Artworks Data Table

By working as collaborators, artists and scientists can make art that communicates our shared interests. Digital imaging provides the perfect vehicle for such collaborations, because of the speed that the medium allows. This collaboration entails using scientific data prepared by Greg Shirah and other NASA scientists and artwork done by both participants and using these sources as the basis for a visual dialogue between the artists. The work is passed on electronically as each person adds and subtracts from the ongoing work. The integrity of the original image is no longer of importance. The final objective is to create something original and challenging from data that are in themselves already original and in many cases of great beauty. The challenge as artists is not to make more pretty pictures but to attempt to communicate another way of seeing.

Greg and I are colleagues at NASA Goddard’s Scientific Visualization Studio and have both been working with satellite data for a number of years. Two years ago, we decided to start using these satellite images with our own artwork and to collaborate in creating new pieces that included our own artwork along with the satellite images. My background is as a sculptor, printmaker, and digital artist, and Greg’s is as an animator, computer scientist, and digital artist. The collaborations involved scanning a number of sculptures, in my case, and Greg created mathematically based objects. The mathematically based elements are curves based on parametric equations that have been rail-extruded and/or rendered using metaball techniques.

These works were produced by a collaboration between NASA scientific visualizer Greg Shirah and artist Marte Newcombe. Shirah works closely with scientists and their data to create visuals explaining scientific results for educational purposes. Often in the process of creating and testing visualizations, he encounters interesting imagery that he feels would be useful in their nine-year-long collaboration, so he saves the test images and sends them to Newcombe in Australia, and she adds them to their collaborative projects. In this way, the visualizer and the artist collaborate around the globe using scientific data of phenomena (hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons) that occur in many parts of the world. Visualizations of these types of data are helping to educate the world about how complex planetary systems function. In the artwork, Newcombe adds her own metal sculptures, which act as the protoganist in the narrative, while the scientific data are used as both the environment and texture. The curves were generated from a scientist’s volumetric hurricane simulation, based on data from actual hurricane research. Some of the curves were generated mathematically using parametric equations. Wind-flow field data were used to create the curves. Usually starting positions for each curve are determined based on a scientist’s desire to investigate a particular effect (such as how air moves from the surface up into the hurricane). For the curves, the starting positions were constrained to unusual, discreet regions of the hurricane, creating an effect of starting in a tight formation then propogating out and around the storm. These starting regions were choosen to test the flow-field system and achieve an artistic result.

These works were produced by a collaboration between NASA scientific visualizer Greg Shirah and artist Marte Newcombe. Shirah works closely with scientists and their data to create visuals explaining scientific results for educational purposes. Often in the process of creating and testing visualizations, he encounters interesting imagery that he feels would be useful in their nine-year-long collaboration, so he saves the test images and sends them to Newcombe in Australia, and she adds them to their collaborative projects. In this way, the visualizer and the artist collaborate around the globe using scientific data of phenomena (hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons) that occur in many parts of the world. Visualizations of these types of data are helping to educate the world about how complex planetary systems function. In the artwork, Newcombe adds her own metal sculptures, which act as the protagonist in the narrative, while the scientific data are used as both the environment and texture. The curves were generated from a scientist’s volumetric hurricane simulation, based on data from actual hurricane research. Some of the curves were generated mathematically using parametric equations. Wind-flow field data were used to create the curves. Usually starting positions for each curve are determined based on a scientist’s desire to investigate a particular effect (such as how air moves from the surface up into the hurricane). For the curves, the starting positions were constrained to unusual, discreet regions of the hurricane, creating an effect of starting in a tight formation then propagating out and around the storm. These starting regions were chosen to test the flow-field system and achieve an artistic result.

These works were produced by a collaboration between NASA scientific visualizer Greg Shirah and artist Marte Newcombe. Shirah works closely with scientists and their data to create visuals explaining scientific results for educational purposes. Often in the process of creating and testing visualizations, he encounters interesting imagery that he feels would be useful in their nine-year-long collaboration, so he saves the test images and sends them to Newcombe in Australia, and she adds them to their collaborative projects. In this way, the visualizer and the artist collaborate around the globe using scientific data of phenomena (hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons) that occur in many parts of the world. Visualizations of these types of data are helping to educate the world about how complex planetary systems function. In the artwork, Newcombe adds her own metal sculptures, which act as the protoganist in the narrative, while the scientific data areused as both the environment and texture. The curves were generated from a scientist’s volumetric hurricane simulation, based on data from actual hurricane research. Some of the curves were generated mathematically using parametric equations. Wind-flow field data were used to create the curves. Usually starting positions for each curve are determined based on a scientist’s desire to investigate a particular effect (such as how air moves from the surface up into the hurricane). For the curves, the starting positions were constrained to unusual, discreet regions of the hurricane, creating an effect of starting in a tight formation then propogating out and around the storm. These starting regions were choosen to test the flow-field system and achieve an artistic result.

These works were produced by a collaboration between NASA scientific visualizer Greg Shirah and artist Marte Newcombe. Shirah works closely with scientists and their data to create visuals explaining scientific results for educational purposes. Often in the process of creating and testing visualizations, he encounters interesting imagery that he feels would be useful in their nine-year-long collaboration, so he saves the test images and sends them to Newcombe in Australia, and she adds them to their collaborative projects. In this way, the visualizer and the artist collaborate around the globe using scientific data of phenomena (hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons) that occur in many parts of the world. Visualizations of these types of data are helping to educate the world about how complex planetary systems function. In the artwork, Newcombe adds her own metal sculptures, which act as the protagonist in the narrative, while the scientific data are used as both the environment and texture. The curves were generated from a scientist’s volumetric hurricane simulation, based on data from actual hurricane research. Some of the curves were generated mathematically using parametric equations. Wind-flow field data were used to create the curves. Usually starting positions for each curve are determined based on a scientist’s desire to investigate a particular effect (such as how air moves from the surface up into the hurricane). For the curves, the starting positions were constrained to unusual, discreet regions of the hurricane, creating an effect of starting in a tight formation then propagating out and around the storm. These starting regions were chosen to test the flow-field system and achieve an artistic result.

These works were produced by a collaboration between NASA scientific visualizer Greg Shirah and artist Marte Newcombe. Shirah works closely with scientists and their data to create visuals explaining scientific results for educational purposes. Often in the process of creating and testing visualizations, he encounters interesting imagery that he feels would be useful in their nine-year-long collaboration, so he saves the test images and sends them to Newcombe in Australia, and she adds them to their collaborative projects. In this way, the visualizer and the artist collaborate around the globe using scientific data of phenomena (hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons) that occur in many parts of the world. Visualizations of these types of data are helping to educate the world about how complex planetary systems function. In the artwork, Newcombe adds her own metal sculptures, which act as the protaganist in the narrative, while the scientific data are used as both the environment and texture. The curves were generated from a scientist’s volumetric hurricane simulation, based on data from actual hurricane research. Some of the curves were generated mathematically using parametric equations. Wind-flow field data were used to create the curves. Usually starting positions for each curve are determined based on a scientist’s desire to investigate a particular effect (such as how air moves from the surface up into the hurricane). For the curves, the starting positions were constrained to unusual, discreet regions of the hurricane, creating an effect of starting in a tight formation then propogating out and around the storm. These starting regions were chosen to test the flow-field system and achieve an artistic result.

These works were produced by a collaboration between NASA scientific visualizer Greg Shirah and artist Marte Newcombe. Shirah works closely with scientists and their data to create visuals explaining scientific results for educational purposes. Often in the process of creating and testing visualizations, he encounters interesting imagery that he feels would be useful in their nine-year-long collaboration, so he saves the test images and sends them to Newcombe in Australia, and she adds them to their collaborative projects. In this way, the visualizer and the artist collaborate around the globe using scientific data of phenomena (hurricanes, cyclones, typhoons) that occur in many parts of the world. Visualizations of these types of data are helping to educate the world about how complex planetary systems function. In the artwork, Newcombe adds her own metal sculptures, which act as the protagonist in the narrative, while the scientific data are used as both the environment and texture. The curves were generated from a scientist’s volumetric hurricane simulation, based on data from actual hurricane research. Some of the curves were generated mathematically using parametric equations. Wind-flow field data were used to create the curves. Usually starting positions for each curve are determined based on a scientist’s desire to investigate a particular effect (such as how air moves from the surface up into the hurricane). For the curves, the starting positions were constrained to unusual, discreet regions of the hurricane, creating an effect of starting in a tight formation then propagating out and around the storm. These starting regions were chosen to test the flow-field system and achieve an artistic result.

The sources for my digital work begin as three-dimensional welded sculptures that I create from found metal objects such as machine parts and tools. By assembling and welding these elements, I seek to create new forms that no longer serve their intended function but hint at the mechanics of our bodies and by extension, human emo­tions. It was of particular interest to combine the physical aspects of machines and tools (extensions of human engineering functions) with the intellectual aspects of the computer as a reference to the brain. In building sculptures, I strive to create new works by obfuscating some of my existing works, which provide feelings of both familiarity and strangeness.

The original source for Soothsayers was a welded metal sculpture called Soothsayer which I created as part of a series called Alley Wishes. The series was based loosely on a daring escape my father made from a POW camp in Germany during World War II. The sculp­tures depicted the characters he met on his way, some real and some imaginary. In the digital work, I created two additional charac­ters based on the original and placed them in a hostile environment. I also used NASA satellite images and robotic parts.

The human dream of talking with computers in natural language is not new. Scientific fiction books and movies present several ex­amples of it. In the early 21st century, voice recognition and speech synthesis technologies achieved enough accuracy and reliability for large-scale use, bringing to the surface the possibility of finally realiz­ing our dreams of talking with computers, and more: not only talking with one computer at a time, but to several computers in a network.

In this context, and aspiring to create an experiment where people could talk to the web via telephone, the Voice Mosaic project was created.

The work, launched in July 2004, is a web art project that merges speech and image into a visual/aural mosaic on the web. The tiles in the mosaic are created by the chosen colors and recorded voices of people who interact with the work by phone, from any location in the world, through speech synthesis and voice recognition (natural language processing). The mosaic is seen and heard on the web, where several modes of interaction are available. Interactions can happen in three distinct human languages in order to encourage global participation.

Several dualities, which do not oppose each other, but instead mix and complete each other, are combined in the work: aural/visual, simple/complex, art/science, old/new, low-tech/high-tech, time/ space, human/computer, individual/community, passive/active, causality/chance, and others. Their dialogue and mixture intend to raise questions that can increase our awareness of boundary disso­lutions, hybridizations, convergences, and transdisciplinary activities that influence the world more and more.

This image was hand-drawn using Corel Painter software and a Wacom tablet. It depicts a nineteenth-century summer “cottage” (actually more like a mansion) in Round Pond, Maine, along with a bit of the harbor’s coast line and a sky full of dramatic clouds. The wild, untamed quality of the clouds and water contrast with the very civilized summer home. My goal in this series of drawings was to demonstrate that the digital medium could be used to create work that was equal in appearance and quality to work created with traditional media, specifically charcoal in this case.

This image was hand-drawn using Corel Painter software and a Wacom tablet. It depicts spruce trees, a summer cottage, a wildflower meadow, and the distant ocean in Midcoast Maine. The print is from a series of digital monoprints. The black-and-white image is constant throughout the two dozen prints, while the color is unique to each individual print. The goal of the series was to explore how many different looks could be achieved with one black-and-white drawing. While the style is realistic, this not a manipulated photograph nor a reproduction of analog art. It is an original fine art print.

Within the self-created genre, that of the “physical digital,” “Artificial Paradises” is the first total system for cross-media data generation re-working of the computer as a symphonic, balletic environmental system; as a body without organs.

It returns the computer to its true architecture, with systematics made evident and visible rather than divided up according to the needs of capitalist economics; multiple discordant applications and file formats existing in dead time – waiting for automated human input.

Against this we propose the unlimited, the future, and the true artistic use of technological structures.

This system is modular and extendible, approachable from any number of viewpoints which make it difficult to pin down here.

The full modular system is made up of an ever increasing number of salvaged 486 computers and pentium machines (currently 12), analogue sound modules, camera control, video and audio input/output modules, record and tape player modules, and process nodes.

The system premiered in performance with three protagonists at the Interferences festival in Belfort, France in December 2000. The networked nature of the project means that the system is I constantly expanding, with new modules being added to its basic I architecture. These will include film-transfer modules and additional record player control modules.

Most of the hardware is custom-built and all software on which the system runs is custom coded in C and assembly under the GPL license.

A Planetary Order is a terrestrial globe depicting clouds from a single moment in time. The globe itself is a physical visualization of real-time scientific data. To create the work, Callanan took one second of readings from all six cloud-monitoring satellites currently overseen by NASA and the European Space Agency and transformed the information physically into outlines and profiles of the clouds that were emerging at that moment across the surface of the Earth. The shimmering white cloud globe freeze-frames the entire operation of the global atmospheric
regime and highlights the fragility of the environmental (and informational) systems that operate across the world.

To briefly describe Adelbrecht: it’s an anthropomorphized protozoa-robot in the form of a ball of 40 cm. diameter. It- or let’s say: he talks about his life: rolling, bumping, and ball/human interaction: the things that happen to a ball. He confronts us with the boundary between Being and Machine, with the crossing of It to Him. I function the example and the source of inspiration, so he also is a self-portrait. Finally, he is an actor trying to interest us enough to follow him for some time.

Adelbrecht is a ball, rigged with an eccentric hanging electric motor, which makes him roll. The ball is fitted with some sensors, a computer and a Dutch voice, speaking English. This ensemble enables him to have a limited knowledge of the world and to chatter about it.

His sensors detect position, bumps, ambient sound level, touch, and low batteries. An interrupt driven program scans his sensors 10 times per second. Each sense (sensor + software) detects among other things the occurrence of a ‘state,’ e.g., rolling, not rolling, bumping a lot, bumping normal. The combination of states leads to the perception of ‘situations;’ e.g., being stuck, being petted, bumping a lot. He discriminates some 17 different situations.

Furthermore he computes ‘mood’ and ‘lust.’ Lust degrading from the moment he is being awaken till he puts himself to ‘sleep’ (typically around several minutes) and rising again during his sleep. Petting heightens his lust. However if he gets stuck his lust lowers fast. If this lasts long enough he’ll switch himself off. But not after having asked for help, getting angrier all the time. His mood, hovering around a mid-level, functions likewise. Mood and lust affect each other. An ‘outer loop’ program uses all this (plus a diversity of sensorial information) to generate speech and behavior: understandable, meaningful, but not predictable.

The first time I showed an earlier, far less powerful version of Adelbrecht to the public in 1984, something happened that could have been a hint not to go on with the project. A small crowd of relatives and friends was gathered in a small, shabby gallery in Amsterdam. Awaiting the moment when they would finally see Adelbrecht, about whom they had heard me say for more than two years: ‘he is almost finished.’

At exactly three o’clock I released him from the back room, to let him roll to the middle of the crowd. He halted, introduced himself and began his first public role. I stood there, sweating and waiting for something to go wrong, as had happened 20 minutes before, probably due to ‘stack overflow.’ And indeed, five minutes later it happened: a long ‘aaahh’ nagged through the room. I walked over, picked him up, opened the lid, and reached for the reset switch. This tableau occurred several times, but my guests were convinced, consuming drinks, food, and conversation. Half an hour later, one of them asked me to come and listen to Adelbrecht. Fortunately he still rolled and made sounds, although not the intended ones.

He kept repeating: “I am god, I am Christ, I am god, I am god-damned, I am god,” etcetera, etcetera. One way or the other, in the regular sentence ‘I am Adelbrecht’ he said one of the curses he could utter after a bump and then started that sentence anew, so he never reached ‘Adelbrecht.’ This went on, till he suddenly switched the direction of his motor backwards, which is possible but not allowed. This causes Adelbrecht to unscrew himself. The two halves of the ball started to part and after a little while the round god shut up. At that moment I couldn’t think of a better ending of the afternoon.

Robots still do not have the abilities that science and fiction promised us. Therefore, our work is focused on very simple near-life approaching systems. “Elfs” are small mechanical systems powered by solar energy that behave as natural living systems in many aspects. Viewers’ immediate compassion for these life forms is an amazing experience, even though their abilities are very limited. Elf is a two-part installation developed in the context of a research
project by Pascal Glissmann and Martina Hofflin. On one hand, the “elfs” are documented in their natural habitat, and the fading contrast of electronics and nature gives the scenario a surprisingly lifelike feeling. On the other hand, the imprisonment of these life forms in WeckPreserving- Glasses reminds one of childhood adventures, exploring and discovering the world around us. The light-sensitive “elfs” desperately use their chaotic sounds and noisy movements to request the attention of the outside world.The motivation for this project is an enthusiasm for creating living
things, observing their independent behaviors in thed lab and nature, and watching peoples’ reactions when they get acquainted with simple life forms. In this case, art is technology. The artists do not rebuild organic creatures with the feeling that they are being forced to use ugly technology. They explore technology, especially small electronic components and their functions. It is fascinating to use very unorganic material, put it together so that it is still recognizable, and add some simple, pure function that conveys a lifelike expression. The whole idea of this project is exploration of technology and putting it in a new context or environment or perspective that questions the relationship among technology, nature, and humans.

While the Eiffel Tower was shaped by the interaction of wind and gravity, towers today address more complex requirements that integrate multiple systems and serve a range of functions. The Phare Tower by Morphosis, an architectural practice headed
by Thom Mayne, is a 300-meter skyscraper that will be built in the Paris district of La Défense in 2012. Phare is designed as a sustainable, performance-driven building.

Scripting in software allows a design to be iteratively developed, tested, and refined to address multi-variant parameters. Rather than design each element, the architect inputs the given variables into the software; defines parameters by which to evaluate the
aesthetics, cost or performance; and then selects from the multiple alternatives generated by the software. Changing a few variables can manifest in dramatic change over complex geometries.

Computational design is used to adapt the diagonal grid (diagrid) of the structure and Phare Tower’s non-standard form. The architect writes software that models the diagrid components or the louver system as an interconnected matrix. This multidirectional relationship of the matrix enables automation of global changes and suficient flexibility to work with intuitive human design.

An iterative computational design process shaped the diagrid structural system in response to a number of variables. First, the geometry of the initial tower design was optimized for smoothness of the diagrid mesh, to create a seamless wrap of the tower.
The smoothest form requires the maximum number of unique triangles in the mesh, so it is the most costly. The next iteration thus targeted cost, standardizing the structure by maximizing the incidence of the same triangle. Gaps between these standardized
areas can still be seamlessly connected with the same smoothing optimization.

Both the form and the orientation of the building respond to the path of the sun, to maximize energy efficiency. Traditionally, for optimal sun shading, louvers are angled perpendicular to the direction of the sun’s path as calculated on the summer solstice.
Yet the complexity of the tower’s curving form and the louvers’ diagonal axis required that each louver be rotated at a unique angle and adjusted for a different time of day to achieve optimal sun shading. The power of the digital script is its ability to calculate the ideal rotation for each of the 5,000 louvers. To create a secondary scale, randomly selected louvers were slightly rotated, at an angle calculated for the winter solstice, creating a pattern of striations that sweep across the surface of the building. The result is a dynamic, high-performance skin that lives up to the name Phare, or lighthouse.

Program: Commercial office tower with office space, employee restaurants, public cafe, trading floors, public amenities, and parking for 450 cars.

This digital painting was created entirely in Photoshop with a Wacom tablet. It is part of the Ladder Series: experiments by an artist who has been in love with this new medium since 1994.

[unnatural elements] presents images of researchers and artists from Taiwan and the United States that demonstrate that conversion from the image of the physical body to the image of the virtual is not a typical smooth computational process.

The images featured in [unnatural elements] show the effects of the creation of a digital nature and digital elements. Most researchers working in 3D technologies strive for “perfection.” However, our team was interested in the translation process. The digital prints we created are collaborations developed while we created software for 3D “instant” avatars. These representations are more interesting than the perfection later achieved in the development of the software tools, however, because they show that the translation between the real and the virtual does indeed have seams, gaps, and bumps.

The images were created by using 3D head scans of the artists from composited images produced by a video camera and stitching them together in custom software. Interestingly, the process generated “natural” eruptions inherent to the heads, and each scan seemed to take on forms reminiscent of “natural” eruptions we see in earth, fire, water, and wind.

Cyberspace is a socially mediated construction made clear through the use of avatars or personal representations in virtual worlds. By putting ourselves into digital worlds, we lose the self and become one with virtual spaces’ new elements. Digital culture’s construction of landscapes and bodies has been a way to create new cosmologies, new elements. By putting ourselves into digitally constructed realities, we call into question the nature of the self in a digital culture and the ways the new selves are created. What is our relationship to our own data, our bodies sampled with the latest digital technology?

Here, our new bodies erupt with artifacts and take on unexpected resemblances to earthbound natural elements like naturally occurring algorithms. Thus the computer, in creating artifacts, is effectively doing nature’s work. Offering us a way to critically examine the body in cyberspace and our conventions and ideals of interactive avatars and the drive for 3D art “realism,” these pieces work to provoke a dialogue about the real and “natural” we try so desperately to produce in digital space.

This collaboration was made possible by funding from the Fulbright US Scholar Program and the Foundation for Scholarly Exchange, 2001.

We use text so frequently in digital communication, but we seldom stop to consider “voice” within our correspondences. As artists, we are concerned with the way computer technology permeates our everyday lives, and how our everyday lives are in turn shaped by the technologies we use. Words, phrases, and sentences represent a time, a person, a map of interpersonal experiences (the external world) as well as the way users relate to the context of digital communication, and to their own computers. Do we have a particular “voice” in our daily writing to friends and colleagues, and does that voice change depending on who we are writing to and why? This project maps the geography of these relationships with sound. [ineffable} is an audio installation that engages with email messages and maps the use of language through the words people use in everyday correspondence. The work “reads” a pair of correspondents’ email archives and analyzes the words therein, grouping them based on the recipient, date, and sound signature of the words, paragraphs, sentences, and finally, the email itself. [ineffable] functions as an experimental system that considers the “sound in the head” while reading and writing as a synaesthetic experience. Two networked computers run the application and create distinct sound maps. The user chooses an email recipient group and/or a date range to donate to the system for analysis. Participants might also send messages to the system’s email address for shorter analysis, though these would be less accurate because the data pool would be much smaller. The program takes the words of the subset of the user’s email messages and analyzes them as described above and then creates an appropriate rhyme and scan scheme based on a totality of the sound signatures. In the end, through voice synthesis, the program reads aloud the words now reorganized into a new email message from the [ineffable] engine. The idea is to produce a voice for the computer’s experience of the data. These new compositions can also be sent to the user who donated the material for reading or further sending into the recursive engine. In this way, the artists propose that the emergent reader/writer [ineffable] offers us a way to map the multimodal experience of correspondence through sonification.

I have always been interested in expressing my current emotion. My recent work expresses small emotions that I feel in everyday life and my feelings about various news and events happening around the world. Our technology-driven civilization causes many problems and distortions within society, including separations between the rich and poor, racial problems, education, and other things. People create rules and laws, but still, our society is not perfect, and there are people who are disadvantaged because of those systems.

My visual style integrates surrealism and abstract imagery. This work depicts the complexity of memory and how one memory relates to another memory. Memories are referenced to make decisions in our daily lives.

I have been pursuing expression of abstract realism: an integration of photo-realism and abstract expression. Three-dimensional models are recursively deformed to produce abstract expression while preserving the three-dimensional shading and its crystal-quality material. This series depicts internal emotional states. Calm emotion is expressed as
quiet forest and river. Troubled emotion is expressed as swirls and a somewhat chaotic environment. Romantic emotion is expressed as a romantic evening.

This animation demonstrates a production technique called “infinite reflection models.” Images are rendered by a ray-tracing technique on a personal computer-based system.

Our technology-driven civilization causes many social problems and distortions. Human society has accumulated huge contradictions between nature and technology that must be cured quickly in the next century. This image integrates surrealism and abstract imagery to express internal emotions associated with these dissonant realities.

This work depicts tranquility in the forest of a utopian paradise, where we find a very peaceful and silent moment, isolating ourselves from the overloaded information society and stressfully twisted human relationships. One can encounter the utopian paradise in various situations such as dreaming in the night or actually walking in the forest. As one detaches one’s feeling from reality, one can start to hear one’s own heartbeat and everything starts to feel very personal. The utopian paradise is the mirror of one’s soul.

I have been pursuing the expression of abstract realism: an integration of surrealism and abstract expression. The surrealistic component in the work provides the viewer with hints and guides, while the abstract component gives the viewer a freedom for imagination. In this work, the color and composition hint at the peaceful nature, and the reflective surfaces imply the mirror of one’s internal state of mind.

In my childhood environment, where nature was limited, I spent time stirring up the water in a pond and interacting with a tree in the garden. I hoped for a dynamic reconstruction of their forms beyond future technology. I imagined the water rising and the tree spectacu­larly growing by gathering lights.

In e-scape, I depict a moment of a phenomenon in electronic space where imaginary nature exists and transforms. My attempt is to characterize this blurry and notional world and translate it back to “common space.” I started by thinking of what I would see if I were in such a world. I found energy, force, undulation, and sparkle in my mind, which I represented as similar to phenomenona you might see in reality.

In my childhood environment, where nature was limited, I spent time stirring up the water in a pond and interacting with a tree in the garden. I hoped for a dynamic reconstruction of their forms beyond future technology. In Re-formation, I illustrate my idea of a life form regenerated by an imaginary biological fantasy and its process. It develops not necessarily by accumulating particular substances but by a strong hope for the future and its upward energy. In the darkness of extinction and space, it grows by searching for colors.

Every day, enormous volumes of digital data come and go across the Pacific Ocean in the world of the internet. The digital information flies around, and we catch its fragments so that the world can be filled with images and texts in a multicultural realm. I attempt to dive into an exploration of mixed languages and images that make up this new vision and culture. My intent is to visualize, as a metaphor, a landscape of the artificial alphabets and numbers carried by ocean waves and convey them with the antique sensibilities of a traditional Japanese screen.

This essay describes future perspectives toward knowl­edge by comparing two typical inventions in history: the inven­tion of type-setting and the invention of digitizing tech­nology for archiving.

The continuity of knowledge is part of human evolution. Language appears to be the first medium for knowledge. It has been developed into characters, fonts, or images that help people to express knowledge or information more concretely. These vehi­cles of information have been collated in “books”, which are the current basis of maintained knowledge. Recently, these old-fashioned vehicles for knowledge have been influ­enced by a new, more interac­tive and dynamic way of expression: the computer-­networked environment. The goal of Beyond Pages is to present a new way of convey­ing knowledge that will survive into the future.

The evolution of visual repro­duction in the 20th century has enhanced people’s way of recognizing the world, or rec­ognizing expression, even to the extent of creating a new paradigm. We can no longer limit ourselves to knowledge arranged in the form of books. For example, today moving images or sounds can be collated easily via digital for­mats. The easy-to-categorize, easy-to-edit digital environ­ment is becoming more and more useful in our current world. Still, there are some similarities between the old “typesetting” and the new “dig­itizing”. From this point of view, it is legitimate to under­stand “multimedia” more as a variant of the “book” than as a variant of a “movie”.

Gutenberg’s invention of type-setting was an unexpected shock in Western cultural history. It was recorded as a significant event because it deconstructed words into letters, a process that did not exist within previous cultural common sense. Essentially, the letter, prior to this, could only exist in relation to and within the flow of words or sentences. Actual type, or the deconstruc­tion of words into individual letters, could be used repeat­edly, and could be reproduced. However, the unreproducibility of meaning within certain contexts became a danger with the invention of type.

Actually, metal type was invented in Korea in the 14th century, before Gutenberg’s invention, but this has never been accepted as an epoch-­making event. Historians assume that this development is not celebrated because the letters were Chinese characters. Since Chinese characters are pictorial, even one type, which is the minimum element of the written language, can exist without losing its meaning. On the other hand, the lndo-­European alphabet consists of phonetic characters. There is hardly any distinction between them. After all, there are only 26 letters, and each one does not possess a beauty beyond its shape. In contrast to ideo­graphic characters, which maintain their meaning through their shape, phonetic characters, which only indicate sounds, take on a completely different meaning in type. The phonetic letter does not maintain any significance or concept except that through the strength of the writer, the human element, fragmented type is brought together as text.

Gutenberg’s invention had such a dramatic impact because of the nature of the alphabet. In the end, it was more than just a technological invention. It was an event that shook the culture of knowl­edge itself. In other words, the revolution in printing tech­nology in Western history was the deconstruction of voice into the minimum unit of type, making it possible to transport it to a location that voice could not ordinarily reach.

The evolution of digital media in our current age inherits this technological reformation. The basis of digital technology is the computer. In order to match all information to the data format of the computer, the subject matter must be expressed as either on or off. Fundamentally, there is no dif­ference between this and the fact that words were decon­structed into minimum units by the invention of type. Any new medium that utilizes a com­puter deconstructs informa­tion, not just letters but images and sounds, with new means. The computer is used to deconstruct, reconstruct, and edit the information. The gram­mar and principles, however, are still undeveloped.

In this new world, neither the effort to know nor methods for learning are as developed as in the book world, where the written word and knowledge are synonymous. In order to create a starting point for these ideas, it is necessary to disman­tle books in a variety of ways. What is the function of the book? First of all, there is the content of the book. Then, there is an interface to access the content, and there is a function that does not include the materiality of the book as a medium. As we eliminate the functions of the book, its mate­riality is revealed. The isolated object that remains is like the brain of an amnesiac. It is, however, important to look at its appearance.

The book has an all-encom­passing potential. The ability to experience unbounded potential is what we call “imag­ination”. When entirety is packed into a real book, it explodes. All at once, informa­tion creates chaos. A book becomes a book only after being edited. The editing forms the story, which can then be transmitted more efficiently. It is in a huge irreplaceable white space that the story, or content, is unfolded. The letters with their shapes are converted to sounds in the brain and regenerated.

We, however, living in our modernity, cannot read The Divine Comedy as Dante did, or The Tale of Genji as Murasaki Shikibu did.  They are preserved as mere lines of letters that have lost their own context. Although content can be modi­fied to go from medium to medium, sometimes being dis­tributed as cassette tape and sometimes as CD-ROM, there nevertheless is a world that can only be transmitted through the feel and mass of a book. The narrative or content might stand on a fragile tightrope. The story is an incarnation of an imagination that quietly arises in the reader’s brain. The action of reading is accom­plished with an interface, or book. It is realized only through an important relationship with physicality and should be inter­active in real time. In other words, it is a memory device so that time can be jointly owned with the reader. It is an inter­face that can cross from page to page, and can physically grasp a field as distance.

The book is diffusion material prepared by humans in order to connect between brains. Books are duplicated. As they are duplicated, they move around the world and are dispersed as media. The word “media”, however, has only recently begun to be widely used through an expansion of its original meaning. It is a quite recent discovery that the human body, too, is a medium for transporting knowledge.

We have been able to make our memory exist externally with media. It enables us to memo­rize, categorize, and retrieve events that are difficult to describe by language alone. It is a fertile land for producing a new encyclopedia, a new world map, or even a new bible. With digital media, we can go Beyond Pages.

Global Interior Project is a multi-user, multi-cultural com­munication playground built on a networked 3D virtual environment. Visitors interact with this virtual world through one of several “Cubical-Terminals”, where 3D graphic workstations are installed and connected to the server. Using a track ball to navigate the virtual world, visitors meet and talk to each other within the matrix as they access it from different locations.

Each terminal is connected to the same virtual world, so that partic­ipants sometimes run into one another as they enter from differ­ent Cubical-Terminals. While they are in the same (virtual) room, they can talk to each other over the telephone handset and see each other’s faces mapped onto objects in real time.

As part of the installation, “Matrix-Cube” is a kinetic sculp­ture constructed as a metaphoric map of the virtual world. It repre­sents the real world because it is a real installation. It consists of a number of boxes arranged in the form of a matrix. The individual cubes of Matrix-Cube interact with participants in virtual rooms that can be explored at each Cubical-Terminal. In short, while you are in virtual room X, the door of room X of the Matrix-­Cube opens. Usually, several doors of the Matrix-Cube are open simultaneously, since each participant explores the matrix in a different way.

Each room has an object (an apple, a hat, a door knob, and so on) that indicates the room’s identity. The Matrix-Cube is a visualized model of this networked virtual world that shows the activity of the virtual environment in real time. The Real World is only a map of the Virtual World, for one’s virtual existence. A video image is taken of the front of the Matrix-Cube sculpture and is mapped onto one of the virtual room’s walls. When participants click on a certain cube in the image of the Matrix-Cube, they jump into that particular virtual room.

By manipulating the track ball, participants propel themselves through the room to explore the objects. Each room also has four windows, one on each wall of the room. When visitors move out of a virtual window, they encounter an earth texture, a reminder of the concept of Global Interior Project. When they exit through a window, a warp sound is gener­ated, and the participant location changes to another room, which contains a different object. When more than one person is in the room, they can see each other with their faces mapped onto a cubic avatar, and they can talk to each other.

With this system, participants can experience a triple-existence: one in the real world, one in the virtu­al world, and one in the image of the real within the virtual world. These shifting dimensions raise some intriguing questions: What is the real value of one’s address or location? Which is the reality? How is one’s existence supported?

Global Interior Project is an appli­cation running on lnterSpace. The first prototype was made by using lnterSpace as an infrastruc­ture. It has been shown at Intercommunication 95, Spiral Garden, and P3 Gallery. The multi-ISDN-port lnterSpace server is running at NTI Software Corporation’s San Francisco branch. Currently, the server is linked with Stanford University, Golden Gate College, Cal Arts, and other institutions.

The server consists of a UNIX workstation and a special sound­mixing console. The workstation, specially designed to enable the console to mix various sounds from various places, manages participants’ behavior in the virtual space. Sounds are mixed according to parameters gener­ated by participants’ positions in virtual space.

I am looking for humanity that can be seen in the digital world. In this work, each video is drawn by the fragment shader formula, and the formula behaves like a gene. Crossing and mutation create diversity in the image, which creates the overall beauty of the image. I aim to derive the beauty of life’s diversity from the beauty drawn by the algorithm.

It is well known that the law that made form appears in plants. It is a manifestation of the locus of growth and proof that life is present. It is the result of continuing evolution since life first appeared on earth, and it attracts other living things.

This work imitates and becomes part of the law of nature. Its essence is obtained from natural objects, but it creates nature artificially. It is a flower created from O and 1 that can be seen only on the screen and on paper. It is an imaginary plant. In nature, this plant does not exist and cannot exist.

In the field of computer music, it has been proved that Fourier Transformation can generate all types of sounds. Though some researchers may be puzzled by this fact, in recent work, “how to ‘manipulate’ sounds” has become an important issue. As artists, we want to help musicians become more familiar with their instruments. Typically, Japanese take good care of their belongings and treat them as if they are alive. This is especially true of musicians, who tend to love their instruments. In this work, we aim to inject “spirits” into musical instruments. Bogs generate virtual voices by simulating the sounds generated by human vocal cords. They also contain haptic interfaces that are made of new materials called “prosthetic skins.” This interface makes the range of manipulations more dynamic and expressive. There are several kinds of bogs. Some bogs are controlled by human beings (as if they are musical instruments), while others change according to their environments. It is our dream that “the orchestra of nature” will become a reality. These bogs are the first step in realizing this dream. Our goal is to develop “new aliens,” a hybridization between instruments and creatures, in the 21st century. We are eager to spread bogs into many places and enlarge their habitats all over the world.

My art is like a playground for my soul, a place where I can be spontaneous and try out new ideas and thoughts. It’s a place where I can run free and forget all the worries and responsibilities of being a grownup. On this playground, I toy around with imagery and ideas about psychology, spirits, lots of emotion, and I ask questions that I would love to know the answers to: Does the mind belong to the body or the soul? What really happens after death? Where do ideas come from? Is my intuition simply my guardian angel whispering in my ear? My approach is simple. Most of the time I will sit down with no preconceived notion of what I expect the piece to be. That frame of mind leaves a lot of room for spontaneity and irrational thought, which leads to happy accidents. I think happy accidents are the doorway to the subconscious mind, which I believe to be a direct link to the soul.

My art is like a playground for my soul, a place where I can be spontaneous and try out new ideas and thoughts. It’s a place where I can run free and forget all the worries and responsibilities of being a grownup. On this playground, I toy around with imagery and ideas about psychology, spirits, lots of emotion, and I ask questions that I would love to know the answers to: Does the mind belong to the body or the soul? What really happens after death? Where do ideas come from? Is my intuition simply my guardian angel whispering in my ear? My approach is simple. Most of the time I will sit down with no preconceived notion of what I expect the piece to be. That frame of mind leaves a lot of room for spontaneity and irrational thought, which leads to happy accidents. I think happy accidents are the doorway to the subconscious mind, which I believe to be a direct link to the soul.

The City of San Jose’s Office of Cultural Affairs has established an ongoing, rotating program of technology-based and technology-themed public art in conjunction with the revitalization of Silicon Valley’s Norman Y. Mineta International Airport (SJC). Three major permanent artworks and ten short-term (18-24 month) “rotating” installations make up the first round of Art+Technology commissions, launched with the opening of the airport’s new terminal in June 2010. Airports chat include technology-based artwork typically have a small number of individual works [1-4] within more traditional public art collections, and any infrastructure installed to support them is designed specifically for chose pieces. When more general, building-wide infrastructures have been created to support evolving collections of technology artwork, these are found in facilities that are dedicated to technology art as their primary purpose, such as museums, galleries, and exhibition centers [5-8]. San Jose Airport’s Art Activation project brought these two directions together. We created an architecturally integrated infrastructure consisting of physical, technological, and human systems to enable the SJC Art+Technology program to be robust and extensible within the constraints of a functioning airport.

I am interested in the effect photography has on narrative when you attempt to fill the rectangle and isolate all that happens outside that defined space. However, I avoid using a strict rectangle in an attempt to represent a reality that appears, in itself, incomplete and indefinable. In the darkroom, I treat the photographic paper as if it were a canvas, creating the image as a painter would, altering it with chemicals, casual toning, scratching and sometimes tearing the negative. This physical manipulation of the photographs is intended to play with the indexical perception of photographic imagery. The manipulation creates a suspension of belief that allows me to transcend ready-made perceptions of the visual world. I combine the qualities of verisimilitude that are inherent in photography with the nebulous referential qualities of drawing. The unfolding narrative is based on insinuation rather than representation. I am interested in the malleable qualities of fiction that are invented by the viewer. It is the ambiguity hovering between what is imagined and what one sees, between reality and fiction, that I hope will reinforce the sense of intrigue for the viewer. I attempt to make work that is ambiguously specific, chaotically tranquil, and viscerally banal. For me, the magic is in the in-between places. To a certain extent, the process is revealing the narrative. My time in the darkroom represents pursuit of these images and the evolving narrative. This pursuit of the images continues even as I am printing the negative. Often the result is purely accidental. I pursue them through trial and error. In the darkroom, the images that ultimately reveal themselves to me rarely resemble my initial intent. I have learned to accept what the images reveal to me and subsequently weave that into the story, thus creating a sort of meta-narrative.

Experiments on the fusion of image and sound.

The concept of DelRay is examined in the light of the Del itself, particularly in its resistance to various forms of abstraction and disembodiment. This act of participation is never final. By enduring enough data to gauge the resulting Ray, it will amount to pulling out the rug underneath the list of suspect words. This representation of data-space does not necessarily have to reflect real experiences, yet we find that we are gradually getting closer and closer to the Ray.

Interrogation of our condition is of high cultural importance. This is a kind of perversion of technology. In this time all sorts of distortions and misunderstandings will appear, where the complexity of digital systems causes mutations as well as innovation.

We are beginning to see how machines actually work. This is a neutral presentation disguised in the condition of its representation. We were sitting on the porch and we said, “What if?” DelRay will customize your experience to make you easier.

With the understanding that some of the greatest technological achievements were created through accidental occurrence, sanitary working (working in a vacuum) is ill-advised.

Tomorrow will get better is a graphite drawing and laser-cut paper series of homes destroyed by various natural and man-made disasters. The images become ephemeral portraits of the houses that artist Matthew Cox has been “collecting” and using as drawing subjects. He describes them as characters in a narrative, similar to a gothic noir film. This series exhibits the final moments of a home before it is sent to a landfill, a premature burial that no one ever expects. Cox suggests that a relationship between the house and its inhabitants develops and evolves through daily events that take place within the confines of a home. A tragic event will jeopardize the physical stability of the home, resulting in the emotional instability of its inhabitants. The home has the potential to live and die just like its inhabitants, instead of remaining a solid structure built to survive through generations. A home develops character from its exterior surroundings as well as from its interior dialogue with the characters, who create a bond through memories and interactions. What are our attachments to our physical surroundings? How do they strengthen or weaken us? Houses, taken for granted as private property with equity and security, have the potential to reveal our vulnerability when their stability is subtracted from our lives.

The current US-led war in Iraq has suffered enormous casualties. The toll on civilian lives is vague and many times unreported. The number of US casualties, many of which are the result of IEDs (improvised explosive devices), is reported and monitored. Overall, the media coverage of these atrocities is given very little attention, often overshadowed by more personal and spectacular stories, such as child abductions and runaway brides. This project aims to give real and physical presence to the death and violence occurring in the Middle East, by creating direct physical pain from the US military casualties, whose toll and details are silently relegated to small or no print. A custom software application continuously monitors a web site (icasualties.org) that updates the accumulation and personal details of slain US soldiers. When new deaths are detected, the data are extracted and sent wirelessly to custom hardware installed on the IED armband. The LCD readout displays each soldier’s name, rank, cause of death, and location and then triggers an electric solenoid to drive a needle into the wearer’s arm, drawing blood and immediate attention to the reality that someone has just died in the Iraq war that is raging far away.

The emotions of the world move and spread around the planet according to real-time winds, creating chance arabesques on the world map, forming meandered natural movements similar to the brushstrokes of Chinese calligraphy and ink drawing. Created through the automatic analysis of Internet data representing the emotions of 3200 of the world’s largest cities, the work understands the Internet as a de facto ‘World Nervous System’, or the harbinger of the planet’s emotional sensitivities.

The last avatar of the Mechanics of Emotions series of artworks, Emotion Winds expands the running theme of this far-reaching oeuvre, namely the relationship between ‘big data’ and what MoBen describes as ‘the human factor’ – that makes something tangibly human. The works in the series utilize techniques from economics to measure human sensitivities or feelings, looking at ways in which conventional forms of the quantification of Big Data can give credence to systems detached from, or playing with, the very tenor of human emotions. In other works in the Mechanics of Emotions series, stock market data has been directly compared to information related to real human affects. In Emotion Winds, these same human emotions are overlaid and combined with graphic representations of natural phenomena such as global wind cycles, and a poetic visualization finally emerges of Internet emotion streams from different cities across the world.

藉由自動分析代表全球3200座主要城市的網路資料，以呈現全世界的情緒即時流動，如同風向般地在世界地圖上隨機劃出阿拉伯式花紋、或中國水墨般的自然蜿蜒線條。作品所認知的網際網路，是實質意義的世界神經系統，抑或是全球情緒感知的風向球。
作為＜情緒的機制＞系列的最後代表，它將此廣大的主題體系擴展至巨量資料(big data)與作者稱呼為構成人類實質的「人性因素」兩者的關係中。此系列作品使用經濟學技術以量測人類感知與心情，尋找傳統資料量化可以支持人類情感根源中抽離的系統，或是進一步操弄之。這系列的其他作品中，有的則是將真實人類情感與股市資料與比較，而在此則是以自然界的物質流動現象，如全球風向循環，視覺化同一份情感資料並結合疊加，詩意地呈現出世界各地城市的情感網絡。

Armed with cameras, like so many tourists, we traverse a three-­dimensional space. The landscape is scarred by war-demolished buildings, armed men, tanks and artillery, piles of rubble, the wounded and the maimed. This arrangement of images from different zones and theaters of war depicts a universe filled with mute vio­lence. Audio represents the sound of a world in which to breathe is to suffer. Special effects? Hardly. We, the visitors, feel as though our presence could disturb this chaotic equilibrium, but it is precisely our intervention that stirs up the pain. We are taking pic­tures, and here, photography is a weapon of extinguishment.

The images we record exist for no one any more. Each photographed frag­ment disappears from the screen and is replaced by a black silhouette. With each click of the shutter, a part of the world is extinguished. Each exposure is printed out. As soon as an image is printed to paper, it is no longer visible on the projection screen. All that remains is its eerie shadow, cast according to the viewer’s perspective and concealing fragments of future photographs. The world falls victim to the viewer’s glance, and everyone is involved in its disappearance. The farther we penetrate into this universe, the more strongly aware we become of its infinite nature. And the chaotic elements renew themselves, so that as soon as we recognize them, they recompose themselves once again in a tragedy without end.

Inspired by the emerging behavior of a population of individuals interacting, reproducing, and evolving in complex systems (self-organization), this work was created via an artificial life environment.

Local dynamics are chaotic, but their evolution produces well-structured graphic patterns that evoke aspects of natural life, social interactions, and mind dynamics. Exploring this approach, the consciousness is revisited as the self-organization of many interacting chaotic fragments (filaments in the image). The evolutionary process is guided and selected by the artist so that the emerging graphic pattern is identified as a fragment of the artist’s consciousness. At that moment, local chaos takes its revenge, producing new shapes, new organizations, new consciousness, and, naturally, new chaos.

Modern medical technology is allowing us to live longer and recover faster. Sometimes a gadget is blatantly affixed to our bodies, and other times, usually in a moment of crisis, circuitry is installed beneath or inside us. The impetus for these rapid advances in medical science came about not from everyday aspirations for a better life but from military and corporate desires to maintain national leadership. On the receiving end of this whirlwind, we are rapidly becoming dependent on the computer chip for much of our daily lives.

From the invention of the first candle to the mass-produced fluorescent tube, the extent to which humans can bend the laws of nature to their whim has proven exponential. In highly industrial societies, the act of walking down a city street allows little rest for the mind, as zeros and ones translated into commercial air and eye space penetrate our ocular and auditory organs (which were not built for such high-powered, high-frequency input). In the 1970s, this technological phenomenon was considered a “future shock”, but in the 21st century we have entered a state of “future saturation”.

Consumers question nothing as obsolete software is replaced by a new version, quicker than a heartbeat. Even using this kind of biological metaphor (blink of an eye, beat of the heart) generates a wave of nostalgic longing for times when pulsing screens did not buffer interpersonal emotional contact. Whether we are strapped to a hospital bed or simply watching television, we are careening down the electron-powered highway toward a universally wired world that is emotionally deafened.

I want to make art that is connected to contemporary technology. I do this by working with robots. A real robot is very different from the robots offered by today’s entertainment. Movies are full of android, human-like robots played, of course, by humans. The robots on popular robot-wars 1V shows are really remote-control cars and not robots at all. The kind of robot I mean is a self-contained, autonomous, mobile device. It senses the environment around it and responds. These robots can be wonderful tools for making art. I specifically design my robots with an artistic goal. One of my favorites is Gimpy1 , a walking robot designed to have a limping gait that provides a distinctive line quality. It also turns with growth curves, rather than circular arcs. To make a robot like this requires understanding mechanics, electronics, programming, and art fundamentals.Gimpy1 has a light sensor aimed at the painting surface. It can see its own marks. I start the work by supplying a seed line or shape to trace. The resulting work is my input and guidance combined with the robot’s personality. The resulting images are calligraphic, organic, and geometric. They are infused at every place with the technology of the 21 st century. This body of work could not be made at another time. The Cacti series is a number of acrylic on canvas works inspired bythe prickly pear (Opuntia) cactus. The texture, structure, environment, and life struggle combine in a visual jazz based upon cactus without actually depicting a cactus. These multilayered works overlay macroscopic and microscopic views embracing the cytology, physiology, and morphology of this type of cactus.

I want to make art that is connected to contemporary technology. I do this by working with robots. A real robot is very different from the robots offered by today’s entertainment. Movies are full of android, human-like robots played, of course, by humans. The robots on popular robot-wars 1V shows are really remote-control cars and not robots at all. The kind of robot I mean is a self-contained, autonomous, mobile device. It senses the environment around it and responds. These robots can be wonderful tools for making art. I specifically design my robots with an artistic goal. One of my favorites is Gimpy1 , a walking robot designed to have a limping gait that provides a distinctive line quality. It also turns with growth curves, rather than circular arcs. To make a robot like this requires understanding mechanics, electronics, programming, and art fundamentals. Gimpy1 has a light sensor aimed at the painting surface. It can see its own marks. I start the work by supplying a seed line or shape to trace. The resulting work is my input and guidance combined with the robot’s personality. The resulting images are calligraphic, organic, and geometric. They are infused at every place with the technology of the 21 st century. This body of work could not be made at another time. The Cacti series is a number of acrylic on canvas works inspired by the prickly pear (Opuntia) cactus. The texture, structure, environment, and life struggle combine in a visual jazz based upon cactus without actually depicting a cactus. These multilayered works overlay macroscopic and microscopic views embracing the cytology, physiology, and morphology of this type of cactus.

Paul Klee wrote a short text he titled “Taking a Line for a Walk.” To give this idea a 21st-century twist, I make autonomous mobile robots that are small enough to walk around the canvas and use paint brushes to make marks. The robots have a small computer on board and sensors that can see the surface of the canvas and the marks it has already made. I use these robots as a tool for painting – as a super brush that can make marks that humans cannot make alone. For instance, the robots can stay much closer to the actual lines of living growing things than we can with hand-eye coordination. They are also capable of truly random behavior that brings them closer to natural variation. I wish to make art that reflects our common lives. Two aspects of 21st-century life are inescapable: 1. The continuing discoveries and refinement of knowledge through science. I think the contemporary disrespect and distrust of science may be temporarily fashionable, but are certainly eternally foolish. 2. Most of us have become personally engaged with technology. Technology is no longer limited to affecting our work lives. Smart devices have a role in our personal lives as well. Whose life is not changed by one or more of the following devices: cell phone, notebook computer, internet search engines, email? Smart devices depend on small-to-large computers as part of their make-up and involve a combination of mechanics, electronics, controllers, and programming. Using a similar tool to make art reflects who we are and our lives today. I use simple, very focused, small robots as a tool to integrate both aspects into art that is science-informed and engaged with technology in obvious and not-so-obvious ways.

Art is not what you see, but is what you interact with. Good paintings make their viewers imaginative. As every artist has been expressing love in many ways, the authors introduce a novel way to express the shape of love in an interactive way using state-of-the-art computing technology. The viewers of the art will not see the picture, but will interact with the picture literally. The concept of the interactive art that the authors propose in this paper is that the viewer of the art feel as if he/she is inside the painting. You first find yourself moving in the acrylic painting as if it reflects you like a mirror. In the picture you interact with a family of Alpaca, who will present you with a gift. If you stare at yourself in the picture carefully you will see your face is slightly morphed to that of your child age. You are to bring a candle with you to lighten the picture. As you move the candle, the lighting in the picture changes. You can even blow out the candle, and every animated character disappear from the picture, though the gift from Alpaca family remains inside you.

Meats Meier hasn’t put a pencil down since the time he drew Superman when he was two. Creating art that pulls you inside a world of complex forms and shapes, Meats communicates a strange universe of comingled mechanics and organics. By using Maya, ZBrush, and Photoshop, he has the freedom to explore infinite variations of his vision in multiple dimensions. With themes that include nature, toys, childhood, and vision, he allows us to look at the world around us with entirely new eyes .

Involuntary Journeys started as a photo-blog of refugee stories I collected on Lesbos in Greece. The doubly disadvantaged among them, minors and women, told most harrowing stories of their journey to Europe. However, theirs are also stories of courage and resilience, stories to break stereotypes – such as women traveling alone or teenagers who proudly wear their hair open.

I had started with questions: How do I respond as a media artist to the ongoing humanitarian disaster in Syria? How can I reach out and make a difference with my work? I decided to develop a field project to work directly with affected people, listen to their stories, and start a blog to lend them a voice as individual humans. The suffering endured on their involuntary journeys is commonly summarized in statistics but overall, remains unrecorded, even by refugees themselves whose energy is taken up by living day-to-day.

In the next project stage, I mapped some journeys to geo-locations on Google Earth and Google Maps. Aside from the plain data, I added image and typography overlays into the Google Earth path to experiment with artistic and poetic additions to cartographic imagery. The viewer can choose to follow the story along the interactive geographic path or view the journey as a time-based video.

My engaged media practice combines media art with socially relevant advocacy. While much of my involvement is focused on the Climate Crisis, this particular project tries to use an artistic, interactive interpretation to a humanitarian crisis that is in part triggered by climate change and mismanaged drought. By expanding the use of maps as storytelling devices and not just as information platforms, I want to newly engage the viewer who may have been disengaged or overwhelmed by the flood of news.

My project hopes to

• Empower refugees to trace, remember, and chronicle their own stories
• Help to amplify their voices in the face of a weary public opinion
• Bring interactive visual media to the storytelling process to make their fates more accessible

Through the Google series, I seek to examine the visual experience of the internet and propose a visual means of exploring encounters with the increasingly ubiquitous screen-based landscapes through which we routinely meander. Although these contemporary landscapes may be composed of gifs and jpegs, bits and bytes, as opposed to the trees, bushes, and buildings of conventional landscapes, they are nonetheless a new arena laden with visual stimuli within which we move – scrolling, moving backwards or forwards, opening and closing new windows on new imagery and new paths. The Google search engine has reached iconic status in a few short years, entering the popular lexicon as a noun, a verb, an idea, a listed stock. Its ubiquity is a testament to the widespread use of new information technologies as well as a gradual shift in our interaction with information, in both textual and visual forms, attributable in large part to new forms of displaying and categorizing vast quantities of data. Google’s Image Search function is based on an analysis of the text on the page adjacent to an image, image name, and unspecified “other factors;” from these factors, image content is deduced in response to a query. In the search-engine process, there is no involvement of human judgment to define the visual content of individual drawings, photographs, clip art, or animations; unexpected, often inexplicable, connections between text and imagery occur frequently. The images in the Google series are the results of contemporary encounters with the virtual landscape of the internet. They are composite images, mathematical averages of the first 100 images retrieved from a Google query for a specific word or phrase. Each downloaded image relinquished its size, its shape, and the clarity of its individual pixels in its merger with the other results from the query. The results, a visualization of intersections between Boolean logic and the popular imagination, are more often than not a hopeless jumble of unidentifiable pixels, but occasionally a recognizable form does emerge. Truly iconic imagery is elusive, particularly considering the glut of computer graphics through which internet spiders and archivers crawl daily. Only a small fraction of searches retain any degree of legibility through the averaging process. Like time-lapse photographs of movement through physical space, the Google Series explores how movement through virtual landscapes similarly obliterates detail, exploring the aesthetic potential within the motion itself.

Through the Google series, I seek to examine the visual experience of the internet and propose a visual means of exploring encounters with the increasingly ubiquitous screen-based landscapes through which we routinely meander. Although these contemporary landscapes may be composed of gifs and jpegs, bits and bytes, as opposed to the trees, bushes, and buildings of conventional landscapes, they are nonetheless a new arena laden with visual stimuli within which we move – scrolling, moving backwards or forwards, opening and closing new windows on new imagery and new paths. The Google search engine has reached iconic status in a few short years, entering the popular lexicon as a noun, a verb, an idea, a listed stock. Its ubiquity is a testament to the widespread use of new information technologies as well as a gradual shift in our interaction with information, in both textual and visual forms, attributable in large part to new forms of displaying and categorizing vast quantities of data. Google’s Image Search function is based on an analysis of the text on the page adjacent to an image, image name, and unspecified “other factors;” from these factors, image content is deduced in response to a query. In the search-engine process, there is no involvement of human judgment to define the visual content of individual drawings, photographs, clip art, or animations; unexpected, often inexplicable, connections between text and imagery occur frequently. The images in the Google series are the results of contemporary encounters with the virtual landscape of the internet. They are composite images, mathematical averages of the first 100 images retrieved from a Google query for a specific word or phrase. Each downloaded image relinquished its size, its shape, and the clarity of its individual pixels in its merger with the other results from the query. The results, a visualization of intersections between Boolean logic and the popular imagination, are more often than not a hopeless jumble of unidentifiable pixels, but occasionally a recognizable form does emerge. Truly iconic imagery is elusive, particularly considering the glut of computer graphics through which internet spiders and archivers crawl daily. Only a small fraction of searches retain any degree of legibility through the averaging process. Like time-lapse photographs of movement through physical space, the Google Series explores how movement through virtual landscapes similarly obliterates detail, exploring the aesthetic potential within the motion itself.

Through the Google series, I seek to examine the visual experience of the internet and propose a visual means of exploring encounters with the increasingly ubiquitous screen-based landscapes through which we routinely meander. Although these contemporary landscapes may be composed of gifs and jpegs, bits and bytes, as opposed to the trees, bushes, and buildings of conventional landscapes, they are nonetheless a new arena laden with visual stimuli within which we move – scrolling, moving backwards or forwards, opening and closing new windows on new imagery and new paths. The Google search engine has reached iconic status in a few short years, entering the popular lexicon as a noun, a verb, an idea, a listed stock. Its ubiquity is a testament to the widespread use of new information technologies as well as a gradual shift in our interaction with information, in both textual and visual forms, attributable in large part to new forms of displaying and categorizing vast quantities of data. Google’s Image Search function is based on an analysis of the text on the page adjacent to an image, image name, and unspecified “other factors;” from these factors, image content is deduced in response to a query. In the search-engine process, there is no involvement of human judgment to define the visual content of individual drawings, photographs, clip art, or animations; unexpected, often inexplicable, connections between text and imagery occur frequently. The images in the Google series are the results of contemporary encounters with the virtual landscape of the internet. They are composite images, mathematical averages of the first 100 images retrieved from a Google query for a specific word or phrase. Each downloaded image relinquished its size, its shape, and the clarity of its individual pixels in its merger with the other results from the query. The results, a visualization of intersections between Boolean logic and the popular imagination, are more often than not a hopeless jumble of unidentifiable pixels, but occasionally a recognizable form does emerge. Truly iconic imagery is elusive, particularly considering the glut of computer graphics through which internet spiders and archivers crawl daily. Only a small fraction of searches retain any degree of legibility through the averaging process. Like time-lapse photographs of movement through physical space, the Google Series explores how movement through virtual landscapes similarly obliterates detail, exploring the aesthetic potential within the motion itself.

Through the Google series, I seek to examine the visual experience of the internet and propose a visual means of exploring encounters with the increasingly ubiquitous screen-based landscapes through which we routinely meander. Although these contemporary landscapes may be composed of gifs and jpegs, bits and bytes, as opposed to the trees, bushes, and buildings of conventional landscapes, they are nonetheless a new arena laden with visual stimuli within which we move – scrolling, moving backwards or forwards, opening and closing new windows on new imagery and new paths. The Google search engine has reached iconic status in a few short years, entering the popular lexicon as a noun, a verb, an idea, a listed stock. Its ubiquity is a testament to the widespread use of new information technologies as well as a gradual shift in our interaction with information, in both textual and visual forms, attributable in large part to new forms of displaying and categorizing vast quantities of data. Google’s Image Search function is based on an analysis of the text on the page adjacent to an image, image name, and unspecified “other factors;” from these factors, image content is deduced in response to a query. In the search-engine process, there is noinvolvement of human judgment to define the visual content of individual drawings, photographs, clip art, or animations; unexpected, often inexplicable, connections between text and imagery occur frequently. The images in the Google series are the results of contemporary encounters with the virtual landscape of the internet. They are composite images, mathematical averages of the first 100 images retrieved from a Google query for a specific word or phrase. Each downloaded image relinquished its size, its shape, and the clarity of its individual pixels in its merger with the other results from the query. The results, a visualization of intersections between Boolean logic and the popular imagination, are more often than not a hopeless jumble of unidentifiable pixels, but occasionally a recognizable form does emerge. Truly iconic imagery is elusive, particularly considering the glut of computer graphics through which internet spiders and archivers crawl daily. Only a small fraction of searches retain any degree of legibility through the averaging process. Like time-lapse photographs of movement through physical space, the Google Series explores how movement through virtual landscapes similarly obliterates detail, exploring the aesthetic potential within the motion itself.

Through the Google series, I seek to examine the visual experience of the internet and propose a visual means of exploring encounters with the increasingly ubiquitous screen-based landscapes through which we routinely meander. Although these contemporary landscapes may be composed of gifs and jpegs, bits and bytes, as opposed to the trees, bushes, and buildings of conventional landscapes, they are nonetheless a new arena laden with visual stimuli within which we move – scrolling, moving backwards or forwards, opening and closing new windows on new imagery and new paths. The Google search engine has reached iconic status in a few short years, entering the popular lexicon as a noun, a verb, an idea, a listed stock. Its ubiquity is a testament to the widespread use of new information technologies as well as a gradual shift in our interaction with information, in both textual and visual forms, attributable in large part to new forms of displaying and categorizing vast quantities of data. Google’s Image Search function is based on an analysis of the text on the page adjacent to an image, image name, and unspecified “other factors;” from these factors, image content is deduced in response to a query. In the search-engine process, there is noinvolvement of human judgment to define the visual content of individual drawings, photographs, clip art, or animations; unexpected, often inexplicable, connections between text and imagery occur frequently. The images in the Google series are the results of contemporary encounters with the virtual landscape of the internet. They are composite images, mathematical averages of the first 100 images retrieved from a Google query for a specific word or phrase. Each downloaded image relinquished its size, its shape, and the clarity of its individual pixels in its merger with the other results from the query. The results, a visualization of intersections between Boolean logic and the popular imagination, are more often than not a hopeless jumble of unidentifiable pixels, but occasionally a recognizable form does emerge. Truly iconic imagery is elusive, particularly considering the glut of computer graphics through which internet spiders and archivers crawl daily. Only a small fraction of searches retain any degree of legibility through the averaging process. Like time-lapse photographs of movement through physical space, the Google Series explores how movement through virtual landscapes similarly obliterates detail, exploring the aesthetic potential within the motion itself.

Scientific visualization techniques are mostly used to depict the information from the simulation data. This video demonstrates that visualization can also be used to generate esoteric visual effects from a 2D seismic wave field derived from simulation data. All the visualization results were created using AVS/Express with various techniques such as value-to-color mapping, contour, isoline, surface plot, and lighting. The final images were composed with Jaleo video editing software.

Has our increasing usage of cameras negatively impacted our relationships with one another? Long before camera-phones, physical images called carte-visites in the mid 19th century would be used as a form of communication with one another through the telling of ones presence at another’s shop or home, or through the act of sending through letters. These small portraits acted as a token for one’s presence; a physical interaction and communication through two people and a reminder of a moment and bodily being.

This tie to physicality through an image of one’s self is similar to the physical communication through imagery we as a society hold dearly via a now digital lens. Social media platforms, such as Snapchat, or digital communication entities, like texting or video-chatting, provide a level of physicality of individuals through imagery shared between users. One can talk with and see movement of their loved ones in real time. Yet, at the same time, what comes with this type of conversation is an actual lack of physicality in it of itself, and an increasing amount of expectations, and possible stress, through the usage of these platforms. Thus, we beg the question, has the increasing immediacy of communication through the camera lens enhanced our relationships or hindered them?

For the last three years I have been exploring ways in which to incorporate digital images into traditional printmaking practices. Thus far I have experimented with serigraphy, Xerox transfer to traditional litho plates, Pronto industrial litho offset plates, and photo positive litho plates. Currently I am using photo negative litho plates to transform my images from digital files to a finished print. The image “A Piece of the Pie” was made in Adobe PhotoShop and then printed in four-color CMYK separations with photo positive litho plates. Additional silkscreen runs were added to complete the work.

A digital portfolio that I was invited to be in, “Pictionary,” inspired I my current body of work entitled “Word Play”, which includes “A Piece of the Pie.” The only requirement for inclusion in the portfolio was the image had to contain either a dictionary or encyclopedia image. I especially liked using the dictionary image and started my hunt for old dictionaries at flea markets and antique stores. Each of the prints in “Word Play” began by scanning in an image that appealed to me from an old dictionary. I would then respond and build upon that image. Some of the pieces are completely whimsical while others have underlying political content. All use text in some form. My goal was to create prints that were aesthetically pleasing and conceptually significant, often playing off the meaning of the chosen icon.

In Acrobats, the two women in the balancing pose serve as a metaphor for the challenging and hectic situations we face daily in a “multi-tasking” society. On a personal level, the movie starlets, numerical calculations, and counting marks signify cultural pressures to succeed and what that means. In contrast, the lotus flowers represent the inner, spiritual aspects of my life. The acrobats, therefore, symbolize the attempt to synthesize and balance conflicts that arise from these opposing desires.

For the last three years I have been exploring ways in which to incorporate digital images into traditional printmaking practices. Thus far I have experimented with serigraphy, Xerox transfer to traditional litho plates, Pronto industrial litho offset plates, and photo positive litho plates. Currently I am using photo negative litho plates to transform my images from digital files to a finished print. The image “Breast Stroke” was made in Adobe PhotoShop and then printed in four- color CMYK separations with photo positive litho plates.

A digital portfolio I was invited to be in, “Pictionary,” inspired my current body of work entitled “Word Play,” which includes “Breast Stroke.” The only requirement for inclusion in the portfolio was the image had to contain either a dictionary or encyclopedia image. I especially liked using the dictionary image and started my hunt for old dictionaries at flea markets and antique stores. Each of the prints in “Word Play” began by scanning in an image that appealed to me from an old dictionary. I would then respond and build upon that image. Some of the pieces are completely whimsical while others have underlying political content. All use text in some form. My goal was to create prints that were aesthetically pleasing and conceptually significant, often playing off the meaning of the chosen icon.

For the last five years, I have used the computer as a tool to create images. I am interested in the different ways a variety of recognizable images can be juxtaposed and altered in meaning and narration by my new combinations and compositions. The computer allows me to move items easily and play with transparency, scale , and color. The image is then “brought out of the box” via traditional printmaking or painting methods. In Leap of Faith, the diver serves as a metaphor for many situations in life where one must take that “leap of faith” into the unknown and trust one’s instincts. The movie starlets and children’s doodles at the bottom of the image refer to different cultural stages, desires, and developments in women’s lives that echo this metaphor. In most of my work, the focus has specifically been geared toward identity issues surrounding women. Some of the images are completely whimsical, while others have underlying political content. My goal is to create images that are aesthetically pleasing and conceptually significant, often playing off the meaning and inference of the chosen image.

For the last five years, I have been exploring ways to incorporate digital images into traditional printmaking practices. Thus far, I have used serigraphy, Xerox transfer to traditional litho plates, Pronto industrial litho offset plates, and, most recently, photo positive and negative litho plates.

My current body of work, entitled Word Play, was inspired by a digital portfolio I was invited to be in, called Pictionary. The only requirement was that the image had to contain either a dictionary image or an encyclopedia image. I especially liked using the dictionary image and started my hunt for old dictionaries at flea markets and antique stores. Each of the images in “Word Play” began by scanning an image that appealed to me from an old dictionary. I have now expanded the source materials to items such as coloring books and a variety of children’s workbooks. The image is then embellished and layered with other images, such as cookbook recipes, cakes, children’s doodles, and other eclectic pictures to create new meanings and translations of familiar images. In this work, my focus has specifically been geared toward identity issues surrounding women. Some of the images are completely whimsical, while others have underlying political content. My goal was to create images that were aesthetically pleasing and conceptually significant, often playing off the meaning of the chosen image.

Peaceful Waters … shows mirror reflections on the sphere and on the water. The water is transparent and has refraction of light entering and leaving the surface. The white “snow” landscape shows diffuse reflection. The water and the landscape were defined by logical meshes.

“We see things not as they are, but as we are.”

An artificial neural network looks out on the world, trying to make sense of what it sees, in the context of what it has seen before. It can only see what it already knows, just like us.

Learning to See is an ongoing series of works that use state-of-the-art machine learning algorithms to reflect on ourselves and how we make sense of the world. The picture we see in our conscious mind is not a mirror image of the outside world, but is a reconstruction based on our expectations and prior beliefs.

The work is part of a broader line of inquiry about self affirming cognitive biases, our inability to see the world from others’ point of view, and the resulting social polarization.

The work is an interactive installation in which a number of neural networks analyse a live camera feed pointing at a table covered in everyday objects. Through a very tactile, hands-on experience, the audience can manipulate the objects on the table with their hands, and see corresponding scenery emerging on the display, in realtime, reinterpreted by the neural networks.

Every 30 seconds the scene changes between different networks trained on five different datasets: (the four natural elements:) ocean & waves (representing ‘water’), clouds & sky (representing ‘air’), fire, flowers (representing earth, and life); and images from the Hubble Space telescope (representing the universe, cosmos, aether, void or God). The interaction can be a very short, quick, playful experience. Or the audience can spend hours meticulously crafting their perfect nebula, or shaping their favourite waves, or arranging a beautiful bouquet.

Human intervention with technology and science, and the need to dominate sometimes lead to unpredictable and seemingly negative results. Unlike most species, humans adapt not simply for survival, but also for social acceptance, wealth, and prosperity. We insist that other species adapt to our ever-changing model of the world or get out of the way.
But what would happen if humans were forced to exist in other species’ worlds?
This project is a behavior experiment on how humans react to undesirable species’ intrusion in our habitat. It focuses on the cockroach. Cockroaches are real survivors. They have been around for approximately 300 million years. Over 5,000 species have been identified. Cockroaches are very adaptive.
The experiment provides an interactive space with a pile of gloves at the entrance. Attendees are asked to wear a pair of the gloves. Then they see one cockroach–black, crawling, enticing participants to smash it. After it is hit, instead of dying, it explodes to become five cockroaches, and the original cockroach turns red. Hitting it again makes it grow to a giant cockroach. Wings grow out of its shell. The nonlinear narrative unfolds along a curve from trigger to climax, affected by interaction.

Lim is a game about the violent experience of inhabiting a liminal social space. The player controls a small, multicolored square which moves through a narrow maze. The game attempts to promote a feeling of vulnerability and lack of safety in the player through nontraditional feedback such as jarring sounds when attacked and zooming in the camera when “blending in.” The portrayal of violence in games has been moving towards the “hyperrealistic” – however, this violence often fails to inspire any real feelings in players. With Lim I wanted to portray a kind of violence less obvious and familiar than that normally portrayed by games, and to place the player in the position of a person experiencing it without the usual defenses games offer (weapons of their own, agile movement, magical powers, etc.)

“V[R]ignettes” is a series comprised of virtual reality-crafted microstories. Each individual microstory is designed to encourage a kind of “narrative smearing” – where traditional story techniques are truncated and mutated into smears (kinetic actions and mechanics, collage-like building blocks, visual distortions, dual-tiered annotations) which requires readers making active choices in order to navigate each microstory space (storybox). When exploring each microstory, a reader will experience poetically dense language (such as letters bracketed in words, requiring rereading, that are designed to expand and enhance meaning potentials) and various visual, textual, and technological elements that require direct audience input.

Extended Summary:

Originally titled A Million and Two, V[R]ignettes is a series comprised of Virtual Reality crafted microstories. Each individual microstory, or vignette, is designed to encourage a kind of ‘narrative smearing’ – where traditional story techniques are truncated and mutated into smears (kinetic actions and mechanics, collage-like layered building blocks, visual distortions, dual-tiered text annotations) which requires a reader to make active choices in order to navigate each microstory space (storybox). The microstories presented are part of the ongoing V[R]ignettes Series. When exploring each microstory, a reader will experience poetically dense language (such as letters bracketed in words – requiring rereading – that are designed to expand and enhance meaning potentials) and various visual, textual and technological elements that require direct audience input (such as: do you choose to view each microstory in a 3D or VR space –through a Virtual Reality headset or a mobile phone or computer monitor? Do you set each microstory to autopilot, or navigate the experience through manual annotation click-throughs and spatial manipulations?

Do you choose to use the model inspector and view the microstories without any post-processing effects, or in wireframe? Do you choose to enable audio? Do you read only the title fields or entire paragraphs?) Such smears are also designed to be combined by the reader to create a story piecing system that’s circular in nature, where a reader/interactor is encouraged to experience each microstory multiple times, in multiple ways. For instance, when experiencing In the Skin of the Gloam, if a reader chooses to read only the title line of each annotation, they’ll experience a minimal poetic (title) text version: if they instead read the rest of the annotation accompanying teach title line, the narrative is accented differently. If you choose to manipulate (scale, rotate, zoom) the 3D models in the space (and/or if you engage autoplay, or in the case of Wracking in the Upper Bubble read the wall text only), a reader’s experience will be markedly different from those choosing to experience each microstory in a VR space (where teleportation is an option and the spatial dimension is crucial). To load each microstory, please press the white arrow in the middle of each V[R]ignettes storybox (and if viewing on a mobile device, please make sure to view each storybox in full screen mode). After clicking on the white arrow, to begin reading the text please click on the “Select an annotation” bar at the bottom of each storybox screen: from there, you get to choose how you experience all other narrative smearing possibilities. If you need help with navigation and controls, please click the “?” located in the bottom right side of each storybox.

The ” Water Project ” is a video installation in which a physical drip of water triggers a glitch in a digital image file of the sea. Digital representations and spectacular images from screens are highly suspect and unreliable to some degree. However, people are growing ever more attached to screens, and they experience intimacy in a virtual world rather than the real world. It is interesting to explore the fragile connection between those two worlds.

The Garden of Error and Decay is a poetic visualization of real-time world catastrophes. It reflects on the network media reality of the 21″ century through a continuous story of current world disasters, expressed by animated pictograms. Every time a disaster-related topic is discussed on Twitter, a new animation appears. Stock exchange information also influences the storytelling. Users interacting with the Garden have the opportunity to either eliminate or multiply the disaster scenes with a shooting device. However, it is not the user who actually has the power to decide in which direction the story develops once an event is triggered. As in real life, everything is driven by stock exchange dynamics; these dictate whether disasters proliferate or die down. This innovative moving image format is not a film, not a game, and not a nonlinear interactive story, but instead a real-time, data-driven narrative.

With the discovery in the late 1920s of quantum mechanics and the uncertainty principle, many physicists began to adopt the view that the universe was intrinsically non-deterministic. That is, at a very fundamental level, matters are decided by chance rather than any formulaic recipe. A consequence of this viewpoint is that the regularity and form one sees everywhere is often an expression of statistical regularity. That is, structure can be, and often is, a (geometric) realization of “laws of averages.” Life itself, depending as it does on the statistical laws of genetics and inheritance, is maybe the best and most familiar expression of the role that randomness plays in our existence.

In my work, I use ideas based on symmetry and chaotic dynamical systems as a means of expressing and representing in an abstract way the underlying structure that lies within chaos and randomness.

All of my work is created using software that I have been developing now for 14 years. This software, which I call prism (an acronym for Programs for the Interactive Study of Maps), uses ideas based on my mathematical research into symmetry, chaos, and dynamics. As part of prism, I have developed many algorithms specifically to achieve some of the effects that I obtain in my pieces. I use prism for the design and coloring of the piece. I do not use any commercial software packages. I also build the computers that I use to create these pieces. The finished work is printed onto photographic paper using a Durst Lambda 130.

Technically speaking, the images I create are realizations of symmetric chaotic dynamics. Although at first sight, “Designer Chaos” seems an unlikely prospect, the reality is that chaotic dynamics often have great statistical regularity. My pictures represent that regularity.

“HellFire III” was created using methods based on random dynamical systems. Characteristically, random dynamical systems often produce images that possess complex textures while deterministic dynamics result in significant edge data and fine detail. For some examples of images constructed using deterministic dynamics, see my Web page (nothung.math.uh.edu/-mike/ag).

Symmetry imposes a unity and harmony on a design. The particular symmetry type used in the design can also have a psychological and physiological impact. “HellFire III” is a two-color repeating pattern: symmetries of the pattern either preserve or reverse colors. The three-dimensionality of the design is characteristic of certain types of two-color design. Different symmetry types can lead to different effects and illusions.

I have developed the programs used to design and color “HellFire III” over the past twelve years, and from time to time, I use the programs as the basis of an Art and Design class at the University of Houston.

With the discovery in the late 1920s of quantum mechanics and the uncertainty principle, many physicists began to adopt the view that the universe was intrinsically non-deterministic. That is, at a very fundamental level, matters are decided by chance rather than any formulaic recipe. A consequence of this viewpoint is that the regularity and form one sees everywhere is often an expression of statistical regularity. That is, structure can be, and often is, a (geometric) realization of “laws of averages.” Life itself, depending as it does on the statistical laws of genetics and inheritance, is maybe the best and most familiar expression of the role that randomness plays in our existence.

In my work, I use ideas based on symmetry and chaotic dynamical systems as a means of expressing and representing in an abstract way the underlying structure that lies within chaos and randomness.

All of my work is created using software that I have been developing now for 14 years. This software, which I call prism (an acronym for Programs for the Interactive Study of Maps), uses ideas based on my mathematical research into symmetry, chaos, and dynamics. As part of prism, I have developed many algorithms specifically to achieve some of the effects that I obtain in my pieces. I use prism for the design and coloring of the piece. I do not use any commercial software packages. I also build the computers that I use to create these pieces. The finished work is printed onto photographic paper using a Durst Lambda 130.

With the discovery in the late 1920s of quantum mechanics and the uncertainty principle, many physicists began to adopt the view that the universe was intrinsically non-deterministic. That is, at a very fundamental level, matters are decided by chance rather than any formulaic recipe. A consequence of this viewpoint is that the regularity and form one sees everywhere is often an expression of statistical regularity. That is, structure can be, and often is, a (geometric) realization of “laws of averages.” Life itself, depending as it does on the statistical laws of genetics and inheritance, is maybe the best and most familiar expression of the role that randomness plays in our existence.

In my work, I use ideas based on symmetry and chaotic dynamical systems as a means of expressing and representing in an abstract way the underlying structure that lies within chaos and randomness.

All of my work is created using software that I have been developing now for 14 years. This software, which I call prism (an acronym for Programs for the Interactive Study of Maps), uses ideas based on my mathematical research into symmetry, chaos, and dynamics. As part of prism, I have developed many algorithms specifically to achieve some of the effects that I obtain in my pieces. I use prism for the design and coloring of the piece. I do not use any commercial software packages. I also build the computers that I use to create these pieces. The finished work is printed onto photographic paper using a Durst Lambda 130.

Cursor Caressor Eraser is an installation and online artwork exploring the erotic image and the seductive potential of tangible interfaces.

Cursor Caressor Eraser is an interactive installation and net artwork contemplating the erotic image and themes of sensuality in time. Caressing gestures of the interactors produce erasures of digital photographic imagery, resulting in visual palimpsests. These erasures thematize temporal dialectics of touch and bodily encounters with others, such as forgetting and remembering, or recognition and strangeness. A simple gesture-a stroke across a couchpad or the movement of a mouse-creates a series of rich variations of bodies in change. In the installation, interaccors couch and caress a sculptural, sensitive interface that has been derived from body molds-casts of the body arranged as a “landscape” to be explored by the interactor.

I think and feel most clearly and understand my world most clearly through my eyes. I tend to notice and remember the way things, places, people look. Later, when I try to think about these things, I find myself thinking most clearly when I think visually. And to help myself make sense of the complexities of the world, I attempt to represent these complexities in a visual format – as pictures, as sculptures, as moving images. This is how I try to understand my life, my experiences, life in general. This is my artwork. I am especially attuned to the spatial aspects of the visual world – to the way things are arranged in space, to the emptiness of spaces, to the clustering of objects within spaces, to the emotional resonances of space.

What first allowed me to represent space as I was perceiving it was my encounter, in 1978, with three-dimensional computer graphics. I had already been making sculpture in traditional media and becoming more and more conscious of the space of the sculpture rather than its volume. When I stumbled upon three-dimensional computer graphics, I discovered a way of visualizing space without any volume. I composed lines – of no thickness – in an empty space, now made perceptible by the lines. These first compositions were interactive. I called them “virtual” sculptures.

Space is emotional. The space of a cathedral can be imposing. A corridor can be threatening. The enormity of a night sky may be awe-inspiring. The spaces of these first computer compositions had their origins in emotional states. Trying to understand, to “get a handle on,” to create a handle for my feelings – about death, about what was passing back and forth between a woman and myself.

Twenty years later, I am still thinking visually, still concerned with space, and still making spatial compositions that help me understand the world and my/our emotional reactions to it. More recently, emotional issues predominate in my work, even while the underlying perceptual issues continue. When a man and a woman come together, what is happen­ing? What is this powerful emotional urge we feel to unite with another? What is the nature of the almost overwhelming feeling of one-ness we can feel with another? And the profound feeling of alone-ness we can feel when we lose that sense of union?

Throughout all of this work, I have always worked in a variety of media, both computer-generated and traditional. The technology of the work is significant to me only in so far as it stimulates new ways of seeing or understanding things. The computer has consistently had that effect for me for 20 years. But I also work, with equal enthusiasm, in non-computer media. The interplay that happens as I move from one medium to another, from one way of thinking about the issues to another, has always been fruitful for me. The goal is always the same: to understand my world.

I think and feel most clearly and understand my world most clearly through my eyes. I tend to notice and remember the way things, places, people look. Later, when I try to think about these things, I find myself thinking most clearly when I think visually. And to help myself make sense of the complexities of the world, I attempt to represent these complexities in a visual format – as pictures, as sculptures, as moving images. This is how I try to understand my life, my experiences, life in general. This is my artwork. I am especially attuned to the spatial aspects of the visual world – to the way things are arranged in space, to the emptiness of spaces, to the clustering of objects within spaces, to the emotional resonances of space.

What first allowed me to represent space as I was perceiving it was my encounter, in 1978, with three-dimensional computer graphics. I had already been making sculpture in traditional media and becoming more and more conscious of the space of the sculpture rather than its volume. When I stumbled upon three-dimensional computer graphics, I discovered a way of visualizing space without any volume. I composed lines – of no thickness – in an empty space, now made perceptible by the lines. These first compositions were interactive. I called them “virtual” sculptures.

Space is emotional. The space of a cathedral can be imposing. A corridor can be threatening. The enormity of a night sky may be awe-inspiring. The spaces of these first computer compositions had their origins in emotional states. Trying to understand, to “get a handle on,” to create a handle for my feelings – about death, about what was passing back and forth between a woman and myself.

Twenty years later, I am still thinking visually, still concerned with space, and still making spatial compositions that help me understand the world and my/our emotional reactions to it. More recently, emotional issues predominate in my work, even while the underlying perceptual issues continue. When a man and a woman come together, what is happen­ing? What is this powerful emotional urge we feel to unite with another? What is the nature of the almost overwhelming feeling of one-ness we can feel with another? And the profound feeling of alone-ness we can feel when we lose that sense of union?

Throughout all of this work, I have always worked in a variety of media, both computer-generated and traditional. The technology of the work is significant to me only in so far as it stimulates new ways of seeing or understanding things. The computer has consistently had that effect for me for 20 years. But I also work, with equal enthusiasm, in non-computer media. The interplay that happens as I move from one medium to another, from one way of thinking about the issues to another, has always been fruitful for me. The goal is always the same: to understand my world.

I think and feel most clearly and understand my world most clearly through my eyes. I tend to notice and remember the way things, places, people look. Later, when I try to think about these things, I find myself thinking most clearly when I think visually. And to help myself make sense of the complexities of the world, I attempt to represent these complexities in a visual format – as pictures, as sculptures, as moving images. This is how I try to understand my life, my experiences, life in general. This is my artwork. I am especially attuned to the spatial aspects of the visual world – to the way things are arranged in space, to the emptiness of spaces, to the clustering of objects within spaces, to the emotional resonances of space.

What first allowed me to represent space as I was perceiving it was my encounter, in 1978, with three-dimensional computer graphics. I had already been making sculpture in traditional media and becoming more and more conscious of the space of the sculpture rather than its volume. When I stumbled upon three-dimensional computer graphics, I discovered a way of visualizing space without any volume. I composed lines – of no thickness – in an empty space, now made perceptible by the lines. These first compositions were interactive. I called them “virtual” sculptures.

Space is emotional. The space of a cathedral can be imposing. A corridor can be threatening. The enormity of a night sky may be awe-inspiring. The spaces of these first computer compositions had their origins in emotional states. Trying to understand, to “get a handle on,” to create a handle for my feelings – about death, about what was passing back and forth between a woman and myself.

Twenty years later, I am still thinking visually, still concerned with space, and still making spatial compositions that help me understand the world and my/our emotional reactions to it. More recently, emotional issues predominate in my work, even while the underlying perceptual issues continue. When a man and a woman come together, what is happen­ing? What is this powerful emotional urge we feel to unite with another? What is the nature of the almost overwhelming feeling of one-ness we can feel with another? And the profound feeling of alone-ness we can feel when we lose that sense of union?

Throughout all of this work, I have always worked in a variety of media, both computer-generated and traditional. The technology of the work is significant to me only in so far as it stimulates new ways of seeing or understanding things. The computer has consistently had that effect for me for 20 years. But I also work, with equal enthusiasm, in non-computer media. The interplay that happens as I move from one medium to another, from one way of thinking about the issues to another, has always been fruitful for me. The goal is always the same: to understand my world.

I think and feel most clearly and understand my world most clearly through my eyes. I tend to notice and remember the way things, places, people look. Later, when I try to think about these things, I find myself thinking most clearly when I think visually. And to help myself make sense of the complexities of the world, I attempt to represent these complexities in a visual format – as pictures, as sculptures, as moving images. This is how I try to understand my life, my experiences, life in general. This is my artwork. I am especially attuned to the spatial aspects of the visual world – to the way things are arranged in space, to the emptiness of spaces, to the clustering of objects within spaces, to the emotional resonances of space.

What first allowed me to represent space as I was perceiving it was my encounter, in 1978, with three-dimensional computer graphics. I had already been making sculpture in traditional media and becoming more and more conscious of the space of the sculpture rather than its volume. When I stumbled upon three-dimensional computer graphics, I discovered a way of visualizing space without any volume. I composed lines – of no thickness – in an empty space, now made perceptible by the lines. These first compositions were interactive. I called them “virtual” sculptures.

Space is emotional. The space of a cathedral can be imposing. A corridor can be threatening. The enormity of a night sky may be awe-inspiring. The spaces of these first computer compositions had their origins in emotional states. Trying to understand, to “get a handle on,” to create a handle for my feelings – about death, about what was passing back and forth between a woman and myself.

Twenty years later, I am still thinking visually, still concerned with space, and still making spatial compositions that help me understand the world and my/our emotional reactions to it. More recently, emotional issues predominate in my work, even while the underlying perceptual issues continue. When a man and a woman come together, what is happen­ing? What is this powerful emotional urge we feel to unite with another? What is the nature of the almost overwhelming feeling of one-ness we can feel with another? And the profound feeling of alone-ness we can feel when we lose that sense of union?

Throughout all of this work, I have always worked in a variety of media, both computer-generated and traditional. The technology of the work is significant to me only in so far as it stimulates new ways of seeing or understanding things. The computer has consistently had that effect for me for 20 years. But I also work, with equal enthusiasm, in non-computer media. The interplay that happens as I move from one medium to another, from one way of thinking about the issues to another, has always been fruitful for me. The goal is always the same: to understand my world.

August, 2002 is a large-scale print produced by combining several photographs scanned at high resolution and manipulating them digitally to produce a panoramic view of dense vegetation. The size and format of the image invite the viewer to study the work both from afar and up close. As we move in closer and walk left and right, we become aware of a myriad of details that were not distinguishable when viewed from a distance. The more we look, the more we see. In one section of the image, high in a tree and camouflaged against background trees, a Great Blue Heron perches on a branch. Only if we take the time to look very carefully, do we see the bird. Only with repeated and concentrated viewing do we come to understand the landscape that is our world.

Slightly off center, an overgrown path leading into the underbrush is faintly visible.

The composition references the traditional horizontal scroll paintings of Chinese landscape art, as well as the “all-over” paintings of the Abstract Expressionists.

The print is produced as a mosaic of 8-inch-square tiles, each printed on a digital ink-jet printer, then sealed and protected by a plastic facing. The tiles are in turn mounted onto a rigid lightweight board.

This image and the others in its series deal with the passage of time, mortality, sex, sexual energy, vulnerability, power, the energies of being alive, and the passing of those energies. Many of these issues, considered in combination, feel incompatible to us, yet all of them co-exist simultaneously in us. How is it that we can be moving towards our death, and at the same time be so alive? How can we reconcile our power and our vulnerability.

The image has no clear edge, no clear boundary. Its elements spill over beyond the standard rectangle of traditional pictorial space and stray into the empty white space of the paper. Where does the image end and the non-image begin?

The composition combines normally disparate types of imagery-photographic/hand-drawn, representational/abstract, realistic/iconic. The fusion of traditionally unrelated, even antithetical, imagery into a coherent whole raises questions about image-making itself and about our process of categorization.

In the same vein, the images in this series reference other imagery from the history of human image-making. How do we use the imagery of earlier cultures? How do the images I create become part of the language of my cultural successors.? The electronic age assures that we can no longer draw from only one pectoral tradition. Our imagery, across the planet and across time, is shared. The styles intermingle; the vocabularies, the icons, the meanings intermix.

The central element of Forehead is a close-up photograph of the artist’s face. This photograph was taken using a scanner as a digital camera, holding the scanner up close to the face. Because the technology of scanners is not designed for this purpose, the resulting image de-focuses and distorts beyond a few inches from the scanner surface. This produces an image that has an intimacy that is almost confrontational, as when a stranger stands too close to you in the conversation.

Intermingled with this central image are several overlapping scanned graphite drawings of images and objects from our cultural past and present- a hand drawn rendering of Ingres famous painting, “Turkish Bather”; a hand-drawn sketch of a figure from a contemporary soft-porn magazine; a sketch of a ceremonial mask from central Africa; an abstract squiggle of lines. At top-left is a mechanically precise sequence of rectangles, like the dashes of light screen on the face of an electronic device.

The image is printed in a limited edition of 30 with the Iris printing technology, using archival papers and inks.

I think and feel most clearly and understand my world most clearly through my eyes. I tend to notice and remember the way things, places, people look. Later, when I try to think about these things, I find myself thinking most clearly when I think visually. And to help myself make sense of the complexities of the world, I attempt to represent these complexities in a visual format – as pictures, as sculptures, as moving images. This is how I try to understand my life, my experiences, life in general. This is my artwork. I am especially attuned to the spatial aspects of the visual world – to the way things are arranged in space, to the emptiness of spaces, to the clustering of objects within spaces, to the emotional resonances of space.

What first allowed me to represent space as I was perceiving it was my encounter, in 1978, with three-dimensional computer graphics. I had already been making sculpture in traditional media and becoming more and more conscious of the space of the sculpture rather than its volume. When I stumbled upon three-dimensional computer graphics, I discovered a way of visualizing space without any volume. I composed lines – of no thickness – in an empty space, now made perceptible by the lines. These first compositions were interactive. I called them “virtual” sculptures.

Space is emotional. The space of a cathedral can be imposing. A corridor can be threatening. The enormity of a night sky may be awe-inspiring. The spaces of these first computer compositions had their origins in emotional states. Trying to understand, to “get a handle on,” to create a handle for my feelings – about death, about what was passing back and forth between a woman and myself.

Twenty years later, I am still thinking visually, still concerned with space, and still making spatial compositions that help me understand the world and my/our emotional reactions to it. More recently, emotional issues predominate in my work, even while the underlying perceptual issues continue. When a man and a woman come together, what is happen­ing? What is this powerful emotional urge we feel to unite with another? What is the nature of the almost overwhelming feeling of one-ness we can feel with another? And the profound feeling of alone-ness we can feel when we lose that sense of union?

Throughout all of this work, I have always worked in a variety of media, both computer-generated and traditional. The technology of the work is significant to me only in so far as it stimulates new ways of seeing or understanding things. The computer has consistently had that effect for me for 20 years. But I also work, with equal enthusiasm, in non-computer media. The interplay that happens as I move from one medium to another, from one way of thinking about the issues to another, has always been fruitful for me. The goal is always the same: to understand my world.

In designing this piece, I used a combination of traditional sculptural techniques (in my studio at home) and 3-D computer modeling and rendering techniques … The computer was used for two reasons. First, it facilitated and sped up certain practical aspects of the design and pre-fabrication process. And second, it was a fertile source of compositional ideas and solutions, given the sort of compositional ideas and solutions I was interested in making.

I think and feel most clearly and understand my world most clearly through my eyes. I tend to notice and remember the way things, places, people look. Later, when I try to think about these things, I find myself thinking most clearly when I think visually. And to help myself make sense of the complexities of the world, I attempt to represent these complexities in a visual format – as pictures, as sculptures, as moving images. This is how I try to understand my life, my experiences, life in general. This is my artwork. I am especially attuned to the spatial aspects of the visual world – to the way things are arranged in space, to the emptiness of spaces, to the clustering of objects within spaces, to the emotional resonances of space.

What first allowed me to represent space as I was perceiving it was my encounter, in 1978, with three-dimensional computer graphics. I had already been making sculpture in traditional media and becoming more and more conscious of the space of the sculpture rather than its volume. When I stumbled upon three-dimensional computer graphics, I discovered a way of visualizing space without any volume. I composed lines – of no thickness – in an empty space, now made perceptible by the lines. These first compositions were interactive. I called them “virtual” sculptures.

Space is emotional. The space of a cathedral can be imposing. A corridor can be threatening. The enormity of a night sky may be awe-inspiring. The spaces of these first computer compositions had their origins in emotional states. Trying to understand, to “get a handle on,” to create a handle for my feelings – about death, about what was passing back and forth between a woman and myself.

Twenty years later, I am still thinking visually, still concerned with space, and still making spatial compositions that help me understand the world and my/our emotional reactions to it. More recently, emotional issues predominate in my work, even while the underlying perceptual issues continue. When a man and a woman come together, what is happen­ing? What is this powerful emotional urge we feel to unite with another? What is the nature of the almost overwhelming feeling of one-ness we can feel with another? And the profound feeling of alone-ness we can feel when we lose that sense of union?

Throughout all of this work, I have always worked in a variety of media, both computer-generated and traditional. The technology of the work is significant to me only in so far as it stimulates new ways of seeing or understanding things. The computer has consistently had that effect for me for 20 years. But I also work, with equal enthusiasm, in non-computer media. The interplay that happens as I move from one medium to another, from one way of thinking about the issues to another, has always been fruitful for me. The goal is always the same: to understand my world.

This mural is derived from a design originally developed as a proposal for the City of New York. It was modified and adjusted specifically for the SIGGRAPH site.

The imagery of the mural tries to capture the energy, diversity, and vitality of humanity, specifically as seen and experienced in New York City. Images of people rushing about their daily business, people at rest, people of different races, different ages, different social strata. Images of our buildings, the environments we create, our monuments. Images of our laughter, our socializing, our solitary quite moments. Images of nature’s – and our – ephemeral beauty. Images of the vastness and smallness of our universe, and of us.

The rectangles of the mural echo both the historically rectangular canvases of painting and the more recent rectangles of video and film. The overlapping of the rectangles echoes the floating windows of our computer screens.

Combined with the photographic images are hand-drawn drawings. These different styles of imagery, and the images themselves, mix and intermingle to form a new whole. With digital imaging, the borders between categories of imagery, between image-making techniques, collapse.

In addition to the static imagery, there are also electronic elements embedded within the mural. A video screen displays images of pedestrians passing by the mural. Their imagery becomes part of the mural imagery. The mural is about them and about us. At another location, sound emanates softly from behind the mural wall. If we listen closely, we hear the sound of different people reading poetry, each in their own native language.

The mural is constructed as a grid of printed tiles. These tiles echo both the thousands of years of mosaic tiled imagery across cultures, and the pixels of today’s digital image-making techniques.

A visual experiment in crowd-sourcing. Soft Pong Inari was made entirely from pre-existing photographs of Fushimi Inari Shrine, available for modified re-use in the creative commons. The film explores how a multi-subjective viewpoint can express a sense of place. The soundtrack is a study by Swedish composer Palle Dahlstedt. The inspiration for this work came from an offhand remark by a friend a year or two ago, to the effect that it was no longer worth photographing ones travels because interesting and high quality images are already available online. While this may be an exaggeration, it is certainly true that huge databases of high quality digital images are now easily available and searchable. The flood of images invites efforts at sampling and remixing since to create a work using such material is to collaborate with many other creators. What becomes important is to effectively wield tools of digital search and post-production fluidly enough to open a meaningful dialogue with the sampled materials, allowing the artist-as-curator to bring personal sensibilities to the subject at hand. The current work is an experiment and step towards a method of working with the rich image contents already available in the creative commons. This source of images will continue to grow at an increasing rate and future techniques for combining and manipulating images will allow for the creation of new collaborative expressive forms.

An animation that plays on the idea of crossing the boundries from a child’s fantasy world into the harsh reality of business, as illustrated in “The Godfather.”

This new work is an off-beat, sometimes surrealistic drama, combining psychological uncertainties, the paranormal, and their inexplicable interconnection with the bleeding-edge concepts in modern theoretical and quantum psychics. Unable to distinguish between reality and delusion, between sanity and insanity, the characters explore aspects of themselves as well as the collective unconsciousness.

The desktop video revolution is nothing new, and artists at EZTV have been creating original, no-budget projects (often feature length) since 1979. Utilizing off-the-shelf tools and combining elements of traditional storytelling with experimental cinema, these projects have often gone on to acclaim by leading film and art critics, and have been exhibited in major museums and on television internationally. EZTV’s ongoing philosophy has always been that the contemporary artist must not just create work, but must also create the atmosphere by which new works are seen. As acknowledgement of this philosophy, EZTV has operated one of Los Angeles’ oldest running micro-cinemas and digital art galleries, and strongly believes that curatorial exhibition of other artists’ works makes a much better artist. An ensemble of actors, dancers, and other artists collaborate with EZTV’s core group of video, music, digital, and motion-graphic artists, who write and produce their experimental projects as exercises in the continuing dialogue between art and technology.

Quantum Entanglement is a new EZTV digital-video work. Its first public showing is at SIGGRAPH 2003, at the request of the Art Gallery Chair. It stars Aimee Zannoni, Kate Johnson, Bart McLean, and Alex Keith. Story, music, and video by Michael Masucci. Produced by Michael Masucci and Kate Johnson.

Rage to Know is a living art installation consisting of dancers, sound, and 2D, 3D, and digital video projection. Current concepts in contemporary physics, including quantum mechanics and string theory, are bombarding humankind’s understanding of time, space, and spirituality. How do artists interpret these concepts and serve as both translators and commentators in reaction to ideas that few can actually ponder? How do these concepts intersect with day-to-day living and the socio-political problems facing the world?
This project is an experiment through modern dance and digital art to create a living expressionistic environment upon which to reflect and ponder the nature of existence itself. The very process of collaboration is experimentation in itself, and in a way shows the similarity between the creative processes of art and science.

“Terminal Time” is a cutting-edge, audience-powered history engine that combines mass participation, real-time documentary graphics, and artificial intelligence to deliver the history that viewers deserve.

Each half-hour cinematic experience covers 1,000 years of history and is custom-made to reflect audience values and desires.