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| Nina Canell. Impulse slight (detail) Image source: Kunsthalle Fridericianum |
The basic issue of energy density is that of compressing, or placing maximum amount of content in the smallest possible unit of time and space. In information technology it is a well-established field, and in fact there is hardly an image or sound in the online ecosystem, which has not been mathematically altered to reduce its size. In nature, the same can be observed in the placement of seeds in a sunflower, for example, or the chrestomathic shape of a nautilus shell. These shapes — same shape, in fact — maximize the amount of seeds or living space, given limited resources.
And the natural compression algorithm can, also be described in mathematical terms, namely the Fibonacci sequence. Being one natural fundamental (according to less trustworthy sources on the internet, it is also the basis for proving the existence of divine entities) it can not but have implications for the arts. Which it does, as the Fibonacci sequence is the golden mean expressed with natural numbers, and not much more needs to be said about this. Research is out there.
Thus while some basic guiding principles for both processes can be expressed with the same mathematical formula, in what anthropogenic and natural approaches differ, is their flexibility and depth. For a living organism, the Fibonacci-based compression algorithm can for all practical purposes be considered hardcoded. Exceptions are mutations and most likely will not survive to propagate, the power of the pattern is too overwhelming. Additionally, living objects also hardcode millions of years of history embedded in their DNA, of which arise seemingly random, yet causally motivated chains of meaning.
Anthropogenic information, however, is not limited by this encoding scheme — although we'd be beyond foolish to propose that aesthetic preferences are not largely determined by evolution — and can approach the issue in a much more experimental way. The survival of the fittest works slightly differently here, and information density is augmented by other criteria, such as institutional acceptance and sheer serendipity, if you will. On the downside, the depth of connotations can not have the dimensions of a DNA sequence, being limited more by cultural sediments, and thus the absolute information content of man-made objects is never comparable to that of natural. It is not however on an absolute scale that information is processed, thus the flexibility and reference system to culture allows artworks to carry the more specific meanings necessary for human communication.
All in all Canell's work is an excellent intersection of these two forces and evokes the better of them both. In a very broad sense, the grid of seeds can be interpreted in an analog or digital manner, though the latter comes with caveats and the strength of the work clearly lies in the former.
Analog approach expects a pattern to emerge when the individual characteristics of seeds — such as their size, shape and colour — are interpreted in relation to those of all others and the result is expected to be more than the sum of the parts. This works much like in those collages, where an image is constructed of individual photographs, ASCII symbols or whatnot. While Canell's work lacks such a pronounced visual image, intellectually it can and does have several holistic approaches of interpretation. I'll stick to one of them, which again touches on the topic of information content. Namely, as each of the seeds does still carry in them a historic legacy, then what could just as well be interpreted as random fluctuations of colour etc, can in the same manner be interpreted as having an innate coordinating impulse — which they do. Such an impulse is the kernel of an information pattern and patterns are all about propagating themselves. In a situation where we have several patterns, we can talk of interference. Think throwing rocks into a pool. When every seed is such a wave generator, the image as a whole starts producing ripples of meaning entirely on its own, without any further input from the artist.
Just watch the image closely for a few minutes and feel the nephelococcygia kick in. There probably are parts of the brain from the 'fight or flight' circuitry, that go into overdrive from such imagery and start offering a series of interpretations in rapid succession. Now this is something which is very difficult to achieve with any anthropogenic imagery, as information content will be lower, more easily interpreted and thus will not trigger such pattern-matching chase.
The digital interpretation is in some ways more difficult, for we stop looking at the whole, the pattern, and concentrate on the sequence of individuals entities. I will make a slight leap here and skip the literal interpretation of the zeroes & ones according to common coding tables, but instead skip to a sequence of filled spaces and unfilled spaces. Or the other way around. This opens up new layers of meaning, which most definitely reach into the cultural sediments of the spectator. In my case those are early computer games Space Invaders & Tetris. It was always the interplay of void and matter, that captivated me in them. For Tetris, the aim was to fill rows at the bottom and achieve an orgastic sense of achievement as completed lines disappeared with a flash. For Space invaders, the lines atop were the enemy and careful tactics had to be used while their wiggly joints mesmerized me into adoring the pixelated belly-dance and neverminding the air defence battery.
Thus from the Fibonacci sequence to alien abduction, there are avenues within this given grid (and the other dozen or so that I've gazed upon, they all reverberate similar sensations) to identify the meanings mentioned and more. On the whole, I would consider the strength of the work to be precisely the near-zero emission of the artist's ambition and thereby the near-maximum release of the potential of the audience, or at least the more primordial parts of their brain, or their own cultural reference system. Which is not to mean that artist has naught to do with it, for I am sure that the choice of material and its placement have been guided by muses, amuses and sparks of that, which should not be defined. Art can be a mirror and it can be a window. This work is both, and it's polished glass, a wonder to gaze through, a wonder to gaze at.
Thank you to M.W. for the encouragement and Nina for the inspiration.
