Anthroposcenes: life in the Age of Humans

Pau Waelder

Centre d’Art Lo Pati in Amposta opens a new season of screenings in the art center’s building façade. Following an art program curated by Irma Vilà, I have been invited by the director of Lo Pati, Aida Boix, to curate a new selection of artworks for 2024. Titled Anthroposcenes: narratives about life in the Anthropocene, it features the work of Diane Drubay, Claudia Larcher, Kelly Richardson, Theresa Schubert, Yuge Zhou, and Marina Zurkow. In the following text, I introduce the concept behind this curatorial project and the work of the artists.

Artwork by Marina Zurkow displayed on the screen at the façade of Lo Pati.

The term “Anthropocene” was proposed in 2000 by the ecologist Eugene Stoermer and the Nobel laureate in chemistry Paul Crutzen to indicate the decisive influence of human activity on our planet. It carries the danger of accepting that our actions are irreparable, but at the same time it gives us a sense of responsibility in our relationship with the environment. Understanding the consequences of our consumption habits and our daily activities in an ecosystem pushed to the limit by the abuse of natural resources, the production of waste and pollution is both a necessity and a duty.

The notion of the Anthropocene can lead us to think that the effects of human activity on the planet are just a consequence of the evolution of our species.

Philosopher and biologist Donna Haraway indicates that the danger of talking about the Anthropocene is that it leads us to consider that the effects of human activity on the planet are inevitable, and that this is just a consequence of the evolution of our species. For this reason, she proposes the term “Capitalocene,” pointing out that it is the capitalist exploitation of the Earth’s resources, including human beings, that leads to the destruction of the environment. The philosopher and anthropologist Bruno Latour also indicates that it is practically impossible to study a phenomenon such as the Anthropocene from a purely scientific, distant and objective perspective, because we find ourselves embedded in the very phenomena we are trying to study .

We therefore find that the notion of the Anthropocene is both very obvious but also in a certain way invisible, as it points to something as commonplace as our daily activity. As humans, we need to exploit natural resources to obtain food, warmth, and shelter, but we also extract resources to fulfill the numerous needs created by a consumer society taken to the greatest excesses by the very functioning of a globalized capitalist system. The Anthropocene is often linked to climate change and the danger of mass extinction, but even if we manage to avoid a planetary disaster, our way of life leads us to create an environment in which it will be increasingly difficult to live.

In this aspect, we must also remember, as the geographer Erle C. Ellis points out, that there are “better and worse lower case «anthropocenes»” depending on how the changes that occur in the environment affect us. In the most industrialized countries, we still do not suffer many effects from the extraction of minerals, the massive use of plastics, the production of waste from the fashion or technology industries, among others, because we divert them to poor countries. That is why it is essential to understand this phenomenon as something in which we participate daily, and to become aware of it we not only need a big poster telling us to recycle more and consume less, but also a narrative, or a series of narratives that make us think about life in the Anthropocene and can lead us to adopt a different mentality, born of conviction and not of guilt or a regulation.

We need narratives that make us think about life in the Anthropocene and can lead us to adopt a different mentality, born of conviction and not of guilt or a regulation.

The facade of Centre d’Art Lo Pati incorporates a screen that brings art to the street and is therefore an ideal space to show these narratives: six audiovisual works created by artists from the international scene that offer us, from different perspectives, narratives about life in the Anthropocene, particularly in those environments and systems that we ignore but that play a determining role in life on Earth. From the ocean floor to the mines from which we extract the materials that facilitate our digital life, from glaciers to atmospheric phenomena, from forest fires to crowded cities, these works invite us to reflect on our planet, the world in which we want to live and what we will leave to the next generations.

Marina Zurkow. OOzy #3: Just because you can’t swim in it doesn’t mean it isn’t there, 2022.

The ocean, a “capitalist Pangea”

The artist Marina Zurkow (New York, USA, 1962) opens this cycle with a work that takes us to the bottom of the ocean. A good part of her work focuses on this natural environment of which she points out that it is “a surface and a volume. The surface, which is what we humans mainly experience, is a space in which we play and a surface through which we transport goods, this is what turns the ocean into a capitalist Pangea.” Zurkow points out that, while we look to the sea or the ocean as a space in which to relax and dream, we use it as a dumping ground and exploit its resources without considering its sustainability. In the artwork OOzy #3: Just because you can’t swim in it doesn’t mean it isn’t there (2022), she imagines life 6,000 meters under the sea, in an environment where humans could not live. She represents this underwater landscape in vivid colors, in a playful way, because she believes that it is through humor and apparent innocence that a message can be communicated in a way that is not paternalistic or authoritarian. The work invites us to enjoy a fanciful vision that can entertain us, but over time it will also lead us to think about how the elements that appear in it (underwater probes and other devices created by humans) are alien and invasive.

Claudia Larcher. Noise above our heads, 2016.

What lies beneath the iceberg

Zurkow refers to the “iceberg model” proposed by researcher Donella Meadows to point out that we often focus on the effects (the visible part of the iceberg) and not on the structures, systems and mental models that lead to these effects, and which are usually hidden or ignored. In Noise above our heads (2016) the artist Claudia Larcher (Bregenz, Austria, 1979) takes us deep into the earth’s surface to explore a different landscape, the crust of rock that supports the weight of humanity and provides the resources that have shaped our consumer society, dependent on fossil fuels and dominated by information technologies. Deeply interested in the way in which architecture conditions our environment, Larcher introduces between the rocks fragments of architectural constructions, masses of cement that refer to the physical infrastructure of cities, and also data processing centers, hidden in cavernous spaces. “As for architecture,” says the artist, “I am drawn to its power to create, change and destroy our environment.”

The Earth’s crust supports the weight of humanity and provides the resources that have shaped our consumer society, dependent on fossil fuels and dominated by information technologies. 

Diane Drubay. Ignis II, 2021.

Stories of possible futures

While Larcher’s video takes us underground, the work of artist Diane Drubay (Paris, France) invites us to look up to the sky. We see a captivating landscape with brightly colored clouds, which slowly turn reddish and increasingly dark. Ignis II (2021) is an animation of only 14 seconds, representing the fourteen years that, in 2021, remained until the so-called “point of no return” in climate change: the year 2035. According to the most recent reports, already in 2029 it will be impossible to limit the global rise in temperatures to 1.5 degrees. Instead of showing a countdown or a graph with an upward curve, Drubay creates an alluring, almost abstract landscape that tells a story solely by transforming the colors in the image. The effect is hypnotic, and if we think about what it represents, quite terrifying. The artist emphasizes the cyclical nature of the work and its leisurely rhythm: “my art requires slowness, but above all, sustainability. The notion of time and cycle is present in my work to position it in an infinite space of time that can be easily assimilated to that of nature.” Drubay’s piece, under its ephemeral beauty, leads us to reflect on slow but inexorable processes, and our ability to react to them.

Kelly Richardson. HALO I, 2021.

Memories of a lost past

In the work HALO I (2021), the artist Kelly Richardson (Ontario, Canada, 1972) takes up the theme of Camp, a video filmed in 1998. The vision of the moon during a summer night under a campfire evokes in the artist fond memories of childhood and adolescence. In this work, it acquires a new meaning as we see our satellite subjected to increasing heat. Today, bonfires have been banned in British Columbia (where the artist lives) due to the risk of forest fires. Richardson consciously evokes a scene that has emotional connotations (the tranquility of a summer night, leisure time with friends and family) and adds to it a situation of imminent danger. She wants to establish a connection that leads the viewer to react. “Beauty invites viewers to pay attention to a subject that may be difficult for them. The tragedy lies in showing the truth about what we have created, the conditions we find ourselves in, and the call we collectively face.” Unlike Drubay, who presents us with a possible future, Richardson evokes a lost past to incite us to reflection and action.

“Beauty invites viewers to pay attention to a subject that may be difficult for them. The tragedy lies in showing the truth about what we have created”

Yuge Zhou. Interlinked II, 2022

Sisyphus routines

Paradoxically, our society is very active, but it is mostly immersed in an incessant activity marked by capitalist production and consumption systems. This is made obvious in the artwork Interlinked II (2022) by Yuge Zhou (Beijing, China, 1985), an artist who resides in Chicago and in her work often observes interpersonal dynamics in American society. Zhou works with video collage to break the singularity of the moving image and tell multiple stories at the same time, turning a scene into a narrative space rich in different scenes. These scenes are often protagonized by people going about their daily or recreational activities. In this piece we see a multiplicity of sequences filmed in the New York subway in which travelers walk along platforms and corridors without a specific destination. The composition leads to thinking about what the artist calls “Sisyphus routines,” which ultimately lead nowhere and expose the absurdity of everyday life in big cities. Referring to the flâneur, or the flâneuse in this case, Zhou describes how she stands outside the flow of activity she wants to portray, indicating that this is the way to observe and reflect on what we take for granted and consider permanent.

Theresa Schubert. A synthetic archive (AI glaciers), 2023.

Nothing is permanent

The last work in the series, created by the artist Theresa Schubert (Berlin, Germany, 1983) using artificial intelligence systems, explores the gradual disappearance of glaciers, a powerful image of climate change that reminds us that nothing is permanent. A synthetic archive (AI glaciers) (2023) creates a visual poem using images generated by machine learning algorithms and a sound composition that combines music, choral singing, and the voices of various narrators. The artist studied the fluvial systems in the Piemont region in Italy and collected data that was then fed to three generative adversarial networks. The fluid way in which the mountain landscapes generated by these computer programs are transformed speaks to us of a nature that, far from being static, is subject to constant transformations, which are now accelerating due to human action. Artificial intelligence, a profoundly human creation that also brings with it a particular threat of extinction, is the most appropriate tool to visualize the idea that the world is slipping under our feet.

Disordinary Beauty, a work in progress (part 4)

Domenico Barra and Pau Waelder

DISØRDINARY BƏAUTY is an ongoing art project by Domenico Barra that explores ugliness through glitch art. The project has been developed as a series of NFTs, with a new phase taking place on Niio as a work in progress, in which the artist will periodically upload new artworks and accompanying documentation. Here in the Editorial section, we are publishing email exchanges bringing light into Domenico’s creative process and the ideas and influences behind this project.

Follow Domenico Barra’s work in progress on your screen in DISØRDINARY BƏAUTY: art canon

Fourth ɛʍǟɨʟ exchange

from: Pau Waelder
to: Domenico Barra
date: Feb 8, 2024, 8:48 PM
subject: Re: Disordinary Beauty #04-05 on Niio

Hi, Domenico!

It’s been a year since we started this collaboration and I am deeply thankful for your unwavering commitment to creating new artworks and your generosity in sharing them in this series on Niio.

So, let me get to the questions! (in attachment) I explored your blog and found a treasure trove of content there.

Please let me know if anything is not clear, I know the questions are a bit long, so please bear with me 🙂

Best wishes,

Pau


from: Domenico Barra 
to: Pau Waelder 
date: Feb 12, 2024, 11:14 AM
subject: Re: Disordinary Beauty #04-05 on Niio

Hola Pau, qué tal?

Thank you so much for finding the time to read my blog and prepare these questions.

Taking part in the Art cast series for Niio has been essential, it is allowing me to expand my DB🥀🪞 project and explore more the aesthetic of portraits and the [thorn] sense of beauty, learning about artists of the past, new stories, and also test new video codecs. I have a long list to try, my FFmpeg is on fire. I must say that I hope one day to see some of these works exhibited in a gallery, maybe, who knows. I am also looking forward to adding audio, the next video will have audio.

I hope you will find my answers to your questions interesting, and thank you so much for this opportunity. It’s an honour and pleasure to share my thoughts and stories with you. Great respect for that. 

Sincerely,

d0/\/\!

Domenico Barra. DB a̶r̶t̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶o̶n̶ | a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶_̶g̶e̶m̶i̶t̶o̶, 2023

Let’s start with the portrait of Vincenzo Gemito. I didn’t know about this artist and became fascinated after reading your blog post. This is the second self-portrait in the series, after the one by Carl Joseph Begas, and it is a very different kind of work: a very intimate and mesmerizing depiction of the “scultore pazzo” which makes me think about the internal struggles that all artists go through and the possible connection between madness and glitch, as both diverge from the expected, the system that works and is stable. I wonder why you chose this portrait, did you want to explore these connections? Maybe some self-introspection of your artist persona?

My journey into the realm of art began at a pivotal moment in my life. Back in the day, I had recently embarked on a new chapter by moving to England, mostly motivated by the necessity to face my inner demons, seeking to discover my true self. At the cusp of turning 20 years old, it was my first experience living independently as a foreigner abroad. I needed to overcome my insecurity, anxiousness, and restlessness, I needed to find some peace of mind. Amidst this transition, art emerged as my guiding light, offering a profound avenue for exploring my fragilities and grappling with the myriad challenges I encountered. 

It was during those years that I found out and finally started to face my OCD and experimenting ways to hack it and keep those intrusive thoughts under control, something that finally I managed to do brilliantly. Reverse engineering my brain was one hell of a trip. 

But it all started well before that. The human mind glitches I encountered along the way are quite few. Living alongside my two autistic cousins from a young age exposed me to the diversity of human experience and instilled in me a fondness for the atypical. This early exposure to altered states of the human consciousness also fostered a curiosity within me, driving me to delve deeper into the complexities of human nature. 

“The disability is in the society as a whole, and not the individuals, everyone is a single story.”

Through art, I found solace in embracing the vulnerabilities that define us, recognizing that true understanding stems from empathizing with the struggles of others who are conditioned by a society that is not able to allow everyone to be who they are based on their particular condition. The disability is in the society as a whole, and not the individuals, everyone is a single story. By this I mean that if a society doesn’t manage to be inclusive, enabling people to have a peaceful life, adapting to peculiar necessities, then it is the society having issues and not the people in need of certain conditions to have a decent life.   

My interest in the human psyche was further fueled by encounters with institutions like the old Psychiatric Hospital Leonardo Bianchi in Napoli during the projection of a documentary that was telling the stories happening behind those walls. I walked by this place everyday and that always tickled my curiosity and imagination. Witnessing the resilience and humanity amidst conditions often stigmatized by society reshaped my perception of madness and reinforced my commitment to amplifying the voices of the vulnerable whenever I had the chance to tell their stories. 

The attention towards the reality of a psychiatric hospital became even stronger once I had the chance to visit the dismissed forensic psychiatric hospital S. Eframo in Napoli. It had been redeveloped by a group of activists that now operate part of this building to support minorities and marginalized people offering various social services such as medical assistance, language schools for asylum seekers, entertainment and politics. I remember walking through the corridors and reaching the rooms where the psychiatric inmates were kept and assisted, probably one of the strongest experiences ever in my life. I spent hours reading the messages they left on the walls, it gave me goosebumps. 

“Witnessing the resilience and humanity amidst conditions often stigmatized by society reshaped my perception of madness and reinforced my commitment to amplifying the voices of the vulnerable.”

In the pursuit of authentic artistic practices and driven by inclusivity, I drew inspiration from The Surrealist Manifesto by André Breton, a book I treasure with admiration. It influenced me to the point that I felt the urge to celebrate the wild and untamed manifestations of creativity, probably somehow with the intention to give space to my disorder and exploit its tendency for the absurd. Living in a shared house with friends akin to the surrealists’ ethos, where freedom of expression reigned supreme, opened my eyes to the transformative power of art in fostering connections and dismantling conventions. At the time we were also hugely influenced by a successful series titled The Mighty Boosh and its unusual storytelling. This was an incredible experience because I learnt the empowering potential of art for self expression and self awareness. 

When selecting Vincenzo Gemito for my series on Niio, I was drawn to his tumultuous past and relentless pursuit of perfection—a stark contrast to my own embrace of imperfection, but also being aware of Gemito’s background and surroundings as I walked these same streets of Napoli in my own boots too, I was also shaped by its conflicts and culture. We are both artists, neapolitans. I have known his work for a long time, since I’ve seen it many times at the Museo di Capodimonte, a place we had previously had a chance to talk about, and it felt natural to relate to him and his condition as artist and human.  

Through glitch art, I find a means of decoding the complexities of life, using glitches as metaphors for the fragility and disordinary beauty inherent in the human experience. More personal experiences, such as witnessing the ravages of Alzheimer’s and dementia in people very close to me, have profoundly influenced my artistic journey, imbuing my creations with a sense of empathy and introspection. In essence, my artistic odyssey is a testament to the transformative power of creativity in navigating life’s complexities and embracing the inherent imperfections that define us. 

“Through glitch art, I find a means of decoding the complexities of life, using glitches as metaphors for the fragility and disordinary beauty inherent in the human experience.”

Through glitch art, I seek to illuminate the beauty found within life’s and society’s glitches and celebrate the diversity of human existence. In the first series that gave birth to the DIS/verse projects, DISØRDINARY BƏAUTY | ⚡ BÆUTY IZ CH∆ØZ ⚡ , those hauntingly beautiful generative glitch art portraits are unknown lost souls in the short circuits of society, of life. A reminder that many people stay invisible, unrecognizable, and unknown because society isn’t inclusive at all.

The DIS/verse projects include: Noise Source, Ecstasy of Creation, Witness of Madness, The Beautiful Minds and D.B. | Beauty is Chaos

Gemito’s stare in this self-portrait is so powerful and it resists all distorsions and remains as a haunting presence. How was it “breaking” this image? Did it resist the glitches? Would you say you succeeded?

It was definitely a bit of a challenge to choose the right portrait from Gemito’s extensive body of self-portrait works. Ultimately, I settled on this particular one that I felt captured the essence of what I wanted to convey through my glitch art version. The decision to focus on this specific portrait was influenced by several factors. Firstly, its composition lent itself well to the format I needed considering the constraints of adapting it to fit a screen, allowing me to center it effectively within the frame was an important feature. Gemito’s posture, with his bending and leaning forward, added a dynamic element that I found intriguing and visually engaging. Moreover, the intensity of Gemito’s stare in this portrait struck me as particularly powerful. I wanted to capture and amplify this sense of tension and vulnerability in the final glitched rendition. To achieve this, I deliberately chose codecs known for their ability to heavily distort and break images, pushing the boundaries of visual disruption to create a thunderous effect. In addition to utilizing these codecs, I also employed a generative glitch script to further enhance the explosiveness of the sentiment and of the final composition. 

Despite the chaotic nature of the glitches, I wanted Gemito’s presence to remain palpable and unwavering amidst the pixelated turmoil. His greatness, I believe, transcends the distortions and disruptions, serving as a testament to the enduring legacy. The resulting artwork stands as a visual manifestation of his unstable journey, a poignant reminder of the enduring power of artistic expression and vulnerability of the human mind, so great and so fragile. 

Domenico Barra. DB a̶r̶t̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶o̶n̶ | a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶_̶v̶i̶g̶é̶e̶_̶l̶e̶_b̶r̶u̶n, 2023

The fifth artwork in this series is dedicated to a portrait by the celebrated painter Elisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun, who is also the first female artist in the Disordinary Beauty project. The portrait you chose is quite special, because it is a commission that Vigée Le Brun had trouble finishing due to the “extreme ugliness” of the sitter, Princess Maria Luisa di Borbone. It is a captivating story in the context of a work exploring beauty and ugliness through glitch art. What drew your attention to this portrait? Since the canons of beauty have particularly been imposed on women, what do you make of this depiction of a woman despised for her apparent lack of beauty made by a woman artist who put her talent into applying a “beauty filter” to her portrait?

Initially, I must admit, I found this story rather amusing. The idea that even a figure as powerful as a queen could be subject to mockery and ridicule due to her physical appearance struck me as both intriguing and somewhat ironic. It highlighted the harsh reality that ugliness is not forgiven – regardless of one’s status or privilege, it can still be used as a tool for discrimination and derision, especially if you are a royal and your status is close to the divine, and beauty is strongly related to the divine. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if Maria Luisa’s royal status played a role in how her appearance was perceived and depicted. Historically, powerful figures often sought to be portrayed not as they truly were, but rather in a way that projected an idealized image of themselves. This was particularly prevalent among royals, where marriages within the same bloodline often led to genetic conditions and physical imperfections, I believe artists were often invited to leave these possible particulars out.

“The idea that even a figure as powerful as a queen could be subject to mockery and ridicule due to her physical appearance struck me as both intriguing and somewhat ironic.”

I presume that for both the subject and the artist, there was a vested interest in creating an image that aligned with societal standards of beauty, and if not perfection at least tradition. This becomes especially significant when considering the vulnerability of women in a male-dominated society, where power and talent are often associated with the male sex, a portrait was also a symbol of power and wealth, it had to be good for the royal and the artist, of course, wanted her work to be at least in her standard, I guess.

While ugliness has long been a theme in art, typically associated with depicting societal outcasts and villains, this artwork challenges conventional beauty standards in a contemporary context. It addresses at some level the use of synthetic solutions, like the ongoing issue of ugliness being stigmatized and filtered out of society even if often resulting in an exaggerated, grotesque version of beauty that becomes rather ugly, I am thinking at some selfie beauty filters, and plastic surgery that most of the time are big time failures.

Of all the pieces I’ve created for DISØRDINARY BƏAUTY | a̶r̶t̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶o̶n̶s̶, I believe this one stands out as the most thought-provoking. It serves as a reflection of society’s obsession with masking imperfections and the consequences of striving for a manufactured version of beauty, and I am not talking just about beauty in the context of beauty, imperfections are filtered out from all sort of images that need to convey an aura of superiority, because that ugly detail can easily be seen as a weakness and the appreciation of artists often relies in their ability to make someone “ugly” look more majestic, beautiful, divine. While I am here writing, I just received an email from a photo editor offering me his service to correct the imperfections present on the headshots published on my Instagram because he could with his editing magic make those portrait photos look more beautiful. That’s a very ironic coincidence. 

Finally, it feels necessary to mention a parallel research that you are carrying out using AI tools,  “THƏ L∆B ØF ∆NØM∆LIƏS.” Here you produce much more unsettling images, which your followers can find on Instagram. Which parallels and differences would you draw between “traditional” glitch and this “AI-powered glitch” of beauty in the creation of machine-assisted ugliness?

The DIS/verse project has been an ongoing journey, constantly expanding as I delve deeper into the ever-growing sphere of aesthetics, particularly as new media technologies become increasingly integrated into our daily lives. My initial foray into AI experimentation began several years ago with StyleGAN, where I was intrigued by the potential of AI to infuse new layers of meaning into artistic works and the actual practice of art and what is means to be an artist in the age of “intelligent” machines. Can artistic intelligence and artificial intelligence create something that is more puzzling and arousing than what we have seen so far in art?

However, as I delved further into AI-influenced artistry, I couldn’t help but notice the inherent limitations that often arise when we become entangled in the very media we seek to explore. It’s a delicate balance between harnessing the potential of AI as a creative tool and avoiding the trap of allowing the medium to dictate the outcomes.

“By deliberately misusing AI tools, I aimed to create images that defy conventional expectations and provoke a deeper engagement with the uncanny.”

My motivation has always been to push the boundaries of what is possible with AI, to transcend the standard modes of use and challenge both myself and the audience to the unexpected. This parallels my approach to glitch art, where the exploration of the unexpected is paramount. I want to put the machine in the condition to generate something where I can lose, or have little, control on it. In most cases of databending I select the glitches I believe are the most interesting, the same happens with the present text-to-image/video apps. I select the images that I believe have some intriguing features. Sometimes it feels like pulling the bar at a slot machine hoping to strike a winning jackpot.

This series titled DISØRDINARY BƏAUTY |THƏ L∆B ØF ∆NØM∆LIƏS”, specifically designed for Instagram, was born out of curiosity and a desire to explore how AI could reinterpret my glitch art works part of DISØRDINARY BƏAUTY | ⚡ BÆUTY IZ CH∆ØZ ⚡ . It all began with a simple question: What would my glitch art look like if created by AI? This curiosity was sparked when I stumbled upon one of my works in an AI dataset used for training models, prompting me to explore further.

Using an AI app called Starry.AI powered by Stable Diffusion, I experimented with crafting prompts to generate images inspired by my disordinary glitch art. With each attempt, I sought to evoke novelty, complexity, and ambiguity – qualities that I believe are essential to true aesthetic arousal, as described by psychologist D. E. Berlyne, an approach that has also inspired Dr. Ahmed Elgammal for his strategy to develop artistic AI models at Rutgers University, a methodology described by Marcus du Sautoy in his book The Creativity Code.

I gradually and intentionally crafted prompts that veered away from the mainstream pursuit of beauty, as most of the AI images online aim at creating images that are luminous, soft, polished, shining, unless candy-coated weirdness, instead I preferred embracing imperfection and ugliness as a counter-narrative to the prevailing aesthetic norms spreading online. I wanted my AI portraits to be raw, rough, cruel, and oddly more realistic somehow than extreme standardized beauty. This exploration also highlighted the biases inherent within AI systems, particularly regarding representations of gender, race, and disability. Tendentially text-to-image apps works well with standard words that mostly recall beauty, harmony, peace, but do start to struggle with words that are a little more offgrid like “disfigured”, “deformed”, “disable”, “arab”, “asian”, “albino”, “autistic”, and so on.  

Domenico Barra. Artwork from the series THƏ L∆B ØF ∆NØM∆LIƏS, 2023

By challenging these biases and deliberately misusing AI tools, I aimed to create images that defy conventional expectations and provoke a deeper engagement with the uncanny. It’s about exploring the limit within the AI system itself while misusing the standard of prompts, pushing its boundaries to generate something truly unexpected and thought-provoking. I also didn’t want to produce AI images that looked glitchy. In a conversation with other glitch artists we all agreed that probably a glitch in these AI apps won’t look like the glitches we are used to. But probably it had to do with something unexpected. This is why I I like to go against the tide. This is why I focused on the prompts, crafting either over complicated prompts, using words that often even get blocked by the AI systems, or using L33T SP34K. Doing the wrong thing the right way. Approaching AI with a glitch mentality. Thinking of prompting as a sort of databending.   

“I didn’t want to produce AI images that looked glitchy. This is why I focused on the prompts, using words that often even get blocked by the AI systems, or using L33T SP34K. Approaching AI with a glitch mentality. Thinking of prompting as a sort of databending.” 

In essence, my goal is to embrace the imperfections and anomalies within both glitch art and AI, blurring the lines between human creativity and machine capacity to create a truly unique and unusual, and eventually disturbing and unsettling, maybe annoying, artistic experience online in the context of a social media, Instagram, that is the temple of staged perfection. Imagine scrolling Instagram feed, or even the page for the hashtag “beauty”, or “pretty” and you come across one of these images. I think this is also a glitch practice, alter the experience of a steady numbing scroll infecting the flow with something that is completely the opposite of what people are comfortably ready to expect. The image itself becomes a glitch on the system of the photo grid and the system of the content experience on Instagram.  

Ronen Tanchum: reality interpreted

Pau Waelder

A contemporary artist, developer and an interaction designer, Ronen Tanchum has developed a body of work that explores the representation of natural phenomena and our perception of reality as it is mediated by the entertainment industry and digital media. At a time in which the attention economy fosters a visual culture based on spectacularity and evasion to fantasy worlds, his work draws attention to how digital technologies, from 3D modeling to machine learning, reshape our perception of the world around us.

In his long-time collaboration with Niio, Tanchum has presented numerous artworks that we are now gradually collecting in a series of solo artcasts, offering a glimpse into the many facets of his artistic practice. In this interview we dive a little deeper into the main subjects of his work.

Ronen Tanchum. Particle Forest, 2022

Your work is characterized by an interest in nature and natural phenomena, particularly the behavior of fluids. This is obviously related to your work in the film industry, but if you look at it from the perspective of your artistic research, what does nature as a subject and fluid mechanics as a tool bring to your art practice?

Yes, this is the DNA of my artworks and what they convey. Ever since I learned computer graphics for the first time and had access to 3D software, some 20 years ago –when I was 16– I was trying to learn the software and to make the computer create something that is believable. This notion always brought me back to study the real world. So, I had to carefully observe the world around me, from the little imperfections of a corner of wall that needs to be reproduced synthetically, to complex natural behaviors that need to be recreated digitally in order to create realistic content. This required a lot of work, but additionally it was not only about making the recreation realistic, but rather a hyperreal, exaggerated reality that made the content visually attractive and engaging. 

“Instead of starting with nothing (a blank canvas) and adding on to it, I start with a lot of chaotic data and I shape it little by little, tweaking the algorithms, refining, and testing again and again until I reach a result that I’m satisfied with.”

During my whole career as a specialist in 3D technologies and simulations I had to recreate a lot of natural effects synthetically, so that they are used in key moments of Hollywood films, where reality is presented as a spectacle. For instance, an effect of clouds covering the sky and then dissipating, that has a narrative role in the film, so it has to be created in a way that looks as realistic as possible while also supporting the narrative. I worked with many natural phenomena, like waterfalls and tornadoes to rain, snowfall, and fire, and I found that the possibility of reproducing these phenomena synthetically within the machine was fascinating. So I continued to explore these technologies while also playing with the boundaries of what is real and what is not, and the way that natural forces and elements behave. Exploring these techniques led me to a deep understanding of the human role in the synthetic reproduction of nature, and how we do not simply reproduce what we observe, but we interpret it. We play with it, we make it more expressive, we manipulate the behavior of the elements, time, and natural forces to give a dramatic quality and visual appeal to something as mundane as a splash of water from a bucket on the floor. 

So my artistic practice has focused on exploring the creative possibilities of reproducing natural elements and landscapes, flora and vegetation synthetically through different technologies,  programming languages, and mediums. Using computer algorithms to create these simulations of nature is quite a challenge in itself, because instead of starting with nothing (a blank canvas) and adding on to it, I start with a lot of chaotic data and I shape it little by little, tweaking the algorithms, refining, and testing again and again until I reach a result that I’m satisfied with. I find this practice very challenging and encapsulating in ways that I could never do with a pen, paper, and ink, or with a canvas, a brush, and paint. I design systems that have a life of their own once the program starts running, so there is also a sense of creating a situation with a certain degree of control, and also letting go.

Ronen Tanchum. FEELS I, 2021

You have mentioned how the depiction of reality in films leads to spectacularity, and that is also something we frequently find nowadays in digital art, with large installations and projections in public spaces, that lead to equating digital art with a visual spectacle. As an artist, how do you see this expectation of digital art being eye-catching?

That’s an interesting question. Certainly, spectacularity is a tool to tell your story and convey or emote feelings. I do believe that art needs to be felt more than understood, and I also see that the spectacular aspect of digital art is there by choice. As a medium that is relatively new and exciting to a large audience, digital art is often perceived in this way, as something that catches your attention, and for artists that is a powerful tool to have in their hands. So, I understand the pull, both for artists and the audience, to expect spectacularity from digital art, but I also don’t feel that this is a necessity. Digital art doesn’t always have to cause a strong visual impact or be displayed in large LED screens. Of course, screens are its habitat, it is where digital art is meant to be experienced. We’re moving into a new age where art is no longer only on canvases, or sculptures, but on different mediums, and also everywhere. The screen is often understood as a digital canvas, but that is only the beginning, there will be many more ways to experience art digitally. 

In my practice, I would say that it is not so much about making art that draws attention, but using the medium in interesting ways. Exploring the possibilities of software, of generative algorithms, 3D modeling, artificial neural networks and so on, to question our reality and our experience of nature is what feels interesting to me.

“Certainly, spectacularity is a tool to tell your story and convey or emote feelings. But digital art doesn’t always have to cause a strong visual impact or be displayed in large LED screens.”

Another aspect that you’ve mentioned is the idea of control. You sometimes work with software that lets you control every element, every detail and behavior. But you also work with generative algorithms and machine learning programs, with which there is more of a “dialogue.” How do you balance your creative authorship with the outputs of these autonomous systems?

A lot of my practices are procedural and generative in nature. So even when I want to create a specific thing and aim for a certain output, I test a lot of methods to get there, naturally. I’ve been building systems and algorithms before releasing them as long format and as something with the aspect of randomness in them before, and I often work with JavaScript, and GLSL, to create long format, generative art, which is not AI. It is a way to release control and let go, so it’s interesting, because at first, I start building towards something and then I find myself thinking about variations of that original intention. To give you an example: a random function gives you a different number every time and then you can use that number to perform visual modifications on the artwork. So, for instance, every time some element appears, it can have a different color or a different size or a different shape. And then I use these somewhat random functions in order to create the output. But this output that you’re looking at lives in a spectrum of outputs: every time that you iterate on the algorithm, there will be a different output. How different that new output can be, of course, depends on the degree of so-called “randomness” you give to the system. So, if I want to get a certain degree of control over this spectrum of outputs, I must limit the amount of unexpected results that might come out of it.

“Generative art on the blockchain is a match made in heaven because here the algorithm is not only producing an endless amount of random outputs, it is creating a series of artworks that people can own and say «okay, this one belongs to me.»” 

I particularly like this method of working, to experience and be surprised by the interaction with the machine. Working with algorithms gives me an opportunity to do something that is not necessarily static. It could be dynamic, or it could be influenced by something and become interactive, or it could be a data sculpture, using real time data, or a data set that you train, and then play with. This is a really powerful tool: generative art and algorithmic art on the blockchain is a match made in heaven because here the algorithm is not only producing an endless amount of random outputs, it is creating a series of artworks that people can own and say “okay, this one belongs to me.” And that  is really interesting because the outputs become unique, but also part of a series, and the owners of these artworks become part of a community. This generates some very interesting dynamics between the pieces of a collection and the owners of those pieces.

Ronen Tanchum and Ori Ben-Shabat / Phenomena Labs. Rococo, 2023

Continuing with the subject of generative art on blockchain, can you tell us about your experience with the series Rococo? How was the response to these artworks?

Rococo is a project Ori Ben-Shabat and I developed together. It is an exploration of how we can reproduce synthetically digital paintings that represent flowers. Flowers, as you know, can come in many shapes and colors, for instance with six or fifteen petals, and that gives us a lot of possibilities, in the form of functions and numbers for the algorithm. Working with the algorithm we created a type of flower that we liked, and then duplicated it a number of times, introducing variations in the number of flowers, petals, and colors. The code itself describes a bunch of spheres that move in space, and while doing so they draw and create the final painting that you see. It is a similar approach to that of a painter who would choose a brush, and a bit of paint, and then perform a series of movements spreading the paint on a canvas with the brush in order to create the image, the gestures of his hand determining the particular shape of the flowers and a certain style of depiction. 

The response was very good. As you know, when you present generative art on an NFT marketplace, you put the code of the system that creates the artwork on the blockchain, then people can explore what the algorithm does prior to minting. Usually, they can explore and see the spectrum of outputs that the algorithm creates, and then they decide if they want to buy it or not. But they actually don’t know exactly which composition they will obtain, which is in a way the opposite of buying a painting. This process becomes very engaging and very surprising and personal, both to the artist and to the collector. It introduces the element of luck and chance into collecting artwork, which is an interesting way to release art. And it also creates a dynamic within the collection: some will be worth more than others, just because more people like them. This is really interesting, and it could be explored endlessly. So for instance, you can have an algorithm that creates an infinite number of outputs, but then only X amount of them are locked to the blockchain, and only those are what collectors can own. 

Your work easily transitions between photorealistic 3D animations, abstract compositions, and what could be described as digital painting: artworks that explore painting as a compositional and stylistic reference using digital tools. Which of these approaches is more interesting? Which is more challenging?

What interests me is to work with the edges, to play with all of them and transition between them. I am very influenced by both traditional art and contemporary art. So in projects such as Rococo, a major goal was to find a way to use code while simulating something as materially specific and expressive as a brushstroke. This could have very well become a generator of perfectly identifiable, realistic, 3D looking flowers, but with Ori we decided that it was much more interesting to explore what the act of painting looks like and find out how to evoke the level of expression and abstraction that a painter achieves applying painting on a canvas, but using computer software.

Ronen Tanchum. The Expressionists ~ Couple #2, 2020

You have mentioned your collaboration with Ori Ben-Shabat, with whom you work at Phenomena Labs, a studio that creates immersive art experiences. How does the work at Phenomena Labs differ from your individual work as an artist?

I founded Phenomena Labs almost 10 years ago with a mindset of collaborating: on the one hand, to develop a collaborative approach to creating with my friends and on the other hand, to collaborate with clients and art collectors in commissioned work. Basically, anything that I do collaboratively takes place in the context of the studio and is presented under Phenomena Labs as a brand and identity. Ori and I frequently work with other artists, designers, and architects to create immersive installations and generative art. This work is generally addressed at public spaces and large audiences.

Phenomena Labs. Moments in Time, 2023. Jönköping (Sweden)

Moments in Time is a fascinating project from Phenomena Labs that connects an architectural space with its environment through real time data animations, in which we see several recurring elements in your work. Can you tell us more about this project and the possibilities of creating art with real time environmental data?

This is a unique project we’ve worked on throughout 2023. The objective was to create a mirror for the vibrant community that is about to inhabit a building in Jönköping (Sweden). We were approached by our client and the architects and we thought about a piece that is alive, and is inspiring the startup community allocated in that building. On a large screen in the lobby, the artwork displays a series of chapters, different compositions that use data in real time. We chose to use a few different metrics and data points for different visual chapters of the piece. Each data point refers to an aspect of the building and its surroundings, as well as the people inside, in order to visualize how the environment and the human activity in the building can change and evolve over time. We used motion sensing to create visual trails from the movement of people in the lobby, and turned it into a paint brush effect where people apply brush strokes on a digital canvas by walking through the lobby, thus creating a visual composition in real time. Then we used weather information to apply wind turbulence on a set of particles displayed on the screen. And we also introduced real time energy data from the building to create a virtual waterfall that becomes a sort of data visualization of all the energy that is being consumed in the building every day. It was really interesting to see that, for instance, the waterfall flows faster and has a higher volume of water when there’s people in the building, and when they go home, it settles and slows down.

Phenomena Labs. Still from a chapter of Moments in Time, 2023. Jönköping (Sweden)

You state that your work is about trying to connect humans and machines, and reflecting on our dependence on technology. Recently, the launch of Apple’s Vision Pro was greeted by enthusiastic customers who gave the world a glimpse of what is to come: more dependency on our devices, that increasingly shape how we perceive reality. As an artist and professional creator of fantastic digital realities, how do you see this relationship evolving in the future?

The launch of products like Apple’s Vision Pro remind me that in our relationship with technology, there is a constant tension between what we are familiar with and what level of innovation we are ready to adopt. This tension oscillates in cycles, so that when something pushes too much into the unknown or becomes uncertain, such as this possibility of really isolating oneself from the world, then there is a backlash. At this point, people long to go back to a simpler relationship with the environment, and instead of adding more layers of digital content to their surroundings, reconnect with nature, or at least with a calming and comforting view of nature. Finding a balance between the two and making the digital environment more familiar is a challenge that may take more than a generation. 

“For me, the question is how to embrace the better aspects of digital technologies without letting them alienate us from the real world or shape our perception of the environment.”

For me, the question is how to embrace the better aspects of digital technologies without letting them –or those who market them– alienate us from the real world or shape our perception of the environment. In this sense, I intend to explore real time data in my work to let people understand and appreciate the world around them, and at the same time visualize the systems and networks that provide that data. It is important to understand that we live surrounded by systems (natural, legal, informational) that we have to think in terms of the environment and our interactions with others and with these systems. Often disruptive technologies are created thinking only in short-term solutions and specific goals that do not consider the world they will have an impact on. But there will always be a reaction from the world, society, systems, etc. Within this constant tension, and back-and-forth reactions in where gradual change, maybe progress, happens. 

Chun Hua Catherine Dong: “My body is a material for my art”

Pau Waelder

Chun Hua Catherine Dong, Meet Me Halfway – part 1, 2021

A performance and conceptual artist whose work spans different media, Chun Hua Catherine Dong successfully navigates the space between an artistic practice characterized by the physical, bodily presence of the artist in the same space and time as her audience, and another one based on the mediation of digital technologies and a distributed and almost immaterial existence. Dong has taken her performance artworks worldwide, combining action with documentation in the form of photographs and videos that often become artworks on their own. She is also exploring the creative possibilities of VR, AR, and Artificial Intelligence in a series of artworks that are still deeply rooted in her research on gender, memory, identity, body, and presence.

Dong has exhibited their works at The International Digital Art Biennial Montreal (BIAN),  The International Biennial of Digital Arts of the Île-de-France (Némo), MOMENTA | Biennale de l’image, Kaunas Biennial, The Musée d’Art Contemporain du Val-de-Marne in France, Quebec City Biennial, Foundation PHI for Contemporary Art, Canadian Cultural Centre Paris, Museo de la Cancillería in Mexico City, The Rooms Museum, Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21, DongGong Museum of Photograph in South Korea, He Xiangning Art Museum in Shenzhen, Hubei Museum of Fine Art in Wuhan, The Aine Art Museum in Tornio, Bury Art Museum in Manchester, Art Museum at University of Toronto, Varley Art Gallery of Markham, Art Gallery of Hamilton, among others. She is represented by  Galerie Charlot in Paris.

The artist recently presented the artcast Meet Me Halfway, which collects four videos from her multi-channel VR video installation that explores the perception of time and space in virtual reality and the inability to return to the present from searching the inner world.

Experience Chun Hua Catherine Dong’s immersive VR spaces in Meet Me Halfway

Chun Hua Catherine Dong, The Lost Twelve Years (2015)

As a Chinese-born, Montreal-based artist, the issues of identity, culture, belonging, and distance are present in your life and your work as well. In our globalized world, these issues can sometimes be overlooked, or else exoticized and clichéd, even demanding of an artist with a mixed cultural background to address them. Would you say that there is still a dominant Western perspective on multiculturalism, and if so, how do you address it in your work? 

This is a very interesting question. I can’t speak for others, but it’s natural for me to explore these topics. Living in a different cultural context often prompts questions about one’s identity.  If I lived in China, I would probably never feel the need to deal with these difficult issues. But I immigrated to Canada a long time ago. I need to reconnect with my roots because I feel that something that nurtured me has faded and been forgotten. It is important for me to renew it from time to time. I addressed this issue in my earlier performances. For example, in my performance The Lost Twelve Years (2015) I use a Chinese teapot to pour ink over my head and a squirt gun to shoot ink to my heart and head, which are actions that force me to remember who I am.  

“After living as a «living sculpture» for a long time, I came to the conclusion that it is wise to keep life and art separate.  Now, I state that «I use my body as my material in my artwork» rather than «my body is my artwork.»”

Your body is a key element in your work, both as “the body of the artist”, representing you as an individual and your personal experiences, and as “a female body,” addressing issues of the representation of women in a patriarchal society. When you conceive your performances, how do you weigh these two possibilities?

As a performance artist, my “body as an Asian woman” and my “body as an artwork” frequently change. When I first started doing performance, I considered performance as an attitude, and that “life is a performance, performance is life.” The two were inseparable; thus, my life was always in a performance/artwork mode, or “living sculpture” mode. But I realized that I was quite weary of being my own artwork. It is also harmful to one’s mental health and sanity because the concept “life is art and art is life” could mess up your life. After living as a “living sculpture” for a long time, I came to the conclusion that “Life can be a performance, but performance is not life—at least, not my entire life.”  It is wise to keep the two separate.  Later, I use the statement that “I use my body as my material in my artwork” rather than “my body is my artwork.”

Chun Hua Catherine Dong, Skin Deep (2014-2020). Photographs with Augmented Reality

In your work, we can find on the one hand a direct approach to the body, naked, as a canvas or an object, and on the other hand the body veiled by masks and disguises. What do you find more interesting about playing with the different levels of displaying and hiding the body, maybe also seducing or unsettling the viewer’s gaze?

This is a very interesting question. Yes, there were naked bodies in my early performance work. For me, the body is a blank canvas, and any type of clothing or even makeup can give “identity” to it. Perhaps viewers perceive me as vulnerable when they see me naked, but I don’t feel that way. Being naked doesn’t challenge me but rather challenges the viewers. The power of the naked body in performance art lies in its rawness, it’s a pure form of art. Anyway, who isn’t born naked?

“For me, the body is a blank canvas: any type of clothing or even makeup can give “identity” to it. Being naked doesn’t challenge me but rather challenges the viewers.”

In the digital world, physical distance, the presence of the human body, and even identity tend to be blurred or seemingly erased. For instance, your work Meet Me Halfway is strikingly different from your performance work in both aesthetics and the presence of the body, yet you have incorporated your body in the form of camera movements. How do you navigate the differences between an immaterial digital environment and the materiality of your performances?

Meet Me Halfway (2021) was created during the pandemic. According to reports, many Asian people were attacked in public places during the pandemic. I was afraid of going out. If I had to go out, I wore a big hat and mask to cover myself because I didn’t want to be recognized. This situation subconsciously influenced my work Meet Me Halfway, which is why my body is absent in this work but just camera movements.  I became interested in VR during the pandemic as well because I discovered that VR can help me to escape from reality. VR space is less political, at least, you won’t get physically attacked. You can build your own virtual world in VR and visit it from time to time whenever you want. It is interesting that you mentioned immateriality in the digital environment. Actually, performance art is often regarded as an immaterial practice as well. Because of its immaterial nature, it is very easy for me to shift my practice from performance art to digital art.

Chun Hua Catherine Dong, Mulan (2022)

Following with the previous question, Mulan addresses gender identity through a folk heroine placed in an underwater landscape. What seems at first a scene of pure fantasy contains numerous symbolisms. How would say that a viewer immersed in this VR space can connect with the message you want to convey? 

Gender is an important component of my work. Mulan (2022) was inspired by Beijing Opera. You are right. “Mulan” depicts a pure fantasy scene because Beijing Opera is my fantasy. I used to dream of wearing the Beijing Opera costume and performing on stage when I was little. But Beijing Opera is a form of high art, not many people have a chance to access it. For me, art provides a space for asking questions and discovering; I’d be very happy to see that people have questions when they experience Mulan, such as, “Why Mulan? Why are there two Mulan? What outfit does Mulan wear? What are the names of the sea creatures surrounding Mulan?” If people ask questions, they will find answers.  Sometimes I realize that I am more interested in how viewers feel and think about my work rather than telling them what my work is about. Viewers’ different interpretations enrich and expand the artwork itself.

“I am more interested in how viewers feel and think about my work rather than telling them what my work is about. Viewers’ different interpretations enrich and expand the artwork itself.”

The mise en scène is an important element in a performance, which in your work translates to carefully set up photographs, installations, and VR environments. What is the role of space in your work across the many different media you use?

Mise en scene is a stage. Most of my works are staged. In performance, “mise en scene” can be in any place, including public, private, virtual, or imaginary spaces. Camera frame is a type of stage too because activities must occur within the frame in order for the camera to capture them. If we apply this concept to traditional art, a plinth is a stage for sculptures, and a wall serves as a stage for two-dimensional artworks.

Chun Hua Catherine Dong, Meet Me Halfway (2021). Four-channel VR video installation. Exhibition view at Foundation Phi.

You have stated that you initially wanted to become a painter, but found that performance was more expressive. Yet there is a painterly quality to much of your work, particularly in photography and digital art, besides the use of paint in some of your performances. Which would you say is your approach to painting nowadays? 

Yes, I wanted to be a painter before. But painting has its own limitations because you work in a two-dimensional space, and you must sometimes wait for it to dry before applying another layer. Performance is an expressive medium, I never wanted to go back to painting after I fell in love with performance. My work does have painterly quality, I guess it is because of my painting background. Regarding how I approach painting nowadays, I think it is VR drawing/ painting. It doesn’t limit you in a 2D space like traditional painting, but rather you work in a 3D space. When you draw a line in VR, it is a 3D line, and you can zoom in and out to see your drawing/painting in 3D perspective, which fascinates me.

“I approach painting through VR. It doesn’t limit you in a 2D space like traditional painting, but rather you work in a 3D space. When you draw a line in VR, it is a 3D line, and you can zoom in and out to see your drawing/painting in 3D perspective, which fascinates me.”

In your recent work Out of the Blue, you address your childhood and feature a teddy bear character that has been present in your work over the last three years. Can you tell us more about this character? You frequently use 3D printing techniques to create sculptures, why have you chosen this technique over more traditional forms of modeling and sculpting?

The teddy bear is a symbol of childhood.  With its eyes closed, the bear refuses to look at the world, rather prefers to dream. In my digital art practice, I began with AR and VR, and then 3D printing. It is very natural for me to use 3D printing to make sculptures because 3D printing is a type of digital fabrication. 3D printing is also a practical choice. Traditional sculpture requires a large studio space and special tools, which I don’t have. On the other hand, 3D printing doesn’t require much space; simply having a table or a desk at home is sufficient. Traditionally, 3D printing has been used to make molds or prototypes for further work. However, I embrace its rawness. I use 3D printing as the raw material for my finished artwork, with no additional touches such as sanding or painting. The unpolished raw nature of 3D printing fascinates me because it captures the essence of the technological and digital process, demystifying how artwork is made.

Chun Hua Catherine Don. Solo Exhibition: At the Edge of Two Worlds. TRUCK Contemporary Art, 2022

You have recently started experimenting with AI, first in the photographic series For You I Will Be an Island, and lately creating animations of what appear to be underwater creatures. Can you tell me about your experience with this technology? Which are your objectives when using AI programs? How does working with these programs differ from your VR and 3D animations?

I like AI. For me, AI is more than simply a tool; it’s like having an assistant. I understand that people have concerns about AI. I completely respect that. However, as an artist with limited resources and financial assistance, AI helps me save time and money when creating artwork.  For example, in For You I Will Be an Island (2023) I printed 23 pieces of 2.5 m x 2.5 m AI generated graphics; I can’t imagine how I would do this without AI. I could paint 23 pieces of 2.5 m × 2.5 m paintings, but how long would it take? Or I could use photographs, but where would I find such locations to photograph? I probably can find them if I have the financial freedom to travel around the world to look for them, but how long would it take?  Now AI is able to create animation and 3D objects, although it is not there yet, it is still very exciting. Animation and 3D modeling are often very time consuming and costly. If I have a budget, of course, I prefer to work with creative people, but if I don’t, AI is a good way to go.

Chun Hua Catherine Dong, For You I Will Be An Island (2023)

As we are starting the year (in the Gregorian calendar, and soon the Chinese New Year), it begs the question: what are you currently working on, and which projects do you have in store for the coming months?

Thanks! I am very excited that the Chinese New Year is coming soon. This is the year to celebrate the dragon. I am currently working on a public art project with 35 video displays at Place des Arts in Montreal. I am also working on an upcoming solo exhibition at Galerie Charlot in Paris in April. And I will participate in Montreal’s International Digital Art Biennial (BIAN) in May.

“If I have a budget, of course, I prefer to work with creative people, but if I don’t, AI is a good way to go.”

Niio in 2023: Great art has no boundaries

Niio Editorial

This has been an exciting year, in which we faced challenging situations but also achieved great partnerships, made enormous progress in the development of our platform and apps, supported the work of amazing artists and galleries, and brought video and digital art to a rapidly expanding audience. Our hardworking, multitalented, international team is now celebrating the holidays with their families and looking forward to an even more active 2024. We believe that great art has no boundaries, and we work to make it possible for anyone to access quality artworks on any screen, adding to the efforts that so many art professionals do to integrate art into people’s everyday experience.

In this article, we present to you a quick look at what 2023 has been at Niio, with our heartfelt thank you to all the artists, galleries, collectors, curators, and art lovers who share and enjoy art with us.

Renz Renderz, After the Afterparty, 2022

Artcasts: the distributed exhibition

Through our curated virtual exhibitions we have been able to bring art to the screens of art lovers, collectors, galleries, and art institutions internationally, with unparalleled ease and flexibility. This year, we are proud to have launched 42 artcasts featuring the work of outstanding artists, as well as collaborations with galleries, art centers, and universities.

Here are some of our favorite artcasts this year, but you can find many more by browsing the Discover area in our app.

PHANTASMAVERSE

Niio proudly hosted a collaboration with artists and NYU professors Carla Gannis and Snow Yunxue Fu consisting of a group artcast featuring recent works by artists and NYU students Ren Ciarrocchi, Jessica Dai, Marina Roos Guthmann, James Lee, Tinrey Wang, Yuaqing She & June Bee, Shentong Yu, and Jerry Zhao

In addition to the artcast, we published interviews with the curators and the artists in our Editorial section.

“The Niio platform helps speed up the curation process and reach a wider audience that is different from a physical show curation.”

Snow Yunxue Fu

MACHINE CINEMA

A collaboration between Niio and Mèdol Centre de les Arts Contemporànies in Tarragona has brought digital art to the public space in the Mediterranean city. A curated selection of digital artworks by our Senior Curator Pau Waelder has been presented weekly on a screen at Plaça del Fòrum, featuring the work of Serafín Álvarez, Mark Amerika, Gregory Chatonsky, Alix Desaubliaux, Frederik De Wilde, Mihai Grecu, Jonathan Monaghan and Yusuke Shigeta.

DISØRDINARY BƏAUTY

A very special project we have been developing this year is a collaboration with the artist Domenico Barra on his exploration of beauty in art and the use of glitch as a means of creative expression. We conceived this project as an artist-in-residence format, in which Barra has configured an artcast as a work-in-progress and regularly published new artworks, alongside documentation and preliminary sketches. The project is ongoing and involves a conversation between the artist and our Senior Curator as a series of articles in our Editorial section.

Chun Hua Catherine Dong. Meet Me Halfway – part 1, 2021

Artists: unbridled talent

Supporting artists is one of the reasons why Niio exists. We created this platform to empower artists allowing them to keep and manage their portfolio, easily and securely sharing their work with art lovers, collectors, galleries, and institutions. We are also actively suggesting their work to our Art in Public program clients, showcasing their latest creations on our Curated Art program, and getting to know them better through conversations that we publish in our Editorial section. This year, we’ve launched more than 30 solo artcasts and a dozen group shows, as well as highlighted 47 selected artworks in our Artwork of the Week showcase on social media. In addition to this, we’ve published 30 interviews with the artists in our curated program, as part of our commitment to let our audience know the creators behind the art.

These are some of the artists we’ve showcased this year. We’d love to include them all here, but you can find them in our Discovery area.

LAURA COLMENARES GUERRA

Over the last two decades, the Brussels-based Colombian artist has carried out a consistent body of work in the form of interactive audiovisual installations and live performances. Since 2018, Laura is engaged in a series of artworks exploring the environmental impact of neo-liberal extractivist practices in the Amazon basin. 

See artcast | Read interview

JONATHAN MONAGHAN

An award-winning artist whose work is characterized by otherworldly narratives, Jonathan Monaghan introduces in his animations, prints, and sculptures a critical view of our contemporary society that aims at consumerism and our growing dependence on digital technology.

See artcast | Read interview

CHUN HUA CATHERINE DONG

Dong’s artistic practice is based in performance art, photography, video, VR, AR, and 3D printing within the contemporary context of global feminism. Dong’s work deals mainly with cultural intersections created by globalization and asks what it means to be a citizen of the world today.

See artcast

ANTOINE SCHMITT

Paris-based artist Antoine Schmitt describes himself as a “heir of kinetic art and cybernetic art,” aptly indicating the two main aspects of his work: the interest in all processes of movement, and the use of computers to create generative and interactive artworks.

See artcast | Read interview

YUSUKE SHIGETA

Japanese videographer Yusuke Shigeta (1981) has developed a body of work consisting of screen-based and multimedia installations for art exhibitions and museum shows. A Graduate from the Tokyo Graduate School of Film and New Media, he works in animation and has recently become involved in the NFT market, where he finds an additional channel of distribution for his work.

See artcast | Read interview

Ronen Tanchum’s AI Streamers installed at the Mondrian Seoul Itaewon hotel. Photo courtesy of Mondrian.

Public showcases: in the white cube and beyond

Collaborating with prominent contemporary art galleries and partnering with high-end business and hospitality properties is a crucial aspect of our mission to bring quality video and digital art to the best spaces and integrate art into people’s everyday life. We are proud to have developed strong ties with leading digital art galleries bitforms (New York), Galerie Charlot (Paris), and DAM Projects (Berlin), as well as with many other professional art galleries, and to provide curated art selections to some of the most prestigious brands and properties, such as Conrad Hotels & Resorts, The Mondrian Hotel Seoul Itaewon, PENN 11 New York, and many others.

Below are some highlights of a very busy year with wonderful collaborations and promising partnerships. You can find more about our activities on our LinkedIn and Instagram accounts.

Rob Anders presents Niio at the Talking Galleries Symposium 2023. Photo: Cesc Maymó

TALKING GALLERIES

Niio’s co-founder and CEO Rob Anders was invited to the Talking Galleries Symposium in Barcelona this year. The prestigious gathering of the most prominent contemporary art galleries celebrated a special edition dedicated to digital art and featured talks by outstanding guests Steven Sacks, founder of bitforms, Valerie Hasson-Benillouche, founder of Galerie Charlot, Wolf Lieser, founder of DAM Projects, and David Gryn, founder of DAATA. Our Senior Curator Pau Waelder helped shape the symposium’s program and moderated several talks.

REFIK ANADOL PRESENTED BY BITFORMS AT ART SG

Niio collaborated with bitforms in the gallery’s presentation of the latest artworks by Refik Anadol at the Art SG contemporary art fair in Singapore. The collaboration, following a model that we are recurrently adopting with galleries, consisted in extending the presentation of the artworks at the art fair with a limited-time artcast and the publication of an extensive article about Anadol’s work in our Editorial section.

Two artworks by Eelco Brand are showcased at the reception of the Conrad New York Midtown Hotel.

CONRAD NEW YORK MIDTOWN HOTEL

Initiating a partnership with Conrad Hotels & Resorts, a curated selection of artworks provided by Niio is being displayed at the reception and guest room’s screens of the Conrad New York Midtown Hotel. This stylish luxury hotel offers guests and unparalleled experience in the city which is now enhanced by the presence of selected artworks by acclaimed artists Eelco Brand, Daniel Canogar, and Antoine Schmitt.

Articles: a space for reflection

The section you are now reading contributes to the backbone of Niio’s activities by providing a space of documentation, reflection, and exchange with artists, gallerists, and art professionals, as well as a source of information and discussion around key themes of contemporary art. This year, the way AI is shaping artistic creativity, as well as the role of art institutions in creating a more sustainable art world were some of the main issues we addressed.

Read some of our most commented articles this year and find many more by browsing our Editorial section.

📝 What Is The Role Of Art Museums In The Anthropocene?
A reflection on sustainable exhibition practices in art museums with the contributions of experts Karin Vicente and Diane Drubay.

📝 Is There Gender Equality In The Digital Art World?
We asked ten outstading artists about their views on gender equality and visibility of women artists in the digital art world.

📝 It Was Never About Replacing The Artist: AI And Post-Creativity
Excerpt from the book The Meaning of Creativity in the Age of AI that focuses on the role of computers in artistic projects, from early algorithmic drawings to current AI artworks.

📝 Digital Art, Time, Painting, Sculpture And Consciousness
Essay by guest author Thomas Lisle, an artist with 30 years of experience in digital media who is exploring how painting transitions into a time based medium.

This is just a glimpse of what Niio has been in 2023. We look forward to doing much more in 2024, and we’d love to share our journey with you!

Kian Khiaban: building a space of peace and clarity

Pau Waelder

3D motion designer and visual artist Kian Khiaban has had an outstanding trajectory since he graduated from UCLA in 2015. Working early on with fellow artist Refik Anadol, he has closely collaborated with him in some of his studio’s most spectacular projects and is now part of the team at the world famous Sphere, a groundbreaking spherical screen with 580,000 sq feet of LEDs. Khiaban’s artistic work focuses on nature and abstraction, conceiving art as a way of addressing human emotions and engaging in healing processes.

The artist has recently presented a solo artcast featuring five artworks in which he creates fantastical landscapes that depict different emotions. In the following interview, he dives into what these imaginary spaces mean to him, as well as his creative process and his views on the current state of digital art. 

Dive into Kian Khiaban’s Emotional Landscapes

Kian Khiaban. Floater, 2021.

How did you get started in 3D animation? What interested you about this particular aspect of digital creativity?

I started doing 3D when I was thirteen. I got introduced to it through anime forums, actually. In the anime forums, every user would have their own design, which they called a signature, and they would teach people how to make their own signature. So through this I got introduced to Photoshop and 3D, and then when I went to university, I already had a whole portfolio of still images. They weren’t animations, they were just art. There I started to learn how to move the things that I had made. At UCLA I met Refik [Anadol], who was a grad student. He was using Cinema 4D, a professional 3D modeling, animation, simulation and rendering software. It was a good match between us, because we were both heavy C4D users, and then at some point Refik had an exhibition and I offered to help him, so we started collaborating and I worked my way up into his company and was part of its early establishment. This was around 2015, when I graduated.

“The way we worked [with Refik Anadol] is that he gave me a lot of freedom, maybe throwing an initial idea, and then I would go crazy with it.

You have created numerous animations for the studio of Refik Anadol. Can you tell us about your creative process within this context? What have you contributed and what have you learned from this collaborative practice?

Working with Refik mainly consists in that he would come to me with an idea, especially a visual idea and would say: “this would be really great if you can make something like this.” I was very good at iterating, so I considered myself, especially at that time, a remixer. I created a lot of the visuals of the projects we were doing at his studio. For instance, we had a project called Infinity Room. Refik said he had the idea of a room with mirrors on the top and bottom. So I experimented a lot, I did the sound design for it, made some animations, and gave it a particular character. Then Refik added some visuals onto it. In some projects he would take the lead, while in others I did for particular things. But the main characteristic of the way we worked is that he gave me a lot of freedom, maybe throwing an initial idea of what he was looking for, and then I would go crazy with it. Sometimes the project would develop in a totally different direction, but always with this ongoing conversation between us.

Kian Khiaban. An Open Heart, 2021.

On the other hand, I have also learned a lot from my commercial work, where I am given a style frame and I work on that, building an entire animation, and remixing it. I’ve gained a lot of technical knowledge and benefited from working with a team, which is something I love because it brings me multiple perspectives that widen mine. I would say that I’ve been lucky because in these jobs the clients have trusted me and given me a lot of freedom, and even allowed me to have some of my personal themes in my work. What I learn in my commercial work I later on apply it to my personal work. Working on one of these projects for eight hours every day, you get to experiment so much, and so I often develop things that seem perfect for one of my pieces, and then of course my personal work also inspires what I do for different clients.

“I love working with a team because it brings me multiple perspectives that widen mine.”

Currently I work at the Sphere in Las Vegas, in R&D and building the animations, and this is a very challenging type of shape because it is seamless. And you know, 3d animators don’t design in a seamless way. In addition, the form has to be a spherical camera, so there are a lot of little things you have to adjust for. But to be honest, I’m good at coming up with a lot of ideas, and then making things a bit prettier with each iteration. That’s what I do.

3D motion design by Kian Khiaban at the Sphere, Las Vegas, 2023.

The animations you have created have been displayed in very large installations and on the facades of famous buildings. How do you work on them when considering such a large scale, and an interaction with architecture?

The process starts by making a 3D model or a miniature of the building, because you need to be able to feel what you’re doing. If we don’t have the possibility of building a miniature version of what we’re doing, we do a VR version, building the space in 3D and then applying the projection. That gives you a starting place to experiment. But besides that I like to first consider where the building is located, in what city, what kind of environment is there around the building, what form does the building represent, and so forth. Then I try to build on top of that, but it depends on the project.

For instance, in WDCH Dreams, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in LA, there was the almost impossible task of mapping the shapes of Frank Gehry’s building, for which they had had developers working for years. We used 42 large scale projectors that were able to display 50K resolution images. We used the entire facade as a screen, applying the visuals I created to a 3D model in order to adapt to the undulating shapes.

Kian Khiaban. Long Walk, 2023.

Your personal work is often characterized by an interest in nature (real or imagined) and mesmerizing visual effects in which light has a critical role. What attracted you to creating these fantastic worlds and the lively activity that takes place in them?

I’ve always liked hiking a lot. When I was a kid, there was this one place I went to that brought a lot of peace in my mind. When you go into a natural setting by yourself, it becomes a way of finding yourself because you’re getting this new clarity and simplification. You can actually hear your own thoughts, and to me that is very relaxing. So I like nature because it has that healing quality of bringing clarity, lowering the volume and allowing a space for reflection.

As for the dream-like quality of my work, I believe it is related to who I am. I was a big daydreamer as a kid. I would play out scenarios a lot in my head, and I also spent many hours, year after year, in front of the computer. Playing video games and searching the Internet took me to a distant place, away from daily reality, and I think what I do now is a more sophisticated version of that. I’m building this space for myself to bring me peace and clarity, the same way when there was chaos around me, I could go to a video game and be taken into that fictional world.

“I like nature because it has that healing quality of bringing clarity, lowering the volume and allowing a space for reflection.”

In the artworks we now present on Niio, a common denominator is the depiction of emotions through digital landscapes. What do you find interesting about representing emotions in this way?

Maybe I should talk about why I always have a light in the center of each artwork. I don’t want to impose my intentions on the viewer’s interpretation of the artwork, but I think it is worth explaining this. The light represents the hope of getting out of a hard situation, the objective you try to follow to achieve that, and that makes you very focused. I feel that what has helped me survive in my chaotic environment all these years is being really focused. The light obviously has other meanings, it can be the sun, that so many civilizations have praised as a God, or the light that people having near death experience say they have seen in a pleasant field, and that has brought them the most peaceful feeling they’ve ever felt in their life. So what I mean is that these artworks are for me a way to express something personal, even intimate, in a more abstract form. For instance, one of my latest pieces is called Adrift at Sea, and it refers to the feeling of having to choose among different values and not being sure what to pick, which made me feel a bit lost.

Kian Khiaban. Wisdom, 2020.

Despite this personal connection with a human experience, there is generally a lack of human figures in these landscapes, why is that?

I want it to feel lonely. It’s that feeling I get when I go into nature, there’s no one around me. But it is not about loneliness: I can think of having people there, but it would change the whole dynamic of the piece. It can become about them, and I am not interested in representing people in these landscapes, which would take you into figuring out what they are doing, but rather to express a feeling that you can only experience looking at this landscape where there is no one else but you.

“These artworks are for me a way to express something personal, even intimate, in a more abstract form.”

From your perspective as an artist involved in acclaimed large scale projects, what is your opinion about the current perception of digital art? Do you think it has finally become a widely accepted form of contemporary art?

Generally speaking, it is much more respected than before, partly because of the NFT boom. However, NFTs also brought negative associations, with purely financial speculation and lack of quality. On the other hand, 3D animation is now much more popular because it is widely used in advertising. Another thing I find that is more present in digital art is this blending of fine art and commercial creativity, which is pretty much connected to what Andy Warhol did, or now Takashi Murakami and Jeff Koons, for instance. For someone like me, who works with commercial projects as well as my own artistic practice, this is quite interesting, and to be invited to a fine art exhibition as a digital artist is something that the 13-year computer gamer in me finds really amazing. Digital art is definitely becoming art. It should have happened 20 years ago, but it’s okay.

“I think Niio is great. I feel that you have a deep appreciation and understanding of art.”

How do you see a platform like Niio contributing to this popularization of digital art?

I think Niio is great. I’d say that’s why we connected so well early on, because I felt like you had a deep appreciation and understanding of art. And if you’re guiding this platform, you’re gonna take it in the right direction. The way the artwork descriptions are written, the way everything is laid out, is the way a gallery would lay it out. I also value that the artist’s opinion, or vision is involved in the process. I’ve been approached by other platforms, but I didn’t say yes to a lot of things because I felt like they were mainly a business. Too much of a pure business approach to art. And I think that what you all are doing at Niio is really what the artists are trying to do.

Kian Khiaban. Lone Night, 2021.