Tag Archives: digital art

Florence Lefebvre: Marine Emotions

Niio Editorial

Florence Lefebvre is a self-taught French digital artist whose practice emerges from a lifelong dialogue with the sea. Growing up with formative summers in the South of France and later observing the shifting coasts of Normandy, Brittany, and the North Sea, she developed a deep sensitivity to tides, light, and movement. What began as hours spent underwater with a mask and snorkel evolved into a visual language built from fluidity, rhythm, and transformation. Today, she translates these marine memories into immersive digital compositions, describing herself as a “digital explorer” navigating an ocean of pixels.

Following the launch of her solo artcast Waltz of Flowers on Niio, we had a conversation about her creative process and the sources of her inspiration.

Florence Lefebvre. Waltz of Flowers #1, 2022

You have stated that your work draws its inspiration from “marine emotions.” Could you share with us a specific memory, place, or marine sensation that continues to inspire your work today?

For me, the sea is an emotional language: an endless immersion where fluid, uninterrupted movement inspires my digital exploration.

Every summer, during long family holidays in the South of France, I discovered my first wonders beneath the surface of the water. Equipped with just a mask and snorkel, I spent hours exploring this secret realm, fascinated by the light filtering through the waves and the shifting reflections. The green of the seaweed rippled gently, while fish, their hues ranging from red to orange, then to blue and silver, moved through this world like a living dance. These moments instilled in me the beauty of rhythm, color, and movement—essential elements of any artistic composition.

“My creations immerse us in a universe where art transcends the boundaries of the canvas!”

Even today, I regularly observe the beach and the sea along the Normandy and Brittany coasts, as well as in the North Sea, where the tides constantly create new patterns on the sand and alter the dance of the waves. On winter mornings, on calm or windy days, I watch the light change with every moment: the sky merges with the sea, clouds stretch to the horizon, and sometimes silvery reflections illuminate the surface. I feel fully connected to this shifting space, attentive to every ripple of the water and every variation of color brought about by the tides.

The sea has taught me that nothing is fixed, that everything is fluid and transformative. In my digital ocean, each pixel becomes a grain of sand to explore!

My art is a dialogue between the real and the digital, where each composition carries the memory of an inner journey that continues endlessly!

Florence Lefebvre. Stellar Melodies, 2025

In your work, you prioritize contemplation first, then mastering the production process. What does “contemplation” look like in your daily practice?

For me, contemplation is an active immersion, the starting point of all creation. It always begins far from screens, with careful observation of nature. I am deeply moved by the spectacle of the tides and the perpetual movement of the waves.

My approach unfolds around three axes: flow and energy, forms and textures, and time for reflection. By exploring the Normandy and Brittany coasts, I capture the metamorphosis of the shores under the action of the sea, the power of the waves, and the fluidity of their movements. I linger on the rhythms of the water, the undulations of the sand, the contrasts between rock and sea, building a repertoire of sensations that I then transpose into my digital creations.

“It is during my walks along wild coastlines that my works take shape in feeling, before technology becomes an extension of my gaze”

The settling time involves knowing how to detach oneself from the digital world, allowing these impressions to organize themselves internally. It is during my walks along wild coastlines that my works take shape in feeling, before technology becomes an extension of my gaze, transcribing into images what the sea has whispered to me.

My art is thus a dialogue between the real and the digital, a perpetually transforming flow, where each pixel mirrors an instant, as a grain of sand carried away by the tide.

When did digital creation become the medium where you felt you could “fully” express your sensitivity, and what did it reveal that other forms did not allow?

One day, I embarked on this artistic quest of creativity and exploration as a self-taught artist, using whatever tools I had at hand. I explored, tested, observed, experimented, and created with passion, fascinated by the possibility of bringing to life the movements, textures, and colors I had observed in the sea since childhood. This moment remains very important to me because it marked the beginning of an intense period of artistic creation. I instinctively grasp computer tools and naturally become familiar with them, while working regularly and rigorously, which allows me to acquire technical mastery of the software. It’s a passion fueled by daily exploration, research, and creation.

“The sea has taught me that nothing is fixed, that everything is fluid and transformative. In my digital ocean, each pixel becomes a grain of sand to explore!”

Digital creation became a universe for me where I could fully express my sensitivity when I felt the need to translate the flows, movements, and nuances of nature in a more immersive and vibrant way. Unlike other traditional forms, digital art allows me to capture the fluidity, light, and rhythm of my marine memories, to create subtle movements, infinite oscillations, and to experiment with variations of color and texture that paper, canvas, or sculpture don’t always allow.

Throughout my exploration, I also developed a passion for flowers, which I animate like peintures mouvantes (moving paintings), creating a dialogue between nature and digital art to produce living, poetic works.

This creative space has revealed to me that emotion can be immersed, amplified, and reinvented; that each pixel can convey a feeling; and that the interaction between the real and the virtual opens an infinite dialogue with the viewer. Where other forms could freeze a moment, digital art allows me to bring movement and transformation to life, to recreate the memory of ocean currents and the dance of the elements, while remaining true to my vision and artistic intuition.

Since then, I’ve defined myself as a digital explorer, approaching the screen as an ocean of possibilities. Each video I create becomes an immersive atmosphere, where every shape and color contributes to the experience and the feeling, offering a dialogue between the real and the virtual.

“Unlike other traditional forms, digital art allows me to capture the fluidity, light, and rhythm of my marine memories”

Florence Lefebvre, Infinitesimal, 2023

Your work often revolves around “digital fluids and forms.” Are these abstractions meant to evoke water, emotions, memory, or something else?

I work with digital fluids and forms to translate what I feel in the face of the sea and life, rather than representing the world literally. Water, with its fluidity and oscillations, becomes a central metaphor: it evokes movement, emotion, memory, and transformation.

For me, digital art is a space of infinite exploration, where each work can evolve, reinvent itself, and engage in a dialogue with the viewer.

I create dynamic and evolving fluids, where each element transforms and interacts across multiple dimensions. This universe allows me to explore inaccessible realms, where movement and color harmonize perfectly, offering the viewer a true escape.

“My goal is for the artwork to transport the viewer, transforming their contemplation into a unique emotional experience.”

Each work is born from a subtle balance between observation of reality and digital exploration. Waves, currents, and ocean currents inspire my rhythms and textures, but these elements are reinvented as free abstractions, capable of conveying the flow of an emotion or the memory of a moment.

My goal is for the artwork to transport the viewer, transforming their contemplation into a unique emotional experience. Each creation is designed to resonate with the space around it and invite everyone to feel emotion, a memory, or a sense of escape.

My works thus become a space for exploration where the viewer can perceive movement, color, and depth, while giving free rein to their interpretation. Digital fluids are therefore not just water: they constitute a visual language that evokes feeling: a dialogue between real and virtual, memory and emotion.

You mention algorithms and multidimensional composition. How do you reconcile control and emergence, and at what point do you want surprise to appear in the image?

In my work, control and emergence interact like two complementary forces. Through the software’s algorithms, I shape my creations, orchestrating rhythms, textures, and movements that I wish to explore.

However, I always leave room for surprise, because it is often in the unexpected that the most poetic and vibrant moments are born. Sometimes, a flow reacts differently, a color blends differently, a ripple forms unexpectedly: these moments become creative triggers that I then choose whether or not to incorporate.

I then become a conductor, or rather a captain: I steer my digital compositions with intention and mastery, while leaving the necessary space for emergence. “Ctrl+Z” becomes my magic wand: surprise is no longer a constraint, but the wind that fills my sails toward the unknown, transforming the unpredictable into an opportunity for exploration!

Florence Lefebvre. Flowergraph, 2022

You speak of linking contemporary life to the “cradle of primitive life.” What does “primitive” mean to you: biology, mythology, evolution, spirituality, or a psychological state? Your goal is to represent “the depths of the subconscious.” Do you start with an emotion and then find an image for it, or with an image to discover the emotion later?

I perceive the primitive as the vital force that animates the entire universe, a cradle of life that is simultaneously biological, instinctive, and psychological. It is this raw energy that flows through nature, from ocean currents to distant stars, and that inspires creation. My approach is akin to a biology of the imagination: an exploration of matter coming to life, where instinct and memory intertwine with digital technology.

My goal is to represent the depths of the subconscious, where emotions and memories converge. Sometimes, I begin with an emotion, allowing it to percolate and transform into image, form, and movement; sometimes, an image emerges spontaneously, revealing the latent emotion it carries. In all cases, the unexpected becomes the raw material of creation, and the primal, a living and inspiring source.

“I have also developed a passion for flowers I animate like peintures mouvantes (moving paintings), creating a dialogue between nature and digital media.”

The orchestration of my digital fluids allows me to create shifting, dreamlike worlds where life, poetry, and the invisible meet. I explore the infinitely small with works like “Infinitesimal,” observing digital fluids under a microscope.

In my series ‘Abyss’ and ‘The Secret of the Abyss’, the ocean depths mingle with the subconscious, giving rise to abyssal creatures that I call ‘Abyss’, born in the heart of these depths and bearers of the mysteries of the ocean. Finally, the celestial journey with the “Nebula” series connects the ocean depths to the most distant stars, continuing this quest for energy, cosmic fluidity, and infinite reverie.

Digital art offers me immense freedom of exploration, a boundless, dreamlike, and ever-shifting universe where the invisible becomes visible and the unexpected transforms into living inspiration.

Florence Lefebvre. Confusion, 2022

A significant portion of your work is abstract, dominated by fluids and fluidity, with some references to nature. However, some of your most recent works, created with AI models, lean towards figuration, with scenes reminiscent of street art and early hand-painted photographs. What does AI bring to your creative process that has motivated this evolution towards figurative compositions?

AI is primarily used in my work when I explore figurative art. It allows me to develop scenes, characters, and visual worlds that I explore through various themes, from street art to early hand-painted photographs, including sketches reminiscent of drawing or comics.

I use it as a tool for shaping and experimentation: I define the intentions, adjust the parameters, select, refine, and rework the images. The AI ​​generates suggestions, but the vision, direction, and aesthetic choices remain entirely my own.

“Working with AI is not a change of direction, but an expansion of my artistic language, where each work, with its own tools, contributes to the same vision.”

What interests me is not just the speed of execution, but above all the possibility of exploring a wide variety of subjects and styles without hindering the creative flow. Where my passion for digital fluidity explores colors, flows, geometric shapes, and multidimensional interactions, AI allows me to introduce a narrative dimension.

The common thread remains the same: life, color, and the subtle connections that interact with each other.

This is not a change of direction, but an expansion of my artistic language, where each work, with its own tools, contributes to the same vision.

Florence Lefebvre. Pop Culture, 2022

You stated that your work transcends the canvas, incorporating 3D and movement. What is your ideal viewing context: phone, large screen, installation, home space? And how does this context influence the perception of the work?

My work transcends the traditional canvas, incorporating 3D, movement, and an immersive dimension. I design my pieces to be felt in space, not just seen.

The viewing context plays a central role in the perception of the work:

  • Large screen or projection: this is ideal for fully experiencing the fluidity of movement, the depth of textures, and the Waltz of my flowers. The viewer is immersed in the universe I have created. The animated flowers, which I conceive as moving paintings, reveal all their subtlety, creating a poetic and immersive dialogue between nature and digital technology.
  • Installation or dedicated space: the artwork engages with its environment, and the viewer becomes an active participant in the perception, moving around the piece, discovering details and dynamics depending on the viewpoint.
  • Phone or small screen: even on a smaller screen, the artwork retains its power. Some details or subtleties of movement may be less perceptible, but the experience becomes more intimate, offering a direct connection that integrates into the viewer’s daily life.
  • Everyday setting: the artwork interacts with the rhythm of life and the environment, creating an emotional resonance where the digital and the living meet in everyday life.

Thus, the format and context influence how movement, depth, and narrative are perceived. I aim for a subtle balance between individual connection and total immersion in the world of my artworks, respecting the fluidity and energy of each piece, so that the viewer can fully experience the movement, color, vibration of the flows, and the digital life I seek to convey.

Florence Lefebvre. Waltz of Flowers #2, 2022

Regarding the context of experiencing the artwork, how do you think Niio and other companies that distribute digital art on public screens can benefit artists and art lovers? What has been your experience of presenting your work on digital screens in public spaces?

Niio displayed two works from my collection, “Waltz of Flowers” and “LINK,” on a high-quality screen at an event in a prestigious hotel. This was an enriching experience, as it allowed a wide audience to discover my creations and perceive the interaction between digital art and space. Seeing artworks presented on screens demonstrates how essential these exhibitions are in making digital art accessible and introducing it to a diverse audience.

Platforms like Niio and other companies that broadcast digital art on public screens offer artists invaluable visibility and allow their work to reach a wider audience. They also make digital art more accessible by integrating it into everyday spaces, where passersby can spontaneously discover the works.

I would also like my work to be exhibited in art galleries, where the context fosters a more attentive and contemplative experience. In this setting, the public can take the time to look at and interpret the works, creating a deeper dialogue between the artwork, the space, and the viewer. It is also an environment that encourages exchanges with visitors, curators, and other art professionals.

“Platforms like Niio offer artists invaluable visibility and allow their work to reach a wider audience”

I am also very interested in the possibility of collaborating with other artists on joint projects. Working with multiple artists allows for the confrontation of different approaches, techniques, and sensibilities, thus enriching the creative process and paving the way for more experimental or ambitious projects.

I am curious to see how my work can engage in dialogue with other artistic practices and different exhibition contexts, and I would like to explore new forms of interaction between the artwork, the public, and the space.

Elsa Carvalho: The Art of Impermanence

Pau Waelder

Elsa Carvalho’s path into visual art began not in a studio, but in the structured logic of computer science. A Portuguese software engineer with a PhD completed in 2012, she turned toward artistic creation in 2021, at a moment when the NFT movement opened new doors for digital experimentation. On the occasion of her solo artcast The Unfolding on Niio, we asked her a series of questions about her artistic practice and creative process.

In this conversation, Carvalho reflects on how poetry and coding share a common ground in working within constraints, how open access to AI tools made image-making accessible to her as a newcomer to visual art, and how she gradually moved from early experimentation toward a more personal visual language.

Elsa Carvalho. TheUnfolding#1, 2025.

You work as a software engineer but you have also always been interested in the arts, and have written poetry and prose. How would you relate poetry and literature to creative coding?

In my professional practice I always felt that coding is a very creative activity. Although this may seem counterintuitive, because it is full of rules and constraints, the fact is that you are creating something and, in the end, a result will emerge. There are different ways of achieving the same result, and the process of searching for and choosing a path is something I find very appealing. Often, what matters is not only the final output, but the decisions made along the way.

The same happens with writing. There are rules in language as well, but they can be bent or broken for poetic reasons. In creative coding I feel a similar freedom: working within constraints, but still allowing intuition, experimentation, and small deviations that can change the outcome.  

“Creative coding means working within constraints, but still allowing intuition, experimentation, and small deviations that can change the outcome.”

You decided to dive into visual art in 2021, at the time of the NFT boom. How did the NFT scene shape your understanding of art, and how has it evolved over the last years?

The NFT movement was the trigger for me to start exploring digital art. It felt like something important was happening and I wanted to be part of it, not to be left out of what seemed like a meaningful way to step into digital creation. In many ways, it was the entry point that allowed me to discover this artistic side of myself.

At that time, I had no experience with digital art, and that was one of the reasons AI attracted me so much. It opened the possibility to experiment visually without a traditional background. In that sense, AI felt very democratizing, allowing many people, including myself, to explore image-making in a more accessible way.

More recently, my relationship with that space has changed. I became more interested in slower processes and in developing a personal visual language. Discovering platforms like Niio, where my work can exist on large screens or in people’s living spaces, appeals to me more now than the NFT space itself. Still, I feel I will always be connected to that movement, as it was the precursor to my entry into the artistic world, and I owe a lot to it for opening that door.

Elsa Carvalho. TheUnfolding#2, 2025.

As a software expert, you know how software can shape what a user is able to do or even think they can do. Over the last decades, artists working with code have developed new tools that allow them to bypass the limitations of commercial software, and created a community around sharing. What do you think of this open source movement and how has it helped you as an artist?

I think the open source movement is very relevant and powerful. One of its biggest strengths is that it allows people to bypass the high costs of commercial software and to build tools together that anyone can use. This kind of shared effort has a real impact and reaches millions of people.

In my own practice, I did not take full advantage of artist-led open source tools, but open access to AI algorithms was essential for me in the beginning. Having Google notebooks available, with increasingly better GAN models and later other algorithms, was what allowed me to start experimenting with AI and image generation.

I also used non-paid platforms like Artbreeder, especially in my early exploration, alongside commercial AI tools. So my path was a mix of open, shared resources and proprietary software. Without that initial access to open algorithms and notebooks, I probably would not have entered this field in the same way.

“Discovering platforms like Niio, where my work can exist on large screens or in people’s living spaces, appeals to me more now than the NFT space itself.”

You use creative coding to generate visuals that then feed into an AI model to create a unique visual language. Can you take us through this process?

My process usually starts with creative coding. Through code, I generate images with more geometric structures, and this is where the core aesthetic of the work is defined. At this stage, I also establish the color palette and the visual coherence that runs through the series.

These images then become the starting point for the use of AI. AI allows me to introduce more organic qualities into the visuals, inspired by natural forms. It transforms the geometric structures and adds a layer of complexity and softness that I could not achieve through code alone.

From there, I curate the resulting images and use them as the basis for video works. I use AI tools to create the videos, either by introducing movement into the images or by morphing between different images. This final step allows the work to unfold over time and reinforces the idea of transformation that is central to my practice.

“I started my artistic practice with a mix of open, shared resources and proprietary software. Without that initial access to open algorithms and notebooks, I probably would not have entered this field in the same way.”

Both creative coding and artistic creation with AI deal with the tension between controlling the output and letting the program surprise you. How do you manage this tension? Do you sometimes fear that a good visual might be ruined once interpreted by the AI?

There is always a balance between control and surprise in my process. With creative coding, I have more control over structure, color, and overall direction. With AI, I accept that the visuals will change in ways I cannot fully predict.

Of course, there is always the risk that a visual I like might be altered in a way that does not work. But one of the pleasures of working with AI, and also with creative coding that includes some degree of randomness, is precisely the possibility of being surprised by the process.

Unexpected results often become important. Sometimes they even guide the direction I decide to follow. Rather than trying to protect a single image, I work through many variations and curate carefully, trusting that the process itself will lead me to the right outcomes.

Elsa Carvalho. TheUnfolding#3, 2025.

You have stated that your interest in organic forms stems from your childhood experiences in a farm, surrounded by animals and nature. Yet the forms you create are abstract and strongly evoke Surrealist painting. Why have you chosen this aesthetic?

Organic forms appeal to me a great deal, and that comes from growing up surrounded by animals and nature. Those experiences stayed with me, even if they are not represented in a direct or literal way.

At the same time, I am not interested in reproducing nature as it is. I prefer to work with suggestion rather than representation. By keeping the forms abstract, I can give hints instead of clear answers and leave space for the viewer’s own interpretation.

This approach allows me to connect personal memories with a more open visual language. The work does not describe something specific, but it can still evoke familiar sensations or emotions linked to nature.

Your early work shows more “mainstream” experimentation with AI, first applying textures to photographs of nature, then generating portraits of women with surreal elements, then moving into classical painting and surreal scenes that remind the work of Max Ernst and Paul Delvaux, as well as some photorealistic imaginary landscapes. What didn’t work for you in all these phases, that made you move forward? How have the advances in AI image generation contributed to this process?

It is interesting that you ask this question. When I started this path, not long ago, I met several Portuguese artists who were also involved in NFTs. I remember speaking with one of them about how to find my own style, and she explained it very simply: it can only happen with time, experimentation, and by understanding what makes sense for you at each moment.

In the early days, I was mainly exploring the tools. I was trying different approaches, testing what AI could do, and learning through practice. What did not work for me in those phases was the feeling that the results were too dependent on existing visual references, and that they resolved too quickly.

I enjoy experimenting, and I tend to move on when repetition becomes too comfortable. Over time, and with the advances in AI image generation, I was able to refine my process and gain more control. Now that my creation pipeline is better defined, it is easier for me to explore different themes while keeping a consistent process and aesthetic, which I hope is becoming more recognisable.

“One of the pleasures of working with AI, and also with creative coding, is precisely the possibility of being surprised by the process.”

Color plays an important role in your compositions, which feature deep blues and bright oranges and yellows, as well as a wide range of strongly contrasting colors that underline the constant changes taking place. How do you work with color? Does it serve purely compositional concerns or does it incorporate a particular meaning?

I work with a small set of color palettes that I use in a more or less random way during the creative coding phase. This helps give consistency to the final works, even when the forms and structures change.

I am very drawn to strong colors. Sometimes the world feels very grey, especially in the period we are going through, and I feel that people need strong colors in their lives. For me, color brings energy and intensity to the work.

There is no specific meaning attached to the colors I choose. Intuition plays an important role. In the end, the resulting colors are a mix of what comes from the initial coded image and what comes from the AI prompts, and I curate the results by choosing the images that appeal to me the most.

“Sometimes the world feels very grey, and I feel that people need strong colors in their lives. For me, color brings energy and intensity to the work.”

In the series tran·sience you collaborated with Bruno Miranda, who created a musical score for your compositions. Seeing the artworks with music almost feels as if the shapes are reacting to the score. How did this collaboration come to be? What does music bring to your work?

Bruno Miranda is my husband, and although music is not his day-to-day work, he has a strong passion for composition. The collaboration came very naturally, as it felt like a way to give the videos a stronger impact.

The process usually starts with the visuals. Once a video is ready, I ask him to create a musical composition for it, sometimes suggesting a mood or style. Music adds rhythm, movement, and emotional depth that the visuals alone cannot convey, making the work feel more alive and immersive.

Elsa Carvalho. TheUnfolding#4, 2025.

You have stated that impermanence is one of the most fundamental truths of life. Following this line of thought, where do you think your work might take you next? Have you considered video mapping, installation, sculpture, or other forms of creation?

Like my works, I tend to let life and intuition guide me. After several years working consistently on my process, sharing my work on X (ex-Twitter), and selling NFTs occasionally on different platforms, I began receiving more recognition. Instead of going after opportunities, I started getting invitations.

First, I was invited to sell my videos as NFTs on a well-known AI video platform. Later, platforms like Niio, which provide video artworks to be shown in public spaces or companies, invited me to submit my work so their clients could choose from my artworks. More recently, I was invited to create pieces for an important event here in Portugal. Challenges make our minds search for creative solutions, and if somebody challenges me to show my work in a different or innovative way, I will certainly try to make it happen. I prefer to let these kinds of invitations guide me and shape the work I explore next.

Valentina Ferrandes: Reshaping Icons

Niio Editorial

Valentina Ferrandes is an artist working across moving image, installation, and digital world-building, whose practice weaves together ecology, mythology, and the lived experience of place. Grounded in research and a documentary sensitivity to landscapes, archives, and historical traces, she shifted from filming toward constructing sensorial 3D environments, using scans, procedural tools, and real-time engines to let forms drift, fracture, and evolve. Classical sculpture and ancient narratives become both emotional anchors and critical material in her work: icons that carry through time, re-shaped through contemporary technologies into atmospheres of beauty and tension where political rupture can be felt indirectly through light, motion, and sound.

On the occasion of the launch of her solo artcast Metamorphoses: Myth, Body, and Code, we had a conversation about her work and creative process.

Valentina Ferrandes. Aurea, 2023

You describe your practice as connecting ecology, mythology, technology, and post-human imaginaries. When you start a new project, what drives it, the research, the story, or the technique you have chosen to produce it?

I normally start with research.

I’m interested in the way we live through environments and the stories that shape them. Myths, landscapes, architectures, archaeological traces. At first, these things appear separate; when you sit with them long enough, they begin to echo one another.

Only then do I choose the technique, the choice is never neutral.

Lately, I’ve been working with 3D motion, procedural tools, real-time engines, and 3D scans,  not to represent the world, but to build systems that can behave like it. Tools that allow things to drift, mutate, and occasionally slip out of control. Sometimes a project expands from a single shape, a scanned object from an archive, or material gathered through direct observation. That form becomes a world. Using game engines and procedural workflows, I stretch it, repeat it, let it evolve.

Ultimately, I’m trying to immerse the viewer in a mood, mostly driven by aesthetics, fragments of stories, and sensory tension, rather than by purely documentary logic.

Valentina Ferrandes. Still from Travelogue, 2018

You made experimental documentaries for years, then moved into CGI and real-time worlds. What changed for you around 2020 that made 3D the right language?

Around 2018 I made a film called Travelogue. It was a visual diary of a journey I took to Izmir in Turkey and then to the island of Kos, shot in a documentary register a couple of years back, right at the height of the Mediterranean migratory crisis. It followed my previous work Other Than Our Sea, where I used montage to collapse fragments of Mediterranean mythology, classical literature, ethnographic film, archival material, and glimpses of contemporary newsreels of shipwrecks in the Mediterranean into layered visual narratives.

But shooting Travelogue felt tougher as it touched something much closer. My family has a history of forced migration. Although Italian citizens, my father’s family had long-standing ties to Libya and Tunisia. After decades of living in Libya, they were compelled to return to Italy as refugees in the late 1970s. That sense of loss, of having to abandon an entire world to rebuild another, was something I grew up with. Filming along the semi-illegal routes in Turkey and Greece that many migrants were taking toward Europe, witnessing those crossings and the weight they carried, made me realise that documentary language had reached its limit for me.

Depicting reality no longer felt feasible. I didn’t want to record crises anymore but construct worlds that could allude to moments of rupture, holding some emotional truth but without reproducing their images directly.  I needed a medium that could be more sensorial, more abstract, and more heartfelt than documentary realism.

I had no language for it, so I stopped making films for a while.

“Depicting reality no longer felt feasible. I didn’t want to record crises anymore but construct worlds that could allude to moments of rupture.”

Then, around 2020, I turned to 3D. I began experimenting with scanned classical sculptures that had shaped my imagination growing up in southern Italy, fragments of classicity that, for me, functioned as emotional anchors. They were beautiful, but also quietly critical: stabilising forms in times of uncertainty, grounding while still provoking thought and aspiration. At the same time, I was going through a period of personal losses. Working in 3D allowed me to move away from documentation and toward construction: creating works driven by form, light, and colour rather than evidence.  Real-time worlds and CGI offered that kind of a-political space, a way to build beauty and tension, and to think about crisis indirectly, through atmosphere, motion, light and colour.

From that point on, my work shifted toward 3D hybrid forms.

Valentina Ferrandes. Victory, 2020


“Victory” treats Nike of Samothrace as something that can be algorithmically decomposed and rebuilt. What does computation allow you to “see” in sculpture that a camera cannot?

A camera can only register what is visible. It freezes what is already there. Computational tools do something else: they open the parameters to make instability visible and let you play with latent forms. Even the most solid material, like marble, is in reality energy in motion, atoms vibrating, matter constantly becoming. We just can’t see it.

In Victory, computation allows me to see sculpture as movement rather than image. When the Nike of Samothrace is translated into a 3D motion system, it stops being a fixed surface and becomes a fluid field of forces, basic geometries, vectors, and polygons that can shift, fracture, and reassemble.

“Even the most solid material, like marble, is in reality energy in motion, atoms vibrating, matter constantly becoming.”

In the Athena works, you connect a local pre-Christian cult, the olive tree, and the long chain of copies from Greece to Roman times and beyond. What does that continuity mean to you inside a digital artwork today?

We often think of digital media as something entirely new, as if it belongs only to the future. For me, however, digital tools are a means of reshaping icons that are already deeply ingrained in our collective memory.

In the Athena works, bringing together a local pre-Christian cult, the olive tree, and the long chain of copies creates a sense of continuity rather than rupture. Using a hyper-contemporary medium to work with ancient mythology opens up a different timeline, one where past and present coexist instead of replacing one another.

Classical icons are solid, almost a-temporal structures, narratives that can be applied to any moment in history, much like religious icons. They carry ethical, emotional and symbolic lessons that can stay legible across centuries.

“For me, digital tools are a means of reshaping icons that are already deeply ingrained in our collective memory.”

At the same time, I want my works to remain open. A digital artwork can be interpreted in various ways, ranging from a purely aesthetic encounter driven by form, light and rhythm to a more layered and reflective interpretation, depending on the viewer’s sensitivity and cultural background.

Digital tools don’t need to reject this legacy in favour of futuristic expectations. They enable us to revisit these foundational forms, reshape them, and discover new meanings within them. 

Valentina Ferrandes. Daaphne, 2022

You revisit Apollo and Daphne in both “Daaphne” and “Aurea.” Why return to that myth now, and what feels ethically or emotionally at stake in reanimating it with AI and procedural CGI?

This myth, at its core, stages a clear opposition: Apollo as a rational, male-driven force, mathematical, controlling, and oppressive, and Daphne as a figure bound to nature, freedom, and transformation. The moment of rupture between them could not be more explicit and in my work, I used AI to push that rupture even further.
I worked with an AI writing tool trained on game narratives and powered by a rudimentary version of GPT-3, fed it the story of Daphne as written in Ovid’s Metamorphoses and asked it to imagine what this nymph might wake up as after a set time as a laurel tree.

The AI imagined Daphne re-emerging as a post-human, hybrid being, part human, part aquatic, drifting in an underwater world, without language or memory, completely disoriented. I loved that the story had a hallucinatory, almost comic tone, like a futuristic fiction gone off-track.

“Daphne’s transformation is survival, a reminder that neither nature nor the systems we create can ever be fully governed by pure rationality.”

From there, I worked with 3D motion to animate forms suggested by the AI’s text. The work became a meditation on rupture at multiple levels: between human and nature, between rationality and excess, and between control and unpredictability. AI, in this sense, operates like an alter ego, a parallel intelligence that accelerates extraction, mutation, and instability.

In that way, the myth of Apollo and Daphne can be uncannily contemporary as it speaks to an enduring conflict: nature versus culture, rational order versus metamorphosis.  Apollo’s loss of power in the face of nature, something fundamentally uncontrollable, mirrors our relationship with AI today. We are building a system that behaves like a subconscious, one that evolves beyond our control, driven by its own form of self-preservation.

Daphne’s transformation is survival, a reminder that neither nature nor the systems we create can ever be fully governed by pure rationality.

Valentina Ferrandes. Midday Muse, 2022. Site-specific installation, META London Headquarters.


A lot of your work sits between fiction and documentation. How do you decide what must remain “true” and where you allow speculation to take over?

Usually, I decide on a set of rules, fixed conditions and boundaries for a given project.
I tend to ground a new work in real elements, a place, a historical fact, a piece of storytelling, a dataset, a myth that already exists, a landscape I’ve walked through. It’s almost a forensic layer to start building upon. This documentary approach anchors the work to the world as it is, while I use fiction to open a door to how it might feel, how it might mutate, or how it could be remembered in the future.

The balance is intuitive more than anything. What remains “true” is the research spine and the ethical position. Form, narrative, and atmosphere can drift in fluid ways.

Valentina Ferrandes. The Beautiful One Has Come, 2021.

Sound shows up as a structural element in several projects. Do you think of sound as world-building, as evidence, or as emotion?

When I began working on Daaphne, it was 2022, and the war in Ukraine had just started. One of the first elements I used in my soundtrack was a Russian lullaby,  a song meant to put children to sleep, but sung as an eerie horror story. I layered it with voices of phone calls from Russian mothers trying to find out where their sons had disappeared on the battlefield.

These sounds were among the first field recordings to surface from the conflict. They weren’t yet shaped by long-form reporting or political framing. They were raw, deeply human, and I knew they would soon be buried under 24h news coverage. I wanted to hold onto them before they disappeared. I’m drawn to these small, fragile fragments of reality, pieces of evidence that are emotionally charged but not always fully legible. They speak of a specific moment in time, yet they slip away easily, like trying to remember a conversation heard in a dream just after waking.

Much of the sound material I work with also comes from evidence: archival recordings, field recordings I collect myself, binaural sound, fragments of voiceover. But it’s almost always assembled as a collage. Sound often becomes the backbone of my work but it does not demand that everything be decoded. If someone wants to sit with it and trace the details, that’s possible. If not, the surface remains open.

Valentina Ferrandes. Bloom, 2024. Site-specific 3D animation, Night Lights Denver

In “BLOOM,” classical iconography is projected onto a city landmark. What draws you to public architecture as a screen, and what do you want viewers to feel at that scale?

Public architecture is interesting because it operates at a scale where meaning turns physical. Facades, towers, and landmarks are symbols of power, progress, and permanence. Using them as screens immediately creates a shift in perception.

In BLOOM, projecting classical iconography onto a hypermodern skyline for Denver Night Lights meant staging a clash of meanings. On one side, you have contemporary architecture, on the other, a classical image that many viewers may never have encountered directly, unless they’ve visited the museum that houses it. That displacement is intentional.

“Classical iconography carries a quiet power because it transcends specific cultures to communicate through beauty rather than explanation.”

At that scale, the work isn’t meant to be fully legible. It’s meant to interrupt routine, to slow people down, and to create a brief moment of disconnection from the everyday flow of the city. Ultimately, to leave space for a  few minutes of awe.

Ultimately, classical iconography carries a quiet power because it transcends specific cultures and historical knowledge to communicate through beauty rather than explanation. When placed on an urban skyline like Denver’s, it opens up a small pocket of dreaming,  a moment of wonder appearing where it doesn’t quite belong.

Saeko Ehara: filling the world with Kirakira

Yui Taniguchi and Pau Waelder

An artist and VJ based in Tokyo, Saeko Ehara’s work is deeply influenced by kirakira, a Japanese term that can be translated as “sparkling” and defines a peculiar visual language. Glittering objects, flowers, and shiny clothing express joy and playfulness in Manga, popular culture, music, fashion, and contemporary art. It is one of the many ways in which Japanese artists overcome the distinction between “high” and “low” culture, by introducing elements from popular culture into their artworks and making them an integral part of their œuvre. Well-known artists such as Takashi Murakami or Yayoi Kusama have popularized this characteristically Japanese approach to contemporary art, which in Ehara’s work takes a new dimension in the form of immersive 3D animations, sometimes created from real environments and objects. 

Saeko Ehara aims to inspire positive feelings and provide a space of contemplation and recovery through her kirakira artworks, gradually feeling the world with joyful visual experiences. Following the recent launch of her solo artcast Kirakira World, the artist shares with us some insights about her work and the creative process behind it.

Saeko Ehara. KiraKira Sweet Pink, 2022

Kirakira is a major aspect of your work. You state that it connects with your childhood and also with the experience of escaping from reality. Do you think that kirakira is about escaping reality? Is it a way to avoid the darkest aspects of everyday life by finding a safe and joyful space in a fantasy world?

Kirakira is not an escape from reality. For me, Kirakira represents the most primal sense of awe I experienced in childhood, and I want to share that feeling with the world through my work. I’m not expressing it to escape from painful experiences, but rather, I hope it serves as a source of encouragement and recovery for myself and for viewers when faced with difficulties.

“I hope that Kirakira serves as a source of encouragement and recovery for myself and for viewers when faced with difficulties.”

In terms of its visual appearance, kirakira heavily relies on sparkling effects and reflective textures. How does that translate into your work with 3D animation? Is it challenging? Do you need many resources to create the elements you look for? Please tell us a bit about the making of the artworks.

Before using AI, I mainly used TouchDesigner and Houdini to create 3D animations. I focused particularly on materials and lighting, learning through numerous tutorials. In Houdini, rendering transparency and reflections takes a lot of time, so completing a single piece would often take a long time.

Saeko Ehara. Crystal Flowers, 2022

Flowers are also a common element in kirakira aesthetics that can be found in your work. What do you find most appealing about using flowers as an element in your compositions? Which flowers do you like to depict? Are they more connected to Japanese and Asian cultures (such as lotus or almond blossoms) or to Western tradition (roses, poppies, daisies)?

Flowers are a universal presence that can be enjoyed by people regardless of nationality or race, and that’s what I find so appealing about them. When choosing flower types, I focus on their symbolism and their relationship to the place of exhibition. Recently, as I often focus on everyday life as a theme, I’ve increasingly been incorporating flowers that bloom in familiar surroundings.

“I like flowers because they are a universal presence that can be enjoyed by people regardless of nationality or race.”

You often collaborate with musicians in VJ sessions. Since your artworks have the ability to transport viewers to a different world, how do you combine that immersive experience with the music? Do these artworks have a different pace or rhythm compared to those you exhibit in gallery or museum shows?

VJ sessions often last 20 to 40 minutes, allowing for a deeper viewing experience than static exhibitions. I usually research the musician’s music in advance and align my expression with their rhythm and worldview. I also take into account the venue size and screen shape when creating the visuals.

Saeko Ehara. Dreamy Creatures, 2022

Given that your work often depicts fantastic worlds and immersive scenes, have you developed VR or AR pieces? If so, how would you compare the experience on the screen with that of a VR headset?

I’m not currently creating VR or AR works. Personally, I prefer screen-based experiences that anyone can enjoy without needing a headset or installing apps.

“Platforms like Niio, which connect with the world, are wonderful and feel like a big step toward realizing my vision.”

You have expressed interest in art history when working with AI. What do you find appealing about the art of the past? Which art styles or artists are you most interested in? Apparently you work mainly with references from Western art, have you explored traditional Japanese art too?

Both 3D animation and AI are stimulating, but right now I find myself especially drawn to working with AI models. AI allows for some control, but its greatest appeal is the unpredictability of the outcomes. In the beginning, I created many works that re-generated Western and Japanese art through AI. Recently, I’ve become more interested in the idea of how past artists might express themselves using today’s tools. I’m also exploring how to train AI using public domain works to discover new forms of expression.

Saeko Ehara. Flower Garden, 2024

What would be the next step of “making the world full of kirakira”? Would you like to create more installation work, or live performances, or maybe widely distribute your work, with Niio or other platforms?

Platforms like Niio, which connect with the world, are wonderful and feel like a big step toward realizing my vision. I believe it will take time to fill the world with Kirakira, but I want to cherish each opportunity and build slowly. That way, little by little, I hope to fill the world with Kirakira.

Lines of Thought: painting across mediums

Niio Editorial

British artist Thomas Lisle has long explored the frontier where painting meets digital media, creating a compelling fusion of tradition and innovation. With a career spanning over four decades, his work seamlessly integrates analog techniques with immersive digital processes. Currently, Galeria Maior in Pollença is presenting Lines of Thought, a solo exhibition curated by Pau Waelder. This body of work is complemented by an artcast on Niio, offering audiences a deeper insight into Lisle’s hybrid practice of “time-based paintings” and dynamic compositions.

We spoke with the artist about his creative process, the interplay between digital and physical media, and how his works evolve across dimensions and time. This brief three-question interview offers readers a quick dive into Lisle’s work, which can be further explored in a longer interview and an essay by the artist, both published in Niio Editorial.

View of the exhibition “Lines of Thought” by Thomas Lisle at Galeria Maior in Pollença (Mallorca, Spain).

Your exhibition Lines of Thought showcases both physical and digital works. Can you tell us how these two forms are connected in your process?

In this series, the digital paintings came first. Using the 3D animation software, I painted a series of tubular shapes, similar to pencil lines but with volume. These I could edit, move around, and change in any way I wanted. When I was happy with these elements, I converted the tubular shapes into simulated liquids and set different parts of each of them to have different values of mass, viscosity, and so on.

The pencil lines thus became a liquid simulation (using complex mathematics developed by others). I turned the gravity to zero in most pieces but not all: in some of the pieces several paint strokes have gravity and others don’t. Then in some of the artworks I animated a brushstroke over time, moving across the virtual canvas and interacting with other paint elements. The main themes of this series of artworks are about dynamic compositions and forms, as well as contrasts of colour, forms, mass, and movement.

Thomas Lisle. Currents, 2025

The next step was the animation of the liquid paints: to do that I built complex invisible forces that push the liquids around. I spent a lot of time trying out different combinations of forces and the settings controlling the liquids, until I got the results I aimed for, that have a visual, painterly meaning to me. I think about these compositions in terms of relationships and abstractions that I think could make either a great painting and/or a good animation.

For the paintings I took specific moments of the animation where I felt that the composition, colour, and forms are the best and then I used that image as the basis for a painting. So all the process that I described above has also been carried out considering this last stage in which the animation can become an oil painting on canvas.

Thomas Lisle. Flotsam, 2025.

You describe these animations as “time-based paintings.” What makes this digital approach painterly in your view?

What makes them painterly is the visual language they inherit from traditional painting—color, composition, gesture—but reimagined in motion and time. Each animation is a dynamic abstraction, shaped by invisible forces I program to manipulate the virtual paint. I spend a lot of time adjusting these forces and liquid parameters to create meaningful visual relationships—whether it’s through tension, mass, or movement. These aren’t just technical effects; they’re part of a painterly exploration, extended into the temporal realm.

“In the digital 3D space, lines evolve; they can be manipulated in ways unimaginable even 20 years ago.”

What does the idea of a “line” mean in this body of work, especially given the title Lines of Thought?

The line is foundational here—both as a visual element and as a metaphor. Traditionally, lines have been the building blocks of drawings and paintings. In the digital 3D space, lines evolve; they can be manipulated in ways unimaginable even 20 years ago. In my process, lines are the genesis of everything: they become forms, masses, and ultimately, flowing simulations. Conceptually, the title Lines of Thought speaks to both this visual structure and the algorithmic logic behind digital creation—almost like thinking made visible.

Lines of Thought is on view at Galeria Maior, Pollença, throughout June 2025. A curated selection of Lisle’s digital works is also available on Niio as part of a special artcast accompanying the exhibition.

A purely visual experience. The art of Eisuke Ikeda

Niio Editorial

Born in Osaka in 1976 and trained in post-production editing after graduating from the University of Fine Arts, Eisuke Ikeda has developed a distinctive visual language that seamlessly weaves analog sensibility into digital precision. His works are marked by an intentional embrace of imperfection—subtle distortions, organic pulses, and delicate fractures that bring a surprising tactility to the virtual screen. Central to Ikeda’s practice is a deep trust in the viewer’s intuition. He eschews overt symbolism or narrative structure, focusing instead on the phenomenological act of seeing. Subtle distortions, organic fluctuations, and textural echoes mimic natural erosion and evoke the tactile essence of physical matter, despite being rendered entirely in the digital realm.

Niio has recently launched the solo artcast Eternity of the Ephemeral, which features five artworks that, more than just moving images, unfold like ambient states of consciousness. These are not works to be watched in the conventional sense—they are to be dwelled in, felt, and absorbed. Each composition becomes an experiential landscape where the viewer’s perception becomes the true medium. In the following interview, the artist elaborates on his creative process and the concepts that underlie his artistic practice.

Eisuke Ikeda. EXoC 2681257 | 2025 Remix |, 2025

You have worked as a post-production CGI specialist for film productions. How does this background influence or nurture your artistic production? What have you learned in terms of software usage and image production that you are now applying to your artistic projects?

When I worked in post-production, my duties ranged from assisting with television editing to creating CGI components and producing opening visuals for music events.

What impressed me most during that time were the veteran craftsmen at the Kyoto film studios. Cinematographers, editors and script supervisors—professionals who, in other careers, would already be retired—devoted themselves to finishing each project, working through the night without hesitation. Their approach to filmmaking was more than technical skill; it was a way of life. The blend of boldness, precision and pride they embodied remains vivid in my memory.

Those experiences still shape my practice today. Although my methods have evolved, the resolve to “communicate through moving images” and the quiet sincerity with which I face each work are values I inherited from them.

“The interweaving of nature with daily life and the presence of temples and shrines in Kyoto have formed my aesthetic foundation since childhood.”

My sensibility is also rooted in Kyoto’s environment. The interweaving of nature with daily life and the presence of temples and shrines have formed my aesthetic foundation since childhood. From art-school days to the present I have been drawn to contemporary art, Japanese Zen, Buddhist art and classical arts; the decorative and symbolic qualities of hanging scrolls, folding screens and esoteric Buddhist implements continue to influence me spiritually.

The software skills I acquired by self-study at university became my technical base. I entered the field just as digital tools were being introduced, and programs such as After Effects, Photoshop and non-linear editors proved indispensable in both commercial and personal work. Those skills still underpin my art today. More recently I have expanded my toolkit—again self-taught—to include TouchDesigner and Ableton Live.

Thus, beyond any single CGI technique, it is the mindset and sensibility cultivated in post-production, together with my exposure to diverse art forms, that define the core of my creative work.

Eisuke Ikeda. EXoC 2681257 | 2025 Remix |, 2025

Can you briefly describe the process of elaboration of your artworks? Despite being abstract compositions, what are the experiences, images, or ideas that trigger their creation?

I currently rely on TouchDesigner and Ableton Live to pursue abstractions in which sight and sound intertwine. Although I once produced 3-D character animation, I gradually became more attracted to abstraction—forms that leave interpretation to the viewer rather than imposing narrative or figuration. I am drawn to structures with no beginning or end, no fixed centre, in which spiritual resonance can reside.

My process is improvisational. Instead of following a strict concept, I trust “moments of visual delight.” As light, motion and colour shift, I adjust elements in real time, responding with my emotions and bodily sense—an approach akin to musical improvisation.

The five works uploaded to Niio focus on delicate particle movements, yet my style remains fluid. Depending on my state of mind I may move toward flat compositions, high contrast or rapid motion. In every case I seek to evoke pre-linguistic emotions or fragments of memory, rather than convey explicit meaning.

“I am drawn to structures with no beginning or end, no fixed centre, in which spiritual resonance can reside.”

In your artworks, you avoid any rigid interpretation or meaning. In fact, the title of each video is mostly a reference number, with no intention of providing any narrative. Yet the descriptions are quite poetic, with references to memory, silence, the soul, or eternity. How do you balance the purely abstract and rational with the more evocative and narrative aspects of your work?

Titles such as EXoC or abCnW are deliberately cryptic: abbreviations of words that interested me at the time. They preserve ambiguity and poetic space, encouraging open interpretation rather than prescribing it. 

Ultimately I want to offer a “purely visual experience” that quietly expands awareness. What I call a “tactile sensation beyond the screen” is this spiritual and sensory resonance—one that connects, for me, with the animistic quietude in traditional Japanese aesthetics.

“Ultimately I want to offer a purely visual experience that quietly expands awareness.”

Ephemerality is a key concept in your work, expressed in fleeting elements, bursts of light, and also darkness. Is the search for the expression of the ephemeral what led you to work with digital media? How do motion, light, and darkness play a role in your work?

Creating art has always been a digital act for me. Since my student days I have worked on a computer; I have never painted on canvas. Thus expression and digital media are inseparable in my practice.

I did not adopt digital tools because I sought ephemerality; rather, I have long explored how to express ephemerality within the digital environment I know so well.

That sense of impermanence appears in flickers of light, bleeding shadows and formless tremors that rise and vanish. These overlap with memory fragments and emotional echoes, permeating the viewer as a subtle perception of time and space.

Motion, light and darkness are indispensable to this. They remain understated—quivering softly inside the frame, leaving a quiet trace. Only digital media allow the fine-grained accumulation of change that produces the fragile texture I seek.

Eisuke Ikeda. EXoC 2681257 | 2025 Remix |, 2025

Each artwork in this series features a meditative soundtrack. How does music support the visual experience? Does it introduce a narrative, or convey a certain emotion?

For every piece in this series the soundtrack was composed after the visuals were completed. The music introduces no explicit narrative; its purpose is to support atmosphere and mood.

Sound and image function symbiotically: audio flows with the rhythm of light and movement. Rather than directing viewers toward set emotions, the restrained soundscape leaves room for personal reflection and sensory introspection.

“Only digital media allow the fine-grained accumulation of change that produces the fragile texture I seek.”

The use of Artificial Intelligence models is gaining widespread use in artistic creation. Are you interested in applying AI to your creative process in any way?

Advances in AI have opened a new perspective on my work. When OpenAI’s ChatGPT gained wide attention a few years ago, its potential struck me powerfully. For an artist rooted in digital expression, AI’s arrival echoed the shock photography once delivered to painting, prompting artists to reconsider their medium.

Many creators now collaborate with AI. I have begun tentative experiments in TouchDesigner, exploring AI-driven possibilities. My use is still preliminary, but I am gradually looking toward deeper integration—generating code and widening the scope of interaction.