Non-representational art – abstraction – is old. When Greek potters added characters to their wares to form words instead of pictures, what we now know as letters were simple abstractions of an ox (A), or a cart (B). “Modernism” as a term for modern art is closely associated with what Robert Hughes would describe as the machine age that rose at the convergence of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, but every age has a different idea of that which is modern, and that which is not, whether because it is too old or it is too new, or because it does not conform to current culture and society.
Today, digital art, whether generative or AI-driven, feels unquestionably new, but not always Modern. The rise of stable-diffusion programs from near total obscurity to near ubiquity seems to have occurred in mere moments. They can produce images of beauty and horror; of representation and abstraction; of shock and awe, but are defined by that word “production” and not that other one: creation. This is not a space where we will decide whether AI prompt-driven pictures are art. Thankfully, that lives in the mind of the beholder. We will however say that, at least for the moment, its quiddity is that it is two dimensional.
This AI-created image (below – I used Night Cafe’s Stable Diffusion algo) looked cool, but the first person who saw it instantly asked “what was the prompt?” That the viewing of the image leads immediately to a consideration of AI says much about both the image and the production of the image. A little bit like the early Cyberdyne Systems Terminators, it is too easy to unpack. It also required no apprenticeship or sacrifice. It is a picture with no soul, a jumble of shapes seemingly meant to look abstract. In this case, I was trying to make Penrose stairs, but it would seem that a “rose” by this name is reflected in the colour scheme. This is not a statement excoriating AI pictures. On the contrary, it is a suggestion that an investment is required from the user. What was the prompt? Well, I am glad that you asked. In this case it was “endless city, Penrose stair, decay.” Yes, that is all. Computer, full artistic license: LFG. I am happy to accept the “garbage in, garbage out” argument, but by any measure this picture is flat.
Contrast that with the below image, one which I would describe as being distinctly 3-dimensional; as having texture, mood, and feeling; a creation that took effort, reflects a specific gaze, and displays both balance and intent. It is, as much as the previous picture is not, clearly the work of an artist. In this case, that artist is named Congo, a chimpanzee who created art for 3 years in the late 1950s. Many of his works display a “fan” pattern that Desmond Morris described as an analog to the manner in which chimps spread leaves on the forest floor. In other words, it is a conscious expression – and for Congo, perhaps not abstract at all! For him, it may have been a representational work – a still life. My favourite bit of research from Congo’s work is that if he considered one of drawings to be finished, he would refuse to continue painting even if someone tried to persuade him to do so. How very Rothko of him.
Consider the 3rd image: again the distinct fan pattern, in this instance a more simple composition of broader brush strokes, of thicker, less subtle colours. The temptation would be to describe it as basic, but I would argue that the artist is forcing the paint to challenge the bright orange background, to find a balance not just of the image within the frame, but also of the overall work, not allowing the paper to swallow what the artist sees. Japanese traditional flower arrangement (Ikebana) teaches the importance of negative space, a concept that Congo has embraced. The “leaves” float, jump out from the floor, in a still-life that is by no means still. Frame 4 teases something more architectural, where each colour looks to have been layered upon the previous level, built as much as painted. There should be no doubt that these are expressions of consciousness, both in the medium and in the message.
I do wonder if Congo liked these pictures: if he grew frustrated that humans could not appreciate what he painted, or if he was elated that they could. I am confident that he felt something for his creations, and equally confident that the computer does not care what a prompt produces. Generative art, like the magnificent simplicity of CryptoPunks, the brilliant precision of Autoglyphs, the gorgeous meanders of Fidenzas, and so many others, all shatter existing boundaries of artistic endeavour. These acts of pure creation turn math into art; at its worst, AI image production turns art into math. Regardless, we need to understand that digital art is our Modernism, part of a new machine age where currents of code and craft are changing the conventions by which we judge beauty and representation. This piece argues that Congo is an essential component of the building blocks of today’s brilliant and endlessly creative digital artists, challenging notions of gaze, beauty, image, and ownership. Like the computer, this is no human, but he could create and express, blissfully unaware of the boundaries of human imagination, desire for classification, or criticism. This is our current artistic landscape: one without rules. To borrow from Neo, I did not come here to tell you how this is going to end, I came here to tell you how it begins. The new machine age is upon us, emerging from converging currents of human and non-human interaction. Thank you, Congo.
