Of protocols, angelic orders and nests

Holly Herndon & Mat Dryhurst: Starmirror

The exhibition starts in the arboretum — a collection of concept trees, where every tree is a set of sculptures. Each sculpture represents an item from the Public Diffusion library — an open AI library that was trained exclusively on public domain images. In the modern world, where almost every generative model uses stolen art, this consensual approach to AI training is refreshing. 

The other presented object is a songbook based on the writings of a XII century German Benedictine abbess and polymath Hildegard von Bingen. Using her morality play Ordo Virtutum and generative AI the artists created infinite musical variations for the sound installation in the main hall.

The main hall is flooded with choir singing. The music is a mix of real spiritual music and AI-creations musically arranged by Holly Herndon & Mat Dryhurst. In the arrangements the artists draw on the sound archive of their earlier collective singing projects. 

The hall (as all of the exhibition) was designed in collaboration with architecture studio sub and is stunning in its minimalist glory. A wooden construction in the centre — The Ladder of Divine Ascent — is surrounded by benches. The vertical motion of the stairs is balanced by the horizontal shape of an organ, completing the visual metaphor of a cross. The organ is built from functioning GPU fans — a nod to cooling down AI-farms — that are playing a latin motet Salvator Mundi by William Byrd.

Every part of the exhibition is meant to be collaborative: visitors can download the starmirror app and upload pictures to the Public Diffusion library, following its digitally divine guidance. There are also collective choral recordings happening on specific days in the main hall, during which participants can lend their voice to the sound archive, thus executing their agency in AI training.

Relating to the writings of Hildegard von Bingen on human relationship to the divine, the artists invite us to view the relationship between humans and AI as something collective and profound. They encourage us to hope for a better, more collaborative future. They encourage us to believe. 

But I still have my doubts. Especially regarding the environmental impact of generative models. Talks about biases, copyrights and legality surrounding AI seem counter-intuitive in the reality of an almost striking doomsday clock. Or is finding new divinity — this time in a digital form — our only salvation on this burning planet?

Kazuko Miyamoto: String Constructions

The rest of the museum is dedicated to the works of Kazuko Miyamoto. She started up as a minimalist in the 1960s and was active in feminist movements. Perhaps the latter helped her make a break from the rigid rules of the minimalist movement, adding some spontaneity and subsequently — humanity into it. Her rejection of norms drove the transition to post-minimalism, which is less robotic and more focused on the human body. Composed mostly of string, nails and drawn lines, her earlier works are ephemeral and beautiful.

As she matured, her style transformed. Instead of delicate strings, we see rougher constructions built from paper and wood, taking up more space. And sometimes bursting out into the streets — visitors can see reconstructions of her bridges strung across the KW's courtyard. 

Unfortunately, some of Kazuko Miyamoto's most impressive works — full-scale man-made (well woman-made) nests — were not presented at the exhibition, but they can be seen in photos in the artist's biography.

Both exhibitions juxtapose humanity with the world of abstraction and protocols. Holly Herndon and Mat Dryhurst focus their work on digital and AI-training protocols. For Kazuko Miyamoto, protocols of an art-movement (minimalism) and broader societal protocols are at the centre of the table. Although they all make some compelling points, I am not so sure that embracing the technological protocols will bring humanity the free and collaborative future we dream of. I have more faith in building nests.