Written in Blood
Tezos Art Review #2: On Sanguis Caecitas by MEK.txt and the evolution of pixel art
Late last year, I acquired an edition of Sanguis Caecitas by Michael Alexander AKA MEK.txt (@michaelmicasso on Twitter/X), a monumental work of pixel art serving both as a watershed moment in MEK’s artistic style and as a personal benchmark of my time in the Tezos art ecosystem. It’s one of the artworks in the KF Archive that I treasure most and a great place to begin processing my thoughts about pixel art as a medium.
Even at a glance, Sanguis Caecitas, which translates from the Latin as ‘Blood Blindness’, registers as an impressive composition. It features a statuesque, Greco-Roman figure holding a cross-like staff (or sword), eyes concealed in shadow, towering over a mountainous landscape framed by soaring arches. Does this figure represent justice? Truth? Violence? The central figure is illustrated in a style that MEK has been minting on Tezos since at least the middle of 2022 and which I think of as ‘pixel art inspired by classical masterpieces’ (from a variety of traditions). The works are studious, erudite, and clearly rendered at the level of the individual pixel.
What grabs me about this style is the careful placement of details that convey texture, volume, and lighting. The sheer quantity of detail MEK can pack into 1-bit (2-color) illustrations stupefies me. Take, for example, the figure’s garment in Sanguis Caecitas; consider how the folds and shadows of the fabric communicate, rather than obscure, the form of the figure. Greek sculptors of the Hellenistic period mastered the production of these effects in their statuary over 2000 years ago, and MEK’s deep engagement with the lessons of these masters is clearly evident in this style.
The mountainous landscape and archway surrounding the figure are rendered in a different style of pixel art altogether, though MEK has taken pains to integrate his two approaches. The landscape is not drawn pixel by pixel, but is made using a custom set of 8 x 16-pixel tiles, repeatable images that can be placed in a grid to compose a complex image from a few basic elements. Notice how all the buildings in Sanguis Caecitas are different, though they are made from the same handful of reusable components.
Tilesets were introduced in the early days of video games to conserve memory, reduce demand on graphics hardware, and increase processing speeds. To accomplish this, each tile’s image data is assigned an index number so it can be referred to and displayed by the game engine as needed, without having to store an entire game’s worth of maps in memory. Fortunately, a phenomenal amount of variety can be achieved with even a very limited tileset, and decades of iconic video games were built upon this method of storing and recalling image data. For instance, the Ultima IV tileset above has 256 tiles total, and many of them are actually animation cycles rather than unique tiles.
Creating an image from a tileset takes compositional skills that are related to, but distinct from, those employed in the style of pixel art described above, something like the difference between writing out a poem with a pen versus with rubber stamps, or painting a fresco into plaster versus assembling an intricate mosaic. Both pixels and tiles function as units placed within a rigid grid in the composition of a larger image, but, unlike pixels, tiles are representational units that convey meaning both individually and collectively. Thus, a single ‘water’ tile can be used to represent a puddle, while many of the same tile might suggest a stream, lake, or ocean.
MEK has been teasing his DOS-AGE collection on Twitter/X for a few months now, and, from what I’ve seen, it already shows the hallmarks of a virtuoso manifestation of tile art. The element that really jumps out from MEK’s work in this style, for me at least, is his judicious use of palette in combination with an extremely spare tileset. This tileset has, so far, been restricted to 1-bit (or 2 colors) per tile, i.e. a single-color foreground object against a black background, though the overall images usually incorporate a wider palette. For example, the forested hills of A Quite Town (2023) make use of only two ‘tree’ tiles and two ‘shrubbery’ tiles; if each of these tiles can appear in one of four different colors, then MEK has a lot more latitude to compose a scene with depth and tonal variation.
So how is it that Sanguis Caecitas, which boasts a grand total of four colors including its black background, can convey such a palpable sense of scale and depth? Well, part of the secret is MEK’s careful arrangement of tiles, using subtle variation to prevent regions of homogeneity or flatness. This technique ensures that the path in the foreground is emphasized by the negative space around it, and the geometry of the landscape, pointing in toward the mid-line of the composition, is reinforced by the highlighted face of each building.
Of course, depth and scale are also communicated by the figure towering over the landscape like the Colossus of Rhodes, rendered in a style that is itself highly dimensional with respect to the minimalist tileset surrounding it. The contrast between the simplicity of the tiny statues dotting the landscape and the highly-detailed central figure serves to dramatize their difference in size. The juxtaposition of these styles is a clever way to address tensions and raise questions about pixel art as a medium, questions like: is there a proper way to make art using pixels, and how does pixel art relate to traditional mediums, subject matters, and technologies? I imagine MEK, who has found success with his earlier style, must think a great deal about these questions as he embarks in a new direction. Another tension I see here exists between the artist’s need to explore and innovate and their audience’s need for more of what they already love. MEK’s answer appears to be: why not a healthy dose of both?
And I agree! However, MEK’s use of his trademark pixel art style alongside a fantastic new tileset is not what makes Sanguis Caecitas a masterpiece in my mind. It’s not about having a bit of both styles, or even the tension between the two; for me, it’s the places where the boundaries between them dissolve, suggesting a unified style that points to this specific moment in MEK’s evolution as an artist. It’s about finding harmony amid disharmony, quiet moments of compromise.
Take a close look at where the background landscape meets the tiles of the mid- and foreground. It’s as though the crest of the hill passes across the pink region in the lower left, behind the tiled trees, and in front of the dithered gradient. There are shrubbery and tree tiles placed sporadically against this gradient, blurring the boundary between tileset and patterned background. Notice also how the path on the right leads up to a door seamlessly integrated into the thigh of the colossal figure. These subtle details trick the eye into accepting both the rectangular tiles and the individually-placed pixels as belonging to the same landscape. The central figure stands amid this landscape, not apart from or in contrast to it.
Another fascinating detail illustrating the harmony between unlike elements is the almost imperceptible irregularity in the curve of the arch and the keys arranged around the figure’s head. The contrapposto posture of the figure leans to the left, so for their head and upper body to appear centered in the negative space created by the arch, the arch itself must be slightly asymmetrical. This decision works against the logic of tile art, which favors blocky regularity, and, without the central figure, I imagine the arch would look somewhat lopsided. However, the naturalistic pose of the figure is balanced so nicely with the negative space around it that, in truth, I am not sure how I noticed the asymmetry in the first place. This interplay between arch and figure is precisely what I mean by a moment of harmonic compromise, making it one of my favorite features of this work.
There is plenty more I could say about Sanguis Caecitas as an artwork, but instead of going on in that direction, I must admit that my enthusiasm for it is at least partially related to my experience of minting and collecting art on Tezos. I’ve been in contact with MEK for about six months, and in that time he has not only become one of my major aesthetic influences, he has repeatedly demonstrated his commitment to the community of artists, collectors, and developers that he shares space with, including me. Of the many people I have met via web3 recently, Michael is one of the few who goes out of his way to reach beyond the Twitter feed and blockchain to connect person-to-person. He’s a busy guy, but never too busy for a friendly voice message or kind comment about a recent drop. You can respect and admire someone’s art all you like, but it’s much easier to do so if you also already respect and admire the artist as a human being.
I got my edition of Sanguis Caecitas in advance of its public listing through a series of back-channel deals, and this also contributes to my satisfaction with owning the work. In short, I was able to wrangle an edition of Wild MissingNo. 3B2!9, a limited edition collaborative artwork I made with MEK, back from one of my best collectors so that I could trade it with one of MEK’s best collectors for their advance copy of Sanguis Caecitas. Normally, I can’t afford to compete with MEK’s collectors, but I was determined to get a hold of this one, so I prepared myself and my meagre $XTZ savings for a knife-fight on objkt.com. When the chance to trade arose, it seemed like a rare opportunity to cash in on the good will I’ve attempted to cultivate with new friends and collectors over the last year. And honestly, it feels pretty damn good to pull a world-class work like this on such terms.
In summary, Sanguis Caecitas is one of my treasures for a lot of reasons. Many of these reasons you will find in the artwork itself, some you will find in its provenance, and the rest you’ll have to look for in the intangible links of friendship and community that bind us one to another.
