Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Dear The Arts: get to fuck

Carpsio rants about the cuts—or, more precisely, the morons who think that there are any cuts in general, and the bastards who whinge on about cuts to the arts in particular.

After delivering a metaphorical but delightfully determined hoof to the knackers of Ken "bloody" Loach, Carps moves on...
Ditto then for Priyamvada Gopal, who says that the Government’s cuts to the arts will be akin to:
“…administering the lethal dose that will eventually wipe out humanistic disciplines”

My hackles rise every time I hear some fucking no-mark academic or artist claiming that unless they get “support” then their important work will go unnoticed and they’ll starve to death in a garret and society will revert to the dark ages. Well, firstly, that’s your look-out – not mine. Secondly, it’s fantastically, astronomically patronising to the millions of people from all classes, genders, sexualities and races who take an active interest in history, art, science and philosophy just…. because.

As if without the work these people do we’ll just become a nation of people whose horizons stretch no further than ASDA and ITV. You know what? Fuck off. It’s the reflexive snobbery of enlightened people who, because they’re enlightened, assume that no-one else is. And when they’re on that road they turn into the kind of cunt who wants to show off their erudition by “educating” the feckless masses they secretly despise.

Get fucked.

A hundred years ago, this land pulsed with clubs and societies where members did, through their own subscription, learn about and contribute to science, history and the arts. Today the internet groans with erudite, passionate, informed people sharing their love of obscure subjects with anyone who happens by. All for free and done for nothing more than love.

Beautifully delivered. Almost—dare I say it?—a work of art.

One thing's for sure: it's a fuck sight more enjoyable than a Ken Loach film, at any rate.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Kris Kutsi

Via Neil Gaiman on Twitter, I have just found another artist who, for me, instantly ranks alongside the brilliant Dave McKean. Kris Kuksi remodels plastic toys into grotesque but oh-so-intricate and incredibly beautiful pieces of art—you can see lots of them on his website, and a few of my favourites below.

The Beast of Babylon


Plague Parade Opus 1


The Temptation of St Anthony


Caravan Assault Apparatus


Brilliant.

Monday, August 10, 2009

21: The World

Here's another in my (very) long-running series of interpretations of the Major Arcana of the Tarot pack.


21: The World shows the end of a phase—the seeming end of the Fool's cyclical journey—which has its new beginnings as a seed within.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Shooting MPs in the face

A huge vote of thanks to the Anonymous commenter who brightened up your humble Devil's day immensely, by pointing me to this story.
Czech art: shoot your lawmaker in the face

PRAGUE (AFP) – Two artists have offered Czechs angered by politics the chance to take revenge on their lawmakers by shooting them literally in the face, by turning their photos into air gun targets.

Tomas Cap and Michal Kraus have displayed the portraits of 200 lower-house deputies in plastic boxes on the wall of a Prague alternative gallery, in front of an air gun and a boxful of ammunition.

"We have seen lawmakers breach the promises they gave to voters so many times. The visitors of the gallery have a unique opportunity to show these politicians what they think," the artists said in a statement.

Two weeks after opening, the exhibition was a sad sight as most of the faces had been heavily damaged by airgun slugs, with some destroyed beyond recognition.
...

"It's mostly youths that come, but we have also had managers in suits and pensioners," including an elderly woman on crutches who climbed to the first-floor room to take a shot, Milan Mikulastik, the curator of the display, told AFP.

I can imagine that a similar exhibition in this country would draw the crowds, I must say. I would certainly spend most of the day picking out MPs to shoot in the face.
He said he only hoped the crumbling photos would last till the end of the exhibition on Sunday as "the artists want to send them to the lawmakers afterwards."

Brilliant!

Unfortunately, I suspect that, were one to set up such an exhibition in this country, one would probably end up in prison on some trumped up terrorism charge. Or maybe incitement to hatred of some sort. No, seriously.

And it's something of an indictment of this disgusting government that I could even think that this country might be in any way less free than a former Communist satellite.

Anyway, I'm off to dream about shooting our MPs in the face. Mind you, I can't see Gordon Brown's phizzog lasting more than a day—let alone two weeks.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Murdering your darlings

No, this is not a post about murdering Alastair Darling and his entire family (that's a treat for later) but rather a post on the creative process—whether than be writing, design, or anything else of that type.

The post comes from The Ministry of Type (one of my favourite design blogs), who has this to say...
This article on writing by James Patrick Kelly should be required reading for anyone involved in any creative activity. I read it years ago, and though I forgot the exact phrase, I’ve followed its basic principles ever since; whenever I’m stuck on a design I remove the thing I like the most and continue to develop the design without it. Almost every time it’s that thing, that darling, that is holding me back, distracting me from the design. I find that what I’m doing is trying to adapt the rest of the design to fit with this thing, rather than than developing the design as a whole. Even if it wasn’t that thing, the act of removing something from the design, that act of subtraction is what frees up my thinking again. The article addresses this nicely, and you can see how it applies to more than writing:
Some writers like to fix problems by addition rather than subtraction. First they layer in just a little more complexity to develop a rounder Aunt Penelope. And then they expand the garage scene, so it will foreshadow the car chase. Last they have Biff’s lawyer explain the rules of evidence to his secretary after the trial so that slow readers will get the end. If these writers worry about wordiness at all, they might tighten a few lines here and there. Drop a “he said,” on page two. Major surgery is for beginners, right?

Nowadays it’s become (almost) a natural process and I find myself peering suspiciously at something that’s just too shiny, too perfect, too lovely, too early in the process. This isn’t to say I remove everything that’s nice from my designs, far from it, but what I tend to do is to move through versions very quickly.

This is a method that I used to use quite a lot when designing. As I have got lazier and, most importantly, more short on time, I have tended to simply go with what works early on. As a result, I think that, although my skill with the applications has increased, my designs have been less immediately eye-catching and less durable.

I think that—when I get some time to do some more artwork—I might consciously adapt to the above as a strategy and see if it works. Because I certainly can't be arsed to do it for my writing...!

Saturday, September 20, 2008

A little light relief...

... after the last entirely cathartic tirade.

The new visualiser in iTunes 8.0, Magnetosphere, is quite simply beautiful, positively hypnotic. So, here is Carnival of Souls' forthcoming web release, H5N1, accompanied by a video of graphics generated by Magnetosphere.


I feel more relaxed now; in fact, I am feeling sleepy...

Sunday, September 07, 2008

You've got to laugh

Pinched from Letters From A Tory by my cash-strapped Helenic buddy, this is a genius poster from the University of St Andrews.


Gordon is now officially a joke.

Aaaaaaaahahahahahahahahaha!

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Tricks Of The Light

I'm not sure that it's finished yet, but here's the progress so far...


I'd forgotten how much I enjoy doing this sort of thing...

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Yes, that sums 'em up nicely

Here's some vintage Hoby...


Yep, I can sympathise with that point of view. Oh, wait... sympathise? No! I endorse it whole-heartedly.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

The arts of being wrong

It isn't often that I disagree with the venerable Dr Crippen, but I am forced to do so on this occasion.
In Arts Angst [Wat Tyler] presents a characteristically well-researched and witty appraisal of the current state of arts funding. Not a pretty picture. The trough is large, and many are feeding.

For once, though, Wat’s conclusion is wrong. He makes the classic mistake of “the false alternatives”.

Let us imagine that the Chancellor of the Exchequer of a country with no arts funding and no health care is down to his last £1 million and faced with a stark choice. Does he build a hospital or an art gallery? The answer is obvious, but the question is irrelevant in a country like the UK. We are not down to our last £1 million. We can do both.

Yes, we can. But why can we do both?

The simple answer is because we tax people far too highly. In fact, as a proportion of income, we tax the poor—those least likely to participate in said arts—rather more highly than the rich. Thus, we extort money from the poor in order to subsidise those activities enjoyed, to the greater degree, by the richer members of the population. In fact, Timmy sums it up rather well.
Let’s get this straight shall we? There shouldn’t be any taxpayer subsidy for the arts. You like it, you love it, great, get out there and do it. If you’re not good enough to draw a large enough paying crowd to make money out of it then you’re going to have to do it for free. There’s really no reason to tax the dustman and the nurse for this indoor relief for that part of the population that likes to show off.

And nor should nice, high-earning, middle-class GPs demand that the dustman or the nurse fund their opera.
Next, Wat will say, “Ah yes, but there are always better things upon which to spend tax payers’ money than theatre and opera.” More difficult to answer in specifics – how do you argue the relative merits of “The Marriage of Figaro” and a heart transplant? - but still the question is irrelevant in a county like the UK. We can do both. The NHS may be in poor shape, the army may be underfunded, MPs may be underpaid – pick your own cause – but all of these problems can be solved without stopping the funding of the arts. It would not be possible to maintain the cultural heritage of this country without some central funding.

First, since when was opera, or indeed, Mozart, part of "the cultural heritage of this country"? You might make that argument about Shakespeare, my dear Crippen, but not for the Marriage of Figaro; nor, indeed, for your Bauhaus architecture or your Kandinskys.

Second, I seriously doubt that the person who requires the heart transplant will see the question as an irrelevance. Of course, your humble Devil would also argue that the Chancellor of the Exchequer should never have to make the decision because the state should be neither building hospitals nor subsidising theatres.

Because you see, I am also fairly certain that even the most ardent Mozart fan would rather have that heart transplant than fund yet another production of Mozart's opus. How many more lives would the Arts Council's £600 million per annum save? What would these people's priorities be?

Central government cannot know, of course. It may indeed be that Mr Mozart-Fanatic-Heart-Transplant might chose to subsidise a performance of the deeply un-British opera over the saving of his life, but might I venture the opinion that he should choose for himself? Might I suggest that, if he wishes this to go ahead, he donates the money that he would have spent on his heart transplant to the National Opera?

Perhaps the good Doctor might consider this when next he has a patient in such a situation?

"I'm sorry, Mrs Miggins, but I am afraid that you are going to die because a performance of The Marriage of Figaro is far more important than your life."

But he does not have the authority—and nor does the damn state—to decide these priorities for people.

I say that we should substantially reduce taxation: if people wish to fund the arts, then they may freely do so. Indeed, I don't really have a problem with the £200 million that the Arts Council receives from the Lottery: these people know the deal and they are freely choosing to attempt to get rich and to fund "good causes". But it is "choice" that is the crucial and operative concept here.

There is another obvious fallacy in Crippen's argument and that is the idea that art would not exist without central funding; it is something that I addressed with, regard to the cut in the NSDF's funding, a few weeks back.
I am sure that the NSDF is a valuable institution: it has been going for 53 years, after all.

Which rather begs the question: since the Arts Council has only been funding them for the last 14 years, what did they do before that?

Art has been around rather longer than organised governments, and what we call "fine art" (as opposed to the daubs of Neanderthals) has been around considerably longer than governments have been funding it.

Or perhaps I am on the wrong side here? I like to think that some of the stuff that I produce—especially that which I do for my own amusement—is art. Would anyone be happy that their taxes were funding my ever bigger and better Macs, or perhaps the software that I use to create these pieces? After all, what is the difference between the art that I produce and that which Mozart produced?—mine is, at least, British.

No. I am quite sure that those who would be happy to fund my scribblings might choose to click on my Donate button; I am quite sure that I would never demand that those who do not wish to pay me to create fund my activities through that money that is extorted from them with menaces.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Halle-fucking-lujah! Sort of.

A little while ago, there was a fatuous post on the Internet Explorer blog about what Microsoft should call IE8. Attached to the post were about 83,000,000,000 comments, all requesting the same thing.
We don't care what the fuck you call it: just make it standards compliant, you bastards!

OK, I am paraphrasing slightly, but you get the gist of it.

And now Mike Rouse reports the, frankly incredible, news that IE8 has apparently passed the Acid2 test with flying colours!
The test page presents one line of text (Hello World) and a 14×14 grid of 12px X 12px squares inside a containing block where a smiley face can be seen. The face has a yellow background surrounded by a black facial outline.

The following standards are involved in the Acid2 test page: HTML 4, CSS level 1, PNG, and data URLs. In addition, the Acid2 guided tour overview page defines these features that are included in the test:
  • Transparent PNGs

  • The HTML object element

  • Absolute, relative, and fixed positioning

  • CSS box model

  • CSS tables

  • CSS Margins

  • Generated content

  • CSS parsing of illegal CSS elements

  • Paint order for overlapping content

  • Line heights of CSS inline box model

  • Hovering effects

When accessing the page, it is easy to see if the page is properly rendered in a browser because you’ll see the smiley face with the text “Hello World!” above it if all is well.

In fact, the page should look very much like this:


So, how do the current Mac browsers stand up to the test? Well, Safari and its sister browser, Webkit*, rendered it entirely correctly. So did the little-known (but rather nice) Shiira. All three of these use the Webkit rendering engine (which is, in turn, based on Konqueror's KHTML engine).

Opera—which I believe uses a proprietry rendering engine—also rendered the test correctly.

Alas, Firefox, Flock, Seamonkey and Camino, all of which use the Gecko rendering engine, did not do so well.


It going to be really fucking ironic if IE8 ends up being compliant and we end up having to attempt to hack sites in order to render stuff properly in the Gecko browsers. In practice, of course, this is unlikely to happen, since IE does have the Exception Commenting system which does, at least, allow you to hack pages without affecting other browsers. Thus, it is likely that it is the Webkit browsers that are likely to be hit hardest.

But a standards-compliant IE is almost too good to be true. Now, there is only one thing that needs to happen: when IE8 is released, even as a Beta, later this year, all of you still using it have to switch to IE8.

The Devil has spoken.


* Webkit really is pushing the boundaries of what one can do with webpages. This page, for instance, has some extremely cool, CSS-defined animations. Obviously, you won't be able to see them without downloading Webkit (I don't know if it is available for Windows), but seeing a div doing a full 180° spin, when you click it, is pretty fucking cool. I mean, I can't think in what circumstances I'd use such a thing, but it looks amazing.

But there are also divs that fade out and back in when hovered on, etc. and those I can see using (and those effects degrade nicely too).

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Arts Funding

Iain Dale asks why the Arts Council is cutting funding from rural services, and relates a particular example. This isn't an isolated incident: many of my friends are excised about the cuts to the National Student Drama Festival (NSDF) funding.
The Arts Council’s unexpected decision to cut their support after 14 years for the 53 year old National Student Drama Festival has immediately put at risk the annual festival, scheduled to take place in 3 months time. Arts Council Yorkshire has made no criticism of NSDF. It’s reasons for cutting the annual £52,000 grant is that it has decided to “refocus our investment”. It wishes to support: “the strongest, highest quality building-based producing theatres…the most dynamic and innovative touring companies…venues that support the changing nature of theatre.” It says it is looking to fund “a portfolio of strong, effective organisations that help to deliver increased attendance and participation in high quality arts.”

This is what the National Student Drama Festival has been doing and will continue to do.

I have never been to NSDF but I have been involved with a number of shows that have, and with a number of people who have worked there. I have seen the huge amount of time, money and effort our selected shows put in to raise the money to be able to attend.

Everyone in our shows worked for nothing and many of them helped out other shows, or the main NSDF team for nothing. One or two said they saw some good stuff, but the majority seemed to feel... well... "meh."

I am sure that the NSDF is a valuable institution: it has been going for 53 years, after all.

Which rather begs the question: since the Arts Council has only been funding them for the last 14 years, what did they do before that?

I have a bit of a conflict in this area, I must admit; whilst I don't believe that the state—or, rather (and this can never be repeated enough), the taxpayer—should not fund the arts, I do enjoy watching theatre. It has an immediacy that television or film simply cannot match.

On the other hand, I do understand that just because I like theatre, that is no reason why it should be subsidised by those who do not want to watch it and who can barely afford to make ends meet anyway. In fact, all of the arguments against funding the current funding of the BBC also apply to other arts.

This has been preying on my mind as, on Sunday night, I was having an argument about this with someone who works in theatre professionally. She maintained that much of the quality theatre simply wouldn't happen without government grants, that you would be left only with the big West End Theatres and everything else would die.

I'm not sure that this is the case; theatre existed before the state started funding it. Indeed, the biggest arts festival in the world, the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, started without any funding at all.

Any ideas one way or the other, especially from anyone in the industry, happily received in the comments.

UPDATE: Timmy highlights a story on a similar theme.
Arts Council England (Ace) was plunged into a crisis when 500 of the country’s top actors passed an unprecedented vote of no confidence in the organisation over cuts it is making in grants to almost 200 theatres and music companies.

The supplicants for your and my money are hardly going to cheer when the swill trough is removed now, are they?
Mr Hewitt was told by Sam West, Alison Steadman and Caroline Quentin that hitting regional and London fringe theatres would have a damaging knock-on effect that would lead to the whole of British theatre being "starved" of plays, directors and actors.

Snigger. Cue Dr. Strangelove and the mines gap. One thing the UK is never going to have a shortage of is luvvies.

Let’s get this straight shall we? There shouldn’t be any taxpayer subsidy for the arts. You like it, you love it, great, get out there and do it. If you’re not good enough to draw a large enough paying crowd to make money out of it then you’re going to have to do it for free. There’s really no reason to tax the dustman and the nurse for this indoor relief for that part of the population that likes to show off.

Indeed. Although, I have to point out that under my benign (but dictatorial) regime, there would have been such massive tax cuts that, although theatre prices would go up with no state funding, anyone who really wanted to go would have enough money in their back pocket for it to be easily affordable.

But, essentially, the arts sector—in common with just about every other section of the population in this country—is going to have to get used not to being propped up by the state.

Friday, January 04, 2008

The Devil Tarot: 6 (rev2)

I was never particularly happy with my previous depiction of the sixth of the Major Arcana—The Lovers—in my Devil Tarot set and, since I am doing a lot of this type of work at the moment and I'm "in The Zone", I thought that I would do a swift second revision.


The Lovers.
© 2007, Devil's Kitchen.

The rest of the completed Tarot are here.

Fear not: political ravings will be resumed shortly...

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair

England Expects has been to one of the finest and most comprehensive exhibitions of British art ever assembled—and it's in Ghent.
The purpose of the exhibition is to show how the exceptionalism/individualism in the English character that created the industrial revolution had an echo in the art produced there. As Hoozee puts is his fine introduction to the lavish catalogue,
At the beginning of the eighteenth century, Voltaire was already full of praise for the climate of freedom he encountered in England. With respect to religion, he wrote in 1726 that
"England is properly the country of sectarists... An Englishman, as one to whom Liberty is natural may go to heaven his own way".

Until well into the nineteenth century, artists and critics were fascinated by the specific circumstances under which art in Great Britain was able to thrive. One of these, Théophile Thoré wrote in 1863,
“Self-Government is complete in English Art, just as it is in all the institutions and all the customs of this proud people, where individuality asserts itself. It is this that lacking in French artists, who almost always obey some higher authority, tradition or prejudice”.

He claims, with some justification that in Britain art followed a distinctive path from that on the Continent, charmingly he describes it as ‘marginal’, which has as its mainstay the empirical experience of reality and otherwise wild flights of fancy and the visionary.

What would Voltaire make of us now?—a poor, cowed people who barely understand the concept of freedom.

Would Thoré see now a "proud people" or a sheep-like race of uneducated, ignorant imbeciles, raped by the state and unaware of what "Self-Government" might even mean, let alone how they might strive to maintain or regain it?

How the mighty are fallen.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley

Such is Britain and its people; a ruined shell of something that was once great, awesome and terrible. The spark of individuality has been stamped out, and increasingly any joy in life is going the same way, the spirit of our people destroyed by successive homogenising governments who believe that they know best how people might live.

Fuck them all: I hope that the politicians and civil servants and QUANGOcrats might one day look down from their ivory towers and, the scales fallen from their eyes, see and understand what they have done. At that point, had they any honour or decency, they would take any sharp implement and use it upon themselves, a precaution against the ensuing self-defenestration failing to kill them.

But the people must also take some of the blame—when will we tear our eyes away from Big Strictly Come X Factor Me Out Of Here, Brother and let the anger course through our veins? When our history is once again taught in schools, perhaps, and the British realise what has been taken from them, and what we have exchanged for our temporary security.

WAKE UP!

Monday, December 10, 2007

The Cone.

This guy's artwork is absolutely astounding; I love it. It has shades of Heath-Robinson and of Searle, I think.

Anyway, have a browse: there's some beautiful work there.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Alice in Nightmareland

As I've mentioned before, I do not play computer games very often However, one of my favourite of the few that I do play is American McGee's Alice.

Although Alice is a fairly standard platform game, the incredible, beautiful, stunningly creepy artwork and Chris Vrenna's spooky soundscape elevate it from a mere game to something akin to a piece of animated art.

And now I find that it is being made into a film. It is the kind of film that would have benefitted from the talents of Dave McKean—my very favourite artist and obvious influence on much of my work—as brought to bear so beautifully on Mirrormask.

Alice will probably be absolute horseshit, but I very much hope that it might live up to the potential of the game...

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

The Devil Tarot: 18

The Moon represents drugs and addiction and madness.


The Moon.
© 2007, Devil's Kitchen.

The Devil Tarot is collected here: there are three left to create: The Sun, Judgement and The World...

Sunday, November 25, 2007

All Is Full Of Love

I must admit to finding Björk a little over the top much of the time, but this song is rather beautiful.


I also find the video strangely affecting; perhaps it is because of my constant fascination with the concept of emoting machines. This may be why I anthropomorphise my Macs to such an extent too...

Web design

There's a rather good article at A List Apart (a sort of web designer's Mecca, if you like), on the subject of web design.
Web design is not book design, it is not poster design, it is not illustration, and the highest achievements of those disciplines are not what web design aims for. Although websites can be delivery systems for games and videos, and although those delivery systems can be lovely to look at, such sites are exemplars of game design and video storytelling, not of web design.

Quite so. Generally speaking, the design that I do on the web is very different from that which I do in print (we'll just take it as read that I am aware that I am hardly an exemplar of brilliant design in either medium).

In most kinds of design, the end result is usually the same one: to allow people to absorb the information that you wish to convey. However, the way in which one approaches it is different because the medium is different.

My theatre posters, for instance, attempt to be eye-catching and beautiful (in a slightly nightmarish way!)—indeed, the finest compliment that I have been paid is by someone who came to see Mr Punch "only because the poster was so beautiful" (it's present on my site in a sadly truncated form).

My web design tends to be very different. I prefer the plain and easy to navigate: The Kitchen is probably my most overtly "pretty" website, whereas I rather prefer the near-monochrome simplicity of Gronk's site. There are lots of very beautiful websites out there, but they often sacrifice ease of navigation and legibility on the altar of aesthetics; very many of them use Flash which often takes too long to load. Unless it's something really special, I've left before the site can begin telling me what it wants me to know.

But, of course, I am merely an untrained scribbler; what does Zeldman think that web design is?
Web design is the creation of digital environments that facilitate and encourage human activity; reflect or adapt to individual voices and content; and change gracefully over time while always retaining their identity.
...

Which web design is like that? For one, Douglas Bowman’s white “Minima” layout for Blogger, used by literally millions of writers—and it feels like it was designed for each of them individually. That is great design.

Essentially, web design should put function on a par with—and often higher than—pure artistic sensibilities. Which is why it often takes me time to switch between the two media: it requires a major shift in the way in which I design, and lay things out, and create.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Websites as graphs: the key

A lot of bloggers seem to have discovered this little Applet recently; it draws a graph which shows a rough visual representation of the code structure of the site. Many of these graphs are very pretty, especially if you watch them as they draw, but what do they mean?

I first discovered this Applet in June 2006 and, at the time, there was a key to what was going on which I have reproduced below.
Everyday, we look at dozens of websites. The structure of these websites is defined in HTML, the lingua franca for publishing information on the web. Your browser's job is to render the HTML according to the specs (most of the time, at least). You can look at the code behind any website by selecting the "View source" tab somewhere in your browser's menu.

HTML consists of so-called tags, like the A tag for links, IMG tag for images and so on. Since tags are nested in other tags, they are arranged in a hierarchical manner, and that hierarchy can be represented as a graph. I've written a little app that visualizes such a graph, and here are some screenshots of websites that I often look at.

I've used some color to indicate the most used tags in the following way:
blue: for links (the A tag)
red: for tables (TABLE, TR and TD tags)
green: for the DIV tag
violet: for images (the IMG tag)
yellow: for forms (FORM, INPUT, TEXTAREA, SELECT and OPTION tags)
orange: for linebreaks and blockquotes (BR, P, and BLOCKQUOTE tags)
black: the HTML tag, the root node
gray: all other tags

So here are a few of my current sites (and it is interesting to compare them with those of 18 months ago). It is also interesting to compare how different Content Management Systems generate their code.

The Devil's Kitchen—http://devilskitchen.me.uk (Blogger CMS).

Devil's Kitchen Design—http://devilskitchen.net (WebsiteBaker CMS).

Gronk—http://gronk.co.uk (WebsiteBaker CMS).

Finally, in order to get a flavour of another CMS (DruPal), here's Shane Greer's blog.

Rather fun!