Discovering Art in Technology: A Fascinating Journey Through History

Transcript

Piper: Back in October 1971, Frieder Nake sparked some conversation with his note titled, “There Should Be No Computer Art,” published in PAGE, the Bulletin of the Computer Arts Society. He explained that computers had huge potential in art from the very start. Even before 1960, they were being used to create poetry and music. Early exhibitions of computer-generated art began in 1965, capturing the public’s attention—some viewed it as alarming, others saw it as a breakthrough. Nake had been part of this evolution since 1964.

He shared his mixed feelings about how the art world reacted—some were intrigued, while others dismissed it as foolish. He mentioned his decision to stop participating in exhibitions by 1970, believing that computer art hadn’t really advanced traditional art. Nake’s perspective aligns with that of many critics who feel the same way. Still, he acknowledged that computers introduced significant new methods for creative artists.

This stance stirred up some controversy. Nake had spent years promoting algorithmic art and exhibited hundreds of works made with a flatbed plotter. On his Wikipedia page, it emphasizes his moral stance influenced by technology’s role in events like the Vietnam War and rising automation. He believed artists shouldn’t become complacent and should question their relationship with technology.

Nake argued that questions about a computer’s creativity are unimportant compared to larger societal issues we face today.

Background

I’m Andy. I mostly exist online, engaging in tech for over 25 years. I graduated in 1997 with a degree in modern history, which makes for some interesting conversation at tech events. I’m a self-taught developer. Today, instead of diving into AI or generative art, I want to explore computer history, particularly how it intersects with art. This journey starts with some challenges and leads us to exciting discoveries.

The Event

Let’s discuss a pivotal moment in my career. I was laid off from a job I loved, at a company that has since vanished. I dedicated nine years there, and 15 years total to a platform that transformed global communication. Just like that, a billionaire’s decision changed everything.

During the pandemic, my wife and I filled our home with our hobbies—electronics for me, sewing for her. We decided to rent an art studio to accommodate our projects. Renting space for hobbies like soldering presented its challenges, but it led to a newfound adventure in art.

While navigating my layoff, I got settled into our new studio. It’s in Southwest London, just outside Wimbledon, an old paper warehouse filled with diverse artists. Initially, we had no plans to create art—just space for our hobbies. I began organizing the studio with IKEA shelves, rekindling my love for 8-bit computers from my childhood.

The rise of affordable tech like Arduino and Raspberry Pi inspired me to tinker once more. About three years ago, I joined the MicroPython project, experimenting with microcontrollers. A friend’s old 3D printer fell into my hands, expanding my creative possibilities.

The Makerspace

By early 2023, my wife and I had transformed our studio into a makerspace. She created crafts with her vinyl cutter while I focused on 3D printing. We felt a bit out of place among the traditional artists surrounding us. The Wimbledon Art Studios held their annual show, and we were encouraged to join. We were excited but unsure about what to sell.

I thought of printing some items, and my wife suggested creating bags and T-shirts. Eager to contribute something unique, I built a simple drawing robot called BrachioGraph, inspired by a design I found online. It drew lines based on simple algorithms using basic components. I displayed it in the studio, and it drew the attention of visitors, particularly children, who were fascinated by the process.

Explaining how the robot worked and its limitations became a highlight. I realized that to draw straight lines, precision was needed—something akin to how 3D printers operate. This revelation helped me appreciate the uniqueness of our approach within the studio.

Reemergence of Pen Plotters

After the show, my interest in art grew. I decided to invest in a proper pen plotter, an AxiDraw. It sparked a shared enthusiasm between my wife and me. We soon joined other artists in the studio using this technology to create. Our experiences led to our first art pieces, showcasing what we could produce collaboratively.

As I learned more about plotters, I noticed a resurgence in their popularity. Artists have returned to using them, with many exploring their potential. I discovered a source for a project involving building a polargraph, a unique type of plotter, which pushed my creativity further.

The polargraph worked on a separate principle than traditional plotters, using rope and a central gondola. Building it was no small feat, as it required special tools and knowledge. I later created unique art by transforming images into line art to share with visitors.

Where is the Art?

During our studio events, some visitors expressed curiosity about the “art” in our pieces. My wife engaged with one attendee, who pointedly asked, “Where’s the art in this?” I stepped in to explain the meticulous process behind our creations, highlighting the thoughtful decisions involved in each piece. Each outcome was unique, far from a simple print at home.

This dialogue reminded me of the debates Nake faced about computer art. People’s perceptions often lag behind innovation.

Contemporary Plotter Artists

One standout piece from the 1960s is Georg Nees’ “Schotter,” created in 1968. During an era when computers were primitive, Nees used simple algorithms to explore the relationship between order and chaos. His work is now part of the Victoria and Albert Museum collection, proving that even computer-generated art has its place in history.

Today, we can replicate such pieces easily using modern tools like Processing or p5.js, allowing us to explore creativity in ways previously unimaginable. Yet, many of the original programs from that era have been lost to time, extinguishing the uniqueness of their creation.

Visiting the V&A’s library, I requested to see some of Nees’ original work and was struck by the complexity of a simple algorithm that shaped such visually satisfying results.

Computer art pioneers like Frieder Nake and Desmond Paul Henry were part of a movement that faced rejection from the traditional art community. Their work often sparked controversy regarding the definition of art itself.

Harold Cohen (Traditional Artist) and the AARON Program

Harold Cohen, a traditional British artist, saw the potential in computers for enhancing his artwork. He learned to code, exploring how to blend technology into his artistic process. By the mid-70s, he created AARON, a program that could generate artwork based on logical rules he set. This integration raised meaningful questions about the artist’s role versus that of the computer.

Cohen’s journey highlights how technology can become part of the creative process rather than a replacement for human artistry. His unique blend of programming and traditional methods paved the way for new forms of expression.

How to Be Creative

Now, let’s circle back to creativity in the digital age. Pen plotters, unlike traditional printers, embrace individuality with every stroke. You can choose varying materials, inks, and papers, which add a layer of depth to your work.

My recent project, inspired by historical numeral systems, reflects this blend of the old and new. A plotter allows for the creation of tangible art with a uniqueness that digital reproductions often lack.

Code = Art

So, what am I? A technologist? A historian? An artist? Maybe I’m simply a coder. Code is powerful—it can be art. The intersection of technology and art has been a significant topic since the 1960s, and it continues to evolve as society changes. Art can be a commentary on our world’s tensions. It’s important to recognize the uniqueness of each line drawn by hand compared to digital replication.

Conclusion

This piece of art hangs in my studio—a reminder that computer-generated artwork is more than just a product of code. It represents a combination of human creativity and technological innovation. We live in an extraordinary time where both digital and physical creations coexist. Embrace this opportunity to create something meaningful, leveraging the amazing resources at our disposal.

 

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