xii About the Cover
absolutely definitive audio format of the future). Thirtieth anniversaries are very significant
for all triangular life forms, so how could we refuse? So we built a four-foot square stained
glass window to the exact proportions of the original design, and photographed it. “Hmm,
maybe this idea’s got legs after all” we thought. In the following years we created several
further homages to the original design: a prism made of words for a book cover, a prism
painted a-la Claude Monet, a Lichtenstein-esque pop ar t number, and rather curiously, a
prism created entirely with fruit for a calendar (this probably came about after someone
joked about calendars being made from “dates”).
To execute the above-mentioned “Fruity Side of the Moon,” we built a large wooden
tray with each line of the design being a walled-off section, keeping all the dates, raisins,
cranberries, apricots, or anges, and baby lemons in their right and proper positions. It was
then photographed from above. I can’t remember if we ate the contents afterwards, but
shoots are hungry work so it’s v ery likely. Later, one of us (might’ve been Pete, might’ve
been Storm) inspected the empty tray and had the bright idea that colored paint or ink
poured into the various sections might make yet another cool photo. The tray was quickly
modified with any leaky corners made watertight, and the relevant hue of paint was poured
into each section. The effect was smooth, glossy, and rather pleasing to the eye.
Then, the unplanned started to occur. The separate areas of paint began slowly but
surely to bleed into each other. But rather than becoming a hideous mess the experiment
began to take on a whole new dimension, and we experienced something of a eureka mo-
ment. We started helping the migrating paint go its own sweet way. A swish here, a couple
of drips there, and soon the previously rather rigid composition began to unravel into a
wild psychedelic jungle. Areas of leaking paint expanded into impressive swirling whorls
and delicate curlicues of color, stark and vibrant against their black backdrop. Fine and
feathery veins of pigment unfurled like close-ups of a peacock’s plumage or like NASA
photos of the gigantic swirls in Jupiter’s atmosphere. Blobs and bubbles emerged organ-
ically bringing to mind Pink Floyd’s early liquid light shows. Detail was crisp and went
on and on, a feast for the eyes and seriously entertaining for us. All the time, our intrepid
photographer Rupert was poised a few feet above, dangling with his camera from a gantry,
snapping frame after frame. Our magic tray had done most of our work for us, and we
christened the process “controlled random.” All that remained was for us to select a couple
of shots for use—a nigh-on-impossible task given the multitude of beautiful frames we’d
captured.
And so we come to the most recent stop on our prismatic journe y. A few months ago
we received an email from Mario Costa Sousa. He had spied “Liquid DSoM” (as we came
to call it) on our website and politely enquired as to whether he and his fellow authors
might use it as the cover for their ne w computer graphics textbook. Our first response
was a fr iendly “yes” followed by fairly patronizing words to the effect of, “But Mario dear,
do you realize that we created this for real, that it’s not computer generated in any way?”
Mario, clearly a man with his head screwed on the right way round, calmly explained that
it was just what was needed.
First off, the basic image of the prism diffracting a beam of light is central to light and
color theory and a truly crucial element in computer graphics. Second, the controlled ran-