Category Archive: art

Art in 140 Characters

Is it pos­si­ble to encode and com­press an image to such a degree that the raw data can fit in a sin­gle Twit­ter mes­sage (140 char­ac­ters) that, when decoded again, is still recog­nis­able? The answer to the ques­tions is a resound­ing Yes, as con­firmed by a cod­ing chal­lenge inspired by Mario Klingemann’s attempt to com­press and encode the Mona Lisa down to 140 char­ac­ters.

Klingemann’s attempt, dubbed the MonaTweeta II, is def­i­nitely an image recog­nis­able as the Mona Lisa, but it must be said that some of the entries to the main cod­ing chal­lenge are truly breathtaking.

The win­ning tweet (with a char­ac­ter to spare):

咏璘驞凄脒鵚据蛥鸂拗朐朖辿韩瀦魷歪痫栘璯緍脲蕜抱揎頻蓼債鑡嗞靊寞柮嚛嚵籥聚隤慛絖銓馿渫櫰矍昀鰛掾撄粂敽牙稉擎蔍螎葙峬覧絀蹔抆惫冧笻哜搀澐芯譶辍澮垝黟偞媄童竽梀韠镰猳閺狌而羶喙伆杇婣唆鐤諽鷍鴞駫搶毤埙誖萜愿旖鞰萗勹鈱哳垬濅鬒秀瞛洆认気狋異闥籴珵仾氙熜謋繴茴晋髭杍嚖熥勳縿餅珝爸擸萿

via @spolsky

Art Forgeries and the Uncanny Valley

In the third instal­ment of the Bam­boo­zling Our­selves series (a look at the mas­ter Ver­meer forger, Han van Meegeren), Errol Mor­ris inter­views the author of The Forger’s Spell, Edward Dol­nick, and the two dis­cuss the appli­ca­tion of the uncanny val­ley in the forgery of art.

I par­tic­u­larly like Dolnick’s thoughts on the hin­drance of exper­tise (final para­graph of this excerpt).

You would think a close copy would be the goal of a forger, but it might not be a smart way to go. If you were a bril­liant tech­ni­cian it might be an accept­able strat­egy, but my forger, Van Meegeren, is not as good as that. […] He’s going to get in trou­ble, because that’s ask­ing for a side-by-side com­par­i­son, and he’s not good enough to get away with that. […]

So how is he going to paint a pic­ture that doesn’t look like a Ver­meer, but that peo­ple are going to say, “Oh! It’s a Ver­meer?” How’s he going to pull it off? It’s a tough chal­lenge. Now here’s the point of The Uncanny Val­ley: as your imi­ta­tion gets closer and closer to the real thing, peo­ple think, “Good, good, good!” — but then when it’s very close, when it’s within 1 per­cent or some­thing, instead of focus­ing on the 99 per­cent that is done well, they focus on the 1 per­cent that you’re miss­ing, and you’re in trou­ble. Big trouble. […]

Van Meegeren is trapped in the val­ley. If he tries for the close copy, an almost exact copy, he’s going to fall short. He’s going to look silly. So what he does instead is rely on the blanks in Vermeer’s career, because hardly any­thing is known about him. […] He’ll take advan­tage of those blanks by invent­ing a whole new era in Vermeer’s career. No one knows what he was up to all this time. He’ll throw in some Ver­meer touches, includ­ing a sig­na­ture, so that peo­ple who look at it will be led to think, “Yes, this is a Vermeer.” […]

It wasn’t going to be about how “you can’t tell the dif­fer­ence,” because you could. It would be, “How could peo­ple look at these things which are man­i­festly so dif­fer­ent and not see what’s going on?” It became a story about how experts can get it wrong, and in fact, how expert knowl­edge, instead of help­ing, can be a hin­drance. On the sur­face it seemed to be a story about art and his­tory, but really, it’s a story about psychology.

Why We Make Lists

One of the cur­rent exhi­bi­tions being held in the Musée du Lou­vre, Paris has been curated by author and con­sis­tent top intel­lec­tual, Umberto Eco. The Infin­ity of Lists, as the exhi­bi­tion is called, looks at the human fas­ci­na­tion with lists and how they have pro­gressed cul­tures.

What does cul­ture want? To make infin­ity com­pre­hen­si­ble. It also wants to cre­ate order — not always, but often. And how, as a human being, does one face infin­ity? How does one attempt to grasp the incom­pre­hen­si­ble? Through lists, through cat­a­logs, through col­lec­tions in muse­ums and through ency­clo­pe­dias and dictionaries.

But why do we feel this need to com­pre­hend and face infinity?

We have a limit, a very dis­cour­ag­ing, humil­i­at­ing limit: death. That’s why we like all the things that we assume have no lim­its and, there­fore, no end. It’s a way of escap­ing thoughts about death. We like lists because we don’t want to die.

Sug­gest­ing that Google is “a tragedy” for the young as they lack (or, more cor­rectly, they are not taught) basic infor­ma­tion lit­er­acy, Eco notes his obvi­ous dis­like of rote learning.

Cul­ture isn’t know­ing when Napoleon died. Cul­ture means know­ing how I can find out in two min­utes. Of course, nowa­days I can find this kind of infor­ma­tion on the Inter­net in no time.

This inter­view with Der Spiegel ends with a quote I must try to remember:

If you inter­act with things in your life, every­thing is con­stantly chang­ing. And if noth­ing changes, you’re an idiot.

Your Job as an Artist

Andrew Keen, the so-called Anti-Christ of Sil­i­con Val­ley, tack­les his com­mon ground of tech­nol­ogy and cre­ativ­ity in a piece from the Tele­graph where he hopes to dis­cover Why are Artists so Poor? After a bit of Twit­ter­ing, Andrew found that his:

responses extended to every­thing from lucid one-worders like “over­sup­ply” to philo­soph­i­cal tweets such as “because they live in the moment” to Clay Shirky’s terse and ellip­ti­cally author­i­ta­tive “unequal dis­tri­b­u­tion of tal­ent + sup­ply and demand”.

The shift in the rela­tion­ship between art and tech­nol­ogy, as Andrew con­tin­ues to explain, is due as much to the lack of gate­keep­ers (agents, edi­tors, stu­dios) on the Inter­net as it is to the ease of per­sonal distribution.

With that being said, the (new) job of the artist is more or less strate­gic self-promotion:

In an age in which the old cul­tural gate­keep­ers are being swept away, the most press­ing chal­lenge of cre­ative artists is to build their own brands. And it’s the Inter­net which pro­vides cre­ative tal­ent with easy-to-use and cheap tools for their self-promotion.

This is a guest post from Alex J. Mann.  You can sub­scribe to his blog here and fol­low him on Twit­ter here.

In Defense of Sampling: Why Stealing is Inspiring

Audio sam­pling in con­tem­po­rary music is a form of bud­ding inno­va­tion that proves not only the evo­lu­tion of the indus­try, but a method to build on cre­ative works that inspire us.  The prac­tice of sam­pling is com­mon in most cre­ative indus­tries, but often less obvi­ous than it is in music.  Music sam­pling hap­pens to receive a poor, dis­taste­ful rep­u­ta­tion sim­ply because of how it’s per­ceived in pop­u­lar cul­ture, rather than under­stand­ing why it is a cre­ative tool.  The crit­ics and intel­lec­tu­als bash the sam­ple for its lack of orig­i­nal­ity. I praise it for its inspi­ra­tional tangibility.

My unique argu­ment is that we all, espe­cially those in cre­ative fields, sam­ple like music pro­duc­ers.  Sam­pling, as it’s embraced in music, just hap­pens to be a more con­crete cita­tion of inspi­ra­tion.  It’s a nod, an ode or respect­ful glance to those that did it before we did.  The sam­ple is why we do what we do.

The sam­ple is observed in a vari­ety of shapes, forms and fre­quen­cies.  Typ­i­cally, a snip­pet of another song is cut out, sped up, slowed down or looped, and finally mashed, forced or ham­mered into new, orig­i­nal sound bite.  Occa­sion­ally, the sam­ple is obvi­ous, even iden­ti­fi­able at first lis­ten.  Other times, the sam­ple is indis­tin­guish­able, tak­ing on a new cre­ative life form of its own.

The hip-hop music indus­try has embraced the audio sam­ple, and has sub­se­quently become an easy tar­get for the so-called crit­ics.  The crit­ics yell that it’s steal­ing.  My response is that it’s shar­ing.  The crit­ics cry that it’s not cre­ative.  I respond that it’s a new type of cre­ative.  Sam­pling is sim­ply fair use of the avail­able tech­nol­ogy to build and advance pre­vi­ous works of art, dis­play­ing lit­tle dif­fer­ence to how we embrace the same tech­nolo­gies in other industries.

My only per­sonal, and admit­tedly obnox­ious issue with sam­pling is the expected pub­lic igno­rance it pro­motes.  For instance, Kanye West (who sam­ples in nearly every one of his songs, some­times dis­taste­fully) rapped on the mon­ster, Just Blaze pro­duced, smash hit “Touch the Sky,” which bor­rowed nearly the entire back­ground instru­men­ta­tion of Cur­tis Mayfield’s “Move on Up.”  Like­wise, the Grammy nom­i­nated song “Paper Planes” by M.I.A. pulled the retro punk-rock intro­duc­tion from the Clash’s “Straight to Hell,” while adding styl­is­tic gun­shots and heavy drums for fla­vor.  Over­all, this is healthy for the indus­try.  But, while these songs have become main­stream hits, the ref­er­ences are ignored by most listeners.

Sam­pling has and con­tin­ues to expand past hip-hop.  Led Zep­pelin, arguably the most inno­v­a­tive rock out­fit in blues rock and heavy metal his­tory, were actu­ally sam­plers of their time.  They bor­rowed rifts, cov­ered jams and even trans­ferred lyrics into their own orig­i­nal music for the record­ing of their sec­ond album.  And, twenty-five years later, the Beastie Boys sam­pled the brave drum intro­duc­tion from “When the Levee Breaks” into a aggres­sive, break beat for their song “Rhymin’ and Stealin.”  Led Zep­pelin, the inno­va­tors, have been re-innovated.  The old folks scream blas­phemy.  To me, it is a slight con­fir­ma­tion that the Beastie Boys have good taste in rock ‘n roll.

Sam­pling is promi­nent every­where.  The Blue Note has a com­pi­la­tion of heav­ily sam­pled jazz tunes, most of which you will rec­og­nize.  Girl Talk devel­oped his entire album, Feed the Ani­mals, around snip­pets of sam­ples, pro­duc­ing entirely new songs from pieces of oth­ers.  When you watch a Quentin Taran­tino film, notice his sam­ples of clas­sic Kung Fu flicks.  Or, when you observe a paint­ing by Sal­vador Dali, attempt to under­stand his influ­ence from Sig­mund Freud.  The sam­ple is rel­a­tive in all forms of art and science.

My expe­ri­ence as an entre­pre­neur, specif­i­cally in man­ag­ing soft­ware devel­op­ment, has been sam­ple dri­ven.  Although I do more react­ing than plan­ning, large aspects of my job are sam­pling what has worked in the past with hopes that it will work again in the future.  The team I work with began our design process by review­ing numer­ous soft­ware dash­boards that had pieces rel­e­vant to our vision.  We then pulled and sam­pled these ele­ments into our sketches, and finally imple­mented the puz­zle pieces into an orig­i­nal design.

The goal of rec­og­niz­ing sam­ples in any form is to have an open, but defen­sive mind, and ques­tion not only the music, but how it is con­sumed.  Who are the artist’s influ­ences?  Who is sam­pled, delib­er­ately or uncon­sciously?  Rec­og­niz­ing sam­pled inspi­ra­tion is more than being aware or knowl­edge­able of his­tory.  It allows you to be a true, crit­i­cal observer of artis­tic foundation.

This is a guest post from Alex J. Mann.  You can sub­scribe to his blog here and fol­low him on Twit­ter here.