 2025, I had the privilege of attending the Annual Remembrance Service for Organ and Tissue Donors in New South Wales – this year held at the Northside Conference Centre in St Leonards – and of being invited as a guest presenter. It was a beautiful, deeply moving service. Sitting in the audience, I felt that my own story – of receiving a corneal transplant and then going on to build a life as an artist – was, in many ways, both minor and almost magical compared with the absolute heartbreak and courage I heard from others. These donors and recipients – the families who said “yes” in the darkest of moments, and the people who now live because of that decision – spoke of the giving of life and the end of life in the same breath. One presenter, speaking from the donor perspective, said something that echoed through the whole service: “Where there is great pain, there is also purpose.” Sitting there, I felt humbled and honoured to be part of this gathering of people who are both givers of life and receivers of life. My own experience felt like one small thread in a much bigger tapestry of generosity, loss, and renewal. What follows below is the presentation I gave at the service, accompanied by some of the artworks that have grown out of the gift I was given – the gift of sight. Ralph Kerle’s Personal Reflection. Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Ralph Kerle, and I stand before you today with a deep sense of gratitude — gratitude to an unknown donor whose extraordinary gift over forty years ago quite literally allowed me to see. That single act of generosity — the donation of a cornea — gave me the ability not only to live with sight but to see the world in a way that defined my entire life and career. The Beginning of the Journey I was in my early twenties when I received a corneal transplant. At the time, I had no idea what that would mean beyond the chance to see clearly again. But as the years passed, it became the foundation of everything I would go on to create — in art, in vision, and in life. I often think of that moment not as a medical procedure but as a gift of perception — a bridge between two lives. Someone I will never know helped me see the world anew. From Sight to Vision That new sight became something deeper: a way of seeing. My creative life evolved through an ongoing fascination with light, water, and reflection. My art is not painted. It’s photographed directly from the surface of water — unaltered, abstract reflections that exist only for a moment before they disappear. I call them “paintings on water.” When I’m out in my kayak, camera in hand, I never know what I’ll find. The patterns and colours are created by nature itself — the movement of the tide, the play of sunlight, the stillness or turbulence of the day. Every image is unique, fleeting, and impossible to repeat. In many ways, each one feels like a reflection of the gift I was given — a vision that is not permanent, but precious because it exists at all. A Conversation with My Surgeon It was only recently in conversation with my eye surgeon, that I truly understood how unusual my art is. He explained that my condition — keratoconus — distorts the way straight lines appear, bending and warping them. And suddenly, it all made sense: the world I capture — its abstractions, distortions, and depths — is shaped by the very condition that led to my transplant. My art, in a very real sense, is a collaboration between myself, my donor, and my eyes. The gift of sight not only restored my vision; it created an artist. The Journey Beyond Borders Over the decades, that creative journey has taken me around the world — from Sydney’s Middle Harbour, where I first began photographing reflections from my kayak, to Berlin, Dubai, Portugal, America and the Baltic States, where my work has been exhibited internationally. Domestically, a commission from The Royal Australian Navy resulted in a major solo exhibition at the Australian National Maritime Museum. Most recently, my exhibition “The Indeterminate Sublime” was shown at the Rothko Museum in Latvia — a place dedicated to one of the greatest painters of abstraction. Standing there, thousands of miles from home, I realised that none of this would have been possible without that anonymous person’s generosity all those years ago. Their legacy didn’t just restore my sight — it illuminated a life’s work that now connects with people across cultures, languages, and continents. Reflection and Legacy When I create my photographs, I often think about the act of giving. Every reflection I capture is temporary — it appears, transforms, and disappears. That, to me, mirrors what donation means: something that vanishes from one life but lives on as light in another. To the families here today who have given the gift of sight, life, and hope — please know that your generosity ripples far beyond what you may ever see. You make possible not only the continuation of life, but the creation of beauty, meaning, and connection in ways that are beyond measure. Closing: Dedication and Thanks So, to my unknown donor — and to all of you who have given, or lost, or received — I dedicate my work, my vision, and every reflection I create. Because every time I see, I remember: This sight is not mine alone. It was given — and it continues to give. Thank you.
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When the Water Paints Back: Ralph Kerle on Creating Water Flowers
Water Flowers is a rare moment where nature becomes the artist’s brush. Created from an extreme close-up photograph of a reflection on water, the work transforms from a fleeting visual impression into a monumental abstraction — an epic, living surface that appears painted by a master hand. As the lens moved closer, the reflection began to reveal its painterly soul — golds blooming into shapes reminiscent of petals, waves of liquid light echoing the gestures of an oil painting. The closer the gaze, the more alive the water became, as though it were composing itself. Georgia O’Keeffe once wrote, “When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment.” In Water Flowers, that act of looking becomes a meditation — a surrender to perception where the smallest detail expands into something vast, transcendent, and utterly absorbing. Claude Monet famously declared, “I must have flowers, always, and always.” It is this same devotion to beauty, to the fleeting and the fluid, that underpins this work. Yet instead of painting with pigments, Water Flowers allows the natural world to paint itself — water as canvas, light as brushstroke, time as motion. Water Flowers is a work that commands space. Its large-scale format and intense chromatic energy make it ideal for expansive walls — a meditation on the grandeur of nature’s own artistry and a reminder that abstraction already exists, perfectly formed, within the world around us.
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The Untitled Experiment: A Collaboration Between Artist and Beholder
The Untitled Experiment — awaiting a name. “An artist never really sees his work.” — Ralph Kerle This work marks a turning point in my creative process. For the first time, I’ve altered the background of an image—not to manipulate its reality, but to explore the delicate boundary between observation and imagination. The Untitled Experiment stands apart from my collections. It exists as a question rather than a statement—a meditation on how perception shapes what we believe we see. By leaving this image without a title, I’m asking you, the viewer, to become part of the creative process. The act of naming carries power. It anchors emotion, fixes meaning, and transforms an image from perception into memory. What does this work suggest to you? A feeling, a place, a fragment of a dream? I invite you to look beyond its surface and offer a title that resonates with your personal interpretation. I will select the title that most closely mirrors my own perception of the work. The person whose suggestion is chosen will receive a signed 50 × 50 cm edition of The Untitled Experiment as a gesture of appreciation. Your reflections will become part of this dialogue between artist and beholder—a reminder that every artwork exists twice: once in creation, and once in perception. View the artwork and offer your title suggestion here
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Relaxation in View: The Art of Stillness on Water
“Art is the repose of thought – the moment when the mind becomes still enough to see” - Agnes Martin, Canadian abstract painter There are moments when the surface of the water holds you completely — not just your reflection, but your state of being. In Relaxation in View 1 and Relaxation in View 2, I found myself immersed in that stillness. When I look at them now, I feel something even deeper than relaxation. It’s a total immersion — a sense of connection that feels almost quantum in nature. Everything in that moment — the water, the kayak, the camera, the light — seemed joined in a single field of awareness. Relaxation in View 1 As I floated quietly past a yacht, photographing the reflections around it, I wasn’t merely observing the water — I was the water. The coolness surrounded me; the shimmer of salt on my skin, the sparkle of light ionising the air — all of it seemed to merge. I felt calm, alive, and profoundly healthy — almost externalised, as though I had slipped beyond self-awareness into pure perception itself. That’s what I now see when I revisit Relaxation in View 1: not just stillness, but belonging — the merging of inner and outer worlds. For me, Relaxation in View 1 feels grounded, meditative, steady. Relaxation in View 2 opens into a lightness, a quiet exhilaration. Both remind me how easily the boundaries between us and nature dissolve when we truly look. Relaxation in View 2 But calm isn’t one feeling; it’s deeply personal. I’d love to know how these images speak to you.Which one feels more calming? And why? Your thoughts will help shape a future Art Journal feature exploring how we each experience stillness — through art and through ourselves.
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