Artworks Data Table

Reading poems purifies feelings of readers. When a viewer vacuums the poetic words projected on the floor, the word will be replaced by a flower. This work reflects that the role of a poem is like that of a flower in city life; with pleasing scent and color, the flower makes people relaxed and enriches our desolate urban existence.

Summary

Alpha and Omega, 2019. Audiovisual Installation. HD Video, two channel sound, single channel, 3min Alpha and Omega presents the emotional temperature difference in Seoul and Pohang. The artists use seismic data of two cities for 10 yrs., data sonification and the objective indicators of earthquakes to provide a new synesthesia experience.

Abstract

Alpha and Omega deals with the emotional temperature difference between the fear and anxiety of those who have experienced a disaster and the attitudes of those who have not.

The artist who returned to Seoul after having experienced an earthquake at around 5:00 am on February 11, 2018, when the second largest earthquake (intensity 4.6) occurred in Pohang, was experienced the atmosphere of Seoul in contrast to Pohang.

This is because the seriousness of the earthquake felt in Pohang, the epicenter, is not shared in Seoul. The writer interprets the difference in reaction between the two cities as “the difference in sensation due to the imbalance between information and experience.”

In order to express the sense gap between the two cities, we use the seismic data of two cities, which are objective indicators of earthquakes. Rather than simply recreating the overwhelming fear and pressure of the image of a disaster, data sonification will be able to hear the data and provide a new synesthesia experience.

In the space where the disaster data is replaced with light and sound, the audience can freely experience a new type of disaster.

Shin’m 2.0 is the second version of Shin’m project that was created in 2009. Using the Kinect sensor, spatialized sound and two video projections aligned together, it creates an interactive space of nebula bubbles in one corner of the exhibition space. This fluid space is filled with nebula bubbles constantly circulating through a “black hole” in the center. As the participant moves in deeper, first the bubbles’ gravity center moves to the participant, and forms the shape of the participant’s body. If the participant jumps or raises his or her hand up high, bubbles explode as their bubble-filled-body dissipates. Sound texture is designed to enhance the illusion of attachment and dissipation through this experience.

The project’s main purpose is to explore strategies in the field of media art that enable a critical understanding of the medium that is being used and thus critically reflect upon the computer as a medium. In order to investigate these questions and issues, I explored strategies like instructions, appropriation, and intervention in the everyday that were developed in the context of art by the avantgarde of the 1950s and 1960s, in particular. John Cage’s work on Prepared Piano Music has been of particular interest. In 1940, Cage prepared the strings of a piano with screws. This led not only to alteration of the medium, but also the need to change the visual character and contents of the score. On the level of the programme, or the score and the hardware, or the instrument, Cage appropriated and intervened in the conventional conception of the instrument. I began exploring the hardware itself, trying to find ways to intervene and lay open the structures of the computer as a symbolic system. The installation Audio Printer emerged from this research. Documents that are sent to the printer can be heard as the sounds of the data. The data on the level of the binary system represent the document, and it becomes visible and accessible though its own production of sound. The underlying structures are conceptually made visible or audible.

In the Alison installation, different plot elements are presented based on the viewer’s movement within a physical space. The space works as both a form of interaction and another method of presenting story elements.

Alternity is a real-time immersive and interactive architectural installation driven by brain-waves. Data from a wireless Electroencephalography (EEG) headset is collected and analyzed looking for coherent and harmonic patterns. These patterns are mapped to parameters of generative geometry and sound and spatially visualized by projecting on and through an array of silver hyperbolic screens while being sonified spatially using Ambisonics on a multiple channel sound system. The user now exists in virtual and physical tandem, his/her current perspective and awareness creates an immersive experience whereby they are experiencing the dynamic geometric landscape which they are generating in real time.

This work is the result of a fascination with aesthetic by-products of computer procedure. It is a visuavisuaisuaegies of electronic audio/visual transfer (CuseeMe video-conferencing, Real Audio broadcasting, and other assorted hi/lo tech tools). We’ve endeavored to build an electronic theatrical device, to create conditions in which simultaneous transfer of digital information can occur in real time (transfer of experiential data being collected at a site of production to remote receiving and/or reciprocally re-transmitting audience participation, collaborational links).

The live action continually repeats the attempt to reveal the relationship between public and personal-memory. Details extracted from the media sphere are investigated, dissected, redigested, in a series of multi-media tableau vivants. In the Web site, there is a remote point of entry into these various setups, hookups, site-specific installations, etc. It exists as a window into these actions and as evidence of these ephemeral procedures.

Recent performances and exhibits include: Whitney Biennial 2000 (Internet category), Ars Electronica ’99, Next 5 Minutes 3 Conference, Hell.com, WKCR Electronic Music Festival, and Rhizome Artbase.

366 is the number of confirmed drowned-at-sea deaths as a 20 meter long fishing boat with 518 people, most of them from Somalia and Eritrea, got into distress about 550 meters off the Lampedusa coastline in the Mediterranean on October 3rd 2013. The work 366 is an interpretation of the event, filmed in a bathtub with a toy coast guard boat. The sound track is made out of news flash reports on the events at Lampedusa, all reporters speaking at once and the sound fading down as the boat sinks. An allegory on how the media works in the aftermath of a disaster. Border politics of the European Union and Italy were discussed as it is thought that many more could have been rescued. But at the same time as politicians say that this should not happen again, it is actually happening every day.

Free will requires that we make continuous decisions on which direc­tions our lives should take. As newborns, we learn how our bodies work, through countless unconscious decisions. As we age, this process continues, becoming more conscious and abstract. We spend our lives with this endless string of problems to solve, contemplating what action to take on each, evaluating the consequences from the decisions, and moving on to the next. The reconfigured Gemmy Corporation Dancing Hamster toys found in 8520 S.W 27th pl. symbolize this human decision-making and its inevitably limited consequences in our highly constrained existence.

The connection between the arts and the sciences has consistently intrigued students of both disciplines. This connection has led some scientists to make art, believing that their discoveries are as appropriate for museum walls as paintings. Similarly, some artists who work closely with scientific fields believe that their discoveries are important enough to warrant placement in any scientific journal. This marriage of art and science is not a phenomenon specific to modernity. Throughout history, a fine line has separated where art ends and science begins; da Vinci, Tesla, and Kandinsky are some examples. In the information age, artists and scientists are increasingly using the same language, and they are carving out new paradigms in techniques, materials, and process for both disciplines. With an emphasis on experimentation and exploration, I, too, have found my way down this undefined path.

The most recent manifestation of this exploration is my series of drawing machines, all of which are examples of my experiments with physics, electricity, drawing, and chaos. Each machine, controlled by a microprocessor, is fed random behavior to change the quality and weight of line. This behavior allows the machines to have a pseudo-intelligence that can be perceived in the drawings and the machine’s behavior.

Graffiti is an important part of urban human communication that is often marginalized. It is a raw form of self expression divorced from regulation, curation, and control, and it is a phenomenon evident in varying cultures from cave paintings to Roman baths to the F train. Despite governments’ best efforts at elimination, graffiti is innately tied to the human condition and will continue to be prevalent in urban centers, constantly adapting to the realities of nature, economics, technology, and law enforcement. Graffiti is an important and, in many cases, a healthy voice in urban environments.

By melding the technical language of code with the visceral language of written graffiti, I aim to reach the attention of city dwellers who have become numb to the relevance of the writing on the walls. The transformation of written graffiti tags into new and unexpected digitally augmented forms allows them to be looked upon with fresh eyes. Graffiti is often branded as “gang related,” “vandalism,” and “a quality of life offense.” By digitizing the written form and re-present­ing it in an analytical, thoughtful, and expressive way, these stigmas recede into the background, creating an environment where the viewer is free to explore un-tainted form and content. It is my intent that through the language of analysis, viewer’s defenses will be lowered just enough to see a glimpse of the beauty that is written all around them.

The greatest mystery of life comes when you’re least expecting it and disappears when you thought it is here to stay. The heat that ignites it at the beginning is doused by the intimacy it creates. That, my friend, is what we call LOVE.

This Vise is half of a set called Vise Versa from a picture series called Handy Tools. The other Vise (Versa, missing here) is a tool made from two middle and two index fingers joined at their “top” to form an arch. The Versa arch contains the energy of the tool within its core, or “body;” the tool can pull in or out from the center. In Vise, (the picture presented here), the tool is split in the center, creating an active energy field between its jaws, in the empty space. Vise seems to be either reaching towards the middle or pulling apart.

This idea of attraction and tension between two poles is inherent in most of my work. I came to the idea while exploring a nearly abandoned research center in Tokyo. One building was filled with machine tools from the 1920s, all somehow still in working condition, shiny with oil. The center had been used to develop airplane technology in the 1920s and 1930s (another building nearby had a wooden windtunnel). This gave a slight modernist accent to this specific series.

While growing up in Vancouver’s West End during the 1960s, my neighborhood of two- and three-story wood frame houses was being torn down and replaced by high-rise concrete apartment buildings. I loved it. To me, it was as if whole city blocks were being transformed into massive sculpture installations, with each piece soaring hundreds of feet high. By the late ?Os and early 80s most of my personal work consisted of pen-and-ink and color-wash drawings of complex geometric compositions. I always viewed these pieces as frozen moments in time when moving geometric elements had coincidently come together to form a dynamic interaction. Although it was labor intensive and extremely time consuming, I used this technique in 1980, while attending the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, to create a rather successful animated short film titled, appropriately, “Perspectives.” In 1981, I was introduced to serious computer graphics and animation through Jerry Barenholtz’s GRAX software running on Evans & Sutherland computer systems at Simon Fraser University. From that moment, I was obsessed with computer graphics and the potential of creating images and animations using computers. Attending my first SIGGRAPH conference in 1982 strongly reinforced that obsessionI had already received first-half funding from the Canada Council for my next hand-drawn animated film, but I ended up spending all the money on a PC so I could immerse myself in graphics programming. This led to a two year collaboration in improvised music and live computer-animated performances with Canadian musician/composer John S. Gray at Toronto and Halifax art galleries and performance spaces. It also led to 22 years of full-time commercial CG work at Vertigo Computer Imagery, Omnibus Computer Graphics, and finally my own New York commercial CG facility, AFCG, Inc. My current personal work echoes those pen-and-ink compositions of the late ?Os and early 80s. I consider a piece complete when elements have been combined to form a dynamic composition that not only continues to move on the page, but also recalls those early feelings of immersion within massive, neighborhood filling, concrete sculptural pieces. The process of creating a successful image calls for an extensive exploration of composition and lighting arrangements, and tends to be almost wholly intuitive. Having worked with 30 graphics software for almost 24 years, the physical process of working with computers has become comfortably transparent.

While growing up in Vancouver’s West End during the 1960s, my neighborhood of two- and three-story wood frame houses was being torn down and replaced by high-rise concrete apartment buildings. I loved it. To me, it was as if whole city blocks were being transformed into massive sculpture installations, with each piece soaring hundreds of feet high. By the late ?Os and early 80s most of my personal work consisted of pen-and-ink and color-wash drawings of complex geometric compositions. I always viewed these pieces as frozen moments in time when moving geometric elements had coincidently come together to form a dynamic interaction. Although it was labor intensive and extremely time consuming, I used this technique in 1980, while attending the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, to create a rather successful animated short film titled, appropriately, “Perspectives.” In 1981, I was introduced to serious computer graphics and animation through Jerry Barenholtz’s GRAX software running on Evans & Sutherland computer systems at Simon Fraser University. From that moment, I was obsessed with computer graphics and the potential of creating images and animations using computers. Attending my first SIGGRAPH conference in 1982 strongly reinforced that obsession.I had already received first-half funding from the Canada Council for my next hand-drawn animated film, but I ended up spending all the money on a PC so I could immerse myself in graphics programming. This led to a two year collaboration in improvised music and live computer-animated performances with Canadian musician/composer John S. Gray at Toronto and Halifax art galleries and performance spaces. It also led to 22 years of full-time commercial CG work at Vertigo Computer Imagery, Omnibus Computer Graphics, and finally my own New York commercial CG facility, AFCG, Inc. My current personal work echoes those pen-and-ink compositions of the late ?Os and early 80s. I consider a piece complete when elements have been combined to form a dynamic composition that not only continues to move on the page, but also recalls those early feelings of immersion within massive, neighborhood filling, concrete sculptural pieces. The process of creating a successful image calls for an extensive exploration of composition and lighting arrangements, and tends to be almost wholly intuitive. Having worked with 30 graphics software for almost 24 years, the physical process of working with computers has become comfortably transparent.

When I was growing up in Vancouver’s West End during the 1960s, my neighborhood of two- and three-story wood-frame houses was being torn down and replaced by high-rise concrete apartment buildings. I loved it. Not only did it provide exciting (and dangerous) places for me to play in after the construction workers had gone home, it also made me feel that whole city blocks were being transformed into massive sculpture installations, with each piece soaring hundreds of feet high. By the late 70s and early 80s, most of my personal work consisted of pen-and-ink and color-wash drawings of complex geometric compositions. I always viewed these pieces as frozen moments in time when massive, moving geometric elements had coincidentally come together to form a dynamic interaction.My current personal work continues to echo those pen-and-ink compositions of the late 70s and early 80s. Elements are combined to form dynamic compositions that not only continue to move on paper but also recall those early feelings of immersion within massive, neighborhood-filling, concrete sculptural pieces. The process of creating these images calls for an extensive exploration of structural composition and lighting arrangements, and tends to be almost wholly intuitive. Fortunately, after working with 3D graphics software for almost 25 years, the physical process of using computers to create these images has become comfortably transparent.

While growing up in Vancouver’s West End during the 1960s, my neighborhood of two- and three-story wood frame houses was being torn down and replaced by high-rise concrete apartment buildings. I loved it. To me, it was as if whole city blocks were being transformed into massive sculpture installations, with each piece soaring hundreds of feet high. By the late ?Os and early 80s most of my personal work consisted of pen-and-ink and color-wash drawings of complex geometric compositions. I always viewed these pieces as frozen moments in time when moving geometric elements had coincidently come together to form a dynamic interaction. Although it was labor intensive and extremely time consuming, I used this technique in 1980, while attending the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design, to create a rather successful animated short film titled, appropriately, “Perspectives.” In 1981, I was introduced to serious computer graphics and animation through Jerry Barenholtz’s GRAX software running on Evans & Sutherland computer systems at Simon Fraser University. From that moment, I was obsessed with computer graphics and the potential of creating images and animations using computers. Attending my first SIGGRAPH conference in 1982 strongly reinforced that obsession.

I had already received first-half funding from the Canada Council for my next hand-drawn animated film, but I ended up spending all the money on a PC so I could immerse myself in graphics programming. This led to a two year collaboration in improvised music and live computer-animated performances with Canadian musician/composer John S. Gray at Toronto and Halifax art galleries and performance spaces. It also led to 22 years of full-time commercial CG work at Vertigo Computer Imagery, Omnibus Computer Graphics, and finally my own New York commercial CG facility, AFCG, Inc. My current personal work echoes those pen-and-ink compositions of the late ?Os and early 80s. I consider a piece complete when elements have been combined to form a dynamic composition that not only continues to move on the page, but also recalls those early feelings of immersion within massive, neighborhood filling, concrete sculptural pieces. The process of creating a successful image calls for an extensive exploration of composition and lighting arrangements, and tends to be almost wholly intuitive. Having worked with 30 graphics software for almost 24 years, the physical process of working with computers has become comfortably transparent.

When I was growing up in Vancouver’s West End during the 1960s, my neighborhood of two- and three-story wood-frame houses was being torn down and replaced by high-rise concrete apartment buildings. I loved it. Not only did it provide exciting (and dangerous) places for me to play in after the construction workers had gone home, it also made me feel that whole city blocks were being transformed into massive sculpture installations, with each piece soaring hundreds of feet high. By the late 70s and early 80s, most of my personal work consisted of pen-and-ink and color-wash drawings of complex geometric compositions. I always viewed these pieces as frozen moments in time when massive, moving geometric elements had coincidently come together to form a dynamic interaction.My current personal work continues to echo those pen-and-ink compositions of the late 70s and early 80s. Elements are combined to form dynamic compositions that not only continue to move on paper but also recall those early feelings of immersion within massive, neighborhood-filling, concrete sculptural pieces. The process of creating these images calls for an extensive exploration of structural composition and lighting arrangements, and tends to be almost wholly intuitive. Fortunately, after working with 3D graphics software for almost 25 years, the physical process of using computers to create these images has become comfortably transparent.

Granular Graph II: The tank and the pendulum is an audio-visual interactive instrument about musical gesture and its notation. The idea is inspired by a pendulum-based scientific instrument called Harmonograph. In its simplest version, two pendulums are suspended through holes in a table. The swinging pendulums cause an attached pen to move, thus creating a curvaceous geometric image that represents harmonies and intervals in musical scales. Granular Graph II: The tank and the pendulum not only re-appropriates the idea of a mechanism by inviting audiences to form a living pendulum, but uses water to graph the amount of energy, effort and tension involved in causing the sounds. According to its original design, two pendulums are arranged in a perpendicular relationship. While one pendulum keeps the distance between the pivot and the center of mass (in this case, weight) constant, the other pendulum changes the position of the weight to create different lengths, resulting in different frequencies. In the current version, any visitor can play the instrument by sitting or standing on one of two swings. The sitting swing functions as the constant length pendulum, while the standing swing changes the length of the pendulum by changing the center of mass, depending on the actions of the visitors. The resulting pendular movements alter the waterflow in a tank located above the beam, generating not only a vibrating pattern but also sounds. These sounds result from the combination of the two vibrations, just like two notes playing in unison. The image of the water vibrations is shown via video projection. The sounds and images can be regarded as forms of dynamic notation that graphically and kinetically represent the audience’s gesture and energy expenditure.

Crystal Island is a vast mega-structure covering a total floor area of 2.5 million square meters. At 450 meters, the building is one of the tallest structures enclosing the largest space on the planet. It also creates a spectacular new emblem on the Moscow skyline.Conceived as a self-contained city within a city, it contains a rich mix of buildings, including museums, theatres and cinemas, to ensure that it is a major new destination for all of Moscow. It is located on the Nagatino Peninsula, edged by the Moscow River, only 7.5 km from the Kremlin and offers panoramic views across the city.

Russia Tower is the tallest building in Europe. It is a striking new addition to the dynamic high-rise skyline of Moscow. The 600-meter building continues the firm’s investigation into the nature of the tower, taking structural, functional, environmental and urban logic to a new dimension. The mixed-use project incorporates apartments, hotel, office, and leisure space, and it will have an “energy cycle” that pioneers sustainable architecture and reinforces the economic and social vitality of Moscow.

Tokyo is among the megacities forecast to exceed populations of 15 million by 2020. The Millennium Tower presents a timely solution to the social challenges of urban expansion on this scale and to the particular problems of Tokyo, with its acute land shortages. Commissioned by the Obayashi Corporation, the building rises out of Tokyo Bay. The tower is capable of housing up to 60,000 people, generating its= own energy, and processing its own waste. Developed in response to the hurricane strength wind forces and earthquakes for which the region is notorious, the tower’s conical structure, with its helical steel cage, is inherently stable. It provides decreasing wind resistance toward the top, where it is completely open, and increasing width and strength toward the base to provide earthquake resistance.

Algorithmic Signs – Five pioneers of computer art in conversation” is a short video documentary where curator Francesca Franco introduces her most recent curatorial project, “Algorithmic Signs” (Venice, 2017). The exhibition took place in the historical gallery of the Bevilacqua La Masa Foundation in St Mark’s Square, Venice, from October to December 2017, and featured works by five international pioneers of computer art: Ernest Edmonds (b.1942), Manfred Mohr (b.1938), Vera Molnár (b.1924), Frieder Nake (b.1938), and Roman Verostko (b.1929). Coming to the computer from completely different backgrounds and experiences – monastic life, jazz music, traditional painting, philosophy, mathematics, and logic studies – they began to experiment the creative use of the algorithm and computer code to construct their works and make art. Focussing on the relationship between computer programming, art and creativity, the presentation of each artist explores the role of programming in their work, looking at how their practice has kept pace with the rapid advance of technology in recent decades.

Oxygen is a work reflecting the expanding hypoxic zones in the oceans. Hypoxic zones are areas where there is not enough dissolved oxygen to support life. The original is a video in which etchings, drawings, and photographs morph across the screens tracking the journey of the water and accumulating contaminates which contribute to dead zone formation. The work builds on the unexpected connections between our lifestyle and changing species distribution within the oceans.

Vapor speaks global water vapor pattern and their predictive and contributing role in climate change.

The original is a video in which etchings, drawings, and photographs morph across the screens highlighting the connections and implications of the changes occurring in water vapor patterns and thus water distribution and climate change.

The embedded visualization is by Jamison Daniel at NCCS.

Anamorphoses are distorted images needing to be seen in a mirror to reveal their real meaning. In these works, the distorted object is a three-dimensional sculpture. By using complex mirrors, and new ways of constructing the distorted structures, the hidden design is hard to guess. My goal is to build anamorphoses that can only be understood from a particular point of view. Moreover, the distorted structures have their own aesthetical appeal.

The spiritual strength of women is thematic. Divine feminine feeling is elicited through subject, style, and essence. Enhanced by an authentic combination of line, movement, color, and texture, the visual story evokes tradition through technology, creating an impression of watercolors. Visions project a narrative of relationships that spring from the artist’s life, luminously expressing the raw emotion of the subconscious mind. Ideas are born, transform, and are reborn as the digital art medium magically fuels the artist’s inner spirit, riding a higher power. Pleasure is derived from the active process whereby the mystery is revealed only when the final image is completed.

Palavrador is a poetic cyberworld built in 3D. It was conceived and implemented from a synergetic collective assemblage of ideas and activities contributed by a group of researchers. Authors with backgrounds in the arts, literature, and computer science worked together to conceive and produce a cyberworld interface that is as interactive as a game interface, as dynamic as motion pictures, and as deep as poetic discourse. Free from the constraints imposed by written texts, the poetry in Palavrador flies, using computer graphics and artificial intelligence to achieve new articulations in its aesthetic structure and unveil new conceptual possibilities. Poetic verses constructed as graphic images achieve a scenographic dimension, surpassing ornamental features and acquiring strength as interactive actors. Six flocks of meandering poems wander autonomously through the three-dimensional space. The movement logic was implemented with artificial-intelligence procedures based on swarm behavior and the steering behaviors of autonomous locomotion agents. A labyrinth architecture is generated by mathematical procedures. The models in the labyrinth receive texture maps organized through a procedural poetic logic engineered for computational systems. The logic allows real-time actualization of the words and makes the poems, mapped over the faces of the models, change from time to time according to the positions occupied by the avatars. The interface between users and Palavrador is a physical multi sensorial that “displays” a variety of poems, such as drawing poems (functional electrical tracks as in printed circuits) and electromechanical sound poems. Each page has sensors that capture user actions and react by generating responses in Palavrador. It is an environment of multisensorial poems.

This video was made for the opening show of a national festival of fine art painting in Mexico and is a tribute to the eye. We used several kinds and forms of eyes, or in its particular name that you find in the Spanish language like the huracans eye, or the eye of a needle, but no human eyes. We created motion graphics and effects with Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Illustrator, and Media 100 on a Macintosh G4.

I am on the bus is a series of videos questioning our perception of reality in a world of ubiquitous digital technologies. After I landed in Quebec for the first time, I took the bus and expected to see fantastic landscapes beyond the window throughout the ride. The glass panels were yet covered with a thick layer of grime, smears of dirty, dried out snow, through which I could see absolutely nothing. While the outdoor space could not be seen through the window, it was paradoxically thoroughly accessible through WiFi and Google Street View. I could see what was outside the bus by geolocating myself and displaying the view of the outside world on my iPhone.

This experience gave birth to the first installment of I am on the bus. In South Korea I conceived a second installment: I am on the bus II. Gwangju – Suncheon.

In the foreground on the left is an iPhone screen displaying the picture of a place in Daum (the korean Google Street View equivalent) whereas on the right one can see an image that is hard to describe at first sight, a coloured fuzziness covered in droplets, the contours of which are pronounced. This second image bears an obvious relation with the first one, in the forms and colours. It is the same place, photographed through the bus window, with the focus on the glass panel itself.

Pairs of images are displayed on the screen at an irregular, broken pace, making it difficult for the viewer to perceive anything. The black and white left background is blurred at first. Then, it gradually shows a picture of a subject, arms raised in a selfie stance. This “I” person who is on the bus and whose gaze, both on the iPhone and bus window, make up the foreground. Concurrently with the picture, the music unfolds to its own asynchronous rhythm. It was composed from an audio-recording of buddhist ceremony. Just like the image, the sound is fragmented.

It is on a daily basis that one struggles with this fragmentation of perceptions, which is inherent to the hybridization of our sensitive experiences as they are multiplied through the use of smartphones and other 21st century technologies. I am on the bus shows the absurd and poetic dimension of our condition as connected human beings. Digital technologies transform our comprehension of reality, in this case of space. But what is most real? That which is displayed on our iPhone screen? That which we can see through the window? The image that we order our digital camera lens to capture, supposed to render what we can see? That which we can feel? Would the image in the dirty window have the same emotional weight, were it not confronted with such a clean picture as that on Google Street View or Daum? In contrast, digital technologies lead us to pay specific attention to the imperfect materiality which our senses can grasp, and to cherish it.

The sculptures were designed and fabricated with an interactive computer technique that I have developed over the past 8 years. The model for the cylindrical network is a mathematical one consisting of orthograph gonal coordinates of the intersections of cylinder axes, a list of connections between these vertices, and the diameter of the cylinders. Analysis, graphic inspection and modification of the model is accomplished by invoking a variety of vector operations encoded in my program, SCULPT. At present the programs are in PLI, accessed under TSO. The graphics have been plotted on CALCOMP and on a TEKTRONIX 4052 using PLOT-10 Terminal Control System. The actual sculpture is fabricated using mitering data and templated drawn either on the plotter, by an analog device that I invented or by standard projective geometry graphics.

Still images on three outer screens are choreographed to the sound and video of a central cylindrical screen. Coupling video art (a continually emerging, experimental discipline) with sculpture (dynamic yet historically more traditional), the installation becomes the ideal venue for exploring the relationships between art and technology, form and content.

Lautriv’s body is an interactive sculpture. Both sexes are contained in unique figure, composed by a synthesis of classical forms: the head of Medusa, the ears (serpents) of Medusa, the chest and hand of Discobolo and the abdomen and legs of Venus di Cenere. Lautriv Chromagnon/Medusa guides the interactive visitor through different ambiences in diverse ways: Digital Mode (Virtual Reality), stereoscopic 3D vision interactive and analog interactive in real time (telepresence).

The name Lautriv comes from the reversal of the word Virtual=Lautriv. Chromagnon is a word made up of Chroma key + Cromagnon. Lautriv Chromagnon/Medusa is part of a Lautriv Community, a family of interactive sculpture. The members of this community will have their own: identity, objects, dreams, desires, … the concept is to place some of the members or objects of Lautriv’s community in “neuralgic points” (museums, cultural spaces, etc.) of the world and to interconnect them to an electronic network, always interacting through their eyes, skin, body … Medusa is placed in a room 5 x 6 meters large, immerse in a play of shadows breaking the darkness.

When the public step in her space, the interaction starts. There are no boundaries between her skin and the surrounding environment. Her sensibility is spread in the whole room. Medusa’s body is a vehicle of artistic communication. The interactivity starts in the artistic input given by the sculpture. Her body painting recalls a telematic poem, it is a prolongation of her inner electronic life.

I was born in a small steel town in Pennsylvania. At 17, I enlisted in the US Army and became an Airborne Ranger. I often feel that part of my youth and innocence was lost at that moment. While the decision to leave was mine to make, I was completely unaware of the ramifications. By using old photographs, toys, and found objects, I’m able to reclaim, or even re-define, that lost innocence. I manifest my ideas in a variety of ways, including photography and digital manipulation, installation, sculpture, drawing, and video. Current work includes the Golden Child series, where I’m re-writing my own personal history to create a mythological aura around the child I once was , and photographing combinations of toys and found objects that create a familiar, yet uncanny moment.

The Labyrinth is the setting for participation in the myth of Dædalus, builder of the maze for Minos, legendary ruler of Crete. When Daedalus ran afoul of the King and was imprisoned in the Labyrinth, he built wax wings on which he and his son Icarus attempted the flight to freedom. The Labyrinth floats above, its two-faced blocks a visual pun based on the double-headed axe that marked the original Labyrinth. The ornithopter (as improved upon and built by Leonardo da Vinci) is poised below, ready to fly to freedom, needing only a pilot.

For Leonardo da Vinci, swimming under water was the original flight simulator. In Codex Atlanticus, he notes: “Write of swimming under water and you will have the flight of the bird through the air.” Nowadays, we can use computer technology in the form of virtual reality to create very credible flight simulations for jet fighter pilot training. What, I wondered, could I do with virtual reality techniques to construct an artist’s flight simulator for one of Leonardo’s flying machines?

The da Vinci Flying Machine is a heavier-than-air craft sustained in and driven through the air by flapping wings. My design, based on a combination of one Leonardo developed in the 1490s and his design for the bicycle, uses bicycle pedals to drive the wings. Rather than try to model in detail all the ropes and pulleys that provide Leonardo’s machine with avionics, I eliminated them, emphasizing instead its spare, geometric lines, and of course, the bat-like wings he drew so many times.

The da Vinci Flying Machine differs from conventional aircraft in major ways beyond the use of flapping wings and human muscle for power. Leonardo’s designs have no instrument panel. Flying is actually done by the seat of the pants—that is to say, visually. The pilot’s head is the foremost object, rather than a windshield, cockpit canopy, or engine and nose.

These points raise a good question. How will the user’s point of view operate once the user is piloting the machine? Since the pilot’s head is the foremost object, does the ornithopter need to exist as a 3D model in memory while flying?

In typical virtual reality directional techniques, motion of the user follows in the direction the user points. This technique allows flying through the Labyrinth, and means that while flying, the flying machine need not exist in memory since the pilot’s gaze would usually be linked to direction. It is more desirable for the pilot to be able to look in a direction that differs from the ornithopter’s flight path. This lends a degree of visual realism to the virtual experience of piloting the craft, because there are no restrictions on the pilot’s ordinary manner of surveying the environment.

When the user has a point of view independent of the direction of movement, it is sometimes referred to as the hummingbird metaphor. The hummingbird metaphor is particularly appropriate for the da Vinci Flying Machine because like the bird, its wings flap.

In the future, several directions are planned. These include, but are not limited to, 1) comparison of third-person virtual reality (in which the user sees himself or herself piloting the flying machine) and immersive virtual reality (in which the user experiences the virtual environment directly); and 2) construction of a hardware interface for the Leonardo computer model, which will give the user the physical experience of piloting da Vinci’s flying machine.

SoN01R is a realtime dynamic artistic data visualisation and sonification of quantum fluctuations.

SoN01R is a new media artwork that focusses on artistic data visualisation. How can one visualise something immaterial, short lived and universal as quantum fluctuations? In classical physics (applicable to macroscopic phenomena), empty space-time is called the vacuum. The classical vacuum is utterly featureless. However, in quantum mechanics (applicable to microscopic phenomena), the vacuum is a much more complex entity. It is far from featureless and far from empty. Quantum fluctuations are the temporary appearance of energetic particles out of nothing, as allowed by the Uncertainty Principle. For example, a particle pair can pop out of the vacuum during a very short time interval, and then annihilate one another in accordance with the Uncertainty Principle.

SoN01R is using a realtime data feed from the Australian National University, Department of Quantum Science lead by Dr. Thomas Seymul. By tapping into a physical quantum source they can generate true random numbers in realtime which drive the audiovisual work.

This video returns the 60-minute stage work CPA [Consistent Partial Attention] to the internet, in a condensed version broadcast from Olafson’s studio in Winnipeg over Skype. CPA is an exercise in ‘nowness’; the performer engages in the act of real-time translation of data/movement vocabulary from a video score of dances that were found on YouTube. In CPA, we experience dance as a vernacular, learned language, permeating, and crossing communities, provoking consideration upon the evolution of dance in the age of the internet. Societal engagement with everyday media remains a cornerstone of my work investigating contemporary culture and the body as inextricably linked with technology. The integration of technology in live performance is an ongoing dynamic negotiation, which continues to inform the thematic content of my work. Using the fluctuations and oscillations apparent in computer/body interfaces; Olafson’s work permits a ‘cyborg’ viewing – a hybrid and highly unstable presentation of body-as-dis / place(ed) which, in its unpredictability, activates various possibilities for viewing. Developed through digital collage, the CPA [Consistent Partial Attention] performance is guided by a video score of pre-existing / found Internet footage of individuals improvising in their homes. As performers, we sight-read the choreographic video score off diverse screens: laptop, external monitors, video projector and heads-up displays. Through the rich confluence of sources, we experience dance as a vernacular, learned language, permeating and crossing communities, provoking consideration upon the evolution of dance in the age of the Internet. Curious about returning these dances originally found on the web back to the internet as a site for performance, this video is the result of research created in 2017. CPA was presented by the Cluster Festival of New Music & Integrated Arts in Winnipeg in March 2017, OFFTA in Montreal in June 2017 and  represented Canada at Les Jeux De La Francophonie in Ivory Coast, Africa in July 2017.

This dance performance investigates the representation of the body and the changing perception of media enriched dance performance. Perceivable Bodies metaphorically observes how the technological age has fundamentally changed the understanding of human kind. Along with technical developments that enable the computer systems to behave in an intelligent and human way, the performance enables the understanding of human nature in a more technical and functional way.

Modern brain research interprets our lives in a similar fashion to the story told by our biological CPU. Aspects of humanity such as love, art, religion, etc. are understood as functional, virtually created from sensory information. Perception is the negotiation between our interaction with the physical world and the images and experiences we already have stored in our memory.

For more than 10 years Fried er Weiss, co-director of Palindrome IMPG has worked with real-time computer media in dance perfor­mances. His goal is to support real-time presence in performance and provide new methods for performers to develop their work. Dance is typically difficult to represent in fixed media – it demands that the performer’s physical presence exists in a real space. With dancer and choreographer Emily Fernandez, Palindrome developed a series of performances that focus on real-time acoustical and visual interaction.

With composer Dan Hosken, Weiss and Fernandez are able to further develop the movement-real-time sound generation aspects of the performances. One of their primary concerns, is the ability of the audience to perceive the connections between the physical motions of the dancer and the sound and video that results. This perceivability falls along a continuum from overly simple (one motion yields one sound) to overly complex (something’s changing but we don’t know what). Their desire is to stake out ground in the middle of that continuum while still allowing for creative choreography and rich sound output.

BADLAND is an atmospheric side-scrolling action adventure located in a gorgeous forest full of various inhabitants, trees and flowers. The player controls one of the forest’s inhabitants to discover what’s going on.

My true motivation in creating art is driven by this definition: Art is not what the artist sees, but it is the world of imagination that the artist reveals to his audience. I am interested in creating immersive and responsive art experiences for the viewers. I arrived at digital imaging naturally through a path that has become increasingly surrounded by digital technology. The computer is an instrument for allowing certain images to come forward and others to recede into the barely recognizable forms of dreams. Using the computer as a medium of art allows me to investigate the relationships among layers, dimensions, and elements.

My work in progress undergoes an engineering process that is vital, yet unpredictable. Solid structures are evident in my concepts and the direction of the artwork. However, I find these journeys simply come to conclusions on their own prerogative. The result creates a language that cannot be perceived in the world as we know it. Rather than attempting to speak to audiences through a universal language, I would like to use my works as opportunities to listen as each person takes something different from them.

This photography series addresses the isolation of contemporary urban life. The images depict scenes of an intersection in New York, from a distance, at night. The figures in the images are only visible with extreme enlargement. The photographs are intended to evoke a feeling of nostalgia and can be regarded as criticism of the inhospitable environment of cities. These photographs are a small excerpt of about 70 works that emerged from journeys to several cities in the winter of 2005-2006.

The Stanley Parable is a first person exploration game. You will play as Stanley, and you will not play as Stanley. You will follow a story, you will not follow a story. You will have a choice, you will have no choice. The game will end, the game will never end. Contradiction follows contradiction, the rules of how games should work are broken, then broken again. This world was not made for you to understand.

But as you explore, slowly, meaning begins to arise, the paradoxes might start to make sense, perhaps you are powerful after all. The game is not here to fight you; it is inviting you to dance.

The scars of humanity can be seen across the Earth. However, observing such ecological violence often requires the right perspective. At every scale, humans make their mark, expressions of the rapid expansion of creative and destructive collective consciousness. This process is aided by technology, from the history of written language that enabled larger settlements and the agricultural revolution to contemporary computer technologies that create an alternative hyperspace within the Earth. The Anthropocene represents the idealisation of material reality by the subjective intentionality of human creation and destruction.

It is the virtualisation of ecology, a disruption through the inclusion and impact of humanity. Thus we require new, posthuman modes of viewing ecology in relation to humanity in the Anthropocene. Enter Google – the ultimate virtualisation of the universe, not merely its digitisation but also its embedding within the global collective human consciousness via digital technology. Just as there persists the dilemma of needing technology to view the effects of technology, so does Google as a company embody this tension in the problematic relationship between startup ideals, marketing rhetoric, and the needs of a multinational corporation.

However, through Google’s tools – such as Maps, Earth, Streetview – we can adopt new forms of viewing our ecological situation by breaking free of our conventional human position. These post-human perspectives allow for spatiotemporal detachment from the Anthropocene and therefore a position from which to rethink the future, recapturing a reality without humans. However, we must remain mindful of the mediating technologies that entwine our histories and futures in relation to the planet.

This work exposes these frameworks of mediation through its presentation within specific frames. These are literal, technical frames – loaded in html iframes using javascript and the Google API – as well as metaphorical frames – built upon the constraints of the work. The spectator can attempt to manipulate their perspective, to take control of how they are viewing the Earth through Google interfaces, but the work itself constrains this. The windows appear only for limited periods of time, too short to allow full interactivity.

Thus, while we are exposed to views beyond our normal individual human grasp of the world, we are also manipulated in the external and automated control of our usual access to information provided by Google. This process not only highlights the limits of post-humanity by its technologies, but the bombardment of changing views demonstrates the volume of data available and the sheer scale of views necessary to comprehend the Anthropocene as a whole. The entangled and embedded nature of individual humans, mediating technological structures, and corporations such as Google unveils itself in the breaking down of the work.

Sooner or later, systems crash, connections get overloaded, and the metaphorical frameworks we construct are revealed as the human constructs they are. While we can stage post-human technical demonstrations, to attain a truly post-human perspective would be to transcend the current limits of our individual and collective, technocultural and biopolitical structures, motives and responses.

This series of works, Obres de la Caixa, is an investigation of virtual objects that could exist in a “cabinet” of curiosities. The sources for the objects are multiple: scientific, decorative, fantasy, etc. They are simply things that one might collect because they initiate enough visual interest to pick up and save in a virtual box.

This series of works, Obres de la Caixa, is an investigation of virtual objects that could exist in a “cabinet” of curiosities. The sources for the objects are multiple: scientific, decorative, fantasy, etc. They are simply things that one might collect because they initiate enough visual interest to pick up and save in a virtual box.

Revisiting locations in photographs of Japan made in 1875 during the Challenger expedition (1872–1876), rephotographs of the contemporary locations produced in collaboration with local residents are presented within an informal discursive space where images and experiences are continually situated and resituated within historical, technological, global, local and personal contexts: from this emerges a reconsideration of digital photography amongst everyday camera users.

The fur was grown procedurally on the surface of the animal called ‘Oscar’. It was rendered using a special lighting model and an A-buffer algorithm in order to give it a realistic appearance.

The performance centers around two new interfaces for musical expression: the Voice-Oriented Melodica Interface Device (VOMID) and the technique and aesthestics of writing code “on-the-fly” to generate sound, music, and visuals.

The VOMID is a massively modified Korg MicroKontrol device, now augmented with sensors for continuous pitch transition, breath sen­sors, formant control interfaces, and controls that can be mapped to various speech and singing synthesis parameters.

In On-the-fly programming, audience members observe the entire process (via projection and sound). They watch the performers write code, and experience the sound, music, and graphics as they evolve. While the observers/listeners may not understand all the spe­cifics of the code, the various on-screen changes can be construed as “gestures” for which there are musical or sonic consequences. On-the-fly programming seeks to reveal the intentions and modus operandi of the performers at every stage in the process. Each per­formance can (and does) differ drastically from another.

The original concept for this piece was formed on a trip to my hometown near Pittsburgh, in the spring of 2000. I was driving along a highway that followed a very industrialized portion of the Ohio River. My view was dominated by a mass of steel factories and their billowing smokestacks pouring unknown amounts of damaging byproducts into the surrounding environment. I was struck by the random beauty of the smoke against the amber glow of the factories at night. I too, was smoking; a habit that is especially hard to break on long drives. That’s when the connection occurred to me: I am no different than these factories. I am a living machine that consumes and creates.

I have combined this point of inspiration with ongoing research I am currently conducting with interactive sculpture and its ability to create “random” byproducts through user interaction.

In my interactive sculpture, “The Smoker,” these byproducts possess their own aesthetic. There are random ash piles that build up over time creating a beauty of their own. There are billowing smoke patterns, which the viewer is able to influence through exhaust fan switches on the control and filter boxes. Finally, there are random yellow and brown tar stains, which form in the filter device itself. The filter box has been designed to include removable filters. With enough time, these tar-stained filters could be displayed along with the piece, referencing the tar that coats all smokers’ lungs.

Other intentions seemed to emerge during and after the completion of this work. “The Smoker” can be seen as an attempt to show the sublime beauty involved in smoking tobacco, while also acknowledging the damage and evil that is inherent to the act. This sculpture simulates the actions of the lungs during the process of smoking. These ideas are stressed by the sounds of my own breathing and coughing, which can be heard as the pump breathes in and out. The speed of the breathing matches the speed of the pump, which is controlled by the viewer’s interaction with another dial on the control box. The heavy mechanical nature of this machine stresses the toxic nature of smoking. The single cigarette at the heart of this machine shows the isolation that is placed upon smokers in today’s society but simultaneously points to smokestack industries as polluters that effect the collective lungs of all.

One final goal of this piece was through a closer examination of the act itself for me to quit smoking. Unfortunately, this has not worked out so well. I find myself smoking with the machine as though it was a friend on a smoke break. It has surprised me – that this machine has begun to take on a personality of its own through its ability to mimic a simple human act. In the end, I realize that though there is an intrinsic beauty created by a cigarette’s byproducts, the good still does not outweigh the evil.

When people are driving, they spend most of their time focused on the road in front of them. Occasionally, circumstances allow or dictate viewing of scenery or road signs, forcing drivers to change perspective momentarily. As a section of road is traveled repeatedly, such as in the case of a daily commute, more pieces of the surrounding environment fall into place, forming a more complete mental landscape of the totality of the surroundings. With this artwork, I put forth a perceptual view of my commute as an amalgam of previous travels along the same route.

Mackintosh Dreamtime is inspired by the works of the architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh. This image is a stylized rendering of the entrance hall of Mackintosh’s Windyhill house in Kilmacolm, Scotland. Now that the house is empty and just a museum, what might it look like late at night when the world becomes ethereal?

This piece is based on a photograph of myself taken at a time when I was being treated for acute depression. When undergoing treatment for serious mental illness, medication can become the focal point of your life. Medication to target your illness, medication to offset the bad side effects of your primary medications, medication to sleep, medication to help you stay awake. Months and maybe years of try­ing to find medications that work and continue to work.

Basic questions of self-identity come into play. How much of what I feel, or don’t feel, is caused by the drugs? How much by the illness, and how much by my innate personality? I am not my illness, but to what extent am I my medication?

All of the pills comprising the image are, or were, commonly pre­scribed for mental illness; some I have been on in the past, and sev­eral I am currently taking. There are 23,373 pills in this image, taken from a unique set of 198 original images.

A CAD system can create a rendering of an automobile design in a fraction of the time required to build the customary realistic full-size model used for aesthetic evaluations.

The computer began the rendering of this car by approximating its surface with a mosaic of more than 10,000 planar polygons.

Using the “Light and View Selection” display the designer “set up the shot” with hypothetical camera and lighting fixtures just as a photographer would.

The result is this nearly photographic image. The apparent colors of the car and the lights could be altered by choosing different values from the “Color Mixing” display.

In my work, I am most interested in exploring themes of human connection. These explorations are often filtered through the culture of technology. I am increasingly influenced by the destabilizing elements of digital media. In my work, I hope to find ways to unravel the control of traditional narratives, adopt nonlinear and nonhierarchical structures, develop more responsive interaction, and include moments of chance.

I created the Website Storybeat to house experiments in interaction, animation, and narrative. The site hopes to explore the potential of a responsive, motion-based space. I view Storybeat as a fluid site. Posted work will be continually adjusted, rearranged, expanded, and modified.

My approach to scene simulation has been to minimize computation by implying scene detail with texture instead of modeling it explicitly with intricate geometry. My motivation in the “Spectral Landscapes” series was to overcome a limitation in my previous quadric surface modeling, which did not simulate rugged mountains convincingly.

Quintessence is based on the five elements that, according to the alchemists, make up the world: fire, water, earth, air, and the mythical substance aether. Aristotle included it as a fifth element distinct from the other four. It is believed to be the substance that fills the region of the universe above the terrestrial sphere and forms the heavenly bodies.
Aether was also called Quintessence (from quinta essentia, “fifth element”). In physics, quintessence describes a form of dark matter. It is seen as the highest form of essence, the innermost core of a substance.
The four elements and quintessence have very distinct qualities. Water is liquid, strives downward, and it can bring floods, tsunamis, or maelstroms. Fire burns, strives upward, and is a deadly force that delivers forest fires or man-made disasters such as 9/11 and (atomic) bombs. Earth strives downward. It is cold and dry. From it, volcanoes erupt, and earthquakes rock it. It holds a special place because alchemists believe it to be the “prima materia,” which spawned everything else through a process of “original insemination.” The air strives up in relation to the other elements. It can bring all sorts of storms, can be very hot (desert, draught) or cold (ice age). Quintessence is a greater force. It can bring Armageddon (metaphysical, or in the shape of a large meteorite that strikes the earth). Contrary to the others, it moves in circles.
The Quintessence performance builds upon the characteristics of the elements.
Each element is represented by one player, with video acting as an additional comment-track to the music, containing all five elements. In a Jungian sense, Quintessence explores the subconscious projections that the elements and related disasters invoke and how human society takes action and responsibility, or neglects to take it.
The software used in the performance (Quintet.net) is a real-time interactive environment for intermedial composition and performance on local networks as well as the internet. Since its premiere in 2000, the environment has been used in several large projects connecting players in Europe and the USA, including a Münich biennale opera project. In a virtual environment, Quintet.net implements the metaphor of five performers under the control of a conductor, so it deals with important aspects of symbolic, aural, and visual communication among the participants and the network audience.
A composition development kit has been added to the environment (client, server, conductor, and viewer) to facilitate development of pieces that take full advantage of the wide continuum between composition and improvisation.

Swarm Vision is an installation consisting of multiple pan-tilt-zoom cameras on rails positioned above spectators in an exhibition space. Each camera behaves autonomously based on programmed rules of computer vision.

In the installation, four visualizations are featured on two screens or projections. The first screen features what each of the three cameras sees. The second screen shows a 3D reconstruction of the environment featuring a live video stream of the location of the cameras and the images they generate. Each camera continuously produces 10 still frames per second and fills the 3D space with up to 100 images per camera, their size and location determined by the focal plane and focus location. Early images fade away, creating a continuously changing sculptural structure.

In the exhibition setting, visual segments of spectators who enter the viewing space populate the images, leaving an imprint of their presence that is later erased as the images sequentially fade away. With the two screens, viewers can perceive both individual cameras’ behaviors (microcosmic) and their relationships to each other (macrocosmic). The project explores the transformative condition of the photographic process as it transitions from the still, transparent image to one that is reified within physical space.

The installation synthesizes knowledge and experience from the three collaborators to translate human perception and cultural usage of the photographic image to machine vision. Contributions from George Legrady address the function and our perception of photography. Danny Bazo’s background in robotics, visual arts, and image processing helps realize many technical aspects of the project. Marco Pinter’s extensive background in engineering, medical robotics, and research provides a logistic framework.

Making Visible the Invisible is a commission for the Seattle Central Library, situated in the Mixing Chamber, a large open 19,500 sq ft space dedicated to information retrieval and public accessible computer research.

The installation consists of 6 large LCD screens located on a glass wall horizontally behind the librarians’ main information desk. The screens feature real-time calculated animation visualizations generated by custom designed statistical and algorithmic software using data received each hour. This data consists of a list of checked-out items organized in chronological order. The item may be a book, a DVD, a CD, a VHS tape, etc. and from the list we can collect and aggregate titles, checkout time, catalog descriptors such as keywords, Dewey classification code if they are non-fiction items. There are approximately 22000 items circulating per day. Items with Dewey Decimal System labels provide for a way to get a perspective on what subject matters are of current interest at any given time as the Dewey system classifies all items according to 10 major categories: 000 Generalities; 100 Philosophy & Psychology; 200 Religion; 300 Social Science; 400 Language; 500 Natural Science & Mathematics; 600 Technology & Applied Sciences; 700 Arts; 800 Literature; 900 Geography & History. These are then subdivided into 100 segments. There are 4 visualizations at this time.

The circulation of checked out books and media transforms the library into a data exchange center. This flow of information can be calculated mathematically, analyzed statistically and represented visually. From a cultural perspective, the result may be a good indicator of what the community of patrons considers interesting information at any specific time. Visualizing the statistical information of the titles and their categories therefore provides a real-time living picture of what the community is thinking

“Blink”and “Polyptelic” are software generated animations that consist of a matrix of cells that transition going back and forth between states of stability where all cells try to be like their neighbors, and states on instability when they can’t decide if they should be like them or not.

My work is concerned with human beings and their uneasy relationships with the machines that inhabit the world, especially the computer. The computer is the central metaphor for our “Information Age” and its most characteristic artifact. I use it as both the medium and subject of my work. I am interested in creating work that questions the boundaries between what is “human” and what is “technological,” poking fun at the illusions of empowerment and control we enjoy if we acquire the newest, fastest, and most costly devices available. The computer promoter’s utopian promises of seamless perfection and ever-enhanced productivity and leisure may be contrasted with crashes, lost data, the “millennium bug,” and a host of other less-than-perfect facts of daily life.

In this work, common computer user interface objects have been programmed to be humorously dysfunctional. There is, to me, a special, perverse irony in using computer programming, an activity constantly perceived as practical and helpful, to produce faulty, incompetent behavior in the command and control devices we expect to do our bidding.

Ice-rays are a kind of traditional Chinese lattice used in ornamental window grilles (figure 1). 1 Ice-rays form irregular patterns that suggest cracking ice on still water — straight lines meet longer lines in myriad ways.

Rules for Ice-rays are easy to define in a shape grammar. 2 They are in two equivalent schemas: x -> div(x) and x -> x’ + x’’, where x, x’, and x’’ are triangles, quadrilaterals, or pentagons, and div(x) divides x into x’ and x’’. Sample rules are in figure 2.

Rules apply in alternative ways. Imagine a Chinese craftsman at a building site, with his tools and a trove of sticks. Shown a window opening, he starts an ice-ray. He selects a stick of the right size and inserts it between two sides of the rectangular frame to form two quadrilaterals. He continues his work by dividing one of these areas into a triangle and a pentagon. Then he divides the triangle into a triangle and a quadrilateral, and the pentagon into a quadrilateral and a pentagon. He goes on connecting sides of polygons to make others of the same kind. Everything is stable in this process, if he keeps to the rules.

It is striking how rules apply recursively, but also notice something new. Calculating in a shape grammar is visual. Rules apply directly to ice-rays. There are no hidden representations that limit what you can do — what there is, you can see, and what you see is there.

Divisions in Ice-rays may vary — some require multi-axial figures and motifs (figures 3 and 4). Just put them in rules: draw what you see before you divide, and then draw what you want. Or let the schema x -> div(x) include your rules, so that polygons are divided into two areas or more.

The Ice-rays in this exhibit were made using CNC milling. There is no end to the ice-rays you can get from the schema x -> div(x): both known ones, and ones that are new. Go on and try the schema — make an ice-ray of your own!

1. Daniel Sheets Dye, 1949, A Grammar of Chinese Lattice, Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. 2. George Stiny, 2006, Shape: Talking About Seeing and Doing, Cambridge MA: The MIT Press.

In our hyper-connected age and the digital exteriorization of memory through computational extensions what happens to our physical bodies? As the physiology of the body is undergoes a digital transformation via 3D scanning, what does this mean for one’s perception of their own body?
I attempt to explore these questions through a custom-made interactive media installation of my own making, the diplorasis. In the installation participants unexpectedly encounter three-dimensionalized projections of their selves in ‘real’ time. How is the relationship between the actual self and its digital likeness defined through this encounter?

I did not look for it. It came looking for me. And I don’t know where it came from, but there it was. Pictures speaking to me, casting a spell. All I could do was follow. And I wanted to show others that magic, to let them see the wonder that is there, to make it plainly clear, to find the visible in the invisible. Everything in nature conforms to some design developed and refined by the test of time. Discovering the wisdom embedded in this natural history is always exhilarating. The commonplace is miraculous if rightly seen, if recognized. The richness of nature and life begs one to form a collage from its objects, to reassemble fragments in such a way as to form a new picture.

Video projection, sound, looped, first shown at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago’s New Blood exhibition.

I continue to work on this series of images that are them­selves parts of other contained series. The total of the images is large – more than 200 in all. Their recursive nature and their excessive number are part of the installation component in which I have worked for sever­al years.

The images range in size from relatively small (8.5 x 11 inches) to sizable (48 x 60 inches). They
are created from various found images (flat and three-dimen­sional), my own snapshots and videos, as well and complete computer constructions. Many of the images contain ele­ments from other series in rather distorted relationships in time and place. The ways in which a pseudo-narrative is set up and then destroyed are numerous.

One large portion of the images is installed in the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center and another similar portion is installed in the Contemporary Arts Center. Though the con­text and imagery will be similar in the two venues, there are no duplicate images. My intent is that these images will be stacked, grouped, abutted, and arranged in ways that both a id the viewer in sorting and assimilating meaning and ultimately prevent them from gaining cogent ground due to information overload. Think of this as a fog bank on the information superhighway.

Components of these images are in frequently repetitive, thereby creating links that reflect recontextualization, such as those created by differ­ing representations of O.J. Simpson, for instance. It is also my intent to play with the cheapening of images in a way similar to what happens in society’s burgeoning image glut while investigating what this means to viewers con­fronted with this in an art con­text. In the case of The Bridge, it allows me to link two diverse audiences: the SIGGRAPH 96 attendee and the Contemp­orary Arts Center patron.

I am not interested in electronic interactivity between these groups, nor even in researching the divergence or similarity of their responses. I simply wish to present each group with an experience that on the face of it is the same, but in fact is imagistically unique to each venue.

The images are complete, self- contained, finished artistic cre­ations. The computer simply allows me to appropriate, recontextualize, and create such works rapidly and effec­tively. I am little interested in the fact that these are “computer-generated” prints. They are instead simply art works – individually, serially, and in composite. This may not meet all the criteria set forth in The Bridge paradigm, but it is what I consider important for myself in using the computer to make art. It is work that arises from the medium’s strengths while not weighing itself down with the categorical stipulations of the medium’s obvious attributes in high tech.

The highly suggestive force of marine imagery meets the imma­teriality of digital information, which is not yet surrounded by myths.

During the French Revolution, the first optical telegraphy net­work was established (under gov­ernment control) in France from 1794 onwards. The system’s achromatic objectives, which were already available at that time, were capable of spanning long distances. The invention of the electric telegraph was vehe­mently opposed by these sup­porters of visual telegraphy. Ever since, their line of reasoning has determined the discussion on open media and communication.

In Winke Winke, a simple com­puter terminal (modem, key­board, and monitor) located in a public space is connected to a robot set up over the roofs of the city. Visible over a long dis­tance, this robot visualizes the messages entered into the com­puter by means of the interna­tional marine semaphore system. Each letter typed into the key­board or received via the modem is immediately translated into the corresponding semaphore sign.

From the roof of a high building in a neighboring town, a video camera with a powerful telephoto lens records the robot. These pictures are fed into a computer that recognizes the signals by means of motion scanning (digital picture acquisition) and outputs them on-screen-again as letters.

This project leads back to the cradle of current communication technologies that are about to radically change the world’s appearance. The basic kinetic structure of the digital communi­cation process is slowed down by the “effort” of translating, of understanding.

Summary

Searching All Sources of White presents the failure in the display as the landscape. It is an interactive video installation that requires audiences’ bodily movement. It examines the idea of the limitation of seeing through the blue standby mode display and the illusion of white.

Abstract

Searching All Sources of White presents the error as the landscape. It is an interactive video installation examining the idea of the limitation of seeing and digital display devices. The projector projects a Blue screen while a white spot falls in the middle. Blue is often seen in a digital display namely default screen, calibration screen, sleep mode and ‘Blue Screen of Death’. In an exhibition setting, this work gives the impression of a failure in the display when the projector displays a blue, standby-mode. Standby is a component mode in which a system is kept readily available in case an unexpected event occurs. A system may be on standby in case of failure, shortage or other similar events.

The interaction is analogue rather than a digital. The work invites the audience body movement as a variation in the scene. The blue landscape is an illusion to the audience that the display device is having a malfunction situation. The switching text on the bottom first misleads the audience that it is a common standby mode text searching for the input source. It invites the audience to step into the projection area. When the blue light source from the projector is blocked by a body, a yellow light appears. The white spot in the middle is never a white light source. The white results from the addition of complementary-coloured light source – yellow and blue. In the RGB colour system, mixing the primary colour blue with the complementary colour yellow would produce the colour white. There is a limitation of the human eyes which cannot analyse a mixture of complementary-coloured light, results in perceiving it in white. The malfunction scene and the illusion of color in human eyes encourage the audience to think about what they perceive through seeing.

Summary

We Can’t See the Rainbow in the White is a process deconstructing light. I deconstruct the white light to monochromatic ‘rainbow’ colour using a prism. When there is light, everything is visible. I decompose the fundamental element in the visual world to let the invisible become visible.

Abstract

When there is light, everything is visible. I decompose the fundamental element in the visual world to let the invisible become visible.

It is a process deconstructing light. I project a white source of light on a surface while using prism and some moving images to “deconstruct” it. “White” is not an independent colour. It is a mixture of colour in the visible spectrum that is composed of the primary colour red, green and blue.

Through refraction of light, I separated the white source with the three primary colours to rainbow light using a prism. After that, I took away green light from white light, leaving a mixture of red and blue light. Without green, the light source gradually reflects a new colour called magenta, hence the ‘rainbow’ becomes a ‘duo-coloured rainbow’. Eventually, I erased red from magenta. The line results in pure blue colour. As blue is a primary coloured light that cannot be further decomposed by the prism, it appeared the ultimate light source in a monochromatic ‘rainbow’ color.

Explore the unknown. This is the idea behind The Unfinished Swan, developed by Giant Sparrow and published by Sony Santa Monica Studio. The Unfinished Swan allows players to explore a surreal, unfinished kingdom by splattering paint on white spaces to uncover their surroundings.

Players take on the role of a young boy named Monroe, who is on the search for a runaway swan that has wandered off into the unfinished kingdom. The game begins in a completely white space where players are tasked with throwing paint to reveal a new world around them.

As players advance, they will discover stranger new worlds, bizarre game mechanics and will eventually come face-to-face with the eccentric King that built this realm.

My masks represent my fascination with perception. I see the tension or “ambivalence” between what I call “constraint and freedom,” that the individual human perception of self and psyche can either limit or liberate. We have the ability to make ourselves our own prisoners – but we can also free ourselves as well. These masks seek to ex­amine the mutable nature of identity in order to understand the ways in which individuals perceive and represent themselves to the world.

Nowadays, culture is not about the art so much as it is about what it can represent socially.

Computer-supported interactive music systems are hampered by their inanimate nature. They cannot provide players and audiences with the physical and visual cues that are essential for creating expressive musical interactions. Such systems are also limited by electronic reproduction and amplification of sound through speakers, which cannot fully capture the richness of acoustic sound.

Our approach for enhancing and enriching human-computer musical interactions is to utilize an anthropomorphic mechanical apparatus that can convert digital musical instructions into acoustic and physical generation of sound. We believe that musical robots can combine the benefits of computational power, perceptual modeling, and algorithmic music with the richness, visual interactivity, and expression of acoustic playing. Interactive musical robots can bring together real-time analysis and response algorithms that are not humanly possible with rich sound and visual gestures that cannot be reproduced by speakers. This kind of novel human-machine interac­tion can lead to new musical experiences, and new music, which cannot be conceived by traditional means.

Our first effort in this area is Haile, a robotic percussionist designed to demonstrate musicianship. We define robotic musicianship in this context as a combination of embedded musical, perceptual, and in­teraction skills with the capacity to produce rich acoustic responses in a physical and visual manner. Haile listens to live players, analyzes perceptual aspects of their playing in real time, and uses the product of this analysis to play along in a collaborative and improvisatory manner. Haile can therefore serve as a test-bed for novel forms of musical human-machine interaction, bringing perceptual aspects of computer music into the physical world both visually and acousti­cally. “Jam’aa” is a composition for this type of anthropomorphic robotic percussionist and two human players, designed to showcase Haile’s mechanical, perceptual, and musical interaction skills.

BioSoNot 1.2 (2014–2016) is a musical synthesizer that translates biological activity into sound while cleaning contaminated water samples. A hybrid bio-sound instrument, this sonic device generates music and noise from the biological activity of different living microorganisms.

BioSoNot 1.2 consists of a series of custom-made microbial fuel cells that work as biosensors, capturing the electrons produced by the metabolic processes of the bacteria living in polluted rivers and urban municipal waters, such as Geobacters, commonly found in decomposing organic waste. This bio-electrical information is harvested and fired as energy into an oscillator that expresses the information as sound, generating an organic symphony of bacterial life.

Part machine, part organic system, BioSoNot 1.2 is a product of the artist’s longstanding interest in creating symbiotic systems that reimagine the management of contaminated waters and the recycling of urban waste.

Anti-Horário (Counterclockwise) (2011) is a video installation, and a “wall-clock,” that addresses the cyclical movement of human existence and the poetics of duration and perception. Anti- Horário combines several layered elements (the earth, a child, an adult couple, and the sky) moving at distinct cadences, registered from the same point of view that results in a disorienting analogic clock. While the child covers a circular movement like the clock’s second hand, the adults represent the minute hand. With each revolution, the child causes the couple to move foward, representing the passage of time as well as the cycle of life.

The “clock” uncannily proceeds at a unified pace, as if reordered by the latent narrative of time itself. Unlike the classical narrative of film, Anti-Horário is a looped montage that continues Motta and Lima’s recurring explorations of temporality and the suspension of time. For the artists, their task is not to replicate or simulate reality, but to produce concrete systems of phenomena and artificial images that make evident that the perception of the real is partially constructed.

“The origin is not a point. It cannot be defined, explicated, represented. The origin has no fixed coordinates. It is a continuum, a non-delimited space.”

Taken from a commentary by The Author, a silent character in “Of Shifting Shadows,” these words encapsulate the approach of this interactive hypermedia narrative in its attempt to represent the unrepresentable. Using video, animation, spoken word, text, and archival material (in English and Farsi), this CD-ROM presents the tales, past and present, poetic and abrasive, of three fictional women—Bica, Mina, and Gali—who lived through the 1979 Iranian Revolution and its aftermaths.

Portraying the shifting character of exilic existence, “Of Shifting Shadows” is driven by its content. Hashemi uses hypermedia technologies and artistic practices to intensify expression without overwhelming the senses, to play with form, to amplify dialogue, and to transform experience without the pretense of virtuality. The open-ended narrative unfolds in 48 segments, each layered with smaller narratives that are inhabited by bodies and voices, animated by metaphor and metonymy, and connected through movements that reenact a ritual of remembrance, personalized by each viewer’s individual engagement. Although a narration of the Iranian experience, the work enters a universal stage as it embraces broader themes of displacement and alienation that permeate our collective histories of social trauma.

“Of Shifting Shadows” variously takes shape as a political history, a life story, and a poetic reflection through its use of the medium’s affinity for the non-linear movements of memory. When the viewer’s subjectivity suffuses and connects with the narrative’s fragmented spaces in the process of “reading,” the work engages the viewer as both witness and accomplice in exploring a highly specific, yet “non-delimited” space.

Visually lyrical, and full in charge of its medium, the interface deliberately uses a conventional interaction methodology that, aptly – and perhaps ironically, seems transparent because it allows the technology to disappear to let content speak for itself, though not by itself. As voices and histories are thus recovered, the work imparts a certain anxiety that characterizes responsibility, expecting the viewer to think and learn, not immerse and indulge. – Carly Butler

This image is from the series Language Text II, which I began in 2001. The images are about the changing aura of language and its relationships with the objects existing in what we call real space. Objects wait to be recognized and enveloped by words, which form trajectories of both communication and miscommunication. Sometimes they are breaths without voice. They seek a secure syntactic position, but meaning is constantly devised, relocated, de-created.

Language slips, revealing and reviving, negotiating the soft and uncertain terrain of thought and interpretation.

The image was made with a scale-model architectural camera, which enables focusing on relatively small objects that are rendered in relatively sharp focus even when they are only inches away from the lens. The source images are then scanned using Photoshop software and digitally mediated.

These images are about the aura of language, the trajectories of words forming and attempting to move toward some syntactic position.

Meaning is devised, relocated, de-created.

Language slips, revealing and reviving, negotiating the soft terrain of ellipsis and substantiation.

The images in this series have their sources in photographs made with a scale model architectural camera. These sources are computer mediated and published via an archival inkjet printer.

These images are about the aura of language, the trajectories of words forming and attempting to move toward some syntactic position.

Meaning is devised, relocated, de-created.

Language slips, revealing and reviving, negotiating the soft terrain of ellipsis and substantiation.

The images in this series have their sources in photographs made with a scale model architectural camera. These sources are computer mediated and published via an archival inkjet printer.

These images are about the aura of language, the trajectories of words forming and attempting to move toward some syntactic position.

Meaning is devised, relocated, de-created.

Language slips, revealing and reviving, negotiating the soft terrain of ellipsis and substantiation.

The images in this series have their sources in photographs made with a scale model architectural camera. These sources are computer mediated and published via an archival inkjet printer.

These images reveal the aura of language, the trajectories of words forming and attempting to move toward some syntactic position. Meaning is devised, relocated, decreated. Language slips, revealing and reviving, negotiating the soft terrain of ellipsis and substantiation.

These images reveal the aura of language, the trajectories of words forming and attempting to move toward some syntactic position. Meaning is devised, relocated, decreated. Language slips, revealing and reviving, negotiating the soft terrain of ellipsis and substantiation.

These images reveal the aura of language, the trajectories of words forming and attempting to move toward some syntactic position. Meaning is devised, relocated, decreated. Language slips, revealing and reviving, negotiating the soft terrain of ellipsis and substantiation.