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Laura Splan - Doilies 
This is not just any old doily.
This is a virus doily.
The work of Laura Splan involves taking images of viruses, such as Influenza and SARS, and creating her own design, based on their basic anatomical structures, through a graphics editor. The images are then sent through computerized embroidering software, where it proceeds to create the stitches, and then the doily-viruses are born via the computerized sewing machine.
The delicacy of these doilies parallels that of the virus. They are such small forms; should be easy to destroy, and yet they have a great amount of destructive power. Only recent medicine has been able to partially subdue, if not completely eliminate, the side effects of viruses in our systems. According to the artist, the fact that these viruses are everywhere domesticates them. This is a status of domestication that is, for example, shared with a doily. 
The doily has traditionally depicted natural motifs within its threads, and was passed on through generations. As the virus is a natural entity, and has to be passed on from something in order for someone to get it, combining the two concepts of traditional craft and illness, into an art form, demonstrates our psychological acceptance of the viruses’ existence. It is only now that we choose to fight this ‘tradition’ of accepting the virus as our fate. Just recently, a child has been cured of HIV, a previously incurable disease caused by a virus.
And you also, you don’t see many people embroidering lace nowadays.-Anna Paluch

Laura Splan - Doilies

This is not just any old doily.

This is a virus doily.

The work of Laura Splan involves taking images of viruses, such as Influenza and SARS, and creating her own design, based on their basic anatomical structures, through a graphics editor. The images are then sent through computerized embroidering software, where it proceeds to create the stitches, and then the doily-viruses are born via the computerized sewing machine.

The delicacy of these doilies parallels that of the virus. They are such small forms; should be easy to destroy, and yet they have a great amount of destructive power. Only recent medicine has been able to partially subdue, if not completely eliminate, the side effects of viruses in our systems. According to the artist, the fact that these viruses are everywhere domesticates them. This is a status of domestication that is, for example, shared with a doily.

The doily has traditionally depicted natural motifs within its threads, and was passed on through generations. As the virus is a natural entity, and has to be passed on from something in order for someone to get it, combining the two concepts of traditional craft and illness, into an art form, demonstrates our psychological acceptance of the viruses’ existence. It is only now that we choose to fight this ‘tradition’ of accepting the virus as our fate. Just recently, a child has been cured of HIV, a previously incurable disease caused by a virus.

And you also, you don’t see many people embroidering lace nowadays.

-
Anna Paluch

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

doilies virus viruses technology computers Laura Splan anna paluch art science artandsciencejournal
David Cope and the Science of Algorithmic Composition
“To some extent, this match is a defense of the whole human race. Computers play such a huge role in society. They are everywhere. But there is a frontier they must not cross. They must not cross into the area of human creativity. It would threaten the existence of human control in such areas as arts, literature, and music.” 
So said Gary Kasparov, chess grandmaster, one year before he lost to Deep Blue, IBM’s chess-playing supercomputer. Meanwhile, a relatively anonymous professor of music in California had created a computer program capable of composing pieces of music in the style of great composers that most people could not differentiate from authentic compositions. The professor, David Cope, named this program Experiments in Musical Intelligence, or “Emmy”. Since then, Cope and his successive programs have been the objects of both celebration and scorn, challenging the world’s perception of what musical creativity entails.     
Cope’s argument, and the basis for his software, is that creativity is essentially recombinant: consciously or not, all composers plagiarize their progenitors and contemporaries. What makes his (or Emmy’s) work superior to the stilted and awkward compositions of earlier programs are two fundamental insights into the syntax of music. Rather than rely on the traditional divisions of musical notation, Cope developed an analytic musical syntax that goes into what Douglas Hofstadter (of Gödel, Escher, Bach) terms the “tension-resolution status” of a piece, the two forces that underlie all music. Secondly, though the program composes according to formal rules, it also uses heuristics that allow it to sometimes ‘break’ its own rules in innovative ways.
You can listen to a performance of one of Emmy’s Bach Chorale-style compositions here; for more on David Cope, you can visit his website or read this lengthy (but excellent) article.
- Alex Tesar

David Cope and the Science of Algorithmic Composition

“To some extent, this match is a defense of the whole human race. Computers play such a huge role in society. They are everywhere. But there is a frontier they must not cross. They must not cross into the area of human creativity. It would threaten the existence of human control in such areas as arts, literature, and music.”

So said Gary Kasparov, chess grandmaster, one year before he lost to Deep Blue, IBM’s chess-playing supercomputer. Meanwhile, a relatively anonymous professor of music in California had created a computer program capable of composing pieces of music in the style of great composers that most people could not differentiate from authentic compositions. The professor, David Cope, named this program Experiments in Musical Intelligence, or “Emmy”. Since then, Cope and his successive programs have been the objects of both celebration and scorn, challenging the world’s perception of what musical creativity entails.     

Cope’s argument, and the basis for his software, is that creativity is essentially recombinant: consciously or not, all composers plagiarize their progenitors and contemporaries. What makes his (or Emmy’s) work superior to the stilted and awkward compositions of earlier programs are two fundamental insights into the syntax of music. Rather than rely on the traditional divisions of musical notation, Cope developed an analytic musical syntax that goes into what Douglas Hofstadter (of Gödel, Escher, Bach) terms the “tension-resolution status” of a piece, the two forces that underlie all music. Secondly, though the program composes according to formal rules, it also uses heuristics that allow it to sometimes ‘break’ its own rules in innovative ways.

You can listen to a performance of one of Emmy’s Bach Chorale-style compositions here; for more on David Cope, you can visit his website or read this lengthy (but excellent) article.

- Alex Tesar

art science algorithm computers music
Leonid Tsvetkov
Amsterdam-based artist Leonid Tsvetkov’s cityscape models make use of old motherboards (or what is left after valuable metals are stripped from them) and other computer innards. These models, depicting oil refineries and cityscapes dominated by large industrial complexes in muted hues, illustrate a quasi-dystopian environment.
In some works, the metals are rusted and the paint is chipped, amplifying this theme of the eventual deterioration that renders modern technological materials useless. In another sense, however, by recycling these materials Tsvetkov is suggesting that they can be made to have other uses, suggesting a more resourceful future.
Some of his models are even submerged in aquariums of sorts, surrounded by mysterious fungi that grimly resemble clouds of dark smoke or even natural phenomena such as tornadoes. In this sense, Tsvetkov alludes to the organisms that exist around and that are affected by the technology and machine-centric environments that facilitate modern living. As Tsvetkov describes it, “My work focuses on reshaping cultural waste and exploration of social and physical processes. I am interested in the moments where the hard edge geometry of the city becomes organic or there random activity begins to take a highly organized form.”
What I like most about Tsvetkov’s works is how much meaning lies in his use of the materials themselves. Not only do the models depict harshly industrial complexes and lots, but they do so with materials that draw attention to the ever-advancing world of computer technology. By using now ineffective and useless materials, once essential to the function of a computer product, Tsvetkov’s works illustrate that the constant improvements in the world of technology come at the price of the fast and consequential incompetency (and decreasing quality) of technological products. 
Tsvetkov recently participated in the exhibit MärklinWorld at Kunsthal KAdE  in the Netherlands, in which forty international contemporary artists who shared a demonstrated interest in depicting urban and rural landscapes contributed their work. Tsvetkov’s work was featured around a 60-metre model railway layout, where a train with a camera attached travelled. This gave visitors, who otherwise could only see the models from a bird’s eye view, a way to experience the landscapes as though they were passengers on the railway themselves. 
Normally I’d suggest a site where you could learn more about Tsvetkov, but unfortunately there’s not much to pick from. If anyone has a tip-off on a biography or artist statement, send it our way! To see the article where I first found out about his work, click here.
- Gabrielle Doiron
Leonid Tsvetkov
Amsterdam-based artist Leonid Tsvetkov’s cityscape models make use of old motherboards (or what is left after valuable metals are stripped from them) and other computer innards. These models, depicting oil refineries and cityscapes dominated by large industrial complexes in muted hues, illustrate a quasi-dystopian environment.
In some works, the metals are rusted and the paint is chipped, amplifying this theme of the eventual deterioration that renders modern technological materials useless. In another sense, however, by recycling these materials Tsvetkov is suggesting that they can be made to have other uses, suggesting a more resourceful future.
Some of his models are even submerged in aquariums of sorts, surrounded by mysterious fungi that grimly resemble clouds of dark smoke or even natural phenomena such as tornadoes. In this sense, Tsvetkov alludes to the organisms that exist around and that are affected by the technology and machine-centric environments that facilitate modern living. As Tsvetkov describes it, “My work focuses on reshaping cultural waste and exploration of social and physical processes. I am interested in the moments where the hard edge geometry of the city becomes organic or there random activity begins to take a highly organized form.”
What I like most about Tsvetkov’s works is how much meaning lies in his use of the materials themselves. Not only do the models depict harshly industrial complexes and lots, but they do so with materials that draw attention to the ever-advancing world of computer technology. By using now ineffective and useless materials, once essential to the function of a computer product, Tsvetkov’s works illustrate that the constant improvements in the world of technology come at the price of the fast and consequential incompetency (and decreasing quality) of technological products. 
Tsvetkov recently participated in the exhibit MärklinWorld at Kunsthal KAdE  in the Netherlands, in which forty international contemporary artists who shared a demonstrated interest in depicting urban and rural landscapes contributed their work. Tsvetkov’s work was featured around a 60-metre model railway layout, where a train with a camera attached travelled. This gave visitors, who otherwise could only see the models from a bird’s eye view, a way to experience the landscapes as though they were passengers on the railway themselves. 
Normally I’d suggest a site where you could learn more about Tsvetkov, but unfortunately there’s not much to pick from. If anyone has a tip-off on a biography or artist statement, send it our way! To see the article where I first found out about his work, click here.
- Gabrielle Doiron
Leonid Tsvetkov
Amsterdam-based artist Leonid Tsvetkov’s cityscape models make use of old motherboards (or what is left after valuable metals are stripped from them) and other computer innards. These models, depicting oil refineries and cityscapes dominated by large industrial complexes in muted hues, illustrate a quasi-dystopian environment.
In some works, the metals are rusted and the paint is chipped, amplifying this theme of the eventual deterioration that renders modern technological materials useless. In another sense, however, by recycling these materials Tsvetkov is suggesting that they can be made to have other uses, suggesting a more resourceful future.
Some of his models are even submerged in aquariums of sorts, surrounded by mysterious fungi that grimly resemble clouds of dark smoke or even natural phenomena such as tornadoes. In this sense, Tsvetkov alludes to the organisms that exist around and that are affected by the technology and machine-centric environments that facilitate modern living. As Tsvetkov describes it, “My work focuses on reshaping cultural waste and exploration of social and physical processes. I am interested in the moments where the hard edge geometry of the city becomes organic or there random activity begins to take a highly organized form.”
What I like most about Tsvetkov’s works is how much meaning lies in his use of the materials themselves. Not only do the models depict harshly industrial complexes and lots, but they do so with materials that draw attention to the ever-advancing world of computer technology. By using now ineffective and useless materials, once essential to the function of a computer product, Tsvetkov’s works illustrate that the constant improvements in the world of technology come at the price of the fast and consequential incompetency (and decreasing quality) of technological products. 
Tsvetkov recently participated in the exhibit MärklinWorld at Kunsthal KAdE  in the Netherlands, in which forty international contemporary artists who shared a demonstrated interest in depicting urban and rural landscapes contributed their work. Tsvetkov’s work was featured around a 60-metre model railway layout, where a train with a camera attached travelled. This gave visitors, who otherwise could only see the models from a bird’s eye view, a way to experience the landscapes as though they were passengers on the railway themselves. 
Normally I’d suggest a site where you could learn more about Tsvetkov, but unfortunately there’s not much to pick from. If anyone has a tip-off on a biography or artist statement, send it our way! To see the article where I first found out about his work, click here.
- Gabrielle Doiron
Leonid Tsvetkov
Amsterdam-based artist Leonid Tsvetkov’s cityscape models make use of old motherboards (or what is left after valuable metals are stripped from them) and other computer innards. These models, depicting oil refineries and cityscapes dominated by large industrial complexes in muted hues, illustrate a quasi-dystopian environment.
In some works, the metals are rusted and the paint is chipped, amplifying this theme of the eventual deterioration that renders modern technological materials useless. In another sense, however, by recycling these materials Tsvetkov is suggesting that they can be made to have other uses, suggesting a more resourceful future.
Some of his models are even submerged in aquariums of sorts, surrounded by mysterious fungi that grimly resemble clouds of dark smoke or even natural phenomena such as tornadoes. In this sense, Tsvetkov alludes to the organisms that exist around and that are affected by the technology and machine-centric environments that facilitate modern living. As Tsvetkov describes it, “My work focuses on reshaping cultural waste and exploration of social and physical processes. I am interested in the moments where the hard edge geometry of the city becomes organic or there random activity begins to take a highly organized form.”
What I like most about Tsvetkov’s works is how much meaning lies in his use of the materials themselves. Not only do the models depict harshly industrial complexes and lots, but they do so with materials that draw attention to the ever-advancing world of computer technology. By using now ineffective and useless materials, once essential to the function of a computer product, Tsvetkov’s works illustrate that the constant improvements in the world of technology come at the price of the fast and consequential incompetency (and decreasing quality) of technological products. 
Tsvetkov recently participated in the exhibit MärklinWorld at Kunsthal KAdE  in the Netherlands, in which forty international contemporary artists who shared a demonstrated interest in depicting urban and rural landscapes contributed their work. Tsvetkov’s work was featured around a 60-metre model railway layout, where a train with a camera attached travelled. This gave visitors, who otherwise could only see the models from a bird’s eye view, a way to experience the landscapes as though they were passengers on the railway themselves. 
Normally I’d suggest a site where you could learn more about Tsvetkov, but unfortunately there’s not much to pick from. If anyone has a tip-off on a biography or artist statement, send it our way! To see the article where I first found out about his work, click here.
- Gabrielle Doiron
Leonid Tsvetkov
Amsterdam-based artist Leonid Tsvetkov’s cityscape models make use of old motherboards (or what is left after valuable metals are stripped from them) and other computer innards. These models, depicting oil refineries and cityscapes dominated by large industrial complexes in muted hues, illustrate a quasi-dystopian environment.
In some works, the metals are rusted and the paint is chipped, amplifying this theme of the eventual deterioration that renders modern technological materials useless. In another sense, however, by recycling these materials Tsvetkov is suggesting that they can be made to have other uses, suggesting a more resourceful future.
Some of his models are even submerged in aquariums of sorts, surrounded by mysterious fungi that grimly resemble clouds of dark smoke or even natural phenomena such as tornadoes. In this sense, Tsvetkov alludes to the organisms that exist around and that are affected by the technology and machine-centric environments that facilitate modern living. As Tsvetkov describes it, “My work focuses on reshaping cultural waste and exploration of social and physical processes. I am interested in the moments where the hard edge geometry of the city becomes organic or there random activity begins to take a highly organized form.”
What I like most about Tsvetkov’s works is how much meaning lies in his use of the materials themselves. Not only do the models depict harshly industrial complexes and lots, but they do so with materials that draw attention to the ever-advancing world of computer technology. By using now ineffective and useless materials, once essential to the function of a computer product, Tsvetkov’s works illustrate that the constant improvements in the world of technology come at the price of the fast and consequential incompetency (and decreasing quality) of technological products. 
Tsvetkov recently participated in the exhibit MärklinWorld at Kunsthal KAdE  in the Netherlands, in which forty international contemporary artists who shared a demonstrated interest in depicting urban and rural landscapes contributed their work. Tsvetkov’s work was featured around a 60-metre model railway layout, where a train with a camera attached travelled. This gave visitors, who otherwise could only see the models from a bird’s eye view, a way to experience the landscapes as though they were passengers on the railway themselves. 
Normally I’d suggest a site where you could learn more about Tsvetkov, but unfortunately there’s not much to pick from. If anyone has a tip-off on a biography or artist statement, send it our way! To see the article where I first found out about his work, click here.
- Gabrielle Doiron

Leonid Tsvetkov


Amsterdam-based artist Leonid Tsvetkov’s cityscape models make use of old motherboards (or what is left after valuable metals are stripped from them) and other computer innards. These models, depicting oil refineries and cityscapes dominated by large industrial complexes in muted hues, illustrate a quasi-dystopian environment.

In some works, the metals are rusted and the paint is chipped, amplifying this theme of the eventual deterioration that renders modern technological materials useless. In another sense, however, by recycling these materials Tsvetkov is suggesting that they can be made to have other uses, suggesting a more resourceful future.

Some of his models are even submerged in aquariums of sorts, surrounded by mysterious fungi that grimly resemble clouds of dark smoke or even natural phenomena such as tornadoes. In this sense, Tsvetkov alludes to the organisms that exist around and that are affected by the technology and machine-centric environments that facilitate modern living. As Tsvetkov describes it, “My work focuses on reshaping cultural waste and exploration of social and physical processes. I am interested in the moments where the hard edge geometry of the city becomes organic or there random activity begins to take a highly organized form.”

What I like most about Tsvetkov’s works is how much meaning lies in his use of the materials themselves. Not only do the models depict harshly industrial complexes and lots, but they do so with materials that draw attention to the ever-advancing world of computer technology. By using now ineffective and useless materials, once essential to the function of a computer product, Tsvetkov’s works illustrate that the constant improvements in the world of technology come at the price of the fast and consequential incompetency (and decreasing quality) of technological products. 

Tsvetkov recently participated in the exhibit MärklinWorld at Kunsthal KAdE  in the Netherlands, in which forty international contemporary artists who shared a demonstrated interest in depicting urban and rural landscapes contributed their work. Tsvetkov’s work was featured around a 60-metre model railway layout, where a train with a camera attached travelled. This gave visitors, who otherwise could only see the models from a bird’s eye view, a way to experience the landscapes as though they were passengers on the railway themselves. 

Normally I’d suggest a site where you could learn more about Tsvetkov, but unfortunately there’s not much to pick from. If anyone has a tip-off on a biography or artist statement, send it our way! To see the article where I first found out about his work, click here.

- Gabrielle Doiron

(Source: artandsciencejournal.com)

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