Waiting To Be Signed · interviews on generative art, on-chain
← Index
Interview // JAN 2024

Frank Manzano & Artie Handz

Title: Perfection Isn't Interesting
Role: Generative artist
Platform: Verse
Duration: 55m
Hosts: Will & Trinity
Listen on Spotify Guest on X Download MP3
#053 · Perfection Isn't Interesting
Self-hosted audio // press play
55m
MP3 ↓

Spot an error? Highlight the words or lines you want to fix — an “edit” button appears, and the panel opens with your selection ready to edit.

Will: All right, hello and welcome everyone to another episode of Waiting to Be Signed, a special interview episode — a rare two-guest interview. Today we've got Artie Handz and artist Frank Manzano on to talk about an upcoming release on Verse. How's it going, everybody?

Frank Manzano: Very well.

Artie Handz: Nice to meet you, Will. Doing well.

Will: Artie, it was great to hear from you and get introduced via Jamie from Verse. We're always looking for opportunities to talk to different kinds of artists, and we broadly consider AI to be generative, so Frank, you're a perfect guest for us to continue branching out into AI stuff. Let's start with an introduction from you, Artie. What's your background in art and collecting, and how did you come to start the Artie Handz Gallery?

Artie Handz: I'm Artie Handz, a pseudonymous digital art collector. I've been doing this for just about three years — I'm about two weeks away from the anniversary of my first NFT. Someone told me about Top Shot the day after Christmas 2020, and it took me a few weeks to figure out the website and start digging into this rabbit hole. I try to be somewhat of a lone wolf collector and collect what I actually like instead of following the masses.

After pushing three years of just retweeting the art I like, this past October Jamie, the CEO at Verse, reached out and asked if I wanted to do some curation for them. My background is as a lawyer, and I'd been an employee for too long and didn't really want to be one anymore. Verse was opening up the platform to curated galleries, and we thought it would be a good fit, so we decided I should make a gallery and put it on Verse. That's how Artie Handz Gallery was born.

Within a couple weeks I was thinking about who to work with — I wanted to do a single-artist show first, for logistical reasons — and I kept coming back to Frank's work, because it's just super interesting and really deep. His work says what I want to say as a gallery: that not everything is beautiful, that we need to tackle the challenges of the day. It's been an amazing experience working with Frank, and I'm honored he chose me, even though he'd already had a bit of a semi-solo show through the fellowship before this. But that's the background on how we got to where we are today.

Will: Top Shot is such a common entry point for the first generation of NFT collectors. I tried to get into it, but by the time I did, you already had to own a certain number of cards to be on the allow list to mint a pack, and that's where I stopped. Missed out for sure. Frank, similar question to you: what's your background in art and film, and how did you discover and begin incorporating AI into your work?

Frank Manzano: I'd been creating art my whole life — painting, photography. In college I studied film and photography too. About three or four years ago I picked up Procreate, really just because I wanted a tool to work out ideas for painting. But I found something there with digital art — I saw that there was a language to it, something I wanted to explore more. I downloaded Blender and started working more digitally, doing a bit of animation. About two years into that, I started dabbling with AI, incorporating it into my process, and since then it's become predominantly the way I work. When I first started, it was really just to save time in the animating process, but I ended up finding something else there entirely. That's how it emerged.

Will: What about NFTs and crypto in general? How did you make the decision to bridge into crypto, which feels like it's often a controversial choice for artists?

Frank Manzano: I'd actually been into crypto for about five years before I got into art — the crypto came first. I'd never really considered doing anything on the blockchain until Alex from Fellowship reached out and I did a show with them; that's when I actually started minting work. That's pretty new for me. I had minted a couple pieces of non-AI digital work on OpenSea maybe two or three years ago, but I hadn't developed my own language enough to feel ready to really start selling it. Analog, traditional work never seemed to fit there. Now there's no looking back — I can't see any other way of doing it.

Will: You've got the ScheduledProgramming exhibition coming up on the 11th or 12th?

ScheduledProgramming — Frank Manzano

Artie Handz: Beginning the 11th, 24-hour auction style.

Will: I've been loving going through all the videos in your collection — it really does something different for me. Even compared to other animated AI work I've seen from artists like Ivona Tau, yours has that unsettling, dreamlike quality, but it doesn't feel intentional in the same way — I get something different from your work. We'll definitely dig into that more. Artie, how did you first discover Frank's work, and what drew you to him for this release?

Artie Handz: It was this past summer when Frank started releasing dailies on Fellowship. I'd say a little over a year ago, around October of '22, I started falling into the AI art rabbit hole. My first year here I had no plan — I was just buying whatever I liked. The second year, I focused more on generative art, fx(hash) being one of the obvious ones, and Art Blocks, building out that side of the collection. As I saw AI art evolving and the tools becoming so powerful, I realized regardless of whatever the popular cultural idea of AI art is, I don't really care, because it's coming and it's not going to be stopped. I wanted to be interested in new mediums and techniques and trying new things.

So around October of '22 I really started digging into the history, the players, who's doing it, and the network just grows with time. Fellowship started doing the AI post-photographic work, and I love that uncanny valley feeling that kind of work has. I bought a piece — not minted, bought right after — Life in West America by Rupe. I think that kind of set the tone for what people picture when they think of AI art, air quotes intended. That aesthetic from that era is still sort of baked into the models, and we're eventually headed toward this perfection which — I think artists will have to figure out how to break, because perfection isn't really interesting.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

But Frank, exactly like you said, hit the nail on the head — there's this unsettling nature to AI work, and Frank leans into it. He's saying, yeah, it looks unsettling, so let's make it more unsettling: unsettling topics, unsettling prompts, unsettling things. He's told me he's taken things out of videos because they were too unsettling — he didn't want people to think he was putting it in there just to shock. He's just exposing things for what they are instead of sugarcoating them into something nice and beautiful. I think a lot of people in Web3 are looking for two things: to make money, and some nice, pretty things. Art like this challenges both assumptions — it doesn't have to be about financial gain, and it doesn't have to be just pretty. I've been thrilled with the series. They're so cool. I just posted all thirty of them on my new Artie Gallery and on Twitter, so they're all up there for anyone to see.

Will: Since we've already opened up the subject — Frank, can we talk more about the themes of your work? I've seen people describe it as dystopic, and we've already used the word "unsettling." I also see a lot of parallels to social media editing styles — TikTok, YouTube — where you get these quick cuts. Something like a MrBeast video cuts every three seconds to something new, and you seem to be following a similar cadence. First, in your own words, what can you tell us about the work? Then I'll follow up.

Frank Manzano: As far as themes, I approach the work pretty openly — I don't have themes in mind going in. Normally I start with a reference: something I've made digitally, a found image, or a photograph I've taken. I'll play around with prompts and see what I can get from the image, and as I work through the generating process, something starts to emerge — I won't call it a narrative, because it's a very loose one, but something takes shape. What I select depends on whatever ideas are going on in my head at the time, in general. That's when I start choosing a more focused direction, what type of images to pull. But up until probably the last hour of the process, I'm still fairly open.

One of the things I like about AI is the spontaneity — you can get something out of it you didn't expect, and then it's a matter of trying to replicate that unexpected outcome. As for the editing: since it's posted on social media, I keep that fast editing style, experimenting with the timing of the clips. I think we're conditioned now to see things much faster than even ten years ago — that's what keeps our attention. If a piece moves too slowly, if the clips aren't cutting enough, it feels stagnant even when it isn't. So one of the things I've been playing with is slowing the pace down while still varying the movement within the pieces.

Will: That spontaneity is a common theme with a lot of the code-based artists we interview — they're working with noise functions and built-in randomness, they hit run and get something they never expected, maybe from a bug or a misplaced decimal point in their code, and they end up loving it and leaning into it, taking the project in a new direction. It's interesting to hear that mirrored in your process. The other thing that came up in some notes on your work: where do you find hope in these subjects? For a lot of us, that feels pretty elusive. Do you agree with the idea that there's hope to be found in things like hyper-consumerism and social media?

Frank Manzano: I think some people would get the impression that I'm very cynical. I'm not, by no means. We can't control what's going on in the world — we can barely control ourselves, for the most part. But I think we can always sit back and think, and that's kind of the hope: that we can take ourselves out of situations and use our minds the best we can to move forward.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

The work is an exaggeration. It's satire, but I work in kind of an expressionistic fashion, and I hope people get more out of it than just something topical. My intent — and I think this is the case for most people who make art — is that there's always something internal driving it. It's not just what's going on in the world; there's something internal that drives you to make art, or whatever it is that a person does. Maybe they don't make art, maybe they work on their car. There's just something that drives us.

Then there's boredom, which I think can be a good thing. Boredom is one of those things where you're kind of alone, preoccupied, and you find a way to escape that temporarily. Whatever is going on within a person — little by little, if you keep at it, you might get to something, or you might not. That's the idea: you keep at it and maybe you'll stumble across something. And I think that's true of all art, not just working with AI. That's just art in general.

Will: Artie, jumping back to you — what was your reaction when you first saw these works? And can you describe more of your process as a curator? Were there others created that didn't make it into the show? Were you helping select, providing input along the way, or just fully trusting Frank to bring his best stuff?

Artie Handz: I'm also a football fan — I don't know if you've heard the term they used for Russell Wilson in Seattle, "let Russ cook." I just let Frank cook. We were in pretty consistent contact, and he kept sending over pieces as they came in. You could feel it was like a snowball running down a hill — it just kept getting bigger and more powerful. Even among the pieces, I'd say the last ten are the best — not that the best ten pieces are all at the end, but if I were grading them all on a 0-to-10 scale, the average of the last ten would be the highest. You could see more interesting work, and he was layering things differently — his previous work was all a square aspect ratio, and these are all 16 by 9. So he used that extra space to bring your eye into different portions at different times, separating things out and telling multiple stories within one piece. Really interesting stuff.

I've been upfront with him from the very first message: this is my first gallery show, I don't really know what I'm doing, but I'll do my best and work hard to promote it — I want the work to be you. I'm happy to help or answer questions if he wants to bounce ideas off me — I've served in that capacity for artists many times before, unofficially, and I enjoy having a small part in the work. But once someone has it, you let them run with it. You don't want to be like a TV show with 40 different people writing comments, losing the center, the real soul of the thing, because of too many cooks in the kitchen. So I let Frank cook and tried to do as much as I could for him behind the scenes.

From the beginning, I started contacting his previous collectors and asking them for quotes on the work — partly to help contextualize it myself, but also because I think what this space is missing is context around the work, and hearing other people talk about it. The quotes I got were things I wish people would just tweet — "I bought this piece and this is how it makes me feel" — but not many people are that open and vulnerable on their Twitter/X accounts. When they're just writing a paragraph because they want to, people do want to talk about their feelings about the art; they're just afraid to do it publicly, where if you have 20,000 followers someone's going to say "that's stupid." But in a safe space, sent privately to me, then put in a PDF and tweeted out, it's not as big a deal.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

It was clear his collectors were very passionate about the work. Cold-DMing people — "I'm planning on doing this thing, will you write a thoughtful paragraph for me, which will take some time?" — I got over an 80% response rate. And even the people who didn't do it said they wanted to but just couldn't at the moment. That shows the passion people have for the work. It was that snowball effect again — I took these quotes, wrote them all down, thought more about it, and as the works came in, I wrote the exhibition statement. It's been a very natural process. Like Frank said, it's just: okay, we create this thing, see how it goes, keep looking at it so it doesn't go sideways. It's not unplanned, but it's letting it ride, then trimming and editing as it develops.

Will: Communication and promotion — marketing, for lack of a better term — is really challenging. But especially over the last year or so of bear market, it's something artists need, and want. If you tweet how you feel about something, at worst you look stupid or cringe; at best you're accused of bag-pumping or shilling. So it's a bit of a lose-lose, especially the bigger megaphone you have — and compared to us, you've got quite a big one already. So I'd applaud you for pushing and taking that risk. But it's also interesting to hear how you approached it through DMing, individual outreach to known collectors. Something we've tracked a lot this past year is a turn toward the methods of the more traditional art world — even though Web3 is supposed to be open, decentralized, and accessible to everyone. Because of this consolidation, it seems like that's increasingly the model you need for success. Have you observed something similar? What do you think about that? And Frank, feel free to jump in too, as someone who's played on both sides of the pond, NFTs and non.

Artie Handz: There are two sides to the equation — the artist side and the collector side — and there's an abyss in the middle that, in the traditional space, gets filled with galleries, curators, et cetera. Here, in the absence of that, it's filled by flippers. There's a sale, then flippers trade it until it finds some equilibrium price. That isn't a bad thing per se, and the gallery model itself isn't a bad thing per se, but both are lacking in certain degrees.

The decentralized, direct artist-to-collector model is really interesting — the amount of time you can get with artists in direct contact here is undeniably better than in the traditional art world, which makes it much more engaging. But the flipping stuff is kind of awful, though it does serve a purpose too. So I think it's about marrying the two — using the advantages of an open, decentralized, non-gatekept space while adding some elements of curation and placement from the traditional art world, without it becoming so gatekept that it's "you're the only person who deserves my artwork."

I feel that very intensely. I lived in New York from 2010 to 2015 and would stroll into Pace or some of the other high-end galleries in my cowboy boots and hat — I'm a fifth-generation rancher, and when I'm in a big city I like to lean into that a little, just playing around. And I would honest to God get treated like, "we don't think this work should go to you" — basically, "seat's taken," a Forrest Gump reference, super topical. Just, "you're not welcome here, this isn't the kind of space we want." But I think we can marry those two ideals — one's a little too far to the left, one's a little too far to the right. Marry them in the center and maybe we've got something. Just talking art, not politics — but maybe that would work too.

Will: Got it. What do you think, Frank?

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Frank Manzano: I don't really have a problem with that structure, because, speaking for myself, even working full-time in art, there's just not the time to do everything. You're busy working, so it's difficult to develop the social media side too — it takes time away from what you're doing. Especially with digital work, there are a lot of non-creative components eating up your time. I have a decent following on social media, but my work really gets out there when somebody with a following, or a gallery, is promoting it. That, to me, is the better way to do it — if somebody's a collector, they're focused on collecting, and they have a community of people they're in communication with.

I've spoken to many artists about this, and many agree it's just easier — it takes work off of you that you might not even have the knack for. It's hard for a lot of people to promote themselves. It can be uncomfortable for artists to sell themselves. That's what galleries do.

Artie Handz: What Frank said ties exactly into what I'm trying to say — the best thing is having the option. Some artists are promotional wizards, and their art is almost secondary to their persona and social media. Other people would rather die than tweet twenty times a day. So there needs to be both. If someone's built that kind of persona and success, they should be able to sell their work with very little taken off the top, because they don't need it. Other people do need a gallery.

What the NFT space has done is make it possible to do this without a gallery, and in different ways — it's not just "here's 50%, what else are you going to do?" There's a sliding scale, because there's less overhead: you can go from launching on your own contract, marketing it yourself on Twitter, and paying maybe 2% off the top to Manifold or fx(hash) or whatever, to 2-10% to a platform, versus adding another curation layer that adds 10%, 15%, 20% more. But you're still coming out way ahead of a traditional gallery's 50%. The ability to have different models here is what's really nice.

Frank Manzano: On another note, I think galleries are good because—if you're an academic writing journals and papers, you have peers review it, and that validates what you're saying. Having your work come from a gallery validates it a bit more, because you have curators who are tuned into everything going on, examining the work critically before it gets to the public. They're not determining what should be sold, exactly, but they're steering things. If you're just putting out whatever you have without going through that process, you're missing something. There's an art to curating—having another set of eyes, or multiple sets of eyes, on the work and making sense of it. I think that's beneficial.

Will: We've seen so much of that in the last year with platforms like Verse and Tonic. I'm part of a group called TENDER where we release curated, collaborative projects with artists, and it's been a really interesting trend to follow.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

I wanted to jump back to your process—how you work with AI, film, and other tools like Blender. When you make these videos, are you starting from found footage, or footage you've shot yourself? What models are you using? Are you training your own models through Stable Diffusion? I'm trying to get a sense of how much of this is AI versus how much is your own work with AI layered on top, because to many of us it's a mystery—most of us don't know AI beyond Midjourney and prompting.

Frank Manzano: I was using Midjourney for a while, and I always start from a reference—my own references. What I like about references is that I can set the composition, the colors, the depth of field. A lot of the aesthetic qualities get set in the reference, and then the prompt takes it somewhere else. I used footage for a while, and I tried Gen-1 with Runway for a bit, but it wasn't as effective as I wanted—it doesn't stay true to the colors—so I dismissed it. Lately I've been using Stable Diffusion a lot more to generate images. I still use Wombo often too, since you can just plug in your reference. After I generate images from a reference, I like to zoom into what's been generated and start generating again based on that as a new reference.

A lot of times I'm building pieces strictly to use as references, not as pieces in their own right. When the resolution's high enough, you can move the piece around within itself. I've used the same ten pieces for probably the last fifteen pieces I've done, just zooming in and out of different parts of them. So prompting, for me, comes secondary. I've done a series where I used only prompts, and that's fine too, but I like to have some control, because a big part of working this way is relinquishing control to a large degree, and it can go in directions you don't want. References give me some of that control back. At some point I'd like to do another series that's totally prompt-based, but for now, references are a big part of it.

Will: For clarity—and if you don't want to share too many secrets, don't worry. Artie, if you want to give Frank a wink and tell him not to expose any secrets, go ahead.

Frank Manzano: No, no, I don't have any secrets. I'm willing to share anything.

Will: My experience with Midjourney was just prompting in Discord and getting a still image back. But your final product is these videos that run minutes long. Is there a second process on top of the prompting that knits the images together into animations? Are you generating a series of three-second clips that you then edit together into the final video? I've seen shorter GIF-like animations generated by AI, but nothing like yours, so I'm curious how it comes together.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Frank Manzano: When I use Midjourney, I never did much prompting there—I would blend different images together. Then I'd take those images into either Midjourney or Stable Diffusion and convert them into two-second or four-second videos, depending on which tool I'm using. Once I have all the images I've generated, I'll storyboard them out a little, lay them out the way I'm thinking about the piece—I like to keep a kind of stream, the way I want things to appear in the clips. After I generate the video, I move to editing in Final Cut, and that's where it all comes together. After that comes the audio, which isn't generative—I don't have much experience with that. Actually, the way I've been doing sound is something I've only gotten into in the last couple of months.

Will: That's where I was going to follow up—how do you create those soundscapes? Are you composing them, using found sound, or is it AI as well?

Frank Manzano: I have a drum machine on my tablet that I use, which also functions as a keyboard, so I'll make various sounds with that. I use Jenny for the voice—anytime there's a voice, it's AI. Then I'll take a movie or a song and slow it down to the point where it's no longer recognizable as that song, and start picking out little pieces from it. I don't have much experience with sound, so I did some research and started using pitch a bit more. Then I edit it all together in Final Cut and build from there. I also use an app called Flues, a kind of synthesizer for creating ambient sounds, which I layer in.

Everything is normally three or four tracks: a voice track, some ambient track, sometimes a drum beat, and whatever other sounds I've accumulated—I try to find a pattern in it. Once I find a pattern I like, I replicate it. I like a bit of repetition in the sound; I find it suits the piece. I don't want the sound going in too many directions—I like it to feel almost hypnotic. Does that clarify things a little more?

Will: Oh, yeah. No, it's just interesting because compared to an artist who works a lot with code, it's really hard to ask people how they code something without getting super technical. But with someone working in film, it's easier to conceptualize—oh, you're taking this, building this clip, importing it, editing it. Process-wise, it's easier for a non-artist to grasp what you're doing versus someone who codes telling me "I used this function," which I can't picture at all. It's really cool to hear how you do it—now, of course, I can copy it since you've shared it so openly.

Frank Manzano: Absolutely. I've actually been thinking about this—a lot of people DM me wanting to get into it, and I've thought about putting something together that shows the process. But I think it's better to approach it without knowing much, because then you're free to do whatever you want. Once you have a fixed idea, you're just going to make—

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Artie Handz: You've already placed yourself in a box a little bit. You've defined the endgame before you've even started.

Frank Manzano: Yeah, that's kind of how I feel about it. I don't think it's good to think too much. It's better to just start moving things along and see what comes out. If you overanalyze it, at least for me, it doesn't produce anything. I find that a bunch of very simple decisions, made one after another, is what makes it. When I paint, I approach it the same way—one mark at a time, and it goes from there. If you think too much beforehand, you won't get where you want. It's better to approach it simply: I'm just going to make marks and see where it goes.

Will: You've talked about your history with AI—first using it as a tool for expediency, now as a tool for discovery. Is there anything else AI brings to your process that you couldn't achieve by, say, becoming a special-effects wizard? Artie, I'd love your take too, since I imagine you've looked at a lot of AI art and have a broad sense of what it can bring aesthetically. What else is additive and beneficial about using AI?

Frank Manzano: This is a big thing for me, and I've discussed it with other artists too. Take painting: you could paint for days and never find a groove. After ten hours, you might have nothing you're happy with. When you're working with AI, you hit the same kinds of blockages, the same spinning your wheels—but there's always something you can work with. There's always a move, always something you can build off of. I think that's owed to the fact that you're collaborating with something vastly more intelligent than you, that can put things together faster than you can. Whatever you give it, it's going to give you something back—it's not going to fail to deliver. Working in traditional means, it's just you; you're not collaborating with anything. I think that's the advantage of working with AI, and I imagine it's similar for people working in generative art—you're collaborating with a machine.

I think it's a great way to make art. A hundred years from now, I think we'll have some kind of apparatus in our heads, and that will just be how people do things—it won't be seen as cheating. Why wouldn't you use it? I think it frees your mind for more creativity, because you're outsourcing some of the extra movement and leaving more room for conceptualizing. And without you, it's not going to produce anything on its own—in a sense, you're curating what comes out of it too. It's a two-way street.

Will: Artie, anything to add?

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Artie Handz: There's a lot of things, I think, similar to putting a camera in your hand — it gives you the ability to create if you couldn't otherwise. I can't even draw stick figures. There's something between my brain and my hand that just doesn't work for drawing. But I can prompt, I can use these tools. So I think it's interesting in terms of opening up a new audience of potential artists who couldn't do it before without years and years of training, or in some cases just couldn't do it because of hand-eye coordination or whatever. So there's that.

I also think, in terms of creativity, you can iterate so much faster now — trial and error a million times quicker than before. It opens up new avenues and lets you think through things more efficiently. And then the final thing, something Frank and I have talked about, is that especially in this post-photographic world, AI can go places you can't go. Kevin Abosch has a cool series called Riots — he's created these riot scenes, and you're obviously not taking a camera into an actual riot to get that. It's creating access to places you couldn't safely go.

I also saw someone do a deep-underwater series of crazy monsters — you couldn't really go there without a lot of money, unless you're James Cameron. And in Frank's case — we've talked about this, and I used some of this language in the exhibition statement — he's using photographs of areas of his native West Chicago that are essentially don't-go zones. Dangerous places. And there's an extra layer to it: you can't go there and expect to be okay. So how do you photograph what's happening in a no-go zone? I call it a black hole, with an event horizon around it. What's happening inside the black hole? I don't know. But AI can go there.

Frank Manzano: Photographers want to capture moments that produce some type of emotion or feeling — it's more than just a conceptual idea. Sometimes you can photograph something, bring it into AI, and pull more out of it — actually capture more of the subconscious, emotional part of an environment or a person, rather than just a straight representation of it.

I accumulate photos by walking around places and shooting them. Other people have photographed the same areas — that's been done. But there are these vortexes everywhere, these energy and emotional fields tied to places. And the machine itself is plugged into something like a collective consciousness — a collection of images where the sum of everything is in there somewhere, and you're just going in and pulling something out of it.

We often call it an uncanny space, but I think it might actually be more of a representation of what's really out there — a mirror, in a way. Not an exact replication, but some other kind of truth. That's what it shows us. It can seem uncanny or unsettling, but there's something there, and I think we're probably a hundred or two hundred years away from even understanding what it all means — what this uncanny space even is. I don't think we're ready to really understand it. We can only unearth it, examine it, do what we can with it. We won't have the full context in our lifetime. What we're doing today will probably look, two hundred years from now, like something crude and primitive — but it will still mean something. Things will change exponentially in the next two hundred years, and it'll be a completely different world. But I think there'll still be something to everything we're doing now.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Will: Hearing both of you talk about it makes me think we're in this age of nascent archaeology of the collective emotion of the internet — all these models trained on Instagram, Wikipedia, random blog posts, whatever. We're just starting to unearth this stuff and look at it, and we're interpreting it through the eyes of the machine rather than our own. It's almost like having someone analyze your dreams, Jungian-style, but for the whole world at once.

It also raises a question — I don't know what kind of lawyer you were, Artie, but there are obviously lawsuits happening right now over all this. ChatGPT being sued by the New York Times is the one that comes to mind. Even when you're incorporating your own elements like Frank does, you're still calling on all that scraped information underneath. So, as someone who's art-adjacent, especially as a collector getting into this — I wonder if there's a risk of a permanent mark being left on some of this work, depending on how these lawsuits play out. What do you think?

Artie Handz: I've definitely thought about it. Part of me wonders — what if they rule that you can't train models on anything that's not your own proprietary information? That would more or less kill AI art as we know it. My thought would be: fine, I have a cool collection of AI art from while it existed. But I don't think that's actually going to be the outcome.

I wasn't a patent or copyright attorney — I have friends who are, though I haven't talked to them about this specifically. Most people just glaze over as soon as you start talking about NFTs, let alone this. It's a difficult issue, because here's a machine with computing power so much greater than ours — you don't want something that powerful taking your output and learning from it while you get nothing back. But is it really learning any differently than how we learn? It learns faster and processes faster, sure, but you didn't base your most recent work purely off your favorite Picasso or Monet either — you learned from things in the public domain too. You didn't come up with everything you make in a vacuum; it's a result of your experience and everything you trained yourself on.

So it's difficult, because you want to keep things open and let people build on human knowledge, but you also want some protection. After being a lawyer, I worked in the shipping industry, building a large-scale machine that attached to cranes to help unload boats faster. We partnered with a Chinese state-owned company called ZPMC, and we didn't have enough money for full patent protection across everything we needed. We had to trust them — and they just took it all. So when you're creating something you want to monetize, and someone can take it before you're able to, that's a real problem too. It disincentivizes creation. It's this inherent tension between your incentive to create and the value of learning from others. Not an easy question. It'll be interesting to see how it turns out.

Will: I'm still struggling with my own opinion on it.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Artie Handz: Mine changes all the time too. You hear someone say something, it reframes things slightly, and you end up thinking about it completely differently.

Will: Philosophically, there's also the closed-loop problem — the more reliant we become on AI for day-to-day creation, the more these models, training themselves year over year, end up training on data that originated from the model itself. Is there a point where it stops getting smarter?

Artie Handz: It becomes a caricature of itself. And on top of that, it's training largely off social media — is that even a true reflection of humanity? The version of a person that exists on social media isn't a very accurate reflection of who they actually are. So if it's training on — I wouldn't say the worst part of us, but the soft underbelly of people — and caricaturing itself further over time, that gets a little scary in terms of what it could produce.

Maybe it ends up looking like Frank's art, honestly. I hesitate to say this, but his work has this People of Walmart quality — have you seen that site? That mugshot-adjacent website where it's like, what in the hell is that, why is someone wearing that outfit to this place? I remember seeing those, maybe ten years ago when they first came out, thinking: what commands this person to do that? How did civilization develop to produce these people making these choices? And I think that's ultimately what Frank's art is about — seeing ourselves reflected in modern society and asking: is this a choice, or are we just standing in a crowd at a concert, moving because the crowd moves? Free will or not, basically, when you boil it down.

You've described yourself as someone who just collects what they like and goes their own way. But when you're looking at AI art specifically, given how much of it there is and how fast it's growing, what's your rubric as a collector? What makes you go deeper on a piece beyond just "does this hit"? With AI art especially, there's so much of it, and it's so easy to create — similar to photography in that sense, so many viewpoints, so much volume. How do you find the needle in the haystack? Over time, you harness the people you follow, build a good base of artists whose work you trust, so you already feel like you've curated toward quality instead of random noise — just a spiral with some stuff in it, that kind of thing.

With AI work, I try to look at it multiple times — it often hits for me. These post-photographic video art pieces have really been hitting for me lately. I think once they get more perfect and look more real, I'll actually be less interested — right now feels like a sweet spot. But a lot of AI art does tend to look the same. Can you immediately tell whose piece it is without a distinct, set style? There aren't that many artists where you instantly know who made it — not that that's a requirement, plenty of great artists range all over the place. But in AI art especially, it helps to have an aesthetic that's distinctly yours, because so much of the medium looks alike.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

So I look at pieces multiple times over time to suss out their deeper aspects. It's harder — AI is probably the hardest medium for me to curate. Other mediums are quite a bit easier. But when you do find someone whose work really hits, it's incredibly fun, because what's coming out of AI right now is just crazy. I enjoy people pushing the limits from a technological perspective, but also asking, hey, what can you handle? The weirder the better, in my opinion. Frank's work is certainly weird from a purely aesthetic viewpoint. It's been an incredible journey curating and trying to project not what I think about it, but what other people think about it, or what I want to help other people think about.

Will: Were there any pieces in the series where at first you thought, this is cool, but I wouldn't want to own it — and then after hearing someone else's take, you turned around and wanted to collect it?

Artie Handz: The one I wasn't in love with initially was Pseudo-Psychodynamics. Unlike the others, it has a bar at the bottom like a news ticker — this is happening next, blah blah blah. It was the most on-the-nose one, hitting you over the head with that media aspect. Then I was talking to Clown Vamp, the collector, about it.

Will: Friend of the show.

Artie Handz: Now it's absolutely my favorite one. It's perfect — sometimes you need to be hit over the head with the fast motion and everything. You can watch these a hundred times and see something different depending on what part of the screen you're focusing on, or what mood you're in. That's one of my favorite things about Frank's work. It's hard to watch them repeatedly — curating them, I've watched all 30 in a row a couple times, and afterward it's like I just had an exorcism. But if you pick up a piece, it's something you want to come back to a lot. I have four or five of his one-of-ones that he put out through Fellowship before, and I find myself returning to them more often than a lot of other work I own. There's just so much going on.

Will: To wrap up, we usually do some rapid-fire questions. First one for both of you: any music or media recommendations? Frank, is there music that helps you get in the zone while you work? Artie, same for you.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Frank Manzano: It's not new music, but I like Tangerine Dream and Klaus Schulze — that's what I listen to pretty often. I also like early-'80s Italian disco.

Artie Handz: Italo disco.

Frank Manzano: Yeah, I listen to that a lot when I'm editing. Those would probably be my music recommendations.

Artie Handz: I listen to Italo disco too, plus a lot of dance music and folk rock. Recently I've taken over cooking dinners, and I've been dancing while cooking by myself as a stress release. Lots of Rufus and Chaka Khan, and there's this Soulwax remix of a Charlotte Gainsbourg song — a nine-minute one — that I'll just put on repeat while I cook.

Will: Another one we like to ask: who would you like to hear us interview? Could be artists, collectors, or even people outside NFTs entirely. Any ideas off the cuff?

Frank Manzano: There are about 5,000 people I know that I don't know, if that makes sense — so I'm trying to think of someone I haven't already heard speak.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Artie Handz: Not a generative artist, but I know him and have talked to him — I don't think he's ever done any media — Joe Peas.

Frank Manzano: Yes, there we go. Joe Peas for sure.

Will: He's got a Verse release coming up soon, I think. Maybe we can get Jamie to make the connection. Do you know if he uses AI as well? I can't always tell from his stuff if it's just video editing or if there's AI in there too.

Frank Manzano: I don't know if he uses AI as a primary tool. From what I've seen, it doesn't appear that he does — I think it's primarily editing. I don't know much about his process, just the work.

Artie Handz: As far as I know, it's purely video editing.

Will: Okay, Joe Peas. Anyone else?

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Frank Manzano: KingKhan2K — an AI artist I really like. He's similar to Joe Peas in that there are never really any interviews; he's pretty ambiguous. But his work is really interesting. He doesn't use AI-generated images exactly — he pulls a lot of imagery from around 1998 to 2003, then brings that into AI video environments and plays with it there. Great sound on his videos too.

Will: One for us to look up.

Artie Handz: The other one I thought of — though I don't think he speaks English, so it might be tough — is Juan Rodriguez Garcia.

Will: He's had a really cool project on fx(hash).

Artie Handz: Yeah, Formae.

Will: Ordn.

Life in West America — Roope Rainisto

Artie Handz: That one is great, and honestly all of it is. I have a Reflejos, and I have the one that was given out at Marfa — got a bunch of those. He's great.

Will: I heard him on a Spaces recently and he kept it very brief in English, so I got the sense maybe he's not super confident with it — which is fair enough. Those are some good ones. We're at time, so let's plug the Verse release again — coming up on the 11th. Scheduled Programming — will it be a ranked auction, or how's it going to be sold, Artie?

Artie Handz: Individual auctions. Thirty pieces total, starting January 11th at 1 p.m. Eastern — 15 go live at 1 p.m. and 15 at 2 p.m., staggered so people have a little room to breathe with so many pieces going up. They'll end on the 12th, either at 1 or 2 p.m., with the typical five-minute extensions. We wanted individual auctions because the pieces are so unique — we didn't want it to be a "here's some random piece you get" situation.

Will: Thank you both so much for coming on — it's been great getting to know you. Frank, thank you for being so candid about your process so we can all go copy your work. It's going to be a great 2024. That's it for this one, everyone. Thanks again to Frank and Artie — check out the Verse release, and we'll be back soon with another episode. Bye.

Frank Manzano: Bye-bye. Always — we're waiting to be tried.

Change log

  • Initial transcript — auto-transcribed (AssemblyAI) and readability-edited.