Review
AI
Art
Culture
5 min read

Art, AI and apocalypse: Michael Takeo Magruder addresses our fears and questions

The digital artist talks about the possibilities and challenges of artificial intelligence.

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

A darkened art gallery displays images and screens on three walls.
Takeo.org.

In the current fractured debate about the future development of Artificial Intelligence (AI) systems, artists are among those informing our understanding of the issues through their creative use of technologies. British-American visual artist Michael Takeo Magruder is one such, with his current exhibition Un/familiar Terrain{s} infusing leading-edge AI systems with traditional artistic practices to reimagine the world anew. In so doing, this exhibition pushes visitors to question the organic nature of their own memories and the unsettling notions of automatic processing, misattribution, and reconstruction. 

The exhibition uses personal footage of specific places of renowned natural beauty that has been captured on first generation AI-enabled smartphones. Every single frame of the source material has then been revised, reworked, and rebuilt into digital prints and algorithmic videos which recast these captured moments as uncanny encounters. In this exhibition at Washington DC’s Henry Luce III Center for the Arts & Religion, the invisible work of the AI allows people to experience more than there ever was, expanding both time and space. 

Magruder has been using Information Age technologies and systems to examine our networked, media-rich world for over 25 years. A residency in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies at King’s College London resulted in De/coding the Apocalypse, an exhibition exploring contemporary creative visions inspired by and based on the Book of Revelation. Imaginary Cities explored the British Library’s digital collection of historic urban maps to create provocative fictional cityscapes for the Information Age. 

JE: You are a visual artist who works with emerging media including real-time data, digital archives, VR environments, mobile devices, and AI processes. What is it about the possibilities and challenges of emerging media that captures your artistic imagination? 

MTM: As a first-generation digital native, computer technologies – and the evolving range of potentials they offer – have deeply informed my life and art. Computational media not only opens different avenues for artistic expression but provides a novel means to recontextualise traditional artforms and histories of practice; its ephemeral nature is a particular draw. However, this also creates new challenges, especially in areas concerning preservation and access. I sometimes wonder if my art will still exist for future generations to experience in full, or if it will simply fade alongside the technologies that I’ve used in its production. 

JE: To what extent does Un/familiar Terrain{s} build on past exhibitions like Imaginary Landscapes and Imaginary Cities, and to what extent does it break new ground for you? 

MTM: Un/familiar Terrain{s} certainly arises from and expands on the artistic concepts of those past projects. The main difference is that each artwork in Un/familiar Terrain{s} is generated from a small sample of personal data (a scenic moment that I’ve captured intentionally), not digital materials gleaned from large public archives and online collections.      

JE: Do you find that working with images of the natural world (as is the case with this exhibition) as opposed to images of human-made environments (as you did with 'Imaginary Cities') leads to different approaches or inspiration on your part? 

MTM: My projects that explore constructed environments often reference principles of Modernist architecture and design whereas my pieces in Un/familiar Terrain{s} explicitly seek to dialogue with the long history of Western landscape art. The AI systems that I have used in their creation are leading edge but conversely, their conceptual references extend back to long before the onset of what we consider ‘modern’ art.  

JE: I've heard many artists criticise digital art in terms of degrading the principal tools and techniques of artists throughout history and those arguments would be made even more vigorously in relation to AI. In this exhibition you're enabling a conversation about the painterly effects you can create as a digital artist and those that can be achieved through AI, yet without leading us to one side or other of that argument. Is your vision essentially one of wanting to see the possibilities in whatever tools, techniques or technologies we have to hand? 

MTM: Absolutely. For me that’s one of the fundamental purposes of art. AI is unquestionably the most disruptive (and potentially problematic) technology affecting creative communities at present, but it’s just the most recent historical example. I imagine similar criticisms arose during the proliferation of devices like the printing press and the first photographic cameras. Such inventions clearly did not ‘degrade’ art, but they indisputably shifted its trajectory. 

JE: While your work is not expressly religious, you have engaged with theological themes and institutions as with Un/familiar Terrain{s}, which is on show at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington DC. What do you think it is about your work and the ways you use and explore emerging media that enables such a dialogue to take place?  

MTM: I feel that many of the social and ethical questions raised by the emergence of transformative digital technologies are quite similar (and sometimes identical) to ones that have been traditionally posed by theologians. With that in mind, although the fields are quite different in many ways, at present there are some strange and compelling intersections. 

JE: From your experience, what can theological or religious institutions learn from a more engaged involvement with emerging media, particularly AI? 

MTM: Like artists, perhaps theologians can use emerging (and disruptive) media to not only expand possibilities for their work, but more importantly, to refocus their efforts towards areas that these technologies cannot presently (and will likely never) address. 

JE: Apocalyptic scenarios are often invoked in response to developments such as AI, the refugee crisis, populist political movements or the climate emergency. In De/coding the Apocalypse, you worked with emerging media to explore contemporary creative visions inspired by and based on the Book of Revelation. From that experience, what advice would you give to emerging artists wanting to engage with or invoke apocalyptic imagery? How might emerging artists live in the shadow of apocalypse or what have you noticed about our contemporary fear of modern apocalypses? 

MTM: Throughout history, visions of apocalypse have been consistently rooted in humanity’s prevailing fears. In the Digital Age these sit alongside our growing concerns about technologies that afford increasingly greater potential to create or destroy. Of course, artists should continue to reveal the deeply problematic (and potentially apocalyptic) aspects of new technologies, but they should also highlight their positive aspects to encourage the creation of “a new heaven and a new earth” that can be a better place for all. 

 

Un/familiar Terrain{s}, 30 May – 18 September 2024, The Dadian Gallery, Henry Luce III Center for the Arts & Religion.

Article
Awe and wonder
Culture
Sport
Wildness
6 min read

Surfing with Dostoevsky: what waves taught me about the journey

The water draws things out of us that we can’t see on our own

Rick writes and speaks on leadership, transformation, and culture.

A surfer carves a turn on a wave.
Oliver Sjöström on Unsplash.

 

Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote in The Brothers Karamazov, “The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” For many, the true purpose of life is not merely a philosophical concept, but a fundamental inquiry. It's about uncovering something beyond our individual selves, an answer to the inherent question about the very meaning of our existence. 

The place where I find myself pondering this mystery is on my surfboard. Whether anticipating a wave or carving along its emerging curl, the ocean consistently beckons me to meditate on a quest for a re-enchantment of our profound spiritual mystery.

I have loved surfing since I was young. I remember the first wave I really surfed in Southern California. I was 14 and an insecure high school kid who struggled with a severe stutter. It was so bad that I viewed everything in my life through the lens of my stutter. Consequently, I always wanted to hide in the shadows and never be seen, because any time I opened my mouth to speak it was a mess. But something happened for me that day that forever changed how I saw myself. On that wave, I saw my potential, my person, not just my stutter. 

That morning the water was alive with a crazy energy churning just below the belly of my board. The waves were rolling in as beautiful lines etched against the morning sky. They stacked up on the outside reef and I picked my ride. I put my hands deep in the cold, blue waters and my heart began to race as I pulled and paddled toward the unknown. The wave that I chose rose to a perfect liquid wall. It was sheer beauty.

At that moment, it was just me and that wave. I realized I didn’t have to talk to anyone or worry about what others thought of me. Instead, I felt alive and free to be me. In this freedom, I could feel the exhilaration of pulling and paddling toward the horizon full of fear and excitement. I was caught up in the rush of the unknown size, shape and personality of the wave and what I would do once I caught it.  

In a split second, I pivoted 180 degrees, perfectly positioned my body on the board, put my hands deep into the rising pitch, pulled in, and snapped up to my stance all in a single movement.

As I dropped in, my insecurities, my doubts, my fears …. my stutter vanished like the mist spraying off the curling wave. In that instant, I felt a connection to something beyond me as I found my line and carved up and down the face of the wave. I was forever hooked like an artist sculpting beauty out of a block of stone. On that wave I saw myself in a new and different light of potential. I converged with the board, the moment, with what needed to be done, and looked for what could be done. I found something more, something beyond me.  "The experience of art is a cleansing of the spirit, a return to deeper emotional and imaginative states,” as Pablo Picasso put it.

You might say it’s weird but surfers have a deep sense of trust in the experience of surfing;  the wave draws things out of us that we couldn’t see on our own.  It inspires us to push our limits until we see and realize our potential, until we see something more.  

Surfer Easkey Britton is the first Irish woman to be nominated for the Global WSL Big Wave Awards. She is a scientist, academic and social activist, with a PhD in Environment and Society and she is always one to look in places others aren’t for the answers to difficult questions. She said,  

“A wave is like a mirror to our soul. Whether we paddle out and into the horizon, take a drop down the face of a liquid wall, or dive deep under a mountain of water as it crashes overhead, the wave reflects our fears, our willingness, our vision, our potential.” 

Are we willing to look at ourselves in the mirror? Or better yet are we willing to venture out into the wild and let something else bigger than us show us … us? 

I am not saying that wave gave me something to live for, but it did show me I was something more than my insecurity, my shortcoming, my limited view of who I was and what I perceived I could be. It revealed something outside of and beyond me. It acted much like that mirror Easkey talked about, and it revealed that I hid behind a cover, a disguise, a fear. In a melodic almost musical repose, it crashed on the shores of my perception and gently but powerfully rattled my forming identity and revealed something more. 

Dostevesky speaks not of a moment but of a journey to find something, to find that thing that moves your soul, that stirs your being into that sense where we ponder “something to live for.” Surfing did that for me.

For the surfer the reward is the journey of the never ending search for the next wave. It’s not about just one wave, just one drop. It’s the whole experience of the journey, wave after wave; it’s the sensation of the ride and the work that gets us there. It’s where we find a sense of significance, a sense of something greater. As Henri Matisse put it, "Creativity takes courage.”

I remember when I was studying at Oxford University, I longed for the noise of the calming surf. Instead, all I could hear was the occasional buzz of traffic outside and the silent enchantment of academia whispering in the quiet, cold, majestic city parks. Yet like the ocean it too in its own way was quietly calling me to find that “something to live for.”   

Surely now in a world of powerful currents and unsuspecting waves, we need more than ever to find something to live for—something beyond ourselves. This era of rapid technological advancement, instability, division, and volatility underscores a heightened need for deeper discussions about meaning, hope, purpose, and what truly gives life value.  Like a surfer paddling out toward the horizon, dropping in on a wave, and finding her line, we need to never give up the search for the immeasurable and fascinate our soul with this journey. For the surfer there is a great, almost deep joy in finding that ethereal line stretched out in the emerging pitch.  

The wave, though external, compels us to look beyond our individual selves. It pushes us to experience something vast, transcending the confines of our self-centeredness and exposing us to a world—and potentially a hope—far grander than our limited perception.

As I carve up and down the face of the wave like that sculptor, I continually deepen myself into this essence of something greater, something bigger than me. I am ever drawn to its soulful re-enchantment as it gently but powerfully confronts me with the microcosm of my ‘me-ism’, with the truth that I was created to live for something and perhaps even for Someone vastly bigger than myself.

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