Abstract Art: Past, Present, Future
Eleven years ago, Satoshi Nakamoto posted a message on BitcoinTalk, addressing points about scalability and transaction rates raised by a user called Bytemaster. In the post, Nakamoto spoke about the limitations of the then-current system, explaining that the current process was lacking for processing on a large scale.
Over the next two decades, digital art and cryptoart will experience a similar ascendancy as Nakamoto’s revolutionary vision being discussed on that forum that day. It will scale up immensely, as we’re seeing the beginnings of now, eventually assimilating with the traditional art world; or more so, the traditional art world will assimilate with it. With that growth, so too will digital abstract art.
NFTs are in their relative infancy, digital abstract cryptoart more so, and just like Satoshi’s idea once was, both are in the early stages of global understanding and acceptance. This essay explores abstract art, with particular focus on non-generative abstract art; where it’s been, where it is, why it is, and crucially, where it’s heading, in a digital world.
Abstract Art, A Short History
Abstract art has not only existed since the inception of sentient creativity; it is arguably the inception of sentient creativity, or more so, the manifest symptom of that sentience, recorded. The earliest ‘art’ ever discovered is of abstract zigzag-like shapes scored into a fossil mussel’s shell some 430,000 years ago, by our antecedents Homo Erectus. An even older candidate is the cupoles and petroglyphs discovered in Bhimbetka and Daraki-Chattan, dated to around 700,000 years ago, though these may have had some other symbolic purpose than artistic expression.
Nevertheless, in the prehistoric era, increasingly complex abstract shapes and symbols would begin to appear on stone, cave walls, animal bones and numerous other surfaces — many hundreds of thousands of years before humanity (Homo Sapiens) had even formulated written languages. Way back then, as our brains evolved, so too did our creativity, and ‘real life’ representations (animals, people, the sun etc) would soon dominate the cave walls of the Palaeolithic era. Just how much of that, abstract or otherwise, has been lost forever by time, we will sadly never know.
Ever since, the recorded history of art has been replete, predominantly, with shapes that are very obviously ‘representational’ of real life figures, from the bulls and bisons of Lascaux caves to the majesty of Renaissance masterpieces, with ‘pure-abstract’ only seeing global acceptance in the early-to-mid 20th Century.
To note, terms often used in art are ‘representational’ (art which resembles real life) and ‘non-representational’ (abstract art), however these are somewhat ill-fitting and inadvertently misleading terms. For all abstract art is representational, to varying degrees — shapes look like something else, colours resemble something else in real life, and abstract artworks can represent emotions, moods, thoughts, and thus, are entirely representational. So for the purposes of this essay, art which very obviously depicts real-life figures will be referred to as ‘figurative’, and the ‘abstract art’ referred to here is mostly that of a hardcore-abstract nature: shapes, colours, lines, patterns, brushwork, with no deliberate ‘real-life’ representations or visual references immediately evident.
Abstract art exploded into the Western collective consciousness in the early 20th Century, initiated by the paintings of Wassily Kandinsky, Piet Mondrian and Kazimir Malevich, among others. Before them, artists like JMW Turner and James Whistler had moved towards abstraction as their output matured, and Paul Cezanne would later deconstruct his paintings into more abstracted shapes, setting of a seminal chain of events. Though the true pioneer of Westernised abstract art as we know it today, was Hilma Af Klint, who received the credit she was due much later.
However, abstract art had been already been widespread for aeons. Abstract patterns and geometric shapes have been dominant in Islamic cultures since the early days of the religion’s formation, largely the result of the doctrine’s critical view of figurative representation. Abstract shapes and patterns have been prevalent in ancient African tribal art, attire, basket trays, cups and decoration long before that; the same for the ancient Egyptians, Aborigines, Aztecs and Incas, among other cultures. In Asia, Chinese and Japanese artists were depicting very-obviously abstract artworks as early as 900 years ago. Abstract artistic expression has been everywhere, in variant forms.
The art-form, though, would really come to the fore on a monumental scale in its proliferation in the United States in the 1950s, with the inception of what came to be known as Abstract Expressionism (AbEx), an assertive, thriving movement that was, as some have uncovered, covertly co-opted by the CIA as part of the Cold War to see America rid France of the title of the epicentre of the painting world, and thus, ‘one-up’ Russia. And it did.
Nevertheless, AbEx brought the abstract magnificence of Willem de Kooning, Mark Rothko, Jackson Pollock, Franz Kline, Joan Mitchell, Helen Frakenthaler, Clyfford Still, Lee Krasner and Ad Reinhardt, among countless other talented painters scrambling to carve out their own signature definitive abstracted ‘style’. Mention should go to drip pioneer Janet Sobel, overlooked just like the aforementioned Af Klint.
These alien new abstract paintings soon hung in galleries across America, massive monoliths that towered over France’s delicate Impressionist works of just 60 years prior. Their creators swiftly explored every abstract variation possible: drip ones, zip ones, clean ones, messy ones, plain ones, massive ones, ones only of solid colour blocks or lines, even ones with just layers of black pigment laid upon top of each other. AbEx soon rippled outward into Europe, but by the time every abstract avenue was covered, America had moved onto Pop Art, and ever since, abstract painting has been declared dead many times over.
Not even 50 years after Malevich’s radical painting White on White (1918), the abstracted image was considered dead, everything forthwith just a facsimile of everything that had come before. But now’s different… Now we have the digital era.
Neurological Appreciation
This is where it gets interesting. If abstract art was so early in humanity’s history, why does the history of art mostly contain obviously-figurative representations?
It’s a question with many interlinking factors at play, not making for a straightforward answer, but among the reasons were cultural traditionalism and Western religious conservatism (in dictating Christian pictorial iconography). There is also other societal structures — much art of old was made exclusively for the wealthy on commission, from artists expected to make traditional portraits of Kings, Queens and aristocracy, a strict convention that by its very nature stifles image innovation. The advent of photography was another, as this quickly resulted in a shift away from the desire or need to depict realism (as photographs could now do this with one click). Which art was recorded by art historians also played a fundamental role, with a Westernised bias rife for many centuries.
But what’s clear is that even in modern times, abstract art is still more niche than its vastly more popular figurative counterpart. Today we can see the popularity asymmetry in local shops, private galleries, large public galleries, and the art market itself, despite the work of a select few abstract artists commanding huge sales at the highest level (Rothkos, de Koonings, and contemporary painters like Gerhard Richter, Cecily Brown or Zhu Jinshi). Think of all the world’s most recognisable and widely reproduced paintings; Mona Lisa, Starry Night, The Scream, The Kiss, Guernica, Girl with a Pearl Earring, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. All of them are figurative.
This asymmetry is unsurprising given that much of the last 1,000 years of created art has been of a figurative nature, but even in the modern day, figurative art is still asymmetrically more popular.
The author of this essay is not in possession of exact numbers — for lack of them existing rather than want — but when considering the wide-scale popularity of reproductions of figurative artists over their abstract counterparts, even today, it’s logical to conclude that a large majority of artists create figurative art, and a large majority of society leans towards appreciating figurative art. A search through Saatchi Art brings up 698,000 results for Abstract Expressionism, out of 3.6 million artworks; general Abstract Art, 1.2 million. The ratio differences are evident. But why?
As explained, the most readily apparent reason is because most art created in the last thousand years has been figurative for cultural reasons, and art history has predominantly recorded ‘Western’ art.
Another is likely the result of perception, of the tropes thrown upon abstract art; the art-form being ‘easy’ to do. “I don’t get it, it’s just shapes” is expressed often, whereas figurative is immediately accepted as supernaturally difficult and out of reach for normal people (after all, by childhood, we’ve all tried our hand at drawing faces and hands — getting good takes a lot of practice).
This is entirely understandable, yet any artist reaching the point where they understand composition, form and the relationship between colours well enough to create abstract images that can, say, evoke emotion in another, can take an equivalent amount of years and graft as learning to masterfully draw a face. With abstract art, there are no visual references for a viewer to relate to, only colour, shapes, and their composition. An artist has to convey what they seek to convey through that alone, and in the viewer’s case, it is far easier for the human brain to relate to that which is most recognisable, faces etc. Still, figurative is viewed far more advanced by most. This is something seasoned abstract artists develop a thick skin for hearing.
But arguably the most important reason, is the evidence that points towards this asymmetry being the result of tangible neurological differences. In a study several years ago, later shared by the BBC, neuroscientist Dr Luca Ticini discovered that when magnetic pulses are applied to certain areas of the brain, our appreciation of abstract or figurative art can change. When we look at visually-pleasing artworks, the pleasure centres in our brain are activated. Using magnetic pulses to interfere with the neural activity in the prefrontal cortex decreases aesthetic appreciation for both abstract and figurative art. But applying those pulses to only the posterior parietal area — the area involved in the recognition of objects — decreases enjoyment of figurative art alone.
Now, learning your entire appreciation for abstract or figurative art is merely the result of something that can be flipped like a light switch is admittedly a bit depressing; especially so if, like an artist, such appreciation dominates your day-to-day life.
But crucially, from this study and others, it’s very possible that those who inherently appreciate abstract art, have distinctly different inherent electrical activity in their posterior parietal areas, over figurative lovers. There are also likely also those who have a balance of both; a spectrum of sorts, of variant electrical activity.
Could it then be that the neurological differences that create dominant abstract or figurative appreciation are split into relatively defined and assessable percentages, just like how we see evident consistent splits across populations and ages for say, conservatism or liberalism? And in cultures unconstrained by cultural forces such as religion to dictate what images can or cannot be, such as those in the West, might these tangible differences manifest most naturally, ie be closer in alignment with that inherent neurological difference we naturally see between humans, as in the abstract/figurative divide today? It would come as no surprise to this author if, in the future, the scientifically-assessed ratios for societal appreciation for either, mirrored the ratio percentages we see in Westernised art markets today.
Abstract Art, The Present
These questions will no doubt be definitively answered in the coming decades. Nevertheless, this has significance. For the aforementioned asymmetry is also present in today’s NFT market. There are, quite simply, few pure-abstract cryptoartists active, non-generative and not.
Now conversations around ‘markets’ and finances are ugly for almost all artists, repellent in fact. First and foremost, they are irrelevant to why we are obsessed with art and compelled to create — no income, sales or markets can alter or stop any artist’s intrinsic need to make. Mere consideration of the financial aspect can be overwhelming, confusing and unpleasant. Yet such contemplations can be beneficial to an artist — for most serious artists seek to create for a living, and this requires income and a thriving wider market to make that income within. Just as it is wise for any intrepid explorer to understand the jungle they may find themselves in, it is wise for artists to consider this subject deeper, as unpleasant as it can be for those who, like I, simply like to draw every day.
The NFT figurative-to-abstract ratio would be expected to be as similarly asymmetrical as it is in wider traditional art. But right now in NFTs, curiously it is massively asymmetrical. This Twitter list created by the abstract artist AltJames, which collates every abstract crypto artist that he discovers or is made aware of, has only 61 members, out of how many thousands of artists here active in NFTs? Of course there will be more not on that list, but the limited numbers have been noted by many abstract artists here. Again, no exact figures are available, but back-of-the-napkin estimates of the current NFT ratio would be 95% to 5%, maybe more, maybe less. (Art Blocks’ generative abstract artists are being purposefully omitted in the ratio here for reasons that will be explained below, despite some being on James’ list).
So with the exception of Refik Anadol and his groundbreaking machine-learning abstract infusions, which transcend comprehension of what abstract art can be, and the abstract painter Thank YouX who straddles a rare blend of both physical and digital abstract art, where are the premium non-generative abstract cryptoartists?
From an artist’s perspective, this wider deficit presents an incredibly exciting time to be creating abstract digital art. When considering the larger picture, if you’re an abstract digital cryptoartist reading this, you’re still early. Yes, there’s OGs active here long before you and this painter were, building what we’ve entered, but you’re still early.
From a collector’s perspective, it presents a remarkable window of opportunity. There are countless prominent figurative digital artists, Beeple, Fewocious, XCOPY to name but a few. But where are all the premium abstract digital artists? And over the next five years, will the price of non-generative digital abstract art remain at the level it is now, as every other genre across the board rises? Of course not.
The nature and ethos of cryptoart is that mainstream acceptance can be dictated more on its own terms. However, collective growth is still dependant on way more artists and buyers entering the space. This will be the public, institutions, private galleries and traditional art collectors. When the latter two begin entering, they will be curating and scouring for artists in various genres; those of them who collect abstract will certainly seek out Art Blocks, but they will also seek the leading pure-abstract cryptoartists too.
An understandable counter against the aforementioned ratios mentioned prior is, inevitably, the popularity of Art Blocks. However, Art Blocks is somewhat of an outlier, because it brings with it two aspects that would distort the above analysis; the welcome and long-overdue widespread recognition of generative art, and the strong trusted branding of Art Blocks. Widespread appreciation of abstract art is taking place through Art Blocks, and this is fantastic, but it’s also infused with the newfound appreciation of generative art — collectors including this author are buying because it’s generative — and also, collectors are buying Art Blocks because it’s Art Blocks. It’s a reputable brand of quality output backed by known founders. There’s nothing wrong with any of that. Art Blocks is a revelation, a landmark movement. It’s just that it’s not applicable for ratio comparison of figurative and individual non-generative abstract artists. When factoring in Art Blocks, we would inevitably see an increase in those aforementioned ratios. But the deficit of non-generative abstract artists would remain the same.
Any such essay on abstract art would also, ideally, cover generative abstract art in great detail, which as an artform that began in the 1960s, is finally receiving long-overdue celebration and acceptance. This essay focuses more on non-generative abstract art, and it’s also appropriate that such generative explorations are deferred to those vastly more knowledgeable on this subject than this author. Which is why linked here is a recent feature from Tyler Hobbs, creator of Fidenzas, as well as the essential reading of this in-depth feature from three years ago from Artnome here.
Speak to collectors of FOMO-free non-generative abstract art, physical or otherwise, and what is immediately understood is that most collect out of appreciation. It isn’t just another purchase or an investment; they are moved by the artwork, the colours and composition do something to their minds and emotions. Obviously, the neural architecture of said minds must be arranged in a way for such appreciation, much like how a picture more ‘representational of real life’ would do the same in someone neurologically geared for figurative appreciation.
Why this is all noteworthy, is because with this asymmetry, we can expect to see a change at some point. There will be still a minority of art collectors who collect digital abstract art because they love and appreciate it. There will be the larger portion of collectors who won’t purchase it because it simply does nothing for them. But soon, there will be a curious middle-ground — collectors that do not inherently ‘appreciate’ abstract art but who foresee the massive room for growth of the non-generative digital abstract art market in comparison to its figurative counterpart.
Coinciding with this, as the wider art market forays into the NFT world, as we’re slowly seeing the beginnings of right now, traditional collectors and their expert advisors will look for new digital art being made across all genres: painting, sculpture, photography, collage, glitch, animation, film, 3D renders, poems, it all — ones employing complex coding or novel ideas like NFTs that disintegrate with time. As said earlier, non-generative abstract digital art will of course be included amongst these.
Once these two things converge, which could be soon or take some years, an explosion in the non-generative abstract digital art market appears inevitable. We’ve seen hints with the new artform of generative art, and alternative forms of abstract digital art will likely follow. If figurative digital art is Bitcoin in 2021, with still much room to rise, abstract digital art (both generative and not) is the low-market cap of Ethereum in 2014, with vastly more room to grow.
So it’s very possible that the pioneering abstract images of Robness on Hicetnunc, or various other abstract cryptoartists here or soon to enter, will experience monumental growth over the next decade, both in reputation and cost. Can anyone say definitively who? Of course not. Can some of this be argued away as conjecture? Of course it can. But are there indicators of why some artists active today would experience this, what they are doing and that work’s placing within the history and future of abstract art, generative and not? Yes, there are.
Listed at the bottom of this essay is a wide range of active abstract artists for the reader to discover and determine for themselves, and it includes generative ones too — because they also of course should be included in any conversation about abstract crypto art. The list is not exhaustive, nor ‘curated’ nor this author’s own personal preference. It’s taken merely from awareness of their presence, and from AltJames’ list, and any abstract artists missing from it, is unintentional and limited by time constraints. It incorporates both groundbreaking OGs and newbies, and no doubt there will be some artists absent, so feedback is greatly welcomed for it to be accurately updated.
Disclaimer: this author is of course also an abstract painter, and thus, bias towards abstract art undoubtedly exists, no matter how objective or thorough the analysis seeks to be. This author also owns some art by Robness and some others listed below. Based on prior posts, Robness might likely conclude this author is merely shilling their bags by mentioning him or others. It’s understandable but it’s inaccurate, not least because its author doesn’t own the art of about 80% of the artists listed below, but also, because the reduction of this essay or mention of Robness’ images to a mere shill, demeans why this author would wish to place Robness’ images in any conversation about abstract art, or about their significance to its history. His images represent a nexus between the old and new abstracted image, the traditional and the digital era, created by an OG cryptoartist and put on a blockchain at a still-early stage. It’s imperative that they are mentioned for that reason alone.
It’s also possible Robness would repel the very assignation of him being an abstract artist, being a multifarious artist who creates in many genres. But in the context of abstract art, that body of work is evidence that he is an artist who creates abstract art, hence the classification for this essay.
Strongly-held beliefs are always to be scrutinised and such scrutiny is welcomed here. All feedback is welcomed. The conviction expressed here is based upon the clear asymmetry of today’s NFT market in relation to wider culture, and that deficit of pure-abstract non-generative digital artists active today. It’s also underpinned by an awareness of the traditional art market and its tastes; abstract art is undoubtedly among them, even if lesser so than figurative.
Future Abstractions
“Painting is dead”, said Paul Delaroche in 1840, upon seeing the first daguerreotype, an invention which was essentially the birth of photography. The statement has been said before and after countless times. Delaroche was of course very wrong about painting being deceased — Cezanne, Picasso, Matisse, Monet, Manet, Renoir, van Gogh, Dali, Kadinsky, Hopper, Kahlo, O’Keefe, de Kooning, Rothko, Pollock, Bacon and Freud, and everyone else, were still yet to come — and those saying painting has nowhere to go now, are wrong too.
Abstract painting is currently being redefined and revolutionised. What has existed for some time, and what we are seeing now, is abstract art and the abstracted image moving into and melding with the digital realm. Paint on canvas has been replaced with pixels and datamosh. That old, dead abstracted image reanimated from the hearse. Before, abstract expression was placed upon cave walls or canvas. It’s now being filtered through digital software, altered, bent, layered, cut, glitched, cut and pasted, stretched, inverted, pulled apart and put together again. Strange digital landscapes experienced through heart-tugs of colour. Shapes and images animated and alive. Beautiful complex patterns randomly generated into existence. Uncanny abstract images now exist that resonate with our digital experiences and interactions, and also, the middle-ground between our physical and digital lives; bridges between old and new, or simply, just new. Before, paint and pigments were our data to communicate with; now it is pixels.
It is also worth noting that there are many artists making such art outside of the cryptoart too, though, as evidenced, the numbers within are few.
We are seeing entire new abstract genres unfold before our very eyes, and the significance of this in the context of the history and future of abstract art cannot be understated. Just as XCOPY et al will soon likely become some of the largest artists in the world, some abstract digital artists active today or soon to enter will likely be, in a decade or two, some of the world’s leading abstract artists — trailblazers and innovators of abstract art in a digital world. It’s now easy to foresee Tyler Hobbs and others being such in the generative genres, but in this painter’s opinion, and keep in mind it is an opinion, it would come as no surprise if Robness’ abstractions were at the very forefront of non-generative abstract cryptoart.
So, where next for this abstract digital renaissance? Digital abstract art will slowly but surely cement itself as a respected genre on a global scale. There will be much kickback, as there is with all innovation and new genres; mockery, sneering, derision etc by the wider public. But like Bitcoin, it’s out of the box now, and it’s unstoppable.
As with much digital art being made today, over the coming decade, abstract art will break out in various strands. The immense abstractions of Refik Anadol may soon grace Tate’s illustrious Turbine Hall, or even better, Tate’s metaverse Turbine Hall. His ‘smaller’ dynamic paintings exhibited in MoMA exhibitions in New York alongside Af Klint, Kandinsky, Pollock and the early abstract art of other cultures — akin to exhibiting the Mars Rover spaceships alongside the plane of the Wright Brothers’ landmark first flight. Visitors worldwide may be viewing these exhibitions from their bedrooms, inside the MoMA’s own metaverse, via virtual reality headsets. Art will be exhibited in all sorts of inventive and novel ways, metaverse and not, by crypto-native galleries such as the Museum of Crypto Art, and others that arise soon.
Soon enough, digital abstract art will reside in digital frames in the world’s greatest museums and galleries, visitors reading QR codes in place of wall labels; the same in reputable physical crypto art galleries, which will grow in sizes comparable to the old guard. Virtual reality will be used to create massive three-dimensional abstract murals, for metaverse visitors to walk through and around. Augmented Reality will see abstract art everywhere in the physical world. Transfixing abstract animations will grace and envelop physical and digital buildings. There will be abstract compositions spun on surfaces from Lightform technology, holographic abstract paintings, and massive interactive VR/metaverse abstract paintings whereby the viewer actually becomes part of the creation or destruction process, adding or removing pixellated paint in dynamic digital paintings. The possibilities arising from the new technology are essentially boundless.
New software will also spring up everywhere to allow artists to push the boundaries of the abstracted image, and new sub-genres and now-unthinkable movements of abstract art will form out of it all.
We will also see more and more stunning generative abstract art from further Art Blocks projects, and imitators, as generative abstract art takes its rightful place as a significant art-form, just like Surrealism, Cubism or Impressionism is… What will future historians call the generative abstract art movement decades from now… Codism?
Painting, Redefined
There will be artworks that look like nothing we’ve ever seen before, and also, art we have seen before. Common criticisms of digital abstract art even vaguely resembling their physical counterparts are prevalent today, that nothing viewed on a screen can replicate the experience of being in front of a physical abstract painting. “A digital painting can never be or replicate a physical painting” and “If I wanted to see a painting, I’d just go to a gallery and view the real thing” are two heard most often.
There’s validity to this critique; physical paintings have three-dimensional layers and textures which can alter the way a painting looks as light or shadow spreads across its surface at different hours, or how light interacts with differing colour pigments. Standing in front of a physical painting can be a magical experience, which say a print of the exact same work, would fall short. Few would argue against that. When considering only this aspect, paintings on screens indeed become ‘substitutes’ for the ‘real thing’.
Yet the key point missed is that digital paintings exist in and of themselves. They are not three-dimensional paintings (though, ironically, that is coming). They are paintings created in a digital world, for a digital world. They are very much the ‘real thing’ in the context of this, and can be converted into the physical if sought, just as the reverse can; physical objects being photographed to become digital.
Notably, digital paintings already exist which are created only to be converted into physical artworks, digital merely being the means of creation. In the same way that Zaha Hadid’s One Thousand Museum building once existed as a digital blueprint on the architect’s computer. We all accept that the One Thousand Museum building exists, that it is the ‘real’ thing we stand in front of and marvel; the tangible and ordained end result of the creation process, and the digital file is merely the means to create, plan, refine and bring it into physical existence.
This strand of creation is best exemplified today with one pioneer, who for years now has been converting abstract digital paintings into physical form. Otto Ford’s work is created digitally, for the specific purpose of being printed and displayed physically, hung in massive physical form as ‘real’ paintings are, yet very obviously created digitally and printed ‘flat’. These stunning artworks existed in the digital realm in the act of creation, and now exist in the ‘real world’ in their own right. They are physical artworks birthed digitally. And no, this author does not own one to be shilling it, nor is Ford a cryptoartist.
It was once unthinkable that galleries would ever simultaneously host oil paintings and a tank of formaldehyde with a real dead shark inside, in the same room, with both considered art. Now that’s just a modern art gallery with a specific Damien Hirst in it.
In galleries across the world soon, we can expect digital abstract paintings that exist only within digital murals. Hung alongside them, digital abstract paintings that exist in physical tangible space as physical objects, like that of Ford’s. Some of either will look obviously digital, some not.
But with enough time — and this is where it gets really interesting — hung alongside those will be paintings created digitally, that are then reproduced in physical tangible form, but replete with three-dimensional curvatures and brushstrokes that AI software has scanned, artificially created and printed as fully three-dimensional. We will be able to feel the bumps and raises of normal paint, but the initial creation process was just pixels. These paintings will be indiscernible from the real thing. The tech is already part of the way there. With enough time, someone viewing any newly-made painting won’t even immediately know in what format the painting was created. We will likely see world-class sculptures resting in galleries that were created in an app then 3D printed to exact harmonious specifications — Raf Grassetti levels, but in physical form. For the first time in the entire history of art, humans will create art in another realm and convert into the physical realm something indistinguishable from ‘real-life’ art. That is breathtaking.
What’s taking place, and will continue to take place, is the eradication of boundaries. Soon there will be digital paintings that exist only as digital paintings, exhibited in metaverses; physical paintings that exist only as physical paintings; digital paintings that exist only to be made into physical paintings, the digital file destroyed after; and physical paintings that exist only to be photographed and become digital NFTs, with the physical destroyed after. And all in between.
As for the critics of digital paintings — abstract and not — for said paintings’ futility of realism when compared to their physical counterparts, what happens when 3D printers become ubiquitous and affordable enough that we all have them in our homes, able to 3D-print out our newly-purchased NFT painting, digitally signed by the artist and indistinguishable from a physically-created painting, three dimensional-curvatures and all? What is ‘real’ then?
When considering all these inevitabilities, it is somewhat counterproductive of any open mind to exhibit ‘image maximalism’ (nothing can compete with another form) or digital maximalism (the future is digital only). Doing so is akin to being unwittingly ensnared under the same trance as those who exhibit physical maximalism (which I, admittedly, was once guilty of).
There is no doubt digital art is the future — this painter believes and wills that with enough fervent conviction to be creating digital art every single day. We only need look at just how much the digital realm has came to dominate our lives in the last fifteen years to foresee what will occur in the future, and across many spheres. The gap between physical and digital art will close quickly, in both creation and demand; metaverses will expand to incomprehensible levels; much traditional physical art will be blockchained for the immutable provenance and transactions made this way; digital art will be absolutely everywhere in both our normal and metaverse lives, and eventually, what will be commonplace in our day-to-day will be virtual reality indistinguishable from real life, as hinted at by the latest Unreal MetaHuman Engine. But with dissolving boundaries and impending innovations of what a painting can be, the future isn’t quite as clear cut as being digital-only; physical art will still exist and like digital, strong it also will be. It could even see a major resurgence in dominance simply because of 3D printing, it’s hard to know for certain. But one thing is clear; it’s a fascinating time to be here, creating, collecting, learning and participating.
The future is overwhelmingly exciting and abstract digital art is a part of that future. Soon there will be few rules around what paintings can or cannot be, just as cryptocurrency is shattering existing structures around currency, deFI with financial systems and NFTs, the stuffy traditional structures of the traditional art-world. And just as these prehistoric systems are being redefined, so too is the abstracted image. For as long as humans still have photoreceptors in their eyes for absorbing and appreciating colour, inherent neurological appreciation for abstract shapes, computers or smartphones to assign screensavers to, and walls in their physical or metaverse homes to exhibit art from, non-generative abstract digital art will be with us.
Over the next two decades, all of the aforementioned shifts and much more, will move at light-speed, accelerating exponentially like many advancements of the future, and digital art and digital abstract art will scale up into something nigh-on unfathomable. This painter is ecstatic to be a part of it, to create it, to see it every day, to own the work of their contemporaries, and watch it develop and unfold into various strands.
Of course, not all of the coming changes will be the result of the advent of blockchain, but blockchain will indeed be a fundamental force in the development and scaling-up of digital abstract art. Both generative and non-generative digital abstract art will become prominent art-forms in their own right. And as Satoshi wrote to Bytemaster in his response around scalability on that fabled July day, “If you don’t believe it or don’t get it, I don’t have the time to try to convince you, sorry.”
Abstract Artists
(in no order, not exhaustive)
— Robness (@robnessofficial)
— AltJames (@AltJamesA)
— Stashxyz (@stashxyz)
— Bilnd (@BilndArt)
— wgmeets.eth (@wgmeets)
— Hola Lou (Hola Lou)
— David Iain Brown (@DavidIainBrown)
— Alex Maceda (@_alexmaceda_)
— Lisanne Haack (@paranoidhill)
— DEVOID (@Devoid_Art)
— Aertime (@AERTIME)
— abysms11 (@abysms11)
— Artist JoyJo (@ArtistJoyJo)
— Colin Thomas Frangicetto (@colincirca)
— Yeli (@yelitzardgz)
— Rui Major (@ruimajor_)
— mewpsd (@mew_psd)
— mera takeru (@mera_takeru)
— Rob Eberle (@ROBEBERLE)
— Bay Fragile (@bayfragile)
— Jack Kaido (@thisjackkaido)
— Fiona Castle-Schmidt (@fcastle_schmidt)
— CubanToast (@CubanToast27)
— carmacace.crypto (@carmacace)
— CMYK (@CMYKRevolution)
— Jenk (@JenkM8)
— Labels on Humans (@Labelsonhumans)
— I Am Wessel (@iamwesselart)
— Twiceinadream (@JessicaPeter)
— Lago (@Lago_artist)
— StrawberryJester888 (@SJester888)
— Fractus Barnsley (@FractusBarnsley)
— Kaloh.eth/tez (@Kaloh_nft)
— Michael Stevenson (@mstevensonart)
— Gisel Florez (@GiselFlorez)
— Guido Disalle (@GuidoDisalle)
— Mel Shapcott (@MelShapcott)
— SasGlas (@SGlasmachers)
— Dave Court (@dave_fools)
— mimnermos.eth (@mimnermosart)
— edwyn.gift (@edwyngift)
— Femdemic_Creations (@FemdemicC)
— Agueda (@aaguedaa)
— Nikole Kapo (@KapoNikole)
— sarahwanka.eth (@bysarahwanka)
— ΛLGΘMΨSΓIC (@algomystic)
— latent.dream (@latent_dream)
— festinalente.tez (@festinalente6)
— Froggy (@AncientFroggy)
— Rebellicca (@rebellicca)
— Crypto Abstract (@abstractnfts)
Generative Abstract Artists
(in no order, not exhaustive)
— anf (@studioanf)
— Andrew (@pixlpa)
— Koba.eth (@Koba_K24)
— Shvembldr (@shvembldr)
— Mind Your Matter (@Mind_yourMatter)
— Tom Langefield (@tompop99)
— Yazid (@Yazid)
— Eltono (@Eltono)
— Brad (@artplusbrad)
— Hexeosis (@hexeosis)
— Michael Connolly (@xiiixiii)
— Martin Grasser (@martingrasser)
— Kjetil Golid (@kGolid)
— pxlq (@pxlqart)
— Snowfro (@ArtOnBlockchain)
— Jeff Davis (@jeffgdavis)
— Dmitri Cherniak (@dmitricherniak)
— Aaron Penne (@aaronpenne)
— Sgt Slaughtermelon (@sgt_sl8termelon)
— Radix (@robdixon)
The entire list of Art Blocks artists can be found here.
The artists on AltJames’ list can be found here.
