Michael Kire
Hong Kong

Michael Kiré was born and grew up in colonial Hong Kong. In 1988, he completed his education in Canada where his Mentor professor, Pat Martin Bates, fortified his exploring nature. He was immediately juried into the North Park Gallery upon graduation, but a twist of circumstances diverted him into an art education career for 20 years in Hong Kong. Impacted by an exhaustion and realizing a personal mission, he returned to Canada in 2010 for good, focusing on his Art exploration in private in Edmonton.
Artist Interview
The Following is an Article on Automatism by Artist and Guest Writer Michael Kire, through an exploration of his own personal creative practice.
Automatism: A Journey into The Subconscious
Automatic Writing, akin to Automatic Drawing, is a journey into the subconscious, unearthing meaning that eludes surface perception. In my approach, Asemic writing acts as a gateway to a literary realm unbound by traditional language, while the intricate lines and shapes evoke evocative speech. Here, language and visual art converge in a symbiotic dance, where the elegance of Chinese calligraphy infuses my work with an Asiatic sensibility, diverging from the Latin-based norms that often dominate.
When we first encounter calligraphy, our instinct is to decode its characters. This impulse underscores our inherent desire to extract meaning. My work subverts this expectation by stripping away the linguistic content, redirecting our focus to the aesthetic and fluid qualities of the characters themselves. This shift allows the visual elements—the lines, the flow—to command attention, celebrating their inherent beauty independent of semantic content.
My approach to creating art follows a split-staged process that divides the creative journey into two distinct phases: the intuitive and the cognitive. These stages are crucial in the way the relationship between the figures unfolds on the canvas or paper. The first stage, intuitive, is an immediate, spontaneous action. In a matter of seconds, the initial lines are dropped — subconsciously but intentionally avoiding any mechanical, repetitive gestures. The marks are made with a mindfulness that transcends logical thought, engaging a deeper, more primal part of the creative process.
STAGE 1
This first stage is crucial in capturing the raw essence of the connections. It is about instinctual interaction—the figures may not yet be fully realized, but the energy and emotional weight of their bond begin to take shape as the lines intertwines in motion. There is an element of freedom and abandon in this process, a form of automatism where the subconscious mind leads the way. The use of lines, shapes, and movements at this stage is akin to a signature. Just as we don’t consciously think about the way we sign our names—having done it thousands of times—it becomes a habitual, almost unconscious flow of the hand. Similarly, in my work, the early marks contain an inherent mastery that comes from repetition and experience, yet it is not controlled or planned.
STAGE 2
Once this intuitive stage is complete, the second stage begins: the cognitive phase. In this stage, the forms created during the first phase are defined, linked, and revealed. This is where the cognitive decisions come into play. I carefully consider elements such as color placement, balance, and where the faces are hidden. It is here that the artistry becomes conscious, where reason and understanding guide the execution. The cognitive process brings clarity, ensuring that the forms and colors complement each other and contribute to the overall harmony of the composition.
Together, these two stages—intuitive and cognitive—represent a union of mind and body, subconscious and conscious. The outcome is not merely a result of technical skill but an organic synthesis of free-flowing energy and aesthetic decisions. The beauty of this process is in how it allows the subconscious to remain intact and finished, giving space for the artist’s skill and reasoning to receive revelations from the initial expressive marks.
In the history of art, the representation of relationships between figures has been a prominent subject. Love, with its nuances, intensity, and conflicting emotions, has often been depicted as the central theme. However, this overemphasis on romantic or sentimental love has somewhat limited the scope of relationships in visual art.
I propose that the bond between figures in a composition can extend beyond these well-worn themes of love, exploring subjects like domination, introspection, reliance, remorse, and the subtle psychological dynamics that emerge from the interaction between individuals. This broader approach challenges the familiar narratives of affection, offering new avenues for exploration within the relationship of forms.
In my practice, the concept of relationship is not confined to an emotional or narrative exchange; it extends to the formal interaction of lines, shapes, and spaces. Figures share a composition not merely by coexisting on the same surface but by forming an intricate dialogue—each contributing to the whole, their presence either emphasizing or contrasting with one another, creating a tension or harmony that the viewer can experience. This bond between elements represents a deeper, often unconscious, conversation that reflects the complexity of human emotion, thought, and experience.
In the end, the relationship between figures in a composition mirrors the relationship between the artist and their work. Just as two figures may share a space, creating a bond that transcends their individual forms, so too does the artist engage in a continuous dialogue with their medium, exploring and refining the language of visual art. By allowing both intuition and reason to guide the process, the work becomes more than just a static image—it becomes a living, breathing entity, one that reflects the complexities of human experience.
This approach, rooted in a split-staged process and influenced by the philosophy of Surrealism, offers a new way of understanding the relationship between form and emotion. In this space, art is not just a visual representation but a profound commentary on the unseen connections between us all. Whether through the exploration of color, line, or form, the artist creates an image that speaks to the viewer on a deeply personal level, inviting them into a world where relationships are not simply seen, but felt and understood.
Art, to me, is a dialogue with the subtle and the profound. Through the practice of Automatic Drawing as a basis, I embrace the spontaneity of the subconscious, allowing unplanned lines to guide the creation of compositions that emerge organically. This method eschews premeditation and cognitive control, revealing truths that lie beneath the surface of conventional understanding. It is in this uncharted space, where intention yields to instinct, that the essence of the unsaid and the immortal possibilities of greatness come to light.
I view the act of making art as part of a relay race, where each artist receives the baton passed from their predecessors, adding to the collective body of knowledge before passing it along to the next generation. The creation of images is simple; anyone can create a picture. But creating meaning, following a vision, and pushing the boundaries of what has been done before—that is the true challenge. Art, to me, is about contributing to a larger discourse, continuing a tradition while also breaking new ground.
For this reason, my creative process is not constrained by the fear of failure. I do not suffer from creative blocks, nor do I struggle with the concept of "letting go." For me, creativity is a muscle, built and strengthened through consistent practice and work. Each new piece is simply the next step in a continual execution of ideas. Fear only exists when one does not trust the process or the experience that comes from years of practice. Confidence, honed through repetition, ensures that the process is never paralyzed by doubt.
Lately, I have begun blending elements of Chinese calligraphy into my work. Calligraphy, as an art form, has always been bound by the linguistic angle, but I am interested in exploring the flow of lines beyond mere readability. The expressive quality of the stroke—the movement, the curve, the speed at which it is applied—holds a beauty that transcends language. In this sense, calligraphy becomes a visual language that speaks directly to the viewer’s emotions and imagination, much like the lines in my artwork. The fluidity of the strokes and the deliberate placement of each curve create a rhythm that can be felt, not just seen. It is this fusion of aesthetic and emotion, this blending of cognitive thought and intuitive action, that defines the uniqueness in my personal creative process.




