Polina Bulgakova is a digital 3D artist who has developed her practice since 2020. Working in the “surrealistic realism” style, Polina crafts visual narratives that challenge the constraints of real-world physics, inviting audiences to think beyond conventional limits and embrace the possibility that anything is achievable. Originally from Siberia and now based in Israel, Polina draws inspiration from the cultural contrasts she has experienced, integrating these influences into her work to create striking visual juxtapositions. Her expertise spans product visualizations, vision boards, and concept art in both static and motion formats.
Following her solo artcast Dreamlandson Niio, Polina Bulgakova elaborates on her practice and background in the following interview.
Polina Bulgakova. Sleep Tight, 2021
You were raised in Siberia but now live in Israel. How have your life experiences and cultural background influenced your work?
It made my work very authentic and honest. I learnt how to embrace my differences and diversity, I learnt that it is ok to not fit fully and that my art can not fit to any defined style or niche. I realized that my art is a reflection of what is going on in my life, a reflection of my reactions to the environment or nostalgia, and the only way to be honest in my work is to actually be honest about who I am.
“My art is a reflection of what is going on in my life, and the only way to be honest in my work is to actually be honest about who I am.”
While having a background in more traditional forms of art making, you have found your medium of expression in 3D rendering and animation. Can you tell us a bit about the path that led to digital creation?
Before moving to Israel, my main medium was oil and a little watercolors, but a good part of my income was selling my oil paintings and oil commissions. Once I moved to Israel in 2017, I didn’t have proper space for that – oil is smelly and dirty, and I had to move to digital 2D. For 2 years I was painting in Photoshop, but it felt like something was missing, it felt like something flat – after you work with oil with bold texture, it was not “it”. In 2019 I moved to work from home due to COVID, and decided to learn something new, which was 3D. I fell in love instantly, and since then it hasn’t changed. I sometimes mix 2D and 2D, but both digital. Now if I take a real brush – it’s only for relaxation or if I want to fill a wall at my home.
Polina Bulgakova. Seated, 2024
You combine your artistic projects with professional 3D rendering and creative services such as product visualization and 3D models. How do your commissioned work and art projects influence each other?
There is a bold connection between those two. Commissions sometimes can be challenging, and sometimes I need to learn new techniques quickly to finish the work on time. But once I explore something new, it’s like a game with new levels – it sparks my curiosity, and I dive deeper into it in my art projects. And sometimes it’s the opposite – I find/learn something new that can be super useful in commissions and use it after I gave it a try in my personal projects.
“This is why I fell in love with 3D so quickly –there are literally no limits.”
An interesting type of commissioned work that you do are Custom Vision Boards, personalized scenes that you render in 3D from a brief that you send to your clients. Can you tell us more about these vision boards and your experience creating them?
I love making Vision Boards, it’s probably my favorite kind of commission. The first one I made for myself a few years ago – I read a lot about that stuff and thought “why don’t I use my favorite tools to make something that will help me reach my goals?”, and I had so much joy and fun making it. Then I started to commission VBs. It’s honestly a pure joy – to get to know a person, their dreams and desires, to see their eyes glowing while they describe their dream life, and then actually visualize it. It’s like a puzzle – I have specific pieces I need to arrange together to get a clear picture, while having certain creative freedom.
Polina Bulgakova. The Safe Romance. Custom Vision Board
Your work is characterized by a photorealistic surrealism that you achieve using 3D animation. What do you find most interesting about the tension between fantasy and reality? In terms of optimizing the work involved and computer processing requirements, do you have some “visual tricks” you can play with?
The most interesting thing about balancing fantasy and reality is that there are no limits and no boundaries at all. I have my patterns, of course, but in terms of the tech side mostly. And this is why I fell in love with 3D so quickly –there are literally no limits. Whatever I have in mind, the craziest ideas I can visualize. Sometimes I mix 2D and 3D, sometimes I animate textures in third party software in order to reduce render time, sometimes I combine those two.
Polina Bulgakova. Witchy Morning, 2022
The artworks we have presented in the artcast “Dreamlands” on Niio not only create imaginary scenes, but also evoke underlying feelings with which we can identify. What inspired you to work with these feelings in dreamlike scenarios, and how do you think they can convey their message to viewers?
“Dreamlands” is probably one of the most honest works of mine. I try to be as authentic as possible in my work, and these kinds of dreamlike scenes are pure reflections of what I was feeling and going through at these times. I hope that every viewer will get the message he or she actually wants to get – be it to reflect on the self, to embrace simple things in daily life, to feel alone but not lonely. My main goal is to encourage people to embrace their authenticity and their differences while looking at my art.
“My work can be viewed as a life graph – you can see what I was going through, and how it influenced me.”
It can be argued that your work is more painterly than cinematic, with peaceful, mediative scenes dominated by a single point of view and a carefully constructed composition. Would you agree with this statement? Do you see digital art as an evolution from the tradition of painting into a new form of creating images meant to be contemplated?
I have works that are dark and moody, works that are chaotic and rhythmic, works that are odd and evoke mixed feelings. It can be viewed as a life graph – depending on the period, you can see what I was going through, and how it influenced my work. The fact that during the last 1-2 years my works are mostly peaceful and calm shows that I’m pretty much in a stable calm period right now.
I don’t think that digital art is an evolution from traditional art. I think it’s a new tool, like a new set of brushes or a new kind of canvas. In the right hands of the right creator, everything can be used to embrace either revolution or traditions, there are artists that combine digital and traditional art tools and create breathtaking pieces.
Polina Bulgakova. Wood Morning, 2021
Your work is now available in several online platforms, including Niio. What opportunities do you see in these platforms, and what features do you find (or would like to find) in them that are most convenient for you as a digital artist?
Everyone knows how to make an income from traditional art – you sell an art piece from your shop or gallery, you get paid, you ship it, and you have a happy client. For digital art, especially animations, it’s different. From one side, we have this huge market on social media and the internet that we use to showcase our works, but from the other side – it’s not as simple to sell it as there’s nothing to pack and ship. Platforms like Niio provide us with an amazing opportunity to monetize digital art through licensing and digital editions, and it’s amazing to know your work is appreciated and displayed in someone’s home, office, building etc. I really like the way it gives me both exposure and profit. It can be argued for ages that “a true artist should only care for making great art”, but the truth is everybody needs to feed their family and pay the bills, even artists.
“Platforms like Niio provide us with an amazing opportunity to monetize digital art through licensing and digital editions, and it’s amazing to know your work is appreciated and displayed in someone’s home, office, or building.”
Tahn (Taeyoung Ahn, born in South Korea, 1967) is a multifaceted media artist, technologist, writer, and art educator with an extensive career that spans multiple disciplines. Currently a Ph.D. candidate in Media Contents, Tahn’s academic journey includes a degree from the Global Media Contents department at Chungnam National University in Korea, as well as studies in psychology, modern dance, and interactive multimedia, the latter pursued in the United States.
In his professional roles, Tahn serves as a concurrent professor in liberal arts and contemporary arts at Seowon University and holds the position of Chairman of the United Art Education Association in Korea. He also contributes as a lecturer in sculpture and art at Chungbuk National University, where he imparts his expertise to the next generation of artists.
Throughout his career, Tahn has exhibited his work in prestigious group and solo exhibitions across cities such as Seoul, Daegu, Rome, Uzès, Lisbon, and New York.
Tahn recently presented on Niio his solo artcast Tales of the Five Peaks, and kindly answered a series of questions about his work and his perspective on the Korean contemporary art scene.
Tahn. Ilwolobongdo_parallel universe, 2024
You have a strong background in painting and sculpture but decided to move into digital media. How did this transition come about? What do you find most interesting about traditional techniques (such as painting and sculpture) on one side, and working with computers on the other?
For me, the distinction between traditional media and digital media is not particularly significant. I see painting, sculpture, digital devices, and other tools simply as instruments that artists of any era can use to convey the stories of their time. As an artist, I believe it is important to utilize every available resource to best express the narrative of the present. This philosophy naturally led me to include digital media in my work, alongside traditional materials such as brushes, paint, and canvas. I consider this fusion a natural evolution of artistic expression. While it might be described as a blend of traditional and digital techniques, to me it is just an inevitable expansion that allows me to fully articulate contemporary stories.
“As an artist, I believe it is important to utilize every available resource to best express the narrative of the present.”
When you started creating digital art, what was the reaction of your peers, collectors and followers? Was it well received? Would you say that, during the last decades, digital art has been well received in the Korean contemporary art scene?
When I introduced digital elements into Korean folk painting, especially in the ‘minhwa’ series, the reactions were extremely polarized. Traditional art groups, some associations, and juries at art contests refused to recognize my work as ‘minhwa’ because I did not adhere to conventional methods. However, I continued my work because I believed that the essence of ‘minhwa’ lies in being art for the people. During the Joseon Dynasty, minhwa was created for the public, and today the public is the digital-native MZ generation. Therefore, I use digital media to connect with them while preserving the essence of minhwa. Today, I am recognized as a leading media artist in the field of minhwa, redefining its place in contemporary art.
Tahn. Ilwolobongdo_today and tommorow, 2023
“When I introduced digital elements into Korean folk painting, especially in the ‘minhwa’ series, the reactions were extremely polarized.”
As a professor and lecturer at Seowon University and Chungbuk National University, you teach to the younger generation of artists and creators. What are their expectations about creating art, and what differences do you see from previous generations in their understanding of the history of art and the career paths that they want to follow?
One notable difference is that the younger generation is more open to exploring various ways of interpreting their time. To guide them, I emphasize the importance of studying the historical context and understanding how previous generations expressed their issues through art. For instance, by examining classical works, particularly traditional paintings, students can reflect on how past artists conveyed their era and what they can learn from them.
Through this process, I encourage students to create narratives that connect traditional techniques with modern tools like AI. My goal is to help them produce art that addresses contemporary issues while also drawing from cultural heritage, thereby creating something meaningful for today’s audience.
“My goal is to help students produce art that addresses contemporary issues while also drawing from cultural heritage.”
The contrast between the built environment (cities, buildings) and nature is a recurring theme in your work. What do you find most interesting about exploring this subject?
In Korea, we have a long history of garden culture (Jeongwon). Historically, scholars would leave the city and build small dwellings in nature, creating gardens where they could reflect on life, engage in philosophical thought, and formulate political ideas. Those who couldn’t leave the city would bring nature into their urban homes by creating small ponds and gardens in their courtyards. If even that wasn’t possible, they would hang landscape paintings in their rooms to simulate the presence of nature. This desire for nature amidst urban life led me to explore how human beings, even while residing in cities, inherently seek out nature. My interest in this topic began with traditional Korean painting and has expanded globally through my experiences in South Korea and the UK.
Tahn’s work is often displayed in multichannel installations and large media facades.
“The desire for nature amidst urban life led me to explore how human beings, even while residing in cities, inherently seek out nature.”
Fantastic, surreal, and sci-fi elements are also commonly present in your work. Can you elaborate on your choice of these references? Would you say that the use of 3D software has inspired you to incorporate these elements into your work?
Korean folk painting (‘minhwa’), folklore, and shamanistic beliefs have always contained fantastic and surreal elements—not as mere illusions but as symbols that help sustain the reality of people’s lives. These elements serve as hope, faith, and guiding principles for many individuals. To me, these objects are not simply products of imagination but are deeply rooted in real stories. The recent advancements in generative AI software, along with 3D software like Blender and Cinema 4D, have made it easier to translate these elements into tangible, hyper-realistic forms, thereby amplifying their impact on the viewer.
Tahn. Sustainable Today’s Story, Palace of Imagination no1, 2021
Although your digital artworks may seem to depict an imaginary world, they address real issues of our world, such as environmental degradation, and notably, also express feelings of hope and perseverance. Do you think that it is precisely by depicting imaginary scenes that one can invite the viewer to consider their own reality?
Absolutely. Every individual carries their own universe within them. By presenting an imaginative world beyond the viewer’s everyday reality, I invite them to explore the infinite dimensions of their inner selves. This creates a space where they can engage with emotions or thoughts that they might not have considered in their conventional reality. The imaginary worlds I create serve as mirrors—reflecting possibilities that encourage viewers to rethink their own perspectives and transcend the limitations of their current existence.
“Every individual carries their own universe within them. By presenting an imaginative world beyond the viewer’s everyday reality, I invite them to explore the infinite dimensions of their inner selves.”
Most of the artworks we currently present on Niio are related to the Ilwolobongdo, the painted folding screen that was always displayed behind the King’s throne in the Joseon Dynasty, depicting the Sun, the Moon, and the Five Peaks. Can you tell us about the significance of this particular object in Korean culture and art?
The Ilwolobongdo, the folding screen that symbolized the presence of the king during the Joseon Dynasty, represents authority and power. What intrigued me was the idea that the Ilwolobongdo was only complete when the king stood in front of it, suggesting that the individual and the environment together create a unified meaning. In today’s society, I believe that every individual is their own ‘king,’ a sovereign over their life and choices. By incorporating the Ilwolobongdo into my work, I hope to empower viewers, encouraging them to recognize their agency and the importance of their presence. Additionally, I include contemporary symbols and objects that represent today’s era, creating new narratives that link traditional motifs with the present and future.
Tahn. Sustainable environment, deer and whales, 2022
In some of your works we can see written text in Korean. Can you explain to us what these texts mean, and what is their role in your compositions?
The Korean text that appears in my works is often drawn from classical Korean poetry or my own poetic compositions. These texts add layers of meaning to the visual narrative, much like traditional Korean paintings that combine imagery and poetry—an essential skill for scholars during the Joseon era. By including these texts, I aim to create a dialogue between the visual and the poetic, merging artistic expressions that convey both aesthetic beauty and intellectual depth.
You also refer to Western culture in some artworks that depict objects such as an Evian water bottle, a Rolex watch, or an Apple computer, and you also place famous brand names such as Prada, Fendi, or Netflix on other objects. What is the purpose of including these brands and objects in your artworks?
I do not see these elements as uniquely ‘Western.’ Instead, they reflect the consumer tendencies around me, representing desires and aspirations within contemporary society. For instance, my series inspired by ‘chaekgado’ (a genre of Korean painting featuring bookshelves) originally had educational undertones in the Joseon era but gradually evolved to include luxury items, symbolizing changing values and desires. By incorporating these recognizable brands, I am commenting on the transformation of human values over time, as well as the transient nature of material possessions.
Tahn. Sustainable Today’s Story, Palace of Imagination no2, 2021
In some of your works, your name also becomes a brand, in a twist of the artist’s signature. Why did you choose to do so?
In traditional Korean art, the use of a seal (or ‘nakgan’) as an artist’s mark was a fundamental aspect of a painting. For me, incorporating my name as a brand is an extension of that tradition, reinterpreted in a modern context. Whether it’s through a literal signature, an avatar, or a unique object representing me, these inclusions are my way of putting a personal stamp on my work—merging historical artistic conventions with a contemporary twist.
You are currently using AI models to generate some of the elements in your work. Unlike other artists, who rely on machine learning for the creation of the whole work, you use the outputs of this process as an element that is seamlessly integrated into your 3D animations. Can you tell us more about your approach to using artificial intelligence in the creation of your artworks? How do you conceive a balance between “manual” creation by the human artist and algorithmic creativity?
As I explore the potential of generative AI, I often find myself reflecting on the evolving role of the artist in an age dominated by new technologies. AI is a powerful tool that aids in research, inspires new ideas, and adds complexity to certain aspects of my work. However, I am also cautious about the potential for AI to overshadow the artist’s unique voice. While I use AI-generated elements to enhance or complement my compositions, I ensure that the creative vision and narrative remain distinctly my own. AI, to me, is a resource—a collaborator, but not the creator. It is the artist’s hand that ultimately guides, curates, and gives soul to the work, distinguishing art from mere aesthetically pleasing products.
“AI, to me, is a resource—a collaborator, but not the creator. It is the artist’s hand that ultimately guides, curates, and gives soul to the work.”
Musician and digital artist Franz Rosatirecently presented on Niio a series of three videos titled DATALAKE: GROUNDTRUTH(2024) in which he worked with AI models to generate mesmerizingly fluid landscapes that evoke chaos and disaster, but also regeneration and impermanence. Widely recognized on the international digital art and electronic music scene, Rosati creates a unique combination of visual landscapes, soundscapes, and cinematic narratives that embody the ideal of the total work of art (Gesamtkunstwerk) for a fully immersed audience.
In a previous interview for Niio Editorial, on the occasion of the launch of Rosati’s series LATENTSCAPE(2021), the artist offered us a general approach to his work. In this article, we focus on his most recent series, diving into his use of machine learning programs, his reflections about our current visual culture, and the elusive concept of truth.
Franz Rosati. DATALAKE:GROUNDTRUTH N1, 2024
This series brings to mind our fascination with disasters, which has been enhanced by digital technologies allowing the creation of ever more spectacular images of cataclysms in films and TV shows, and the growing tendency in mainstream media to feed us with disturbing images in the midst of the raging attention economy. Would it be correct to interpret the artworks as a commentary on our current media landscape?
I don’t know if I want to see the work as a commentary on the media landscape, this is not the very first target of the project.
For sure the theme of disaster, the cataclysm, and the overwhelming flux of visual information, has extended not only to the natural and ecological context, but also to the perception of a cognitive vortex. So the disaster as something disruptive, unexpected and out of control, is exactly what emerged during the production and the selection of the final materials.
I do not start any of my projects with a specific political or critical theme, it’s a pretty more subconscious process, I just start doing things and stop when something resonates with some parts of me, then I try to figure out why it resonates with me so much. This is why I’m very interested in understanding how my work might adhere to a vision of reality.
I think every artwork is political in some ways but I also think that every artwork must speak for itself, it’s not about releasing a statement through images and sounds, but instead leaving it there and observing how it resonates with the surrounding environment.
In this case, after months of generating materials and testing sounds, I decided that I wanted to catch the vibe of a visual multiverse inflated by images, that through an inescapable hyper-aesthetization process, disastrously decorate and beautify its own impermanent deflagration and collapse.
“After months of generating materials and testing sounds, I decided that I wanted to catch the vibe of a visual multiverse inflated by images that disastrously decorate and beautify its own impermanent deflagration and collapse.”
The use of split screens in some scenes reinforces the connection with newsreels and mass media. What do they bring to this project, in terms of visual composition and subtext?
The splitscreen aesthetics idea came out in an advanced phase of the work and was absolutely the most difficult part to do from a technical aspect.
I didn’t want to do it by using masks to tell AI where to put different things, which is a pretty common and straightforward approach. Instead I wanted to let AI interpret several words in the prompt, going back and forth to see how a comma or the weight of a specific word can alter the results and recall some features in the model. This was a pretty long process.
The screen is a very iconic and persistent element of our visual culture since Nam June Paik (and before him Guy Debord, Isidore Isou or Abel Gance) which was probably the first in visual arts to understand how powerful could it be, but today we have incredible artists such as Baron Lanteigne who is able deal with a simulacra of the screen in extremely powerful, subtle and unexpected ways, as in the content so in the setup of his works.
The splitscreen in this series is my “tribute” to the device, in its embodiment as a magic portal, a simulacra, a magic surface opening up to other worlds. A multidimensional device shaping our reality more and more, first in our homes, then covering walls and buildings of our cities, then fitting in our hands and pockets to slowly landing in the art galleries and exhibitions.
In my case I wanted multiple screens representations to be a strong part of the artwork: The television layout which is the one telling what’s happening in our world shaping our perception of reality as well as the LED wall or the stage design which is instead the most diffused example of mass worship during concerts and large events.
“The splitscreen in this series is my «tribute» to the device, in its embodiment as a magic portal, a simulacra, a magic surface opening up to other worlds.”
I want these elements to be almost like a living organism that is symbiotic with the natural elements, absorbs nature and is absorbed by nature. Virtuality and biology melted together.
So it is not just a way to visualize different contents and context. It is more about the splitscreen, the “news layout”, the LED wall, as a part of a new and complex hybrid ecosystem.
Franz Rosati. Still from the series DATALAKE: GROUNDTRUTH, 2024
An interesting detail in these scenes of chaos and destruction is the presence of cars. Artist Iñigo Bilbao once stated: “Confronted with images of a disaster, in order for them to cause us a real (and perhaps pleasant) impact, we need to identify something among the chaos, a reference that informs us of the scale of the tragedy […] Apart from the most macabre evidence, cars offer an easily recognizable shape, allowing us to glimpse the seriousness of the accident, the power of the bomb or the height of the floods.” Is the presence of cars in these artworks connected to this sense of scale mentioned by Bilbao? Or maybe it is something embedded in the imagery of disasters that AI models replicate?
Cars and humans have a very accidental yet central role in this work, retrospectively. That wasn’t planned at all, my idea at the beginning was only focused on depicting this process of nature, architecture and technology struggling to coexist and find their place, fighting, morphing and twisting.
I tried everything to totally get rid of both humans, cars and vehicles, and keep only images of technology. For some reasons the CLIP (Contrastive Language-Image Pretraining) part of the code responsible for learning and connecting visual concepts from natural language supervision, was strongly trained with tons of images labeled as cars, vehicles and people or something strictly related. So the semantic domain of technology is not separable from cars and vehicles.
The observation made by Iñigo Bilbao is revealed to be dramatically true and fitting in this case. In the end I decided to keep cars and vehicles and play with them, giving them a role, as a reminder of the many biases we can discover in AI, and how that speaks so much about our world and how some peculiar aspects of our society will always percolate into the tools we use and back in a recursive process, shaping their functions and role in our evolution or progress.
This could lead to a very simple deduction: The tool is the message or at least the part of the algorithm generates part of the message.
“I wanted to let AI interpret several words in the prompt, going back and forth to see how a comma or the weight of a specific word can alter the results. This was a pretty long process.”
The soundtrack is a crucial element of the artworks, as it brings in a strong emotional element to the images. As a musician, how would you describe the role of sound in this series?
Sound is very central for me, for many years I’ve worked with materials gathered from streaming platforms, and social networks as well as field recordings or unusual sounds, trying to build some kind of accidental sound design and music from the social bubble as Burial first taught us.
I always liked the realistic imprint coming from a mediated support, the new sonic landmarks and the emblematic sounds of audio compression and the limits of some new media devices; it’s like collecting field recordings in a digital world but recorded by non-professional devices such as smartphones, dash-cams, live recorded concerts, cracks, crashes, impacts, then reinforced with classic sound design process. All of this is mediated by audio compression and so on, ending up building a totally different soundscape. The question in this case is: we’re immersed in a virtual multiverse since the ‘90s, so what has become of our listening and hearing process from a cognitive and perceptual point of view?
In the first iteration there was a very strong musical presence, since it’s more than a couple of years that I’m working on the integration of real and AI generated strings, especially cellos, and my first thought was to go in that direction.
What you hear is basically the sound of disaster, something close to white noise on a liminal level but full of patterns your brain can hook up to.
In this case, I decided to use AI systems to produce a sort of massive but realistic sonic avalanche instead of composing music.
By analyzing some frames of the videos using Llava, I was able to generate a prompt to feed a Latent Diffusion Model for audio generation and enrich my AI-Foley Sound Library which was built around 2021 with the Latentscape project using SampleRNN at the time.
“What you hear is basically the sound of disaster, something close to white noise on a liminal level but full of patterns your brain can hook up.”
I came to this conclusion after seeing the workshop Martina Carbone and Daniele Imani Nobar, which also works with me as assistant, held for Re:Humanism. They focused on using AI for Foley in a classical sense, generating and designing sounds for silent movies.
So after browsing my Sound Library and after listening to it repeatedly I then decided to only focus on these massive realistic sounds, following the morphings and the behavior of the images, while pushing the musical layer in the background, beneath all the other sounds.
At the same time the sound design workflow for an artwork series is very different from the one I use for my music or audiovisual performances.
For this reason, Mattia Magionami‘s support has become essential in the last year. I usually come up with a general workflow, a well defined sound aesthetics and an overall idea for some details, I make some starter templates and collect or generate materials. Mattia then takes charge of all the creative editing, synching, mixing and mastering of the final piece.
Franz Rosati. DATALAKE:GROUNDTRUTH N2, 2024
Another mesmerizing aspect of these animations is the fact that they are constantly morphing, without end, every disastrous event merging into another. The scenes therefore are captivating in presenting a thrilling spectacle of chaos, but at the same time, since the disaster is not permanent, but part of a flow, it does not seem like a tragedy. What have you found interesting in the technique of morphing and constant transformation?
I always worked with chaos intended as a high number of complex events happening together. This definitely depends on my fondness for musicians like Iannis Xenakis or Zbigniew Karkowski, Masami Akita or Paul Dolden, just to cite a few who had the first relevant impact with contemporary culture in my teenage years.
Chaos is potentially where you can create the most interesting connections, a pool of everything happening simultaneously, to be explored and where to find unexpected patterns and relationships.
When we talk about AI, learning is one of the key terms, but remembering is never mentioned. I feel that learning and remembering relate to a different sensibility rather than applying the same exact mechanism. The ease with which mass media and people tend to forget things is a crucial issue in our reaction to information overflow.
The constant morphing flow of images and events, forces you to check for patterns, to hang on landmarks in the screen space and try to learn what you’re seeing and remember something to not get lost in the flux and start to decode what is happening.
“Chaos is potentially where you can create the most interesting connections, a pool of everything happening simultaneously, to be explored and where to find unexpected patterns and relationships.”
Going back to the theme of disaster, this continuous morphing reminds me of that specific instantaneous feeling you have while the disaster is unfolding: a fall from the bicycle, or something more tragic, for instance, not necessarily physical.
In that moment your brain freezes the time: the unexpected event leads to a condition where it’s impossible to find patterns, and time stretches to infinity until this perception ends and you go back to a new, a new different reality to be re-semantized.
Franz Rosati. DATALAKE:GROUNDTRUTH N3, 2024
Both the images and the soundtrack have been generated using AI models. Can you explain the process of creation, and the differences between generating images and generating sound with AI? Given that you already worked with generative algorithms, what do these artificial intelligence programs contribute to your creative process?
I don’t want to go deep into technical stuff about workflows and code. I’ll focus on the creative experience with Generative AI compared to “old school” Generative Algorithms.
There are very huge differences in some aspects. We’re confronting with the same kind of approach at the foundation, based on giving rules and observing narrow variations as results, but we’re dealing with different kinds of complexity.
Dealing with Generative AI means we have to handle visual data condensed in a Latent space and then used to represent words we can prompt. It’s like a magic spell, and numbers are hidden behind this, since the final users have very few numerical parameters.
In “old school” generative process, we’re dealing with numbers and parameters in a very Pythagorean way, using equations, working with euclidean spaces, coordinates or controlling emerging features and systems behaviors.
In a creative approach, this leads the artist and the creative, in a very peculiar position. At the same time this technology is evolving so rapidly that is very much subject to paradigm shifts.
“When we talk about AI, learning is one of the key terms, but remembering is never mentioned. The ease with which mass media and people tend to forget things is a crucial issue in our reaction to information overflow.”
In this series you introduce the concept of “ground truth”, which is used in statistical models, cartography, meteorology, and the military to refer to information that is known to be true. Evidently, the fictions created by 3D simulations and AI models are putting into question what we can call “ground truth.” What has led you to work with this concept in this latest series?
Ground Truth is a technical term used in AI as well as Geographical Information Systems or Remote Sensing (which I used a lot in projects such as Distantia from 2023) and Statistics in general, used to prove if something is real based on empirical evidence.
It’s basically the opposite concept of Inference, which is a more common and popular term in the field of AI.
At the same time, if you ignore the meaning of the term, it could sounds a bit ambiguous: the word “truth” is very central since the advent of the internet and the alleged democratization of the media, this word is being used to represent and declare the state of declaring a single truth itself especially by conspiracy theory influencers, Q-Anon militants and alt-right propaganda at the point that we are now used to identify the word “truth” as a sort of red-flag…for fake, dangerous bad stuff and in general to deny the existence of many truths. So “Truth” is probably the word that best represents the gray areas of our time.
“«Truth» is probably the word that best represents the gray areas of our time”
This exact dichotomy and hard contrast led me to go for his title, to exactly evoke that kind of broken and twisted information system, depicting the distorted infosphere, the flow we are exposed to every day, in contrast with the quantum conception of reality, which gives us the tools to see the many truths reality is made of, that is instead becoming more and more strongly established.
Hadar Mitz is deeply engaged with the philosophical underpinnings of perception, time, and the ephemeral nature of existence. Her practice is located at the intersection of photography, video, and installation, employing these diverse media not merely as tools but as integral components of her conceptual framework. Her goal is ambitious: in her own words, “to gain hold onto unholdable things, and to communicate an intimate time perception by works that deal with our experience of impermanence and infinity, encompassed in our sense of now.”
Through her explorations, Mitz invites viewers to reconsider their relationship with time and the natural world. Her installations are immersive experiences that juxtapose the order we impose on nature with the chaos inherent in the natural order itself. Her videos and photographs are not mere representations but are imbued with the essence of time, challenging viewers to perceive beyond the immediate, to sense the imperceptible flow of existence.
On the occasion of her recent solo artcast on Niio, Duration, we had a brief conversation in which the artist elaborated on the concepts behind her work and her creative process.
Experience a different perception of time in Hadar Mitz’s artcast Duration
When did you start focusing your work on the concept of time, was there a turning point in your artistic career which led to this?
Since I can remember, I have been interested in paradoxes and different perceptions of time 🙂
As a child I watched a movie that really shook me, “Flight of the Navigator”, in which a young boy is kidnapped into space. When he returns to earth he finds out that all of his relatives aged significantly whereas the boy remained the same age. A few years after I watched the movie I found out that this is an actual fact: time slows down the farther away one distances oneself from the Earth.
Hadar Mitz. Butterfly Pond, 2018
How do photography and video art as new media assist you in your goal of creating alternative perceptions of time?
The camera, whose action challenges the tangibility of the present moment, is the starting point of the majority of my works. In my creations I attempt to establish a dialogue with the concept of time. In some of them I try to re-experience the present, for instance by breaking down a video into single still frames or by bringing to life stuffed animals and inanimate stones. I do so due to my belief that time isn’t a linear movement from the past into the future but rather a continuous present that begins over and over again. This is a notion I borrow from the writings of French philosopher Henri Bergson, who coined the term “La durée” to express the idea that time is made up of fragments that give birth to one another, with each event giving rise to the creation of a new moment, a new mode of being.
“I believe that time isn’t a linear movement from the past into the future but rather a continuous present that begins over and over again.”
Your work on one hand leans on and deals with the natural world while on the other, by making use of new media technology, focuses on fabricated and mass produced elements. How do you bridge between these two seemingly opposite realms?
I am interested in the meeting point between the ever-changing natural world and the human attempt to comprehend it and provide it with meaning. Humans have fabricated a complete world of categories and perceptions that are seemingly equivalent to the natural world, but in fact they always narrow down and miss it because the natural world refuses to become fixated. In some of my video works, the representations of nature become manipulated, meaning that they don’t represent the things themselves. These are thus representations which have the goal to be exhibited, similar to infinite cabinets of curiosities or natural art museums. By these means we are asked to contemplate what exists outside of our existence, but in this process we are doomed to fail. Through my artworks I try to create spaces in which accepted global definitions become blurred. This lack of comprehension in turn gives space to the beauty and mystery of the world.
Hadar Mitz. Two Moons, 2020
In works such as Jetty (2018) you rearrange the picture frame to create a different scene from reality, which reinforces the potential of different perceptions and perspectives of a picture plane. What is it in this process and outcome that interests you most?
In my opinion, in the act of creation, the artist is his own sole authority: it is she who creates and gives birth to reality. Thus, the artist has the opportunity to change accepted rules –for example the way time flows, gravity, or the resurrection of dead objects. In this work as well as others, I took ruins of things that were at once filled with life, like feathers that I gathered, and recreated them as wings to provide them with a new life form, a new creation. One of the motivations in my work is the encounter with this new force of creation, which I identify with the potential of substances that I find around me and their never-ending potential to transform. Therefore, this force does not need a reason or external validation in order to reorganize the conditions of this new reality.
Hadar Mitz. Jetty, 2018
“Through my artworks I try to create spaces in which accepted global definitions become blurred. This lack of comprehension in turn gives space to the beauty and mystery of the world.”
You have referred to your work Gradient, 2019 as representing “a single space where different planes of reality intersect” which is interesting to think of vis a vis the internet-era and AI in creating new human experiences. Can you share your thoughts on this and your opinion on the future of the art world in an AI dominated space?
Lately, I have been working with desecrated AI imagery. I am enchanted by the endless possibilities that this collaboration gives space to. I see AI as a gate into the space of the collective unconscious of the Internet. In my opinion, this is the present realization of Carl Jung’s theory where we found an infinite treasure of encrypted-idiosyncratic images. AI mixes and processes these images through the networks that it creates between them and reconstructs them according to our requests.
It is hard for me to define how AI will change the future of the art world. I am especially curious to find out how the new conditions that AI supplies to the act of artmaking will allow us to reveal our human qualities either through conflict or through collaboration.
Chinese-Australian artist Thomas C. Chung has embarked on a lifelong artistic research that he is developing in well-structured phases, each one characterized by an exploration of different techniques and approaches to human experience. He earned his Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of New South Wales’ College of Fine Arts in 2004 and has had a noteworthy international artistic presence in recent years. Chung has been a representative for Australia in several prominent international exhibitions, such as the 2nd Land Art Biennial in Mongolia, the 4th Ghetto Biennale in Haiti, and the 9th Shiryaevo Biennale in Russia. Currently, he is exploring the realms of psychotherapy as a means to deepen his artistic inquiry.
The artist presents on Niio three pivotal works from his ongoing second phase, in which he leaves behind a narrative focused on childhood innocence and enters the adult world with a series of more sober, meditative artworks. The landscapes that form the collection “As Far As I Could See…” introduce a deeper reflection on the human condition, not without a hint to the magic and surreal aspects of children’s imagination.
Thomas C. Chung. “As Far As I Could See…” (I), 2023
In the following interview for Niio, Chung discusses the motivations behind his work and dives into his second-phase artworks, which have recently been exhibited at the Chinese European Art Center (Xiamen, China) in a solo show titled “The Sea That Stands Before Me…”
Your work has evolved over the last decades following a “lifelong narrative” determined by different phases. The first phase was characterized by crochet sculptures, installations, and an overall playful aesthetic, while the second-phase works present a very different approach. It may even be hard to recognize the work of the same artist in these two phases. How have you dealt with this transition, and what has been the response to it?
I’ll be the first to say I was nervous about the different phases I had conceived – I figured it might be too hard for others to accept, especially with the small but loyal following I had built. Over time, I understood that as long as the work was fascinating to myself & others, it didn’t matter what shape or form it took as long as the creativity was there. I clarified this by using new techniques each decade, approaching the chapters within my Art by splitting them into various methods that correlated with the story I wanted to tell. The 1st phase was all handmade, tactile, labor-intensive & filled with food motifs as avenues for expressing a child’s obsessions & dreams. This 2nd phase speaks of the departure from childhood & the realization that life has to progress beyond our comfort zones so that we can understand the totality of our world.
I had a lot of interests as a child & wanted to grow up to be so many things, one of which was as a children’s illustrator & author. But Art chose me instead, so here I am, creating a different type of story, saving that option for later.
Thomas C. Chung’s solo exhibition at the Chinese European Art Center extends to Sedition and Niio with the presentation of a selection of artworks.
You have expressed that, in your work, you aim to see the world through the eyes of a child. How do you convey this idea without being perceived as childlike or superficial? Which is the underlying concept that grounds these artworks?
It aligns with how I interact with people these days in a direct yet open & gentle manner without overthinking the consequences. If others don’t appreciate it, I try not to let it matter. Everyone has their view or way of life. My artwork may have previously been seen as naive, which at times bothered me. I knew as a conceptual artist, my practice would be a lifetime’s work that would encompass the narratives of my inner child. The artwork titles are a hint to what it is they see & are presented to the audience as an observation of their journeys while exploring the world. To produce this lifelong story, it was always my vision to create a giant storybook-like body of work split into chapters, set within a contemporary art context, emphasizing the importance of patience, empathy & curiosity, where human beings have the ability to control what it is they feel or see.
Thomas C. Chung. “It Was Like Seeing A Fallen Rainbow…” Exhibition view at Galerie pompom
Your video artworks are characterized by a slow tempo that suggests a relaxed observation. In our times of limited attention span and an overflow of media content, would you say that we need to take more time to observe our surroundings? In your opinion, does art create this space for observation or is it also caught in the spirit of fast-paced consumption?
That’s quite a complex one to answer. And that is a great question. I value the time I take to see the world unfiltered from electronic devices & media. Much of that is due to my not being attached to technology as early as others may have been. For example, the very first mobile phone I got was when I was 34 years old; I remember even thinking what a selfie of myself looks like.
Until then, I spent a significant portion of my life turning up early to meet friends or acquaintances (if they were over an hour late, I would leave), keeping promises that I had kept & looking at the sky to tell the time.
Art has always been a good reflection of our times, like a visual newspaper that begins & starts intriguing conversations before leaving it to others to visit, fulfill, react, or enjoy. The fast-paced consumption of our current world is an accurate indication of that, with the growth of digital art increasing among the masses.
Thomas C. Chung. “As Far As I Could See…” (II), 2023
You are studying to become a psychotherapist and draw inspiration from this knowledge to create your artworks. Do you intend your artworks to visualize or reflect upon states of mind, or do you wish them to become therapeutic objects, sparking certain emotions or thoughts that might have a healing quality?
This one made me think – thank you for that. My intention as an artist is to engage with everyone, but whether or not it connects with others is something I can’t control. Delving into the mental health field as a future psychotherapist, the purpose of whatever I create – however the audience receives it – there’s no right or wrong answer, just an open story. Food & landscapes have always intrigued me in this particular way. Some people love certain aspects or locations, while others dread it. Some people love a specific type of food but not others. No one person has the same reaction to different things & that’s what is so fascinating to me, to see life through the eyes of another human being.
When I create, I have a particular concept & narrative for it, but ultimately, if the audience would like to enjoy it without any background or story, that is also up to them. Viewing Art, like watching any movie, reading a book, or tasting a special menu, is very subjective.
“I’ve purposefully given artworks a title that invites an audience in…much like an open door to a gathering or party.”
You have mentioned your role as storyteller. How do you guide the narrative, from the title of the artwork to its description and the story that unfolds in it?
I’ve purposefully given artworks – particularly new bodies of work – a title that invites an audience in…much like an open door to a gathering or party. I grew up in an environment where Art was rarely seen as a necessity, so I knew the task for an artist was to be as engaging as possible – if not with their personality, then at the least with their artworks. Often, the title reveals a lot to the viewer & this should always be considered.
Once the artwork has been created & the title carefully selected (I have a list of names for potential artworks), it unfolds as an individual experience. Once invited, I leave the guests to wander around to enjoy the ambiance of it.
Thomas C. Chung. “As Far As I Could See…” (III), 2023
You are exploring “emotional landscapes.” Coincidentally, this is a term used by the singer Björk in her song Jóga, in which she refers to being puzzled by emotions and undergoing a healing process. Is this how you understand your exploration? Or is it more of a distanced observation?
Oh – how wonderful. Thank you for this observation. I’ve been a big fan of Björk for many years, especially when I was younger…yet I never put the terms together like you did. I love this connection. I know the words ’emotional landscapes’ popped into my artistic practice at a time when I noticed how viewing one place or space brought out differing reactions & sensations in others. A lot of this stems from my studying in psychotherapy, where no one situation is identical, although similar when answered by participants or clients. For some, this exploration could be seen as somewhat distanced yet intimate. The space in front of us isn’t necessarily a gauge for how close one feels towards something.
“These artworks point to a departure from childhood innocence, but also to longing for the past in a way that color cannot achieve.”
The series of artworks you present on Niio address the ability to find hope during times of hardship, which is something that everyone can relate to. The aesthetics and elements in them point to a more sombre, even melancholic atmosphere. Would you say that these artworks represent a coming of age, leaving aside the innocence of childhood and confronting the hard truths of adult life?
This series with Niio is particular in its aesthetics & I chose a black-and-white palette to illustrate this story. I’ve always found the limiting of colors to be very intriguing. I love to watch vintage movies because they have a very special quality. Sometimes, it can feel melancholic, while at other times, it can feel deeply romantic. These artworks pointed to a departure from childhood innocence, that’s for sure, but it also alludes to the longing for the past in a way that color cannot achieve. I wanted to insert an intangible without stating something obvious so people could have their journey & time to think for themselves.
3D motion designer and visual artist Kian Khiaban has had an outstanding trajectory since he graduated from UCLA in 2015. Working early on with fellow artist Refik Anadol, he has closely collaborated with him in some of his studio’s most spectacular projects and is now part of the team at the world famous Sphere, a groundbreaking spherical screen with 580,000 sq feet of LEDs. Khiaban’s artistic work focuses on nature and abstraction, conceiving art as a way of addressing human emotions and engaging in healing processes.
The artist has recently presented a solo artcast featuring five artworks in which he creates fantastical landscapes that depict different emotions. In the following interview, he dives into what these imaginary spaces mean to him, as well as his creative process and his views on the current state of digital art.
How did you get started in 3D animation? What interested you about this particular aspect of digital creativity?
I started doing 3D when I was thirteen. I got introduced to it through anime forums, actually. In the anime forums, every user would have their own design, which they called a signature, and they would teach people how to make their own signature. So through this I got introduced to Photoshop and 3D, and then when I went to university, I already had a whole portfolio of still images. They weren’t animations, they were just art. There I started to learn how to move the things that I had made. At UCLA I met Refik [Anadol], who was a grad student. He was using Cinema 4D, a professional 3D modeling, animation, simulation and rendering software. It was a good match between us, because we were both heavy C4D users, and then at some point Refik had an exhibition and I offered to help him, so we started collaborating and I worked my way up into his company and was part of its early establishment. This was around 2015, when I graduated.
“The way we worked [with Refik Anadol] is that he gave me a lot of freedom, maybe throwing an initial idea, and then I would go crazy with it.”
You have created numerous animations for the studio of Refik Anadol. Can you tell us about your creative process within this context? What have you contributed and what have you learned from this collaborative practice?
Working with Refik mainly consists in that he would come to me with an idea, especially a visual idea and would say: “this would be really great if you can make something like this.” I was very good at iterating, so I considered myself, especially at that time, a remixer. I created a lot of the visuals of the projects we were doing at his studio. For instance, we had a project calledInfinity Room. Refik said he had the idea of a room with mirrors on the top and bottom. So I experimented a lot, I did the sound design for it, made some animations, and gave it a particular character. Then Refik added some visuals onto it. In some projects he would take the lead, while in others I did for particular things. But the main characteristic of the way we worked is that he gave me a lot of freedom, maybe throwing an initial idea of what he was looking for, and then I would go crazy with it. Sometimes the project would develop in a totally different direction, but always with this ongoing conversation between us.
Kian Khiaban. An Open Heart, 2021.
On the other hand, I have also learned a lot from my commercial work, where I am given a style frame and I work on that, building an entire animation, and remixing it. I’ve gained a lot of technical knowledge and benefited from working with a team, which is something I love because it brings me multiple perspectives that widen mine. I would say that I’ve been lucky because in these jobs the clients have trusted me and given me a lot of freedom, and even allowed me to have some of my personal themes in my work. What I learn in my commercial work I later on apply it to my personal work. Working on one of these projects for eight hours every day, you get to experiment so much, and so I often develop things that seem perfect for one of my pieces, and then of course my personal work also inspires what I do for different clients.
“I love working with a team because it brings me multiple perspectives that widen mine.”
Currently I work at the Sphere in Las Vegas, in R&D and building the animations, and this is a very challenging type of shape because it is seamless. And you know, 3d animators don’t design in a seamless way. In addition, the form has to be a spherical camera, so there are a lot of little things you have to adjust for. But to be honest, I’m good at coming up with a lot of ideas, and then making things a bit prettier with each iteration. That’s what I do.
3D motion design by Kian Khiaban at the Sphere, Las Vegas, 2023.
The animations you have created have been displayed in very large installations and on the facades of famous buildings. How do you work on them when considering such a large scale, and an interaction with architecture?
The process starts by making a 3D model or a miniature of the building, because you need to be able to feel what you’re doing. If we don’t have the possibility of building a miniature version of what we’re doing, we do a VR version, building the space in 3D and then applying the projection. That gives you a starting place to experiment. But besides that I like to first consider where the building is located, in what city, what kind of environment is there around the building, what form does the building represent, and so forth. Then I try to build on top of that, but it depends on the project.
For instance, inWDCH Dreams, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in LA, there was the almost impossible task of mapping the shapes of Frank Gehry’s building, for which they had had developers working for years. We used 42 large scale projectors that were able to display 50K resolution images. We used the entire facade as a screen, applying the visuals I created to a 3D model in order to adapt to the undulating shapes.
Kian Khiaban. Long Walk, 2023.
Your personal work is often characterized by an interest in nature (real or imagined) and mesmerizing visual effects in which light has a critical role. What attracted you to creating these fantastic worlds and the lively activity that takes place in them?
I’ve always liked hiking a lot. When I was a kid, there was this one place I went to that brought a lot of peace in my mind. When you go into a natural setting by yourself, it becomes a way of finding yourself because you’re getting this new clarity and simplification. You can actually hear your own thoughts, and to me that is very relaxing. So I like nature because it has that healing quality of bringing clarity, lowering the volume and allowing a space for reflection.
As for the dream-like quality of my work, I believe it is related to who I am. I was a big daydreamer as a kid. I would play out scenarios a lot in my head, and I also spent many hours, year after year, in front of the computer. Playing video games and searching the Internet took me to a distant place, away from daily reality, and I think what I do now is a more sophisticated version of that. I’m building this space for myself to bring me peace and clarity, the same way when there was chaos around me, I could go to a video game and be taken into that fictional world.
“I like nature because it has that healing quality of bringing clarity, lowering the volume and allowing a space for reflection.”
In the artworks we now present on Niio, a common denominator is the depiction of emotions through digital landscapes. What do you find interesting about representing emotions in this way?
Maybe I should talk about why I always have a light in the center of each artwork. I don’t want to impose my intentions on the viewer’s interpretation of the artwork, but I think it is worth explaining this. The light represents the hope of getting out of a hard situation, the objective you try to follow to achieve that, and that makes you very focused. I feel that what has helped me survive in my chaotic environment all these years is being really focused. The light obviously has other meanings, it can be the sun, that so many civilizations have praised as a God, or the light that people having near death experience say they have seen in a pleasant field, and that has brought them the most peaceful feeling they’ve ever felt in their life. So what I mean is that these artworks are for me a way to express something personal, even intimate, in a more abstract form. For instance, one of my latest pieces is called Adrift at Sea, and it refers to the feeling of having to choose among different values and not being sure what to pick, which made me feel a bit lost.
Kian Khiaban. Wisdom, 2020.
Despite this personal connection with a human experience, there is generally a lack of human figures in these landscapes, why is that?
I want it to feel lonely. It’s that feeling I get when I go into nature, there’s no one around me. But it is not about loneliness: I can think of having people there, but it would change the whole dynamic of the piece. It can become about them, and I am not interested in representing people in these landscapes, which would take you into figuring out what they are doing, but rather to express a feeling that you can only experience looking at this landscape where there is no one else but you.
“These artworks are for me a way to express something personal, even intimate, in a more abstract form.”
From your perspective as an artist involved in acclaimed large scale projects, what is your opinion about the current perception of digital art? Do you think it has finally become a widely accepted form of contemporary art?
Generally speaking, it is much more respected than before, partly because of the NFT boom. However, NFTs also brought negative associations, with purely financial speculation and lack of quality. On the other hand, 3D animation is now much more popular because it is widely used in advertising. Another thing I find that is more present in digital art is this blending of fine art and commercial creativity, which is pretty much connected to what Andy Warhol did, or now Takashi Murakami and Jeff Koons, for instance. For someone like me, who works with commercial projects as well as my own artistic practice, this is quite interesting, and to be invited to a fine art exhibition as a digital artist is something that the 13-year computer gamer in me finds really amazing. Digital art is definitely becoming art. It should have happened 20 years ago, but it’s okay.
“I think Niio is great. I feel that you have a deep appreciation and understanding of art.”
How do you see a platform like Niio contributing to this popularization of digital art?
I think Niio is great. I’d say that’s why we connected so well early on, because I felt like you had a deep appreciation and understanding of art. And if you’re guiding this platform, you’re gonna take it in the right direction. The way the artwork descriptions are written, the way everything is laid out, is the way a gallery would lay it out. I also value that the artist’s opinion, or vision is involved in the process. I’ve been approached by other platforms, but I didn’t say yes to a lot of things because I felt like they were mainly a business. Too much of a pure business approach to art. And I think that what you all are doing at Niio is really what the artists are trying to do.
