Data Weave is a marriage of art forms to the extent that the Jacquard loom’s use of punch cards to weave intricate motifs inspired the use of punch cards for saving and executing programs in early computing.
Data Weave extends traditions of embedding symbols in textiles to communicate information by applying my practice of color coding binaries to weaving. This process of encoding data with color produces intricately detailed, cascading motifs that are meant to be woven pixel to stitch.
Each pixel represents bits of data showing how weaving can also be understood as pixel art. Furthermore, Data Weave simultaneously illustrates an alternate way of data preservation and a materialization of digital ephemera by tangibly elucidating data structures with color.
This artwork represents what it would be like for an AI to watch Bob Ross on LSD (once someone invents digital drugs). It shows some of the unreasonable effectiveness and strange inner workings of deep learning systems. The unique characteristics of the human voice are learned and generated as well as hallucinations of a system trying to find images which are not there.
Original video removed. Watch it here: https://vimeo.com/212669648
Artist and TED Fellow Aparna Rao re-imagines the familiar in surprising, often humorous ways. With her collaborator Soren Pors, Rao creates high-tech art installations — a typewriter that sends emails, a camera that tracks you through the room only to make you invisible on screen — that put a playful spin on ordinary objects and interactions.
Quite old but couldn’t miss for the launch of Arts High Tech.
The Museum of Modern Art in New York City is hosting the first US-based solo exhibit from artist Ian Cheng: a live simulation known as the “Emissary trilogy.” In addition to the physical installation, the museum is also streaming “unique versions that exist online only” via Twitch.
Twitch is best known as a platform widely used by the gaming community, and the partnership with MoMA reflects that. The Emissary trilogy creates its simulation through the use of a video game engine; Cheng describes it as “a video game that plays itself.” The exhibit is an exploration of the human consciousness and evolution.
Iñárritu went to Casa Libra and other organizations helping displaced people from Latin America, many of them from Honduras and Guatamala. They travel through Mexico via a series of “coyotes,” often piled like logs on top of each other in trucks; most of the time, they are caught and detained by U.S. border patrols and helicopters.
“Carne y Arena” — “Flesh and Sand” — takes us to one of those locations for a series of border captures. We are in the desert, where we see dehydrated people with bloody feet, often having lost their shoes, taken violently by cops to detention centers.
The 360-degree immersion began. As I got my magic-hour bearings in the scrubby desert with mountains in the distance, people began to appear in the bushes, making noises of discomfort and pain, and as it got dark, they cowered and screamed as a helicopter deafeningly lands — the ground vibrating — and border patrol agents bark orders and threaten, pointing guns, ordering them to “get down!” It’s noisy, scary chaos, as cops pull people out of hiding, wrestle them into submission, and drag them away.
“I did not know technically how to solve this,” he said. “The amount of data and amount of rendering is huge. They had to develop new ILM computer systems to allow this.”
Today, we’re excited to announce Studio Share—a new feature in Oculus Medium that lets you and a friend sculpt in the same virtual space!
While you work simultaneously on your own sculpts, you can share tips and tricks, show off your skills, and get feedback on your art in real time. You can even record your session or take selfies to share on the Oculus Forum.
Professional artists can use Studio Share for uniquely interactive creative reviews—to talk through designs, get a quick sense of scale, or experiment with camera angles.
Imagine a Giacometti and a Calder using this together and record the session.
When your paintbrush and canvas have as many possibilities as your imagination, amazing things can happen.
Tilt Brush, a virtual reality app from Google, lets you paint in three-dimensional space, walk around your brush strokes from any angle, and use fantastical materials like fire, stars and rainbows. Since we launched Tilt Brush in April, we’ve seen professional artists and everyday doodlers alike make some incredible creations.
We’ve also been working closely with more than 60 artists to help them explore their style in virtual reality as part of the Tilt Brush Artist in Residence program (AiR). Coming from a wide range of disciplines, these graffiti artists, painters, illustrators, graphic designers, dancers, concept artists, creative technologists and cartoonists have all brought their passion and talent to create some amazing art with Tilt Brush. Beginning today, you can explore the AiR site to see their creations, and we’ll be continually adding to it moving forward.
Cannes Lions is more known among creative types than technology people, although Google, Facebook and Twitter have been the most prominent brands on the beach for some years. This year, big consultancies like IBM and Accenture claimed the spotlight as technology, platforms, and more recently AI and VR/AR keep raising their profile in the creative sphere.
Among VR wins, Google’s Tilt Brush won two golds, and is sure to be a creativity powerhouse for the virtual world. Audi’s Enter the Sandbox took playful creation to car buyers, with a physical sandbox and a VR cockpit enabling people to drive inside their own creations.
Umbrico’s served as the show’s focal point: a makeshift wall of LCD TVs with cracked screens, each playing a DVD of a horror movie or series that she had found at the warehouse. The scenes were only partially visible, their visuals largely lost beneath enchanting rainbow streaks of broken hardware. As Umbrico described to me, she wanted viewers to consider the relationships between our bodies and the body of the screen; how we tend to think of both as nearly invisible until they break. On the other side of the room stood her monument to the long-dead ancestors of these LCD screens: stacks of CRT TVs, bound together by plastic wrap like bulky hoagies, and each assembled to a height slightly taller than the average human.