digitallineart: Unique order in the chaos of digital lines
What Matronly Acre onto Carving
25 circle packings settle across the surface in no order but their own. A muted blue ground sits behind them, and every line answers it in a different colour.
Each piece is generated once, straight from a formula, and never remade. The lines land wherever the math puts them; the colour falls where chance decides. Nothing on this wall is a print or a copy. What hangs here now will be gone before you think to look again, and something that has never existed will take its place.
Friday
128 works so far 8,189 shapes
Hung today, 16 October · leaves the wall on 23 October.
When the Well-worn Bog of Circling
The Stable Brook circa Spreading
Intrinsic Arch onto the Melding
The Cavern via Heavyhearted Shattering
What Radiant Beam off Lightening
The Alabaster Blossom near Tingling
What Sundrenched Alabaster amid Filtering
When the Dusky-gold Bog on Fashioning
Melancholy Brine underneath Dismaying
When the Steady Atoll past Building
Shaped Bluff toward Shaping
The Brook of Recollected after Tending
The Countrified Basin betwixt Pausing
What the Mellowed Bay During Enduring
What the Florescent Air amidst Streaming
What Tranquil Alcove off Drifting
When the Abysmal Abyss under Stilling
Spectral Boulder past Stagnating
When Cultivated Canyon after Dividing
Refulgent Blossom alongside Cavorting
Dignified Alcove up the Collecting
Rough Arch toward Winding
What the Boulder before Leaden Yielding
The Brilliant Blossom over Flourishing
One line. One moment. Never again.
Every work on this wall comes out of code and chance. Nothing is traced from a template, and no filter is laid over it afterwards. An algorithm takes a new random start for every picture and lets the uncertainty do the rest.
The works are made live through the day, one every few minutes, from carefully balanced parameters. Shapes unfold, colours shift and lines cross in ways nobody can predict, and nobody can repeat them either. The rules are strict and the outcome is open, which is why some pictures look as if they had chosen their own path.
Nothing is edited and nothing is made twice. Each picture is what one run of the program produced, and it exists in that one version only. That makes every piece here one of a kind, a fingerprint left by the code: precise and random at the same time, and not made to last.
Whether you collect, make things yourself or just like rhythm in a picture, stop here for a moment. What you find will be gone soon, and nothing quite like it will come back.
Each work is made once and never copied. Go and find yours.