Artists
Serrano works almost entirely in one and two bits, at sizes a cyberdeck from the early Marks could hold without complaint. He describes the constraint as an economy rather than a nostalgia: with sixteen colours available, every colour is a decision somebody made. He builds slowly — the larger compositions take a year — and he does not paint from photographs, only from notes. He has exhibited three times and given no interviews.
Adeyi-Marsh trained as a structural engineer and still writes her own renderers, which is why her light behaves. The works are sealed executables: the buyer receives a program, not a picture, and each viewing computes the image again from the geometry. She is uninterested in the argument about whether that makes them fragile. "Everything is an executable," she has said. "Most of them are just other people's."
Quist makes light-field studies of architecture she designs and then abandons. Each work is exposed rather than rendered — she runs the scene for hours and lets the accumulating light find the surfaces, a process she inherited from observational astronomy and has never fully domesticated. The results are quiet and extremely detailed, and they reward the twenty minutes almost nobody gives them.
Renke has drawn with machines since 1999 and has not changed his method in twenty years: he writes a short routine, lets a pen plotter run it once, signs the sheet, and deletes nothing. The routine is part of the work and is transferred with it. He is indifferent to reproduction and mildly hostile to the word generative, which he says describes a market rather than a practice.
Three people, none of whom will be named, working out of the demo tradition — tiny files, absurd craft, everything running live rather than played back. Their works arrive as routines measured in kilobytes and are shown on deck hardware in the gallery because that is where they look right. The collective declines to date individual members' contributions and asks that the edition be described as authored jointly.
Tsukahara paints people at resolutions where a cheekbone is four pixels and has to be exactly the right four. She works on restored cathode hardware and calibrates each edition to it, so the colour is the colour of a specific decaying screen rather than a value in a file. She considers this a limitation of the medium and refuses to correct for it.