Waiting To Be Signed · interviews on generative art, on-chain
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Interview // JUL 2024

John Gerrard & Whitney Hart

Title: Public Art & The Dance Between The Virtual and the Real
Role: Generative artist
Platform: Feral File
Duration: 1h 5m
Hosts: Will & Trinity
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#069 · Public Art & The Dance Between The Virtual and the Real
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John Gerrard: It was, I think, an evolution more than a revolution for me. I'd been thinking about data for a very long time, and blockchain is fundamentally a data structure, so it felt like a natural extension of what I was already doing. When the opportunity came to tokenize Western Flag, it wasn't a huge conceptual leap since the work was already, at its core, a data object rendered in real time. What changed was the framing: suddenly this piece that lived on a screen in the desert, or in a gallery, could also live as a verifiable, ownable artifact on a public ledger. That felt like it closed a loop for me, connecting the world-building, data-driven nature of the simulation to a system that is itself entirely constructed from data.

Western Flag — John Gerrard

And donating it to LACMA was significant precisely because the institution had never handled an NFT before. They had to build the infrastructure, open a wallet, work out custody, all of it, in order to accept the piece. That, to me, was its own kind of public art moment. It forced a major institution to catch up with where the work already existed conceptually.

Whitney Hart: That's such a great way to put it, closing the loop. And I think that's part of why Western Flag resonates so much in this context, because the carbon legacy it depicts and the energy conversation around blockchain are so intertwined. Did that tension ever give you pause?

John Gerrard: Of course, and I don't take it lightly. I've spent my career thinking about energy, about the carbon legacy, about the relationship between power and image-making, quite literally, electrical power. So to then engage with a technology that has its own energy footprint required real reflection. I didn't want to be hypocritical about it.

Part of how I've reconciled that is by supporting environmental initiatives directly tied to the proceeds and the platforms I work with, and by being conscious of the shift happening within the blockchain space itself, moving away from proof-of-work toward far less energy-intensive systems. But I also think there's something honest about making work that sits inside that tension rather than pretending it doesn't exist. Western Flag is about the legacy of oil and power. Putting it on a blockchain doesn't erase that irony, it sharpens it. And I'd rather sit inside that discomfort and make people think about power, in every sense of the word, than avoid the conversation entirely.

Western Flag — John Gerrard

Will: Can we go back for a second? I want to hear about your first tokenized work. I believe it was on the Bitmark chain, is that right?

John Gerrard: That's right, yeah. Bitmark was very early for me, an early experiment in thinking about ownership and authenticity for a work that had no physical original. It predates a lot of the NFT infrastructure that exists now, so it was very much a leap into the unknown. There wasn't a marketplace, there wasn't a community around it in the way there is now. It was really just me trying to answer the question: if the work is pure data, how do you responsibly assign and track ownership of it? That question has stayed with me ever since, and it's really the throughline from Bitmark to Art Blocks to Feral File and now to Crystalline.

Trinity: Whitney, I'd love to bring you in here. You talk to a lot of artists and collectors coming from that traditional art world background. What are the main sticking points you run into when you're explaining NFTs to them?

Whitney Hart: There are really two big ones I run into constantly. The first is the environmental question we were just discussing, that's almost always the first objection, and it's a fair one, so I try to meet it head-on with real information about where the technology has gone, rather than being defensive about it.

The second is a kind of conceptual resistance to value, this idea that because a file can be duplicated infinitely, it can't have the same weight as a unique physical object. I spend a lot of time walking people through the idea that scarcity and authenticity can be encoded and verified without a physical original, that the blockchain is doing the same job a certificate of authenticity or a gallery provenance file has always done, just more transparently and more durably.

Once artists and collectors get past those two hurdles, the conversation usually opens up really quickly, because at that point they start to see the actual creative possibilities, generative systems, on-chain logic, real-time data, the things that excite me about this space in the first place.

Western Flag — John Gerrard

Trinity: It also feels like the traditional gallery and art fair system just hasn't caught up yet with how digital contemporary practice already is.

Whitney Hart: Exactly, and that's a huge part of why I do the work that I do. So much contemporary art practice is already fundamentally digital, artists are already working in code, in real-time systems, in simulation, exactly like John. The infrastructure around exhibiting and collecting that work, the fairs, the white cube gallery model, is what's lagging behind, not the artists. Part of my job is helping institutions and collectors catch up to where the artists already are.

Will: Let's talk about Crystalline. John, can you give us an overview of the piece, and Whitney, maybe you can speak to how Feral File worked with John to bring it to life?

John Gerrard: Sure. Crystalline (arctic) is, at its heart, a simulation of ice, a data sculpture built in real time, responding to actual data. It continues a long-standing interest of mine in the Arctic and in ice as a kind of archive, ice literally holds a record of the atmosphere across deep time. So there's a continuity with the carbon legacy work, but here it's rendered almost as a living, generative crystal structure rather than a flag or a landscape. It's slow, it accumulates, it's not built for an instant hit of spectacle. It asks you to sit with it.

Whitney Hart: From the Feral File side, our role was really building the technical and curatorial scaffolding to let that generative, real-time quality actually live on-chain in a way that's faithful to John's practice. That meant a lot of close collaboration on how the piece is minted, how the data feed is sourced and verified, and how collectors actually experience an artwork that is not a static image or video but a continuously evolving simulation. We wanted the presentation to honor the slowness and the patience the work asks for, rather than forcing it into a format built for quick consumption.

Trinity: That patience question feels important. We live in a moment of shrinking attention spans, feeds built for instant gratification. How do you think about asking an audience to sit with something that unfolds slowly?

Western Flag — John Gerrard

John Gerrard: I think about it constantly, honestly. I don't think the answer is to fight the attention economy head-on, I think it's to offer a genuine alternative to it, a kind of counter-rhythm. Public art has always taught me that people will slow down if the work gives them a real reason to, that family pulling off the highway to walk across the desert wasn't rushing. I think there's still a hunger for that kind of encounter, even now. Crystalline is built on that bet, that slowness itself can be the invitation, not an obstacle.

Will: I want to ask about time and data more directly, since it's clearly central to this piece. How are you thinking about the dating system within Crystalline, and this idea you've mentioned before about consciousness being turned into light?

John Gerrard: Time is really the primary material of this work, even more than the ice itself. Each configuration of Crystalline is tied to a very precise, almost calendrical dating system, so that the piece is never really finished, it's a continuous unfolding tied to real time passing, real data arriving. It's less like a painting with a fixed date and more like a living record.

The idea of consciousness turned into light comes from thinking about simulation itself, at the deepest level, what we're doing with these engines is turning data, which is really a record of thought, of measurement, of human attention, into photons on a screen. There's something almost cosmological about that when you sit with it: we've built machines that convert our observations of the world into pure light in real time. I find that both beautiful and slightly vertiginous, especially when you consider who controls the infrastructure behind that conversion, the billionaires and corporations who own the pipes through which that light now flows.

Trinity: That connects to something else I wanted to ask about, this idea of Newgrange and older systems that align human structures with cosmic time. Do you see blockchain as a kind of continuation of that impulse?

John Gerrard: I do, in a strange way. Newgrange is a five-thousand-year-old structure in Ireland built with such precision that the sun only enters its inner chamber on the winter solstice. It's an extraordinary act of collective, long-term thinking, aligning a human-made structure with a cosmic cycle for millennia to come. I think blockchain has that same latent potential, a shared, distributed structure that isn't owned by any single power, that could in principle outlast the institutions and currencies we currently depend on.

Western Flag — John Gerrard

I've thought about it as a genuine alternative to oil-backed currency, a system that isn't tethered to the geopolitics of energy in the same way. There's something almost utopian in that, a globally uniting structure rather than a nationally fragmented one. Of course, right alongside that utopian reading, there's also a pirate history, a wild, ungoverned frontier quality to it, and I find that combination fascinating rather than troubling. Both things are true of blockchain at once, the cosmic and the piratical.

Will: The dance between the unreal and the real feels like the thread running through everything you make.

John Gerrard: It really is the whole project, if I'm honest. My work has never been interested in choosing one side of that boundary, the real world or the simulated one. It's interested in the dance between them, the fact that a simulation of a flag can move real families to pull off a highway, that a data structure like blockchain can hold something as materially rooted as the memory of an oil strike in Texas. That entanglement is where I think the most interesting art is being made right now, and it's certainly where I intend to keep working.

Will: Well, this has been an incredible conversation. John, Whitney, thank you both so much for joining us and for walking us through Crystalline and everything that led up to it.

Whitney Hart: Thank you so much for having us, this was a pleasure.

John Gerrard: Thank you, Will, thank you, Trinity, it's been a real pleasure. That's pretty straightforward. Number one, the work that went to LACMA, which is called Western Flag, was and is the only video I've ever made in my whole life. It's a 30-second, perfectly looping extract from the middle of Western Flag, which is actually a piece of software—a 365-day simulation. It's an annual solo simulation which you acquire, and it unfolds over a year.

Western Flag — John Gerrard

Now, in 2021—March, I think—the whole Beeple bomb went off, and I was appalled in a lot of senses. I thought, this is digital art? This JPEG? And the whole conversation was about the transaction—the scale of it felt offensive to me. I wanted to ask, can we talk about digital art using another framework here? So "Grumpy John" released the NFT as a kind of protest. I tokenized a little video extract of this piece to say, guys, there are other histories here—let's remember them. Eventually that made its way to LACMA, which is a beautiful, fitting place for it.

But funnily enough, that wasn't my first tokenized artwork. And that's actually quite interesting, because Casey Reas—who is amazing, founder of Feral File, but also very famous for founding Processing, the incredible tool that's taught artists to code for two decades—I'd met Casey at Ars Electronica when I was a young one. Casey reached out to me in '19 about a project called A2P, Artist to Peer, and asked if I'd submit a work. I submitted a small JPEG of a drip of gasoline on water. It was a swap project between a bunch of incredible artists—Kim Asendorf and others. If you Google Casey A2P, you'll find it. Those works were all tokenized on the Bitmark chain in '19.

That's a fascinating history—about two years before the boom, and probably simultaneous with artists I really admire, like XCOPY, who was doing interesting things at that time, or PAC. I just wasn't aware of any of it. I was deeply embedded in the contemporary art world, making simulations, and the whole tokenization thing hadn't hit me yet. So, Whitney, I did that video, then stopped for a year, didn't do anything with NFTs for a year. The next tokenized project was Art Blocks.

Will: It's so interesting because a lot of your work—maybe all of it—seems to carry themes of environmentalism. You seem very conscious of the world as it's changing: oil, emissions. I think even crystalline work speaks to this in its own way. For the longest time Ethereum was proof of work, and all of your pieces have included a carbon offset—or, back when it was proof of work, they included donations to environmental causes.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

But what was that conversation like, deciding to start tokenizing? I imagine that's a big barrier for a lot of people, even setting aside the emissions issue—crypto has such a bad reputation across the world. What was that decision like for you?

John Gerrard: It was really hard. A couple of things happened to me simultaneously. My brain—I've got a fairly good brain—went, oh my God: here is a mechanism where value is a digital thing. That's the first thing. Second, here is this audience I was completely unaware of that's genuinely interested in this thing called digital art. Third, this thing is global.

I'd been very geographic. I showed work in museums, galleries, and biennales for decades before this big bang moment, but there was absolutely no market—I hate that word—for putting your work in the browser. It was like, okay, I'm a professor and I put my work in a browser. I'd crafted this alternative universe where I made contemporary art, installed it in biennales, had representation, and people acquired my software in small editions—editions of four. I'd been doing that successfully for twenty years, sort of adapting the video-editioning model. I thrived, not just survived.

But in terms of mental health—literally—the Beeple thing was so big in its implications for me that I went kind of wild. I released Western Flag as an NFT so quickly, at such a scale, that it was bad for me mentally. I took fright, stepped back, and took time off. There was a slightly weird little project in the middle that didn't really work out. But then the next thing was coming into Art Blocks and doing it in a much more orderly way, with a piece called Petronational. That's where Crystalline began.

Western Flag — John Gerrard

With that very first NFT, Western Flag, I quickly set up a kind of miniature ecological fund called regenerate.farm, which would take a percentage of the sale and put it toward regenerative farming, something I really believe in. In the end that particular work took a different path and was donated to the museum, so that didn't happen there. But Art Blocks did substantial work supporting an entity called Hometree, getting trees in the ground. By the time Art Blocks happened, I felt I could make 195 works because of the shift from proof of work to proof of stake. I can't work in the Bitcoin context, because they will not—and have not—made that shift.

The last thing I'll say: if I had to nominate one subject that's run through my work consistently over twenty years, it would be power—in its full, complicated sense. Power as energy, what makes things move and change, but also power as in political power, violence to a degree. These threads run through the work, all centered on power. And working with technology, you're also dealing with power—remember, I work in a game engine that comes out of wargaming. So there are multiple relationships with different forms of power, and in a sense violence. It's a rich environment to operate in. I couldn't work any other way. I could not make a film, for instance—not really possible. So I'm stuck here forever.

Trinity: That's such a cool thing to think about. Speaking of power—introducing blockchain technology, security is maintained through proof of work or proof of stake. You're maintaining the security of the chain through how much power you can generate, or how much supply you control, in order to validate each block. That's another really interesting layer.

John Gerrard: And not only that—World Flag, my last Art Blocks project, emerged from attending multiple UN climate change conferences, and asks: if we continue to gather in this national framework, is that an effective way to tackle climate change? Where are we, really, right now, having this conversation? What do these forums do to geography? What can blockchain achieve? What can cryptocurrencies achieve in relation to climate change?

World Flag — John Gerrard

I'm soft-launching an endeavor for next summer called Art.farm, which addresses exactly these questions. Whitney, I have to talk about crystalline work—I'm getting completely off subject here.

Will: We'll get there, I swear. Don't worry.

Trinity: There are so many interesting things to go down.

John Gerrard: Art.farm is literally about farm, place, art—I call it a poem-place, a little haiku. It's a domain name I own and I'm very proud of it: art.farm. And I want to formally announce, for the first time, publicly, that I also own hot.earth—so if anybody wants to publish that magazine, talk to me. But Art.farm is a beautiful little poem we lay on the landscape, and we'll gather around it next summer to ask: can blockchain actually do something luminous to address climate change? I really want to ask those questions.

Will: Great question to ask. Before we jump into Crystalline, I want to throw to Whitney real quick. As someone who's worked in blockchain and digital art and has a passion for both—I assume you've talked to a lot of artists from the traditional space who haven't crossed over to blockchain yet. John was able to be convinced and found his way there. What are some of the barriers you've experienced with artists? A lot of us on the sidelines, as collectors and fans, wonder whether this technology has the potential to become a standardized way of doing things—will all art eventually be tokenized? John's shaking his head no, but Whitney, what have you encountered in those conversations with artists that's been challenging?

Whitney Hart: It's a great question. I hear two sides of the spectrum. The first is from artists and traditional art collectors trying to acquire tokenized work for the first time, wrestling with the hype, the scams, the rugs -- how do you assess which artists will endure for centuries versus which are less scrupulous? That's a huge challenge, and part of the problem is that so much of our communication in this space happens on Twitter/X, which is incredibly ephemeral. Trying to use it as any kind of archive is a fool's errand. The hype cycle that drove so much liquidity in 2021, around the Beeple moment John mentioned, has had a long-term negative effect on perceptions of value and pricing for this work. A lot of doubt and skepticism is wrapped up in that, and it takes a while to talk people through it.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

The flip side is that the technology itself is genuinely hard for artists to understand. Last summer I spent time in Athens and Hydra with traditional artists, one of whom is represented by Hauser & Wirth. We had a 30-minute conversation about his practice and potential explorations of blockchain. In the end, he told me the real fundamental problem was that he didn't understand the technology -- his practice probes very specific themes, usually through performance and the physical body. He said if he could find a good creative coder to help him bring his ideas together with this technology, he'd be happy to use blockchain as a medium and expand his practice. But without that partner and translator, the learning curve felt far too steep.

So I do think tokenized work -- using blockchain as both medium and material -- has real potential for traditional artists, but there's a large reputational issue to overcome. Time heals all wounds; some of that will soften and come into context. But there's still this challenge around education and bringing artists together with coders. Rhizome's 7x7 has been working for decades to bring those two camps together, and more efforts like that would help enormously. John himself found an amazing group of programmers to support him this way, through his own work -- going back to do his MSc at Trinity College Dublin, then on to Ars Electronica in Linz, building a group that's helped him realize his creative visions over three decades.

John Gerrard: Can I respond to that? It's a huge subject, so I'll try to be precise. My hunch is that art schools ran into technology some time ago and panicked a bit -- "oh my God, everything's moving so fast, it's so hard to teach" -- and got left behind in a way. That's one thing.

The other is that the art fair is a huge driver of the art world's consciousness, for better or worse -- the Basels, the Miamis, the Friezes. Those environments run on committees made up of galleries, and the vast majority of those galleries look at digital art like, "ew, we don't even know what to do with that." So it's only been visionaries who really picked up on digital art over the last ten, fifteen years. People used to tell me, "we don't have the technology collectors" -- I heard that constantly. I'd think, okay, this is San Francisco, where are they? The truth was there was nothing for them in the booth. They weren't interested in the drawings or the sculptures.

Funny enough, tonight in New York the artist Kim Asendorf is launching a mint with xxdao.xyz -- X0X, a graphical identity for the DAO. It's beautiful; look it up. An edition of 600 or 1,000, sold out, a thousand people own these. Honestly, with the traditional art world you're describing, I've kind of given up on it in a funny way. I put my faith in the people who are just out there doing it. The kids are coming. It's going to be an amazing time, and that time is brewing as we speak.

Trinity: You mentioned Pace Gallery earlier. If we're talking about the intersection of NFTs, galleries, digital art, generative art, and blockchain -- not necessarily a blockchain-centered future, but one that's inclusive of art on the blockchain -- what needs to happen in the conversation between artists and traditional galleries, and the new social experiences happening through word of mouth, Discord, Twitter, to enable that future? What have you seen so far?

crystalline work — John Gerrard

John Gerrard: That's going to be both a Whitney answer and a John answer. There was an interesting article in Artnews or the Art Newspaper this year from Basel -- about "the digital deluge" at the gates of Art Basel, and what they're going to do about it. It was about the Digital Art Mile, which is very early days -- a young entity founded by Jorrit Back, running a mile from the fair through Basel. What I'd say is: it's not representing contemporary conditions, it is contemporary conditions. Here are the kids working in AI, the kids working in code, the kids making contemporary art, and also historic computer art going back to the '50s -- histories you may not have been aware of. In a weird way, I'd turn it completely around: the fair better pay attention, because the future is banging on their door, and if they don't, they'll be in trouble soon.

Trinity: What about you, Whitney? How do galleries and the art world need to shift to be inclusive of this?

Whitney Hart: I think the art fair landscape has a bit of a reckoning to do. There are so many fairs now -- global fairs of high caliber, and local fairs themed around supporting their own ecosystems, which do an amazing job surfacing up-and-coming artists. The fairs help guide what work should be part of them, but the galleries are the ones bringing work they think will sell given current market conditions. So there's a push and pull: how do we help artists use this medium in their practice, and communicate that to the traditional gallery world so galleries bring it in?

Part of it is display -- how do we improve the actual screens and display technology? Without that, galleries won't want to bring this work to a fair and put it on the walls of a booth. And how do we educate collectors so there's real demand, so galleries can have a financially successful showing -- these are huge financial undertakings for galleries. I think there's an opportunity from all sides to help the fair become a more prominent place for this kind of work.

John Gerrard: I'd also say we shouldn't focus too much on those environments. There are biennales, museums, doing different things too. If I want to be really radical about it: what is this thing? If we get away from the stream -- the Instagram, Facebook stream -- as the defining cultural form of the last decade... Let me open the Feral File app. I love that my work lives here -- it's like an album of digital art. All my works are in there, even the earlier ones. So I'm sitting with someone, and here's my collection. Say I pull up a world flag -- here's Brazil, running as a smoke flag on this app. What is the cultural impact of that moment? Am I holding a museum in my hand? A gallery in my hand? Honestly, I'd say yes. And that's going to ruffle a few feathers.

World Flag — John Gerrard

But genuinely, that's where I live, that's where I've gone. There were two reasons tokenization caused me to have a nervous breakdown in 2021. One: suddenly here were all these technology collectors everyone had been looking for -- they just hadn't had a way in. Two -- and Whitney and I have talked about this in relation to artists like Pak -- tokenization lets you think at global scale in a completely different way as an artist. It just lets you think at a different scale, full stop, for better or worse. The chaotic qualities Whitney pointed to are an illustration of the radical, revolutionary power of what that means. And now we have to talk about Crystalline.

Will: I'm just about to segue us there. A lot of what you're describing applies to the crystalline work. For everyone listening, Casey did a great in-depth interview with you about this that went up last week. You noted there that this is probably your most generative project yet. This is a generative art podcast for the most part, and the origins of this project go back to a web-based snowflake algorithm -- your team resurrected and expanded it to create what you're calling archetypes. As the arm moves the crystals, it forms various masks, trees, and other shapes. Can you talk about the process of introducing randomness? There are going to be 8,700 of these.

Trinity: Wait -- can you give us an overview of the piece first?

John Gerrard: Okay, Will, I will get to that. So Crystalline Work, first of all, is an experiment. That's a big deal for me, and it's an experiment that has been supported in a really radical way by Feral File, who have hosted a virtual robot that will run on their platform for twelve solar months, from the solstice of 2024 through to the solstice of 2025, when the performance will end. Each day, the work performs — makes — 24 artworks. That isn't 24 works per 24 hours, because some works are more complicated than others; some might take 20 minutes, others 3 hours.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

So what's going on: we have a sort of ambiguous platform sited on a virtual Arctic North Pole. On it is an industrial robot, which I call a prismatic robot, because its color is shifting every millisecond of the day across the visible prism. The first day of the year after the summer solstice it's red, and all the way round the other side it's blue — it travels across the prism in real time. My term for that is an unstable state. The prismatic robot is an unstable state, which in a sense intersects with Western Flag, which is also an unstable color state in its way.

The robot has a stock of crystals — virtual crystal bars — which it uses to build what you described as archetypes. The ingredients of those patterns began with a snowflake, back around 2005. Snowflakes are interesting because you have rays — one, two, three, four, five, up through twelve rays. You never really have a one-ray snowflake — well, maybe you do, but they're very rare. A ray is like a bar, and then you get branching, and you get a form. In our work we have one through twelve rays. The one-rays are all trees — what we call mycelium forms. Two-rays are mostly double trees. Three-rays open up into these beautiful honeycombs and other forms. As you go up through the evens you get different forms again, like stars.

We name them ourselves. The work makes 24 pieces a day, about 670 a week, and across the year that's 8,760 works, dropped into a gallery to be collected. Twenty-five percent of the proceeds go to plant trees — that's the dance, in a way, because I was very interested in the idea that you'd support a robot making fictitious ice while simultaneously planting a tree that might make real ice. It's the dance between the virtual and the real.

Trinity: You mentioned the snowflakes emerge on their own in certain ways — was there any other thought behind the archetypes, or do they represent something further?

John Gerrard: They came on their own; we identified them afterward. We had a core rule set — one branch, two branch, three branch, and so on. Originally they all looked like snowflakes. Then we started messing with the angle and the number of branches permitted, and suddenly we got these beautiful honeycombs. Then we did something else and got these incredible trees. If you look through the artworks you can see all of this emerging. We named the broad categories after we saw where they came from, giving these algorithmic conditions titles. When we couldn't quite work out what one was, we called it a hybrid. It was chicken-egg rather than egg-chicken — we named the objects after they were made.

Will: They're emergent — that's a key part of generative art, being surprised by what comes out once you introduce randomness, and it tends to compound on itself. Were there things you had to exclude, or happy accidents you kept?

Western Flag — John Gerrard

John Gerrard: One thing we had to exclude very carefully was swastikas. They kept coming up, because we have these beautiful mandalas, and the swastika is an ancient symbol — it goes back to Indian belief systems — and it emerges naturally from our logic. Not because it isn't beautiful, but we just can't have it here. The most surprising forms, I'd say, were these near-perfect wheels — like literal sun wheels — that would occasionally appear. The honeycombs were among the earliest forms, conceptually formative for me, and they led to a lot of what came after. And the masks were quite surprising too — a little like the gliders from Conway's Game of Life. You can see all these visual languages across the artworks, and I personally love them.

Will: Whitney, what was it like on the Feral File side? How did you encounter this project, and were there big technical barriers to implementing it? You're talking about selling 8,760 pieces over a year — how did you wrap your organization around that? To me it seems like a no-brainer, but I don't have to make it.

Whitney Hart: John and Casey had emailed about doing a project together, with John hosting a solo show on our platform — that conversation dates back to before my arrival. In mid-February I got a forward from Casey saying "let's discuss," with John's original email underneath containing the early ideas for the whole project. Casey and I talked and both wholeheartedly agreed we needed to find a way to make it work — not only because it was important for John's career, but for generative art and the discourse around it. We were also really enthusiastic about supporting Hometree and the ecological dimension of the exhibition. We thought it was beautiful.

We had a conversation with John in mid-March, then again in late March, and roughly sixteen to eighteen weeks later we launched Crystalline Work on Feral File. It was an extremely fast turnaround and a completely custom exhibition for us — an entirely new layout, an entirely new interface. We had to figure out how to let the robot perform for an entire year while selling the NFTs continuously throughout that year. That meant a lot of technical changes on our platform side, working closely with John's producers to make sure the WebGL ran effectively across devices — mobile testing in particular became a huge focus — and we redesigned a lot of our page layouts and gallery views to accommodate it. It's been wonderful and hugely challenging, and it's really required the whole Feral File team. But it's been hugely rewarding — the work is beautiful, and it's an important contribution to long-form generative art. I can't wait to see what forms come out as we move into autumn.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

Trinity: Sounds well worth the effort, and it makes me hopeful we'll see more works of this scale on Feral File now that the infrastructure exists. I wanted to save this question for now, because I think it connects to the performance of Crystalline — not just the yearlong arc, but the robot building each structure over the course of an hour or so. In the blockchain and NFT world, most of the people who listen to this podcast are used to things happening in six-second or thirty-second blocks. Combined with TikTok and social media, we swipe through things so fast our attention span is scientifically shorter than a goldfish's. How do you reconcile a longer-form performance like this with an audience that might only sit with it for ten seconds? Or is that tension part of the work itself?

John Gerrard: Can I point to the sound element first, since it answers that? We use Tone.js, a generative sound library. I've been working with an amazing composer, Jonas Hamre — we listened to a lot of film scores, like Hans Zimmer's Gladiator and that Spanish guitar score from Brokeback Mountain. He modeled vibrations using Tone.js to get a quavering sound-bath quality across time. If you click the bottom left corner of the NFT — not the generator, the NFT itself — it switches on the sound. In summer you get a high-pitched, energetic sound; in winter it's much lower. If you let it settle in, it begins to oscillate across time. The whole endeavor was influenced by sound bath — Tibetan sound bath, really.

The robot itself is pure flow — it doesn't stop, it's like a dance, always flowing, its color shifting very slowly across the year. With a different kind of perception you'd see the change happening, but we don't. So the whole piece is a play on time, change, and solar and energetic conditions. It is what it is — an artwork. Someone comes in with a fifteen-second blockchain block ticking down and a TikTok ticking down, and they're like, "What is this?" I often tell students that my greatest ambition as an artist is to move the public in any small way. If someone just thinks, "What is this weird thing?" — that's an achievement, and it stands in opposition to some of these fast-paced energies.

Will: Learning about this project reminds me, for whatever reason, of the monks who make sand mandalas over many days and then let them blow away.

John Gerrard: Oh yeah.

Will: That practice predates film — they'd make the image, enjoy it momentarily, then let it scatter. Now we can capture that whole process on film, document it. Here, you can imagine something similar: the robot just acts perpetually, but now we're able to witness these performances and capture them through tokens.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

John Gerrard: We have to talk about the date—the dating system, because that's very relevant, and so is the naming system. Whitney, help me here, because I always trip up on this. Okay, it's my work, I know I should know this, and I do. So: crystalline work (Arctic). The first number you see is the work number—each day you have one through twenty-four. The second number is the ray number, one through twelve: 1 is June, 3 is July, 5 is August. It goes down the odds and comes up the evens, in case you were trying to map it. Then you have the day number of the year, one through 365. And the final number is the year number—and this is the important one for me.

This isn't me becoming a weirdo, but all my works to date have been dated in Christian time—Western Flag 2017, Flare 2022, whatever it may be. With this piece—this radical performance, blockchain, prismatic piece—I decided I wanted my own calendar.

Trinity: Okay.

John Gerrard: My own private, personal John calendar. It begins for me with year one. And I want to make a proposal here: your generation, Trinity and Will—not my generation. I hit the web around age twenty, thirty years ago; I'm forty-nine now. But you two were in the web the whole time. You were never out of it.

Will: I'm thirty-nine, so only ten years younger than you. But yes, I remember the AOL discs and getting online when I was—

John Gerrard: Trinity, you've been in the whole time.

Western Flag — John Gerrard

Trinity: I'm only two years younger than Will. I also hoarded AOL discs.

Will: But we get it, we get it.

John Gerrard: Fundamentally, there's a bunch of kids who have come up on this network. I've been fascinated these last months with the idea of data being transmitted through fiber optic cables as light. It turns out data is encoded in the ultraviolet and infrared parts of the spectrum, then transported through fiber optic cables as light. And I have this slightly terrifying thought: if these Californian dudes really manage to create artificial intelligence, the whole meat-body thing is over. They're just going to blast consciousness through space as light. That's how we'll populate the rest of the universe—not meat bodies, just light consciousness. If data can be light, and consciousness can be data, then—hello. That's my late-night, terrify-myself thought. Elon Musk, blasting consciousness to the other end of the universe.

Trinity: It's also how we save the planet—transforming our own bodies into light.

John Gerrard: Yeah, maybe. It's funny, because in these liminal moments I get these slightly weird thoughts. One of them was that this generation of kids who've come up on the data-light network is prismatic. And prismatic, fundamentally, means borderless. Look at a world flag—hard borders. The British flag is the Union Jack, blue and red and white and all these borders. The American flag is stripes and stars. But a prism is just flow, just transition. It's beautiful, it's just color—this beautiful prismatic thing.

World Flag — John Gerrard

So in a funny way, the robot in this piece is almost a freedom flag, a hippie flag, always unstable, always drifting. I wanted to position it, in my own personal universe, as a line where I say: I'm not going to work in Christian time anymore—this patriarchal time, which I link to toxic material cultures of oil and plastics. My next big project is called Spirits, and it's about plastics—I'm deeply, viscerally troubled by plastics right now, and I'm dedicating my energies to fighting it going forward. But anyway. This crystalline work is definitely a new calendar for me, personally.

Whitney Hart: I'd interject that it also goes back to solar calendars. In a way it's John's calendar, but it hearkens back to histories and legacies that are eons old—Stonehenge, for example. John, you have an old site in Ireland you love to talk about, one you feel is very relevant to these perfect circular works.

John Gerrard: It's called Newgrange—a winter solstice passage grave where the light travels to the back of the grave on one day of the year, the winter solstice. It's unbelievable. Google Newgrange: N-E-W-G-R-A-N-G-E.

Trinity: It's incredible.

Whitney Hart: There's this interesting thing John is doing—manipulating time within the artwork, creating a new calendar and dating structure that feels new but also has elements that are old and prehistoric, and then combining that with blockchain, which has its own way of telling time: how quickly can you churn out the blocks—five seconds, ten seconds, thirty seconds? There's this underlying current about what time means, and time's manipulation, running through so many threads of this project.

John Gerrard: And let's not forget—it's a mystery, but the people buried in Newgrange, the bones found there, were Anatolian. They weren't even Irish, whatever Irish means—they came from 3,000 miles away. Ireland existed within a set of solar networks stretching across Europe, and people came to these important Neolithic and Paleolithic solar sites for reasons unknown.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

Blockchain is a new type of network. The world is doing so badly on climate change—fiat currencies, oil-backed currencies, are doing so badly—that maybe we have to look at alternatives. What that means on the ground is another question, but I think the idea of blockchain as a network with real potential is huge. It's almost the opposite of the media narrative—almost the mirror image of it, this idea that it's purely a destructive force used by things like pirates. Pirates are fascinating—always ambiguous. The fact that pirates are literally kidnapping oil tankers and demanding ransom in cryptocurrencies, I find fascinating. And let's not forget, we romanticize pirates all the time now—we just don't romanticize contemporary pirates, but they're much more interesting.

Will: We're getting close to time. Normally we do rapid fires, but we haven't even gotten through half our list. I wanted to ask—this performance is set virtually in the Arctic, the North Pole. Where else might crystalline work be performed? Do you imagine ever staging it somewhere else?

John Gerrard: There's only one other place in the great diptych of life: the Antarctic. The celestial twin of this piece would be performed there, beginning on the summer solstice—December 20th. The two interlocking performances would be like the Ouroboros, the snake biting its own tail.

Whitney Hart: Wow.

John Gerrard: But nobody's committed to that yet. We need a little more community engagement first. I'll tell you that for free.

Will: You could put it on Tezos, really go for the polar thing. Trinity, any other questions before we wrap up?

crystalline work — John Gerrard

Trinity: We can keep talking about crystals—ice crystals, snow crystals. But looking at it before I'd read anything about it, you can also think about salt flats, salt crystals, the geological formation of the Earth in terms of quartz crystals emerging out of magma. Is there a reason, other than climate change, that ice and snow are so central to the project?

John Gerrard: At the heart of this is the idea of different kinds of dances. In the simplest form, you have the unreal and the real—the virtual and the physical—dancing in very complicated ways. Then there's another way to consider it: the robot has a kind of instruction, almost a genetic code, and it produces these children that emerge from that code, which itself comes from the building blocks of life—rays, branching, spacing.

I wouldn't pinpoint anything more specific than that. But the most important thing is this: if somebody acquires a day—24 works—they can string them together with the app and it will perform across, broadcast from the app to a screen in your home, or in the New Museum. If somebody acquires a day, they get the virtual crystals, but there may also be real crystals forming at the pole, because of the trees pulling the temperature down—even if it's only 33 trees, even if it's only two crystals.

If we do actually place all 365 days, which I believe we will, that is what makes the work a success. It's the union of HomeTree—this beautiful entity planting trees in Ireland—and the art. It's not the work on its own. I ended an interview with Whitney and RightClickSave by saying: this is not a time for objects, not a time for things. It's a time for unions—unions between different players and actors—and for luminous actions. Not work that observes the world, or reflects it, or throws paint at it, or smashes it. I'm very interested in creating a work about unions, about luminous actions and networks, fundamentally. That's it.

Whitney Hart: You asked earlier how the project came to be on Feral File. Looking at the scale of it—producing 8,760 discrete, collectible artworks over the course of an entire year, carrying this important message about climate change—we saw an amazing opportunity to reach new audiences. All the time on X, I see tweets about what's the latest onboarding mechanism to bring people into blockchain, to educate them, to bridge gaps between communities in thoughtful ways. We've always seen this project as having the potential to be an amazing onboarding event—to speak effectively to this new luminous, prismatic generation, as John calls them, and bring them into blockchain, into real concerns about climate change and global warming, and into what we can do as a global community to fight these impacts and help our planet.

John Gerrard: And also taking ownership of their own cultural spaces. I think that's very important too, but that's almost an entire new podcast.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

Will: We could do three or four podcasts. There's so much I feel like I want to get into now talking to you more, John. Honestly, it would probably become more of a politics podcast than an art podcast — a politics and action podcast.

John Gerrard: Will, there is no difference. Never has been, never will be.

Will: Apolitics itself is a politics, right? Good art is always political.

John Gerrard: Always.

Will: We could go with both of you easily for another 90 minutes, but unfortunately we have to wrap it up here. Thank you both, John, Whitney. It was great to have you on.

John Gerrard: Thank you guys. Come to Art Farm next year. We're going to have a dance.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

Will: You let us know the details.

John Gerrard: We invite you. Whitney's going to come.

Will: I'm going to see Kim tonight, by the way — we're New York based, so I'm going to that thing.

John Gerrard: He's amazing. He's my friend. I am a big Kim collector. I've got amazing Kim.

Trinity: His work is amazing. We've collected so much on Tezos specifically.

John Gerrard: So did I — I got one of the Monogrids. When you say we, Trinity, what do you mean?

crystalline work — John Gerrard

Will: Us individually.

Trinity: There's the two of us.

John Gerrard: You collect together? Are you a couple?

Trinity: No, just a podcasting couple. Longtime friends.

John Gerrard: You collect simultaneously.

Will: In parallel, but often synchronized — we tend to have similar tastes about things.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

John Gerrard: Okay. Trinity, when you said us, I thought you meant it in a kind of structure, like a DAO.

Trinity: No, no. But there is something interesting in what you just said — due to the nature of the blockchain and the blocks, everybody is often acting in synchronicity.

John Gerrard: I've got some great, great, great Kims on Tezos, and some amazing ones on Ethereum as well. So we have to compare notes on our Kims.

Will: Check out our episode with him — he was a great guest too.

John Gerrard: I'd love to do that.

Will: All right. That was John Gerrard and Whitney Hart from Feral File. Go check out Crystalline Work — it's minting now. Thanks to both of you. We'll be back again soon with another episode. Bye everyone.

crystalline work — John Gerrard

Trinity: Bye.

Change log

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