SuperRare x Bonhams presents CryptOGs: A conversation with Matt Kane

SuperRare x Bonhams presents CryptOGs: A conversation with Matt Kane

TAKO

SuperRare x Bonhams presents CryptOGs: A conversation with Matt Kane

Whyte Luke
3 years ago

I’ll see colors in my mind’s eye and lay one down. And sometimes I inject my own intellectual ideas about color which rival what I’m seeing in my mind’s eye. The process is a bit like jazz music’s call and response. As I lay a color down, the colors I see around it change and I’ll then respond to that. This process began 20 years ago with acrylics and gel pens over photos printed on paper. But it really extends itself so naturally into my software, where I can rapidly integrate my “tuning” into my creative production.

Matt Kane
LEFT: M87 Black Hole Deconstruction #9 (on auction @ Bonhams)


Matt Kane designs algorithms that, through custom software and human input, manifest ideas into artworks that feel rooted deeper in human emotion than in 1s and 0s. His paintings are a melding of order, chaos, geometric shapes and delicate color pallets, like a sort of boolean poetry made by a transhuman impressionist. 

An early adopter of NFT art, Matt, like most of the CryptOGs, felt like an outsider before finding the CryptoArt community. Today he is seen as one of its leading pioneers. Over the last week and a half, we spoke via phone and email about his process, his history in space and M87 Black Hole Deconstruction #9, the artwork to be auctioned in the SuperRare x Bonhams collaboration.


LW: Are you originally from Chicago? Do you feel where you grew up influenced you as an artist?

MK: I’m originally from the Chicago suburbs. My family pretty much lived during the weekends at the city’s science and natural history museums.  I think because Chicago has such great cultural institutions, those broad interests in art, science, & technology naturally became ingrained in me. During Summers, we’d travel all around North America, pursuing my mother’s passion for tracing the family genealogy. I’d end up tip toeing through graveyards, scanning microfiche in archives, and rummaging through old photos in attics of century old homes. These were the sorts of childhood experiences that made the biggest influence on the sort of artist I became.

LW: Did you go to school for art? Where were you at in life when you first started getting oil paintings shown in galleries around 2004?

MK: My bachelors degree is in education. At 18 I was full of passion to dedicate my life to become an artist, but I was convinced by the adults in my life that I had to choose a major that would lead to a career. People telling me “there’s no way to make money as an artist” still echos in my mind from that time. My major was heavy with education courses, light on art. The high school I came from had tremendous art teachers, so I found the classes at university to largely be unfulfilling and a step backwards from the more rigorous critiques I’d become accustomed to as a teenager. The lack of intellectual challenge caused me to move my bed into the living room and turn my bedroom into my first art studio. This is where I spent all my free time throughout those years. If the classwork wasn’t going to turn out an artist, I’d do that for myself. And if there was something I wanted to learn, this was the early 2000’s- the internet was becoming everyone’s prefered classroom.

I graduated university in 2003. I taught art & design at a high school nearby for a year. All the while, I’d taken up an art studio in my sister’s basement where I was producing lifesize colorful oil paintings of my ancestors. The Summer of 2004, I sent off a portfolio, unsolicited, to what was in my opinion the best art gallery in Chicago, Ann Nathan Gallery. My plan was to start at the top and work my way down. I put a sticker of my painting “The Funeral of Peter Pan” on the the mailer, figuring they’d either become interested to open the envelope or throw me into the reject pile. To my surprise, Ann called me the same day my portfolio arrived and expressed interest in meeting me. That’s how I found my first gallery representation. And as soon as I brought “The Funeral of Peter Pan” into the gallery, she’d already found a collector to take it off our hands. So that also became my first sale.

LW: What originally drew you to programming? Were you an artist first that picked up programming to make ends meet and, at the time, did you see it being something that would become part of your artistic process?

MK: Around 2005, I was working on a layered resin painting, dotting a pattern around a figure. Within my mind’s eye I began seeing the pattern complete in front of my hand. This made me think instantly about having a computer program that could actually do what I instructed it to do. For me, my main objective is to manifest my vision. The materials are a delivery mechanism for what’s in my head. At the time I knew nothing about programming and had no luck finding any photoshop plugin that accomplished what I wanted. I had a friend working in the design business in Seattle, so I moved out there. He helped open doors for me to get my first job at a design agency. From there I began choosing jobs based upon what programming I could teach myself that could help me develop a skillset to create my own custom digital studio software one day. This desire to build my own software also arose out of a promise I made myself when I was 19– that if I were to ever become a digital artist, I’d want to create my own software the same way some painters grind their own pigment or stretch their own canvas. That artisan meets punk, do-it-yourself ethic, were at the heart of the traditions I most wanted to build from.    

LW: Were you completely self-taught in programming? How did you go about that learning process?

MK: Yes, I’m completely self-taught in programming. In fact, I only had one math course at university and got a C minus. I’ve only ever been able to learn and get good at something when my interests align and I have real motivation. School never did that for me. At the design agency I began at in 2006, I started as the guy who cut up graphics and prepared all the content for the real programmers to make the websites from. From there, my responsibilities gradually ramped up to where I was learning coding skills on the job, trial by fire. That eventually led into having a career as a full stack web engineer for many years. I was fortunate that I was able to make choices along the way that leaned into all the skills I’d eventually need in order to begin this chapter of my life as a visual artist that works with code.

LW: You mentioned that the loss of a friend led you to focus around your creative pursuits. At that period of time, what were you hoping for with your career? What drove you to create? Are you still driven primarily by these same goals?

MK: In the Summer of  2013, I had just left Seattle after living there for 7 years. A long term relationship I’d been in had broken up, which led me to also end things with my web development clients. My plan was to go back to the Chicago area and rekindle some business with the gallery that represented me. I was going to make what I called “a final go” at being a full time artist. I’d saved money all those years to essentially fund myself to concentrate on art making. Before leaving Seattle, I had just found a really sweet spot with my acrylic and mixed media paintings. I was really happy and excited for starting my new life. After leaving Seattle, I backpacked, taking a train, across Canada and was supposed to be on my way to visit my friend the following week when I got the news she had passed, taking her own life. This is the black hole I entered.

My instinct was to use art as therapy. But there was so much darkness that would bubble up. I felt tremendous regret that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time to help her. She was one of my very best friends and close confidants. I kept wishing I’d left a week sooner or made one more phone call. The regret, self-loathing, and grief that loss survivors feel is very real and heavy. Because I had just uprooted my whole life, I was all the more lost. I could feel myself becoming physically unwell, on my way to an ulcer, whenever I painted. Within my life, I began making self-destructive choices. I finally hit a bottom and paused in March of 2014 to have an intervention with myself. I told myself: “Alright. You can’t make art and express yourself right now. But you’ve had this idea for creating this art software for nearly a decade. You have the skills now. And you clearly are going to be useless in life for a few years while you sort all of this out. So take this time and make a tool of self expression for when it’s safe to express yourself again.” And that’s what I’ve done. I like to think some of the positive choices I’ve made since that time as honoring the way she lived her life to be of service to others.    

Your question is interesting because I do want to turn myself around and introduce what I’ve become and created with some of those original goals I left Seattle with in 2013. I really emerged from that personal black hole in 2019, but then the global pandemic hit us and we all had to find new ways of addressing what our goals were for 2020 and beyond. I’m super grateful for all the good fortune that’s come my way, but I’m still waiting to really rejoin the world in the ways that I wanted to. I think we all are.  

LW: Releasing creative work into the wild can be a vulnerable process, did you worry that your work, particularly your style of generative art, would not find an audience? Did you have other concerns?

MK: My work is peculiar in that it didn’t really fit into the generative art community. And it didn’t really fit into the painting community. My work is a bit of a hybrid and so finding an audience, especially within the old social media paradigm, was challenging. But then along came CryptoArt. This is where I finally began finding an audience and finding people who shared some important values with me. My friend Sarah Zucker put it best– “This is an art movement. But it’s not a unity of style. It’s a unity of spirit.” I think that unity of spirit is what’s responsible for me and probably many of us first finding our people.  

LW: I love your use of color in your work, it is so powerful. Can I ask about how you go about choosing palettes for your works and what drives your choice of color?

MK: Thank you for saying so! I have a very strong mind’s eye. I describe what I do as “tuning” into color. It’s something I remember doing as a young child with our black & white TV and later rediscovered when I was a young man developing into an artist. I focus and tune my mind to see colors that aren’t actually there. It’s most effective while I’m in a flow state and I look at something absent of color, like a black & white photo. I’ll see colors in my mind’s eye and lay one down. And sometimes I inject my own intellectual ideas about color which rival what I’m seeing in my mind’s eye. The process is a bit like jazz music’s call and response. As I lay a color down, the colors I see around it change and I’ll then respond to that. This process began 20 years ago with acrylics and gel pens over photos printed on paper. But it really extends itself so naturally into my software, where I can rapidly integrate my “tuning” into my creative production.

LW: What did the digital art landscape look like before NFTs? Were you struggling to make ends meet as an artist?

MK: In those early years of 2014 – 2017, I was contemplating how on earth I was eventually going to bring any of my work to a market. I didn’t necessarily want to feel forced into creating physical prints just in order to satisfy a market’s demand for physical goods. A paper certificate of authenticity felt weak and incorrect. The next best thing was a diamond encrusted, gold gilded USB drive held in a cedar box. None of these things appealed to me and so probably delayed me even trying to bring my digital art to a traditional brick and mortar gallery. And of course I was struggling financially. I had run through my life savings during the time that I built my digital art studio software. I was fortunate to be in position that I could take on occasional web development projects again to make ends meet.  

LW: How did you first hear about NFTs? Were you skeptical of the market? Or, to flip this on its head, why did you believe in CryptoArt in the early days?

MK: I first read about art on blockchain in the Summer of 2017, a week before the release of CryptoPunks. I looked around immediately for places like SuperRare but I couldn’t find anything yet. I knew blockchain was a better technology than flimsy paper certificates of authenticity were for provenance. And I knew smart contracts could solve lots of problems, like secondary sale royalties, that have existed in the traditional art market. My hesitancy to join was in looking out for the interests of my previous collectors. If I minted NFTs, they’d be representative of artworks that I held as high, if not higher, than my oil paintings which had sold for thousands. I took time to watch the market and be sure I was willing to take that risk. Eventually, I came to terms that I should jump in and contribute to building this market by joining it. Most of us were willing to sell work for far less than we valued the work in USD, understanding we’d eventually make up the value by HODLing.

LW: What did it feel like to realize you were becoming successful in this new space and part of a community we are now calling OGs?

MK: The wise ones in this space realized we weren’t building markets or careers for ourselves, but for future artists. That’s still the case. Digital tools are likely the present and future of popular expression. The foundations we set by our choices would have and will continue to have a loud echo. As I felt embraced by the community, it was like a warm hug. And I increasingly wanted to squeeze back. I felt like I was finally in the right place at the right time and it seemed like I was uniquely equipped with certain life experiences that would be of benefit here. That’s what I needed. I still wonder sometimes if I am locked in a coma having an elaborate dream, because it seems so unlikely to have been a part of all that I have been. 

LW: Why are you drawn to black holes and what is the inspiration for the series of black hole deconstructions?

MK: As a child, I learned about black holes by visiting planetariums and I became obsessed for a brief time at the age of 5 with the 1979 sci-fi Disney film, “The Black Hole.” I was fascinated by the black hole’s invisibility, gravity, size, and the concept of transporting to unknown location and maybe even time travel. I’d sometimes lay in bed with my eyes closed and imagine what it would be like to travel through one and come out the other end. 

For many years I internalized 2013 as being this period of time that I entered a personal black hole after the loss of my friend that year. There are these lost years with flattened memories between then and when I rejoined society in 2019. I’m not sure that those years were as much about my dedication to coding and creating my software as they were dedicated to avoiding feeling anything real. If I spent the day thinking about geometry and algorithms, then I wasn’t bothered by feeling my emotions. But at the same time, I was building something. And I knew I’d be able to create with what I was building one day. I’d come out the other end of my personal black hole and be at a destination I couldn’t have imagined. I’d be transported and transformed.

April 10th, 2019, the first image of a black hole was revealed to myself and all of humanity. I immediately set on painting it. Before seeing that image created by the Event Horizon Telescope, the metaphor I’d been using for my life was faceless. So now to finally see this thing, which had captured my imagination for so long.  Everything happened that single day. I created the black hole painting and a rudimentary way of capturing a dataset representing my grief. And then I’d expose the painting to that dataset, skewing the locations of all the components that made up that painting. It all took place that single day. The series intended to investigate the aesthetics that result from diverged paths, where all that goes wrong is sometimes made right. I wanted to transform what had been such a dark chapter in my life into a more beautiful, purposeful one. This is right before joining cryptoart and minting my first NFTs.

LW: What is unique and/or exciting to you about #9?

MK: The nature of deconstructions, in literary terms, is that a text does not have a fixed meaning. Reading a book 20 years ago compared to today  takes on a different meaning. This is the first M87 Black Hole Deconstruction I’ve minted since May, 2019. There are only 9 of these deconstruction artworks that I made. We know what the work, at it’s conception is about; the transformation of paths gone askew. So how can we read this work differently from the previous, which were my very first NFTs? Have my contributions the last 2+ years to CryptoArt culture, NFT technology, and the future of art become part of what this work now represents? I like to think so. And then it’s also exciting that viewers come to this work with their own experiences and can enter it from their own perspectives about black holes and transformation. I love that art is open to interpretation– and although I provide some clues to my own personal meaning, this is not the only reading to make!  

Do concepts like recursion, fractals and toying with space and time influence your work? Particularly the black hole deconstructions?

MK: Broadly I love fractals and recursion. My custom software was designed for the algorithms to be interoperable and work recursively. When I actually implement things from this feature, I get really unexpected visual results and oftentimes a violation of memory or a system crash! These are really interesting concepts to work with though.   

This particular work provides a clue about my work’s transformational aspects, as this is not a still image, but has been animated. These animations I make of my paintings are all seamlessly looped to create an infinity of experience. Part of my larger concepts is about using the passage of time, evolution of technology to transform and reinterpret my past work. All my digital paintings are made to be future proof where they’re able to be adapted to future technology. There are 3 deconstructions I haven’t minted. I don’t know if I ever will. But if I do, the timing and treatment will be a tell-tale sign of how to read that work and perhaps the whole series differently.

Read the next article in the CryptOGs series:

15

Luke Whyte

Luke Whyte is SuperRare's Editorial Director.

Hash Recipes

Negative Space

Weekly Top 10

Why one collector destroyed critic Jerry Saltz artwork to prove the NFT revolution is not an art revolution

Why one collector destroyed critic Jerry Saltz artwork to prove the NFT revolution is not an art revolution

The First

Why one collector destroyed critic Jerry Saltz artwork to prove the NFT revolution is not an art revolution

Whyte Luke
3 years ago

This is a story about a proclaimed act of NFT terrorism that was mistaken for an attempt at ransom but was actually a lesson in property rights.

Add a shot of whiskey to your coffee and let’s start at the beginning.

March

Early in March of this year, New York magazine’s Senior Art Critic, Jerry Saltz, contacted artist Kenny Schachter and asked if he would help him mint a collage of Saltz’ first 10,000 Instagram posts as an NFT.

“Should we make a NFT Beeple thing out of my 10,000 pics and sell it and split the dough?” Saltz wrote to Schachter, according to an article published by Schachter. “Exactly like his – collage thing – but ours. I assume it takes like two-seconds to make one. If not, whatever.”

Saltz’ intention with the project remains unclear. In an editorial for SuperRare, he stated that, “…the best way for me to get a metaphysical and physical handle on something is, if possible, to make, recreate or reimagine it myself,” so perhaps the project was a learning opportunity.

However, in the same article he wrote, “Many NFTs that have made the news don’t warrant one to look at them for more than one-second – and then to never look at them again. Our NFT fits into these categories,” and, on March 14th, he tweeted out an article that called CryptoArt, “a very boring sort of outsider art, made by nerds for other nerds” with his comment that, “If you read one article about NFTs – read this one”. So it wouldn’t be outrageous to assume this whole 10,000 Instagram posts NFT might just have been an attempt to troll the CryptoArt community.

Regardless, Saltz and Schachter pledged all proceeds from the NFT would be donated to the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center and the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention and got to work.

April

On April 15th, Saltz minted ‘The First 10,000’ on SuperRare. A bidding war began, culminating in a 44E ($94,966 at the time) winning offer by a buyer using the pseudonym Alfred Itchblock on April 19th.

Itchblock remains anonymous. What we know is that he lives in Europe, claims to have made a considerable profit through DeFi investments and was happy to see some of his earnings spill into Saltz and Schachter’s charities.

Beyond charitable donations, however, Itchblock had loftier intentions with his purchase.

“Equally important is the opportunity that this NFT offers to educate traditional art critics on what the NFT revolution really is about,” he wrote in a blog post on the day of the purchase. “The NFT revolution is not simply about a new material or tool available to artists, it is much more profound than that. The core of the innovation is related to property rights, disintermediation and the removal of gatekeepers.”

“I will be deploying a specially crafted custodian contract to demonstrate what’s so powerful about ownership of art via smart contracts,” he wrote. 

And then we waited.

May

On May 1st, Itchblock transferred ownership of ‘The First 10,000’ to the aforementioned contract.

I am no longer the owner of ‘The First 10,000’,” he wrote in a second blog post. “The SuperRare token (id #23500) is now in complete custody of an immutable automated contract which will forever alter its destiny. There are only two possible outcomes: either “The First 10,000” is rescued and the original NFT goes back into circulation, or it gets shredded to address(5000) and a new “The First 10,000 [shredded]” token is issued.”

“Shredded?” you ask. Yes, Itchblock intended to perform a digital version of what Banksy executed when his work was auctioned by Sotheby’s in 2018. Unless, of course, Saltz took action and admitted, as Itchblock put it, that, “CryptoArt is legitimate”.

Specifically, Itchblock’s contract (which now held custody of ‘The First 10,000’) was programmed to execute one of four functions over the next month. As he described it on May 1st:

Phase 1 (from now until May 14 9:30PM UTC): Jerry has complete control over the fate of “The First 10,000”. He can choose to call saveit_CryptoArtIsLegitimate() to return the original “The First 10,000” NFT to me. Alternatively, Jerry can shredit_WasALowEffortNFTAnyways() to send his own creation into address(5000) in which case I receive the shredded version of it. With highest likelihood, Jerry does nothing which brings us to phase 2.

Phase 2 (from May 14 to May 28): anyone can shred “The First 10,000” as long as they donate 440 ETH to the Gitcoin Grants Official Matching Pool, all fully automated through the same custodian contract. In this scenario, “The First 10,000” is sent to address(5000) and the donor receives the newly minted “The First 10,000 [shredded]”. This is done with shredit_ForPublicGoods().

Phase 3 (starting on May 28 9:30PM UTC): if nothing happens to the NFT by May 28, anyone can call shredit_ForTheLulz() to send “The First 10,000” into address(5000). A 0.4 ETH gas bounty is provided to create an incentive for someone to do so. In that same transaction, “The First 10,000 [shredded]” is minted to my own account.

Itchblock wanted to prove a point about digital property ownership. The shredded NFT wouldn’t exist on the blockchain unless the shredder was executed, at which point the original artwork would be lost, stuck forever in the shred address(5000). 

Saltz would get to decide if his artwork remained or was replaced by the shredded version.

Banksy’s artwork being shredded @ Sotheby’s, October 5th 2018

“Do you really own a painting if it’s locked away in a safe on the other side of the planet?” Itchblock said, referring to traditional art ownership and preservation. “Most Right-click and Save folks would say you do because by now it’s widely accepted that you can own things through pieces of paper. People generally take legal systems, law enforcement and a bunch of other social constructs for granted. NFTs are the next evolution after ‘ownership through pieces of paper’.”

On May 8th, Itchblock wrote a third blog post describing how the NFT shredder worked and emailed the link to Saltz and Schachter.

“I have no idea what any of this means,” Saltz replied, according to email transcripts provided by Itchblock.

“A concrete consequence of ‘The First 10,000’ being shredded is that it stops being transferable,” Itchblock replied. “It’ll be ‘lost’… Not being transferable means it can’t ever be resold so you’ll never get royalties from secondary sales. Hence NFT terrorism :)”

Perhaps due to the fact that Itchblock more than once referred to his shredder as “NFT terrorism”, Saltz took to Twitter to accuse him of ransoming ‘The First 10,000’:

“Alfred Itchcock is the silly name of the tech-person who bought my and @kennyschachter “The First 10,000” for around $95,000,” Saltz wrote, “I am not sure why, but this tech-collector-pseudo-conceptual NFT artist person has been writing me/Kenny threatening emails saying he was going to “shred” our NFT unless I paid him “a transaction fee of anywhere between $2,000 – $10,000 …to teach Saltz a lesson.”

I’m not sure if Saltz intended to misspell “Itchblock” as “Itchcock”, but I’m glad that it happened.

“Jerry – you have the most important detail wrong!” Itchblock responded via email. “I pay YOU 2,000 if you decide to interact with the custodian. It’s actually 0.466 ETH which varies against USD. Right now closer to 1500 USD.”

Schachter chimed in: “We wouldn’t pay 5 cents to save this NFT, so your point (whatever that may be) is moot. Knock yourself out and have a ball.”

He later wrote in a blog post, “This encounter affirmed one thing for sure: techies are weird.”

June

On June 6th at 2:49AM UTC, shredit_ForTheLulz() was executed by an arbitrage bot, the custodian contract issued the “The First 10,000 [shredded]” token, transferred it to Itchblock and send Saltz original “The First 10,000” to die at address(5000) where it will remain, inaccessible, for the remainder of eternity.

>Screenshot from a Blockchain Explorer showing “The First 10,000” is out of circulation forever

I don’t think Jerry Saltz understood why, mostly because I don’t think he cared.

Itchblock had set out to clear up confusion in the traditional art space about the value and future of NFTs but, if anything, managed to show just how far away the Crypto community seems to be from communicating with the traditional art community, even with critics like Saltz who seem genuinely interested in the space.

Itchblock and Saltz do agree on one thing though: This is just the beginning. Saltz might not see much value in the artwork that’s been minted so far, but he’s optimistic about NFTs.

“Someday, there may be a Francis Bacon of NFTs,” he wrote in an article for Vulture. “But so far, the NFTs that have gotten attention for making art history have been singularly unoriginal on any visual level.”

Itchblock continues to preach that this sort of criticism misses the point. Referring to a panel Saltz participated in titled, “Are NFTs a fad or the next chapter of art history?” Itchblock wrote, “That’s such a weird question. It’s like asking “Is the justice system just a fad or the next chapter of art history?” NFTs are related to art just like courts and physical law enforcement are related to art. It’s weird how art people think NFTs are exclusively an art thing. I really thought my stunt would help you understand all this but I’ve failed.”

Despite this failure, Itchblock’s message remains true: The NFT revolution is larger than art alone.

As Matthew Ball wrote: “Just as it was hard to envision in 1982 what the Internet of 2020 would be — and harder still to communicate it to those who had never even “logged” onto it at that time — we don’t really know how to describe the Metaverse.”

“25 years from now we will be interacting with NFTs on a daily basis and most people won’t realize it,” Itchblock said. “The invention of NFTs on Ethereum is on the same level as the invention of courts, property rights systems and law enforcement. The art world will adopt it just like it adopted the idea of putting a physical canvas for sale through 3rd parties and transferring its ownership with pieces of paper.”

I’ll end this article with a quote from one of Alfred Itchblock’s blog posts that I think summarizes the situation well:

NFTs are not exclusive to art just like the meatspace property rights systems are not used exclusively to track ownership of physical art. It just happened that artists were among the first ones to see that we could build an alternative system with this new technology. Early cryptoartists are being rewarded not only for their amazing content, but because they have been contributing to the vision for years.

15

Luke Whyte

Luke Whyte is SuperRare's Editorial Director.

Hash Recipes

Negative Space

Weekly Top 10

Welcome to the world of DataArt: A conversation with Albert Laszlo Barabasi about beauty + data + SuperRare

Welcome to the world of DataArt: A conversation with Albert Laszlo Barabasi about beauty + data + SuperRare

Nature

Welcome to the world of DataArt: A conversation with Albert Laszlo Barabasi about beauty + data + SuperRare

Whyte Luke
3 years ago
DataArt is a new movement within art, that aims to bring alive the invisible, by merging the visual language of art and data science. It offers a deeper understanding of our word by conceptualizing data in a way that we humans can penetrate its meaning and message

Albert László Barabási,
Left: Cover for Nature 150 anniversary

Lead by Albert László Barabási, BarabásiLab is one of the most influential labs in network science. It brings together scientists, designers, and artists, united by a desire to understand networks and complexity. Over 25 years, BLab has pioneered the visual language of networks and DataArt.

Their first NFTs minted on SuperRare visualize the SuperRare primary and secondary markets and the relationships between artists, artworks and collectors.

I sat down with Barabási to discuss their work and process.


Can we start by talking a little bit about your process? How do projects begin and ideas generated? Are you looking for new trends based on a hypothesis?

 Our art is deeply symbiotic with the BarabásiLab’s 25 year long journey of understand complexity and networks. The art aids our research and our research is the inspiration of our art. By bringing alive the systems we study, we build better hypotheses and helps understand the processes we explore.

Is there a lot of data collection and cleaning? What does this look like? FOIA requests? Web scrapers? Are you working in Python? R? How does data get stored?

10% inspiration 90% data cleaning and collection. That is the reality. But we are agnostic to the tools, we scape data where it is allowed, we collaborate with data sources, and we beg for data… And we use any method possible to process it, agnostic to language and tools.

How do you decide how to express the data? Is it a process of experimenting with different common techniques and algorithms for expressing relationships and visualizing systems?

It a very long experimentation process, that can easily last 6 months or so. One one end what we do, DataArt, is a new form of realism, because we need to preserve the image’s fidelity to the data. We are deeply realist in this sense, reaching back to the tradition of realism and even naturalism. But DataArt is also story telling, so we have incredible creative freedom on what visuals metaphors we use to express the content and to tell our story.

What software are you utilizing?

This is a common question—people often perceive that we have some magical software, so we often get this question. The reality is that we build dedicated algorithms for each project. For example, for making the data sculptures, we had to build the theoretical framework, develop the mathematical formula that capture the esthetics in a way that a computer can understand. It is that formula that generats all of our data sculptures, and it was such an important development that Nature magazine published it and featured it on the cover of the journal. See:

Perhaps I’m still misunderstanding but, could you elaborate on “capture the esthetics in a way that a computer can understand”? In other words, what are you using (eg. programming languages and libraries) to express these formulas spatially?

The answer to that question is in this research paper. (For the sculpture shown below), we indeed did build a formula, that is displayed on the wall in the museum, and the one you see in the paper as well, that mathematically captures the evolution of the data sculptures. It does so by minimizing the total  link length, which pulls nodes connected to each other closer and reveals communities.

Once we have the equation, we run molecular dynamics simulation to find the final shape of the network. It is all home build software, but it is also released to the community in a Github coming with the research paper.

Do you have different people on the team working on the more mathematical components and others working on the aesthetic components? How are aesthetic decisions – things like color schemes – made?

BarabásiLab has about 30 members, from postdocs to students and designers. Each work is the results of a team, where the data comes from the research of the postdocs and the research, and so does the narrative, and it is them, together with the designers, who work on the visual language as well. It is important to understand that the role of the designer in the lab is not to create “pretty” images, but to help us in our journey understanding complexity. So they are data designers, embedded within the research teams. And decisions are driven by the clarity of the story telling, and of course esthetics as well. We even research some aspects—one PhD student’s research focuses only on color choices in DataArt.

Zooming out, how do you define data art?

DataArt is a new movement within art, that aims to bring alive the invisible, by merging the visual language of art and data science. It offers a deeper understanding of our word by conceptualizing data in a way that we humans can penetrate its meaning and message. Our practice is in particular rooted in DataRealism and DataFidelity, as it is important of us that the work we generate accurately represent the systems we study.

What is the origin story in data art? Who are some of the important names to come before you and milestones in its growth?

There are too many threads to do justice to it—and I am myself researching this space as we speak. There was a fabulous tradition of representing data by hand in the art space, like Mark Lombardi, who drew exquisite networks of many systems, like terrorist networks, by pencil, or the very inspiring practice of Hans Haacke, who has represented multiple dimensions of data as a critique of the art world. In the network space, I am also inspired by the formal language of Tomas Saraceno, or Gertrud Louise Goldschmidt, a Venezuelan artist with a fabulous body of work in the 1960s and 70s.

We stand on the shoulders of giants, and what distinguishes our work from theirs is big data—an ability process massive amounts of data and find a proverbial needle in our haystack, hence to offer a narrative whose depth and level of detail was not possible to them. 

Where do you see data art going in the future? Particularly, what is its importance in a world filled with an increasingly large amount of recorded data?

As data take over every aspect of our life, I am convinced that DataArt will become a robust and legitimate movement in art. We will look back at this years as the birth of a movement, and ism within the art space. It must, as it explores a version of our reality and existence that we deeply desire to see and understand. And the role of art is to bring alive this invisible, but very consequential aspects of our existence.

How do you expect the way we visualize trends in, and interact with data, to evolve in the future? Will new technology open new opportunities? Do you feel the field of data art will grow? Will we see more data art that works with real time data?

Many advances in both art and science are driven by new technologies, and DataArt is particularly driven by them. In many ways, crytoartists right now are exceptionally creative, and I am very inspired by them. As the possibilities to show 3d objects as true explorable obj files, virtual and augmented reality, generative works, AI and neural networks and other innovations go mainstream, becoming part of artistic practice, just like the canvass and the paint was for generations before, it is technological and artistic revolution in making.

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Luke Whyte

Luke Whyte is SuperRare's Editorial Director.

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Where wilderness meets the wild within: An interview with Cath Simard

Where wilderness meets the wild within: An interview with Cath Simard

Hawaii

Where wilderness meets the wild within: An interview with Cath Simard

Whyte Luke
3 years ago
After doing some serious introspection about myself, I discovered that in all the spheres of my life I have been mostly driven by the desire to be entirely unique… Exploring hard-to-reach and remote areas is another way to bring uniqueness to my work and this is why I will push myself the way that I do.

Cath Simard
Left: EURÊKA


Cath Simard’s work captures the universe’s vast, unsympathetic magnificence. It evokes those ephemeral moments when we’re overcome by the beauty in our own insignificance.


Born in Quebec, Cath Simard quit her fashion industry job in 2014, sold everything and bought a one-way ticket to Australia. There, while doing farm work, shots taken with her iPhone 3 where impressive enough to get her foot in the door of professional photography.

Since moving back to Canada and settling in its Rockies, Simard has transformed into a wholly unique landscape photographer. Layering composite shots meticulously (often returning to the same location multiple times over multiple years), she blends reality with imagination to create breathtaking artworks that stir something wild in the soul. See her minted work on SuperRare here.

I sat down with her for a short discussion about her artistic approach.

Patagonia, Peru (left to right)

LW: First, I want to talk about the mountains. Can you talk about what would drive you to want to push yourself physically in the pursuit of your art? Why hike until exhaustion, with limited food, alone into the wilderness?

CS: Over the years I have realized that pushing myself physically and mentally has a tremendous effect in grounding myself and clearing my mind. Pairing physical and mental exhaustion with being alone in the wilderness helps me eliminate the outside noise, gain clarity about who I am and therefore create art that is a better representation of myself. Pushing my limits helps gain personal confidence; by physically forcing myself to climb mountains and hike extremely long distances by myself, the focus increases, the mental sharpens, and the body toughens. It helps me getting into that deep creative zone and let my brain wander, unfiltered but focused.

New Zealand, Canadian Rockies (left to right)

LW: Is the risk and excitement that comes from being in such a powerful place a source of inspiration?

CS: Absolutely, and the inspiration found in these wild places always transforms into obsession for my entire process. When I’m in these hard-to-reach and often dangerous places, I end up with a high level of respect for life. It’s incredibly humbling to be somewhere and know that your life could end in a second with a single footstep. It makes me realize how fragile and precious life is and it inspires me to create pieces that convey these emotions. 

The risk of being in these places also pushes me to spend a great amount of time and energy on making sure that the editing and processing of my composites match the level of effort it took to capture all their pieces.  For example, the second image of my Genesis Collection titled ‘’PERSÉVÉRANCE’’ was captured on the second of two 70KM backcountry trips. When I returned from the area and began to process my image, I spent over 40 hours editing and re-editing to ensure that the photo was a perfect representation of the physical and mental work invested in this piece.

Scotland, Quebec (left to right)

LW: When building composite photographs, do you try to channel the energy and emotion of your experience in the mountains into the final product?

I do channel the energy and emotion from the experience into my art, but not in the way that most people would assume. For many landscape photographers, when returning from a trip, the adrenaline and excitement about the images captured pushes them to edit and share their work as soon as possible.

For me, it is a long, slow building and thoughtful process which starts even before reaching these locations. I call it the simmering.

The simmering usually starts with researching and scouting the places I will visit, which is an important part of my creative process. For the research, I use a combination of social media and google earth. The in-field scouting part may take days, weeks, months or years going back to the same location in order to come up with an idea on how to interpret a landscape with my own personal style. 

The time spent on location is usually focused on capturing the necessary elements of my composite and enjoying the moment as much as I can. At this point, there is a rough sketch of the final composite forming into my mind, but still immature and incomplete.

The simmering then continues after unloading all my image in the hard drive, leaving them sit for multiple weeks at a time and sometimes years. It allows me to completely disconnect with the value attributed to an image that is purely based on the experience/effort and get a more objective perspective of my photos that starts with the visual components and then with the memories. 

The further these memories are, the more gaps the brain will try to fill in which will allow me to use my imagination and inject a part of myself into these landscapes, creating artworks that live half way between reality and my imagination. 

While these images sit, an idea slowly develops, and there will be a moment where I will feel an urge to bring these ideas to life; this is where the editing begins. I will start by assembling the pieces of the composite the way I had pre-visualized them and keep editing until all the emotions and feelings associated with the experience come back.

I have a particular image in my portfolio from Patagonia for which I came back 6 times over a few years to get all the photos that I needed to fulfill my creative vision of this location.

LW: Once you’ve scouted a place, visited and started capturing images, how many times will you return to get all the images you need?

CS: I am very persistent when it comes to my work, especially if I have a clear vision of the final product in my head. I usually come back to the same location as many times as needed in order to get all the pieces for my composite, no matter how far is the country or how long the hike is. 

For example, I have a particular image in my portfolio from Patagonia for which I came back 6 times over a few years to get all the photos that I needed to fulfill my creative vision of this location. The final composite is made of different shots taken from the exact same viewpoint which includes a panorama of the mountain range taken in 2019, a moon taken in 2020 and a drone panorama of the foreground taken in 2020 as well.

Hawaii, Nepal (left to right)

LW: What equipment do you bring with you to shoot? Can you be specific?

CS: On day hikes, I like to bring my Sony a7rIII with 2-3 lenses: 12-24 f2.8 GM, 16-35 f2.8 GM, 70-700 f2.8 GM. On multi-day backcountry trips, I try to stay as minimalist as possible to save some weight and stick to my Sony a7rIII with the 16-35 f2.8 GM which is usually enough to capture what I need.

I occasionally use polarized filters and my tripod is the Manfrotto Elements which is lightweight and perfect for long hikes and multi-day backcountry trips.

LW: What does the post production process look like for you? If you are working primarily in Photoshop, what techniques are you using?

CS: The process usually starts in Lightroom where I import all my photos and pick the parts of the composite. After a few basic adjustments and some color matching, I bring all the images in Photoshop as layers. Then, I start merging the photos and creating the composite. I tend to prefer simple compositions with clean leading lines which helps guide the eye naturally through the image. Some techniques I use to assemble all the pieces include panoramas, focus stacking, focal length blending, blue hour/night compositing and using blending modes. 

Once the base of the composite is done, I start focusing on the colours, the contrasts and the atmosphere. Little by little, using different selection techniques, I slowly change the tones and add light effects. The most common editing techniques that I use include dodging and burning, adding haze, painting light and colours and adding selective contrast. 

These small incremental changes are mostly done over months and only a few hours at a time. Through the entire process, I pay attention to my feelings for each new edit I make and make sure that it feels ‘’right’’. The further the edit progresses, the clearer my final vision for the piece becomes. 


Artwork analysis: PERSÉVÉRANCE

Can you tell me where PERSÉVÉRANCE was shot? 
This composite was shot in Mount Assiniboine Provincial Park, British Columbia, Canada.

Can you tell me about the process of getting to and from the site? 
Getting into the park can be done in 2 ways, you can either fly in/fly out taking a helicopter or hike in which is around 30 km one way. The first time I visited the area, I did not have camping reservations and the campground was full. So, I ended up hiking in with all my camera gear and camping gear. After 9 hours of difficult hiking with my heavy pack, I finally reached the campsite only to discover that it was full. It is not permitted to pitch a tent anywhere in the park, so I knew that I would not sleep that night, despite the extreme exhaustion from the long day. I left most of my equipment by the shelter and hiked up a viewpoint called The Niblet, the most impressive viewpoint of the area. After a few hours of exploring, I found a small cave offering the perfect view over the scene. However, the weather was pretty bad and I ended hiding in the cave for most of the night. Because of the bad conditions, I didn’t take a single photo and hiked back in the rain in the morning but was determined to come back again the following year.

Why do you love that area?
The entire area is incredibly photogenic and very aesthetically pleasing, the pyramidal shaped peak of Mount Assiniboine itself is just the jewel in a crown of jagged peaks, surrounded with turquoise lakes and alpine meadows. The remoteness of the park keeps most of the tourists away, which gives you a true feeling of being in the wilderness.

What are you trying to capture with the piece?
Most of my pieces are high-contrast, cold and dark with a glimpse of light. They are, in a way a window to my identity and emotions, a visual representation of how I view and experience life. With this piece, I wanted to create a composite that would reflect my emotional response to the place, with all the highs and lows I felt and experienced during the trip. The deep darkness from the foreground represents the helplessness and isolation experienced being stuck in that cave all night, hiding from the elements.


Spotlight interview with Cath Simard


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Luke Whyte

Luke Whyte is SuperRare's Editorial Director.

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Provoking the imagination through self-portraiture: An interview with Iness Rychlik

Provoking the imagination through self-portraiture: An interview with Iness Rychlik

Chores

Provoking the imagination through self-portraiture: An interview with Iness Rychlik

Whyte Luke
3 years ago
Most of the time, I prefer being ambiguous. by avoiding face expressions and using visual metaphors, I wish to encourage the viewer to interpret my work through the lens of their own experiences.

Iness Rychlik,
Left: Innocence Lost


Iness Rychlik’s self-portraiture provokes something visceral in the viewer. Her work bites down and tugs at conflicting emotions. Sometimes alluring, sometimes unsettling, it doesn’t let go.


A resident of London, Iness Rychlik was born and raised in Poland. She suffers from a chronic skin condition that she has utilized to channel her own body into a canvas for artistic expression.

Her renowned self-portraiture has been featured by ‘The British Journal of Photography’, ‘Cultura Inquieta’, ‘Beautiful Bizarre Magazine’, ‘L’Officiel Italia’ and BBC Scotland. See her minted work on SuperRare here.

I sat down with her for a short discussion about her artistic approach.


Revenge, Target, Thaw (left to right)

LW: What draws you to self portraiture?

IR: Both in my personal and artistic life, I tend to avoid being dependent on people I don’t have a special relationship with. Creating a conceptual photograph is an intimate act – the process is just as important as the final image.

I also suffer from a rare skin condition, which renders it extremely sensitive to touch and temperature. This allows me to draw, scratch or ‘burn’ patters onto my body without any permanent consequences.

Love and Devotion (listed on SuperRare), Exhibition, The Puppeteer, (left to right)

LW: Generally speaking, releasing creative work to the public can be a vulnerable act. Is this amplified with self portraiture? If so, how do you manage that?

IR: In my case, this beautiful act is certainly amplified due to the difficult themes I explore. However, my audience value and relate to this vulnerability. I’m grateful for an amazing community of people, who share their own stories or interpretations in return. I appreciate that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but I don’t wish to engage with offensive comments or justify my art. My energy is limited and I prefer to use it in a way that advances my creative practice.

Chores

LW: How has where you grew up in Poland shaped your work?

IR: I turned to art as a form of escapism from my bleak surroundings. I devoured one book after another, from Lucy Maud Montgomery’s heart-warming and age-appropriate ‘Anne of Green Gables’ to the atrocities of Stephen King (discovered at the tender age of thirteen). I think being such an avid reader in my formative years helped me develop a strong visual imagination.

My fascination with the nineteenth-century also began in my early teens. I loved examining how filmmakers translated the narratives of Jane Austen or Charlotte Brontë into the moving image. Eventually, my role shifted from being an art-consumer to being a consumer-creator; I began photographing my sisters and myself as heroines from a bygone era. I remain faithful to this long-lasting inspiration; it is apparent in many of my most recent pieces.


Artwork analysis: The Weight of Your Words

Can you tell me when the Weight of Your Words project began? How you formulated the idea for this piece?
My projects stem from my very own feelings or experiences, and this piece I created last year is so special to me. I had observed that the most careless of words can cause the greatest pain, even if it was not our loved one’s intention. I chose to use the feather as a symbol of something light and flimsy, which marks us deeply nonetheless.

Where was this shot and using what equipment? Do you work alone? What do you use to make the markings on your skin?
I shot this image in my improvised home studio, using my trusted full-frame Canon DSLR and a standard portrait lens. I prefer to work alone like with this photograph, although my partner is incredibly helpful when it comes to creating more complex scenes, or posing as a mysterious and menacing figure. To mark my skin, I experiment with a variety of mundane everyday items. Every piece is different – I need to find the right object, pressure and timing for each self-portrait. Working with a live and changeable canvas is one tricky endeavour, which is why I make the time to shoot so many tests.

Do you find that, sometimes, you’re mentally in the right space and the process of shooting just work, sort of like a “flow-state”? Alternatively, do you find the opposite sometimes? Is the process emotional?
On a couple of occasions, I was so affected by recent events that processing my emotions through art was the only thing I would obsessively think of. All my other plans were put on hold until I completed the work. In most cases, however, my approach is more structured and disciplined. Because of a full schedule, I need to plan my artistic explorations in advance. Saturday mornings are my favorite. I get up early, take a quick shower, turn on the music and set up the camera. After a few minutes, I disappear into a world of my own.

What does the post production process look like for you?
I see post-production as a delicate balancing act. Because of my experience in editing product photography, I developed a sharp eye for detail, particularly when it comes to fabrics and textures. However, I’m not drawn to the kind of photography that looks almost unnaturally polished. I believe that the color-grading process deserves the same level of careful consideration. My post-production takes several days, because I like to let my image rest at least for one night, so I can look at it with fresh eyes and ensure I’m on the right path. Ultimately, storytelling is at the very heart of everything I do. Inspired by the amazing NFT community, I’m working on expanding my process to incorporate other forms of digital art. Watch this space.


Read the next article in “Here come the photographers” series:

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Luke Whyte

Luke Whyte is SuperRare's Editorial Director.

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