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

Zancan

Title: Beautiful Utopias
Role: Generative artist
Platform: fx(hash)
Duration: 59m
Hosts: Will & Trinity
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#075 · Beautiful Utopias
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Will: All right, hello and welcome everyone to another episode, a posthumous episode of Waiting to Be Signed. We are here today with a very special interview. We've reconvened and we've got Zancan on the show. fx(hash) legend, generative art legend. You know him, you love him. We've been following him since the beginning. Trinity's here, we're rocking on a Friday morning. How's it going, everyone?

Zancan: Doing great. Hello everyone. Finally on the show.

Trinity: It's only taken two and a half years, but we're here. We made it.

Zancan: You kept trying and trying, and I was always like, nah, I have too much to do, not now, maybe in a few months. But honestly, I was probably too stressed about doing an episode with you.

Will: We're heavy hitters, you know—it's a big deal to be on Waiting to Be Signed, and everyone gets a little scared before they come on. But you're here now. Have you done any other podcasts? I know you've done some Spaces.

Zancan: Not so often. But I remember very well the first time I spoke about generative art—it was on a Twitter Space, and Danielle convinced me to try it. It was a horrible experience. I was terrible. I could never listen back to what I said that day. Actually, I can never listen back to any of my interviews or podcasts.

Will: It's okay, everyone else will listen.

Trinity: Exactly, this is for the people. I don't listen back either—it's a little cringe to hear the questions we ask sometimes. But glad you're here today. You've got a list of questions you theoretically prepared. You've also technically been preparing for this for two years, let's be honest.

Will: This is not your first rodeo. Let's kick it off.

Zancan: Let's go.

Will: The usual question—tell us about your background in art and coding. I'm sure you've given this answer on some of those long-lost Twitter Spaces, but here's your official, canonical Waiting to Be Signed answer. What's your history in art, how did you get into coding, and how did you come to create generative art?

Zancan: It's hard to say because I haven't been to any art school, no proper teaching. I'm self-taught in basically everything—same for coding. I started coding at age eight and never stopped. It's been about 40 years now, across so many languages and computers, and here I am doing generative art in JavaScript. I actually had to relearn JavaScript, since the one we use now isn't the same as what we were using back in 2000.

I graduated as an engineer in electronics, for some reason—I wanted to go to art school, but my parents said, as long as we're paying for your studies, you finish them, then you're free to do whatever you want. So I graduated as an engineer, though I didn't really learn any coding there since I already knew it. I was an engineer for one year, in 2000, expatriated to Texas, working at Texas Instruments. Then I quit to become a painter and taught myself oil painting. It took me almost a year to finish my first painting, and that's when I understood I wasn't going to make a living from painting—but programming was too important to me to give up either. So I went back to programming at the same time and kept doing both for years.

Eventually I created my own development studio with a friend. It's been running for 20 years, mostly programming interactive stuff—touch tables, video projections for museums, always real-time graphics and interactivity. Technically it was pretty demanding: people would come to us for innovative or special projects with short deadlines that required real technicality, so it felt like mercenary work a lot of the time. That experience with interactive, real-time animation is actually the reason I decided generative art, for me, would only be still images.

Trinity: That's an amazing story—and it sounds like your parents were right, to a certain extent. Finish the engineering degree, then see what happens. Though if you'd gone to art school, who knows what could have happened?

Zancan: I talked to a lot of people back then about getting an art education, and everyone told me art school wasn't for me—that it would teach a very formatted, very conceptual type of art. My inspirations were more figurative, portraiture, classic painting, and that's what triggered me most. People really discouraged me from going. So I followed my own path, and obviously I didn't fit into the art world—no formal teaching, no validation from an art school. I made what I liked, but I knew it wasn't something I could sell. I wasn't "legit" for the art world anyway.

Will: It did eventually become something you could sell. Can you catch us up on that—how did you find blockchain and NFTs as a way to release your generative work? I remember you were doing stuff with plotters before NFTs—is that right?

Zancan: Yes. My studio partner and I shared an office, and he'd been doing plotter art for about two years before I started. During lockdown we developed a project—we got some funding to drive robots to draw things. So I started building software to drive robots and plotters, and eventually a big CNC machine we wanted to convert into a plotting device.

In the beginning I was using my friend's generative art as sample material to test the software, but he wasn't thrilled about me plotting his work. So I started generating my own SVG files just to test things, and I got hooked—very quickly it became a passion. I was practicing every day, making generative art every night to try on the plotter. I developed the art and the plotter software side by side. The company project it was originally for got abandoned, but I kept using the software for all my plots ever since—it's the only software I use, and nowadays it does other things too, like embroidery, which we'll get to.

As for blockchain—I heard about it and NFTs the day Beeple made his $69 million sale. It was in the news; I wasn't on Twitter, wasn't following anything, but I heard about it in the office that day and thought, this is interesting. I dug in and discovered something that completely fascinated me. From then on, every night I was trying to absorb everything I could about this new world so full of promises, even though I had zero notion of finance or cryptocurrency—starting completely from scratch, alongside developing the plotter software.

Obviously I wanted to make an NFT at some point, but I kind of forgot about it—I was into plotting. I even tried building a store to sell my plots and sold three of them to one collector before the store existed. I thought that was a signal to launch a store, but instead I launched NFTs—the digital counterpart of my plots. It took about six months of development on what you now call Grass.js before I started creating NFTs with it. fx(hash) came along two or three months after my first NFT—so really shortly after.

Trinity: fx(hash) really changed the landscape by making long-form generative art accessible. When you were developing Grass.js and doing your early plots and sales, was long-form generative art your intention, or were you looking to create more tightly scoped one-of-ones or small series?

Zancan: Not at all—I didn't even know what long-form was, and it wasn't my intention. I'd heard about Art Blocks from my studio mate early on, around March 2021—I think a Subscape by Matt DesLauriers was minting at the time. I thought it sounded cool but forgot about it. Didn't buy—I didn't have any cryptocurrency, and it seemed so expensive to me. I was hesitant to invest my own money into cryptocurrency to buy art. But after I launched my first NFTs and they sold well, that changed my mind—and my capacity for collecting.

Long-form wasn't my intention, though. I worked the way I did when painting: I had an image in mind and built my code to reach that specific image. I'd think, I want a landscape with this kind of plant, so I'll develop everything needed to produce that exact landscape. There was almost no randomness involved. The idea of releasing hundreds of images from the same algorithm wasn't in my mind at all.

But some of my collectors from Foundation and Tezos became early, completely obsessed with fx(hash) when it launched. I looked at the platform and thought, interesting, but aesthetically it looked kind of cheap to me—I was watching from the sidelines, though I thought it was fun. One collector I spoke with often—an Ethereum collector—found this incredible, affordable source of generative art. One tez was nothing compared to what he was used to paying on Ethereum, so he went bonkers on fx(hash), buying every project multiple times. That's when I started thinking it would be fun to make a project on fx(hash) for him.

Then I heard an interview with Ciphrd explaining the platform, which was gaining a lot of traction, while I was making a very important plot I called Monolith 000. As I listened to Ciphrd, I imagined using fx(hash) to distribute that plot—chopping it into pieces and making a project that would let me distribute a little piece of it to many people. I contacted Ciphrd asking if there was a way to know the edition number of each output, and there wasn't—no plan to add that anytime soon. Every iteration exists alone, with no knowledge of the outside world, so the platform couldn't be used to distribute a finite set of elements that way.

That changed my plan—thankfully I didn't chop that plot into pieces, and I made Garden, Monoliths instead. You know the story from there. About two weeks after releasing Garden, Monoliths, given the success it had, I put the original plot up for auction, and it went completely over the ceiling. One crazy moment for me.

Garden Monoliths — Zancan

Will: I want to talk more about the aftermath of Garden, Monoliths, but first—can you say who that collector was? Are they still actively collecting?

Zancan: The collector went by the name Akius.

Will: Akius.

Zancan: I haven't talked to him in a long time.

Trinity: Akius, right?

Zancan: He's based in Australia, I think. I sent him some plots back then. I'm not sure he survived the crypto crash we went through in 2022—he was a long-time crypto user, went through a very bad crash before that too. He told me all those stories; we used to chat a lot back then.

Garden Monoliths — Zancan

Will: Let's talk about the immediate aftermath, then. Garden, Monoliths comes out December 9th, 2021 -- only 18 tez per piece. It sells out fast, and over the next couple weeks the floor keeps steadily rising, the buzz building around it. Collectors are in Discord -- back when we had #price-discussion on the fx(hash) Discord -- talking about features and rarity, building sets, and the bullishness around the project, and around you as an artist, was unparalleled to a lot of other stories on fx(hash). What was that like for you? It sounds like you just put this out because you thought it'd be fun. What were your expectations, and how did it change things for you?

Zancan: There was no expectation. I was doing it for fun. It wasn't hard for me, since I was already using these algorithms for my standalone art on Hic Et Nunc and OBJKT. The only pressure I put on myself was that I was pretty sure releasing a long-form piece, with the code public for the first time, would kill the algorithm -- that I wouldn't be able to use it again after that. Beyond that, no expectations. The price, 18 tez, was about... $70 or something?

Trinity: $70 or $100, somewhere around there.

Zancan: Around there. That wasn't cheap for an fx(hash) project back then. But yeah, it sold out very quickly. I still had the chance to mint a piece myself, but it sold out in less than a minute, so I was lucky to get one. Funny thing, though -- the next day a collector who'd missed out asked, "Can you sell me your piece?" And I said sure, 18 tez. So for a long time I didn't actually own a Garden, Monoliths.

Garden Monoliths — Zancan

It was interesting too because, as you'll remember, the reveal took many, many hours back then. I minted the project the day before, and the next morning, while I was taking my kid to school, the reveal started happening on Discord. It hadn't revealed at all overnight -- only in the morning did I see what had happened with the sales and resales. People had been buying and flipping the project on secondary market without knowing the output. Some of them flipped for not nearly enough before the reveal. Interesting to watch. And then it climbed, very progressively, over the following days.

Will: I remember it too -- it wasn't an immediate spike, it was steady. Now it's 100 tez, now it's 200 tez, then the floor... It was maybe the healthiest growth we've ever seen in a project like that. The market was really hot at the time, and you'd usually see projects spike and then crash after the flippers left. This one just climbed slowly until we got to, what, 10,000, 15,000?

Zancan: I think a lot of Ethereum collectors came to fx(hash) and Tezos thanks to that project. All of a sudden we passed the point where the prices weren't something we'd seen on Tezos before, but they were totally normal for Ethereum collectors. All the whales came to Tezos and started collecting there. That's something I can be proud of -- having been a trigger for people to come to Tezos and start collecting. It also made me understand how important royalties are for an artist, because the amount I made from royalties on Garden, Monoliths quickly surpassed what I'd made on the primary market. That changed my perspective.

Garden Monoliths — Zancan

Trinity: It still holds the highest volume of any project on fx(hash), hitting nearly $1 million in secondary sales, which is amazing.

Will: This is probably a good place to talk about what came after. It must have been mid-2022 -- after Kindergarten Monuments, your collab with Yazid, which came out around April or May of '22 -- when you started tweeting about issues with your bank and taxes. It's been a mixed blessing. The success of the project led to a million DMs, every curated platform trying to figure out how to work with you, auctions, live events -- the perception was "wow, this guy's crushing it, amazing for Zancan." But then, like a lot of artists we've talked to, when crypto goes down, tax issues surface. Can you explain what happened?

Zancan: I wasn't prepared to have that much income from cryptocurrency. I thought it would be something on the side, but it became too much to be considered a hobby -- it became my main source of revenue. And you have to declare that accordingly: it's professional revenue, so you need a legal structure and a tax scheme to fit into. It turned out nothing was ready for this kind of income.

When I started using cryptocurrency, I'd heard -- and had some confirmation -- that it would be taxed under the flat tax, 30% on anything converted to fiat. Simple enough. But then I heard from other sources that this wasn't actually the case. I had a meeting with a lawyer specialized in cryptocurrency, William, and he scared me badly, telling me that VAT would apply -- 20% VAT on the price at the day of sale. Since the value of the cryptocurrency had since crashed, what I had left was worth less than the tax I'd owe. I was going to be bankrupt.

Not a pleasant thing to hear. He told me I needed to create a company, transfer all my wallets to it, and structure things so the loss in cryptocurrency value could be taken into account. So I tried to create a company. But to open a company, you need a professional bank account, and no bank wanted to open one for a company related to cryptocurrency, or art, or both. I tried seven or eight banks. With some, it seemed to be going smoothly, then suddenly they'd shut down my account. It became such a mess just to create a company.

Eventually I did manage to create one -- it's called Zancan Garden -- and I found a bank for it. But it turns out I can't use that company for the sales I made before it existed. So now I have this company I have to take care of, filing monthly declarations, but I basically can't do anything with it. It kind of sucks.

Kindergarten Monuments — Zancan

I also have my artist status, and I'm supposed to declare things there, but I've had two accountants dump me. Every time you spend ages finding someone, teaching them your situation -- even if they know crypto, they still need numbers. And where do you get numbers from the blockchain? Easier said than done. I've written countless pieces of software trying to turn blockchain data into something usable by an accountant. Months and months of work just to characterize my sales in a way that could be declared and taxed under French law. And still, I didn't know how much I had or how much tax I'd owe. Pure chaos -- time-consuming, exhausting, and I never had clarity on what was going to happen to me. I could end up rich or with nothing, and I never knew for certain how much of that crypto money was actually mine. It's still the case.

There's a lot I haven't declared, and I'll have to rely on my right, under French law, to correct previous years' declarations -- you're allowed to make errors and fix them later. For instance, I haven't declared any cryptocurrency for 2022 at all. I still have to do that. But spending so much time on this administrative stuff was boring and scary in equal measure.

It accompanied me through those years. Meanwhile every platform was asking me for a new project, and I kept engaging with them, but the more time passed, the closer I came to actually crashing, because I was doing everything in a state of emergency -- every release, every project, done at the last second. Until one day, I was engaged in a charity project, and the day I was supposed to submit the signed document with all the project details -- name, edition count, everything -- I had absolutely nothing. I canceled. That was hard, because I'd been trying to be professional this whole time, to be reliable. At some point, I just couldn't. It was hard to face that I was doing too much.

Even though I was so enthusiastic about everything -- the space, the travels, the exhibitions, the friends, the collectors -- I couldn't sustain that pace. I don't think I burned out, but I was dangerously overwhelmed. This was around the end of 2022, when I released Landscape with Carbon Capture with Verse, while also going to Miami. The Verse project went absolutely crazy -- like an open faucet. For two weeks I got a notification almost every minute that another edition had sold. It was an open edition, long-form, and it went wild. That was too much to take. I never did that to make a lot of money -- money just equals more problems for me. Some collectors were arguing that the open edition was going to crash my market, which in a way it did, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was responsible for putting some gambling-like elements into that code, but I never planned for it to spiral like that.

Landscape with Carbon Capture — Zancan

And Miami, at the same time -- I was concerned about the environment and carbon emissions, and here I am in this place with the air conditioning blasting nonstop, people partying 24/7, nobody caring about anything, and I've got my environmentally-minded project making heaps of money, completely losing the intent behind my art. I realized I wasn't heading toward the place I wanted to go. I never made a project intending to sell a lot and make a lot of money -- that was never the goal. But the money came anyway, and it didn't make my life easier or better. It's maybe outrageous to say money doesn't solve your problems, when so many people are genuinely struggling financially with their work. You obviously need to pay your bills, support your lifestyle -- but past a certain point, it's just more problems than anything else. And I'd clearly passed that point.

Trinity: That was a prolific year for you -- not just partnerships with platforms, but releasing edition projects too, experimenting with things like Versum, or 8BitDo while fx(hash) was down. What was your mentality creating and releasing those less obviously partnered works during that time? Was it relaxing, or...

Zancan: I really loved it. I was completely hooked on the space, almost 24/7. I felt connected with it — I was sensing it, breathing it, feeling it. When the moment was right, I could come up with a project overnight, like the Apebadu thing, because I had a vision that was very clear, which I don't have nowadays. Probably because I'm not connected that much anymore — I'm not on social media much. I guess people who are more plugged in feel the space better and are more aware of the trends. But back then, it felt right. During the Apebadu release, that style was trendy. It was ridiculous doing an 8-bit Garden, Monoliths — absolutely nuts, didn't make sense at all. But it was fun, so I did it, and I didn't expect it to sell, especially since the price and edition number were generative, totally random. You could get a 1/1 that cost 2 Tezos, or one of 32 editions at 64 Tezos each. Didn't make sense at all, but people liked it. There was this crazy energy happening back then.

Garden Monoliths — Zancan

Will: Throughout the years, as Trinity mentioned, you worked with Versum — RIP, that platform's gone now — Verse, Bright Moments, basically everything except Art Blocks, which until recently you wouldn't have been able to do because of the on-chain requirement. I assume the library you use is just too big to put on-chain. Maybe now, with their new studio allowing something like IPFS, that could be an option. But here's what I'm getting at: throughout all these projects, the core of the work always seems to derive from the library you've built, finding new ways to push it and keep it feeling fresh. So two questions: did you ever feel like starting a new wallet, a new name, and going in a totally different direction — abandoning it because of the pressure to stick with this style, or the burden of being "the guy who has Grass.js"? Or do you just love it too much to stray from it?

Zancan: After Garden, Monoliths, I didn't use that file much. Occasionally, but I started almost immediately rewriting everything in a more modular way — not just a file, or what we'd call an algorithm, but a framework. You mentioned Art Blocks — very early on, they asked if I'd be interested in releasing work with them, and there was a problem with file size. So I started optimizing my code size. It took a long time to rewrite the code to do something similar but smaller. From that moment on, I put that pressure on myself: don't write code that uses too much space. It turned out to be a real constraint — so much harder to develop my ideas with that size limit in mind. So why go to a platform on Ethereum that demands optimized code size when I could simply release on fx(hash)? But there was demand from collectors for it. I did do one Bright Moments project, the Tokyo collection, using Art Blocks Studio on Ethereum. My code was huge — I optimized it a lot, but I still paid $16,000 in gas to mint that project. It was crazy, because at that exact moment Pepe coin was going bonkers, clogging the blockchain and sending gas insane. To close that story: at the very last moment, I ended up writing a self-extracting archive as my generative code. When you launch that project, Kumo no Shingo, it self-extracts a big chunk of data — that's the generative code. Which is nuts, because I like my code to be seen, to be read. There's so much art in the code itself, I think. But obfuscating it into a data chunk like that isn't the generative art I want to make.

What was the question — right, Grass.js. Are you still going to work with plants and nature? Yes. Am I still going to use the algorithm in the original Grass.js file? Probably not — it's evolved so much. Parts of it are still in my framework and I reuse them, but it's so modular now I can use any block. It's like I've built a sort of Photoshop for generative art, for plant-based projects. Depending on what I want to do, I pull from this block or that one. There are many entry points in my framework where I can branch off new code, and that's what I always do — write something specific every time I want new graphics. I never wanted to keep doing the same type of art over and over. Look closely and you'll see every new release has something genuinely new, different from the last. Sometimes I rewrote the code entirely just for that one release. I've heard people say Zancan always does the same thing — but I just cannot do low-effort work. It's not in my genes. It's always a lot of work, otherwise I'm not satisfied.

Trinity: To me, the two projects that deviate most from Grass.js — besides Apebadu, obviously — A Bugged Forest really comes to mind as something intentionally glitched. I'm curious whether any elements of A Bugged Forest exist in Grass.js as separate functions.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Zancan: Part of it, yes. In the beginning, when I was experimenting with generative art and plotters, I had two main algorithms: one was Grass.js, and the other was something like Tree.js — one for trees, one for the grassy landscapes with plants. At some point, the core of my framework was extracted from both, and now they share the same core functions — everything needed to create a generative project and make it plottable. Eventually Grass and Tree blended together, so I could use trees in my grassy scenes. There's definitely a bit of the original Grass.js algorithm in A Bugged Forest — it's all mixed up at this point.

That's the real power of my framework: the ability to reuse previous parts instead of reinventing the wheel every time. Different artists take different approaches — some prefer to trim their visuals down to one simple algorithm or property and make that the core idea of the project. My approach is different. I hold a strong idea of the visual in mind, and it's usually figurative. You can't just adjust values and turn buttons and see what happens — you need a strong conception of where you want to go to make this kind of art.

Will: Changing topics slightly — you were early to producing prints and plots. We got some of the backstory earlier, about being at that decision point of setting up a website to sell prints and plots versus doing NFTs. NFTs happened first, but very early on you were also offering prints to collectors, and releasing projects like A Long Thread and Generative Springtime that were meant to be collected and then plotted by you. What's the connection, for you, between these works you create digitally through code and the drive to bring them into the physical world? What's pushed you to experiment — we saw you about 18 months ago in Brooklyn at Artmatr, working with their plotting machines that used chalk and different paints and mediums, and more recently you've shown embroidery on Twitter. What's the connection to the physical, and what's going on with the embroidery?

Zancan: I come from a painting background, and beyond that, I'm a maker — I like to make things, I need to make things. Before going back to art and experimenting with plotters, I spent years building my house and studio. That's important to me: making things with my hands. I need to have made something physical in a day to call it a day, to feel satisfied. Doesn't matter if I'm building a wall, doing plumbing, or making a piece of art — I only feel good when I've put something physical into the world. So my attachment to the physical is for myself, first.

I think some collectors also relate differently to a piece made physically. With prints, there's no real engagement from the artist in the making of that physical object. Plotting is different — it's more craft, a real drawing with real pen, real paper, real ink, compared to a print, which is still a physical piece, but, well, it's a printer. Quite different.

As for embroidery — I released Aux Arbres this year. That was the only project I agreed to do; I was already committed to not doing any new long-form project. It came through Seth from Bright Moments, with Coinbase. He told me about the project, and for him I'd do anything anyway. The pitch was for the launch of Coinbase France — it needed to be something very French. I thought, what's so French? Textile. So the project was built around the idea of something that felt visually embroidered — I worked the code and the graphics to look embroidered. Launching it in Paris, I met Iskra Velitchkova, who'd done experiments with embroidery. She told me it would look great actually embroidered, and that she had an embroidery machine — we could do some samples. Time passed, though. Now it's end of July, and I went upstate New York to Bantam Tools, the company that recently bought AxiDraw.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Will: We had Bre on the show last year, so—

Zancan: Bre was on the show?

Will: Yeah.

Zancan: I heard about Bre Pettis this July — we met in Berlin, though I didn't know him before that. He invited me to a Plotterfest in New York, and it was really, really good. There I met Matt, who's doing plottables.io. He gave a small presentation of his new project on embroidery, and I thought, "Oh, embroidery again, interesting." Talking with Matt, he told me he had an embroidery machine and was developing a library, and he could make a sample for me. On my departure day, I stopped by his place in New York City — we only had an hour together — and he made a sample from one of my Aux Arbes outputs. I fell in love with the process instantly.

That came at a time when I needed something to feel excitement again, since I'd kind of lost that over the past months, and I became obsessed with it. It became clear I needed to make my work embroidered. To try it properly, I needed a machine, and I ended up going for a big industrial one — half a ton in weight. It was a nightmare getting it into my studio; I had to build a crane just to lift it in. But I loved it. I was so passionate about making embroidery that I did it almost every day, using Matt's library to generate the files and develop the technique. I feel more and more satisfied with the results, but I have no plan — I have no idea if I'll release anything. I just enjoy the process and the excitement of creating with embroidery. It's like a plotter, but so different, and it gave me that same excitement I felt when I first started experimenting with the AxiDraw. So yeah, that's my new hobby.

Trinity: Tangential to that — the embroidery and physical work you've been posting looks so different, so tactile. From a selling perspective, especially as the market and attention shift away from NFTs, do you see yourself going back to non-blockchain sales — producing small quantities and just selling them directly? I'm curious how your attitude toward the blockchain has changed, especially coming off a couple of years of high stress and high hype, with this now being more of a passion project.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Zancan: I'm lucky enough that I don't have to rely on sales to survive, and not having to sell anything removes so much pressure and stress. I feel very happy about that. Of course I'm still happy when something sells on the secondary market — I did a stealth drop on OBJKT recently and it sold out really quickly. I didn't say anything about the project, and still my collectors were there, loyal and appreciating my work no matter what. I feel so grateful for that, but I don't need to sell anything.

So with something like the embroidery project, maybe at some point I'll come up with a way to make it accessible to collectors, but for now I have no plans. I need to feel it in my guts before releasing a project these days. I made sure I don't have any commitment to any platform or gallery whatsoever, so whenever it feels like the right moment, I'll obviously use the blockchain — though probably not a long-form project in the near future. I have too many of those already, especially on fx(hash). There was a moment when all I could see on fx(hash) was my name, and that was too much — I needed to leave that space for other people.

But I'll most certainly continue using OBJKT or Tezos to release editions in the Lush Temples collection, for instance, because there are so many of those landscapes I can still shape, and I'd like to see them exist as artwork at some point. So I'm sure I'll do releases like that, but no calendar, no schedule, nothing. That's absolute freedom, and that's the most important thing, isn't it?

Will: Definitely. I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but every time we've met you in person for dinners, I left with the impression that you were the most tired person I'd ever met. So I'm genuinely happy to hear you've found this place where you have the freedom to take your time back, find some peace, and do things you enjoy — whatever comes to you comes to you. I think you deserve it. You've probably racked up more frequent flyer miles than anyone the past couple of years, constantly traveling between releases. I'm glad you're enjoying this now.

Zancan: I'm trying to find my pace, and also trying to figure out how to make my everyday life work, since half the time I'm a single dad of two — something I didn't plan either. It's really difficult to find that balance. There's still a lot of chaos in my life, and I wish I had more time for my art projects. I'm happy to be back working in my studio at home, since that wasn't possible this past year. I'm happy to have physical work to do too — building walls, working with matter, using my body instead of just sitting behind a computer. It feels so much better this way.

So the intent is to find that inner peace and balance, make it work day to day, and keep creating anyway — I can't stop creating, it's not possible. But trying to stay up to date with everything happening on the blockchain or social media doesn't fit anymore. It really doesn't. Better that than being constantly tired, trying to do more than you can physically support.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Trinity: You do seem less tired, like you've reached a higher level of serenity.

Zancan: If you say so. Thank you.

Trinity: Maybe you're just less jet-lagged.

Zancan: It feels a little empty and dead sometimes, honestly, because by dismissing every new project and collaboration, I made myself free but lonely. I miss those times of excitement and strong connection with the community, with everyone. But I think the space changed too — a big part of me changed, but the space changed as well. Do you two still feel much excitement about where this is all going?

Trinity: I think we're both happy to be taking a bit of a break. I don't know where things are going — Will, maybe you have a better sense — whether things come roaring back, or don't, or just look different. What do you hope for the future of NFTs, the blockchain, fx(hash), Tezos?

Zancan: I'm still excited about it. I hope that at some point the original idea behind blockchain and NFTs resurfaces — that it's not just about money, but about the beauty of openness, accessibility, decentralization. Those are beautiful utopias, and I really adhered to those values embedded in the idea of art on the blockchain, then kind of lost them. Royalties for artists, for instance — that was such a strong part of that original vision, and we know what happened there. All of a sudden it wasn't a strong feature of smart contracts anymore.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

So I hope those core values I was originally interested in resurface and gain momentum again. But regardless, I'll continue using the blockchain, because I still consider myself an NFT artist. Thanks to NFTs, for the first time I fit into an art world — not the traditional art world, but an art world, an art market, and I fit right in. That feels like the right place for me. So I consider myself an NFT artist, and I'm not going to stop anytime soon.

Will: Amazing — everyone's just going to have to watch for stealth drops and unannounced things. We've gone on for quite a while, so let's start wrapping up. We'd normally do rapid-fire questions, but instead I want to just express some gratitude. Everything you've said about loving the community and finding your place here — you've been a huge part of that, for a lot of us who got our start through fx(hash). Not just because of the art you made, but because of your willingness to collect. The first Waiting to Be Signed token we did had a palette people called "Seltazancan" — the green palette. It wouldn't have been as special without someone like you buying up the green from every release.

And personally, for the show — in our first year, the donations you made when we were just getting started, the artwork, on Tezos too — there weren't a lot of people giving us things back then. Your acknowledgment of community in that way meant a lot to us.

Zancan: I know.

Will: It kept us motivated, knowing there were people out there willing to support us like that.

Trinity: It's very validating.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Will: A huge thank you from both of us. We're just so happy to have finally had you on — even if this might be one of the last episodes ever, I'm glad we got to have you and talk about all this. I hope you enjoyed the conversation.

Zancan: Sure — it went fast.

Will: I told you it would.

Zancan: Thank you. This is exactly what I felt — I was overwhelmed with gratitude toward everyone participating in that movement, which gave me so much energy. It felt like being born again, excited, not even needing to sleep because it was so energizing. People like you were building things, animating things — it was all part of a movement that felt like it might change the world. There's still time.

Will: There's still time.

Zancan: Yeah, there's still time. We did change the world a little bit, but it's going in a different direction now — not what we hoped for. Still, I was overwhelmed with gratitude, and I wanted to thank everyone constantly, because it felt so full of energy. It still is — just thinking about those times gives me a lot of energy. Sometimes I hear music I was playing while developing this art, and that feeling comes through me again, and I get a glimpse of what it felt like being hooked on the blockchain and on generative art. So thank you as well, for those years, for all the moments, for hearing your podcast and mentioning my name so often — I had some little moments of pride along the way.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Will: Right on. Trinity, anything else before we wrap?

Trinity: That's it for me. Thank you so much for driving the space into what it became, and for all the energy and work you've put into it. Even from an environmental perspective, I don't think that focus and priority has been lost either.

Zancan: Okay.

Will: Next time you're in the area for a plotter convention or whatever, hit us up.

Zancan: Yeah.

Will: We'll have a much lower-pressure, serene dinner where we don't have to talk about drops.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Zancan: Yes — and I won't have any drops anyway.

Trinity: Perfect.

Zancan: That would be a great moment. Good luck with everything — the last two episodes of the show, and whatever you do next without it. Maybe it'll be difficult at first, and then you'll find a way to enjoy it.

Will: The toddlers will fill the time, for sure.

Zancan: That's for sure. Okay, great. Thank you.

Will: All right, thanks so much. That was Zancan — the definitive interview, Waiting to Be Signed. Thanks so much for coming on. We hope you all enjoyed it, and we'll be back with at least one more episode. Bye everyone.

A Bugged Forest — Zancan

Change log

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