Standing at the bus stop I noticed some googly-eyed furry critters peering out of Pixar's latest kiddie offering "Over the Hedge" (a promo poster). Actually, I was so close I failed to notice said critters, preferring to scan the "Hedge" for leaf repetitions. Places where the exact same combination of leaves appeared.
I always look for patterns. As long as I can remember I've always done this. I guess it started out with living in a house with horrific (I could always manage to see a face in there somewhere) floral wallpaper. But with wallpaper (and lino and carpet and tiles etc) there will always be a repeating pattern. Not so with the swirls plastered on the ceiling. No, they were the work of a human hand (and with that implicit randomness came a multiplicity of faces).
The digital images, that abound so much more these days, attempt to duplicate the chaotic naturalness of an unordered beauty by mere formulae. It doesn't work. Everyone knows that, otherwise there would be a hedge looking like an overly verdant wallpaper. No, the pattern must be jostled, but even that by human intervention. To my eye, the result is rather "cut & paste". After all, nothing can really duplicate that natural conglomeration of moss-encrusted spindles bearing their weather-weary, sun-burnt, rain-torn, frost-bitten, wind-whipped excuse for leaves. Right? But digital art gives me the pleasure of finding disjointed patterns, and so, I accept it.
There are patterns in nature too but they are subject to a higher law. Instead, exhibiting perfect ratios that draw us in to their beauty.