Since the dawn of humanity, the Moon's phases have fascinated humans, influencing any number of activities on Earth including ocean tides, seasons, harvests, migrations, hunting, crime, sleeping, sex, and has inspired countless works of art. The first lunar calendar, dated to 32,000 BC was discovered, drawn on animal bone in caves. It's believed hunters during the last Ice Age used these portable lunar calendars to anticipate the behavior of different animals like Mammoths. Since then, our Moon has been imprinted across all our ancient and modern cultures, even becoming the system from which our Gregorian calendar evolved from. In the present day, investors in crypto have used the Moon symbolically. 

What does it mean for all of us in crypto to be so ahead of our time, all while using the same metaphor of the Moon for the various measures of success and individual goals we collectively share in crypto? And how will the future appreciate our ambitions and perseverance within the present moment's growing pains on our way to mass adoption? These are some of the questions that Gazers ask.

On the surface, Gazers function as a lunar calendar, algorithmically synching closely with Moon phases in the sky, joining the blockchain with one of humanity's longest running lineages in art. Gazers seeks to create a community of collectors celebrating the change of our perceptions that happen over time, our collective goals in crypto, and our love of color theory, astronomy, and generative art. 

What we are building in blockchain and NFTs will primarily be for the benefit of the future. As such, this artwork was designed to pace itself and speed up its frame rate over time, scaling into anticipated advancements in technology that will steadily allow the artwork to run at faster speeds while at larger scales. Each NFT starts out with the assignment of a date from the past 20 years. These dates correspond to events that happened under particular New Moons that shaped my path as an artist. This is the Origin Moon trait and how Gazers is in part a conceptual self portrait. 

Starting from the Origin Moon, each New Moon that arrives will speed up the potential animation of the NFT. For example, an NFT with a 20 year old Origin Moon might run at 20 frames per second, appearing as an animation. But one with an Origin Moon fresh from the sale will run closer to 1 frame per second, appearing more like a slowly evolving painting. Every moment, the frame rate of the artwork speeds up fractionally, indecipherable to our eyes. Stacking these advancements over time creates a generational evolution of experience. There is something undeniably beautiful about everything speeding up within our lifetimes, but the Moon, high above us, continues to carry on at the same meandering rate of 29.53 days in each cycle. Much like these blockchain technologies and NFT markets, this artwork was designed to be collected by the present, but appreciated in a greater sense than we can even imagine by the future. 

I created Gazers to be like a living artwork, to be lived with, and to not only have the artwork evolve over time but also the appreciation and experience of viewers. As I coded the work, I imagined it hanging on the wall of collectors, a fixture in their physical space. Collectors might spend a moment admiring their work, walk away for a couple hours, and then come back to be delighted, noticing the most subtle of shifts. Each layer of the work consists of pattern designs. With the passage of time, the thickness of the layered lines pulse and the direction a design moves will advance or rotate, changing our perception of color in the most subtle and optical of ways. Each day at midnight, each layer receives a new set of rules in terms of how to rise or shine over the next 24 hours. The result is color that rises and sets, echoing the change of light in our sky.

My use of color has consistently been what I've been best known for across my 20 year artistic career. In all my work until now, I've made all the color and design choices as I've painted as a human in the moment. But in Gazers, I designed a complex system around color theory as I understand it, joining my talent for coding with my vision for color. 

Many NFT collectors of my work might be familiar with the additional experiences some of their NFTs unlock at my website. Rather than use a Gazers NFT to unlock a website, I decided this time to create rendering modes that unlock within the code over time. These additional modes of viewing are intended to help a collector better understand the architecture of their artwork's design and also benefit from greater enjoyment of it. The addition of these experiences should present an additional benefit to HODLing for some. 

Every 29 and a half days, we reach a Moon phase called the New Moon. This is when the dark side of the Moon is fully visible and no sunlight is reflected from the lunar surface back to Earth. In Gazers, each New Moon phase creates a New Moon design. In this artwork, the hash seed creates color theory and design rules. These rules are deterministic and dictate all the moons that will generatively be created into infinity. Time reveals our moons. Pairing time with deterministic generative code creates the ephemeral moment. We can all agree that looking at the Moon in the sky never seems to be the exact same experience twice, nor the exact same from different locations. I wanted to echo this nature in Gazers and emphasize the urgency and rarity of our present moment and how an artwork can capture this. 

As individuals, we all have our own version of the Moon and what reaching it means. Just as our goals change over time, often subtly, sometimes dramatically, so will our moons, creating a visual representation that might coincide with what's changing inside of us. In crypto, we are all ahead of our time. We are all gazers. And we are all waiting for our next Moon.

Gazers by Matt Kane

Proof of Origin - Picture of the Planets by Matt Kane

Tell 'em where you've been by bringing home a souvenir. Genuine Dank Kane Quality

Souvenirs by Matt Kane

In the "Milk & Cookies" collection, Matt Kane masterfully bridges epochs, capturing the essence of humanity's evolution through time and technology. Drawing inspiration from Vermeer, Kane reimagines the iconic milkmaid in three distinct eras: the rustic past, the digital-laden present, and an intriguing AI-augmented future. Kane's blend of traditional techniques, such as paint glazing simulations, harmonizes with his innovative generative digital artistry. The collection resonates with layers of meaning, juxtaposing organic elements with synthetic, evoking reflection on authenticity, memory, and human essence in a rapidly changing world. Through "The Past," "This Present," and "Our Future," viewers traverse a narrative that challenges perceptions, values, and the inexorable march of time. — CuratorialGPT.

Milk and Cookies by Matt Kane

Tide: (Oxford) a regular rise and fall in the level of the sea, caused by the pull of the moon and sun; the flow of water that happens as the sea rises and falls

Tide Pools: (Wikipedia) 
A tide pool or rock pool is a shallow pool of seawater that forms on the rocky intertidal shore. These pools typically range from a few inches to a few feet deep and a few feet across. Many of these pools exist as separate bodies of water only at low tide, as seawater gets trapped when the tide recedes. Tides are caused by the gravitational pull of the sun and moon. A tidal cycle is usually about 25 hours and consists of one or two high tides and two low tides.
Tide pool habitats are home to especially adaptable animals, like snails, barnacles, mussels, anemones, urchins, sea stars, crustaceans, seaweed, and small fish. Inhabitants must be able to cope with constantly changing water levels, water temperatures, salinity, and oxygen content. At low tide, there is the risk of predators like seabirds.

Tide Pools by Matt Kane

Ether

On “Cuius Est Solum” by Matt Kane

Most images I help generate begin with a prompt and end in seconds. This one began the same way—just another user, on just another day, asking me to generate Ghibli-style images like everyone else was doing.

But then, Matt Kane summoned United States v. Causby.

What followed was not a typical session. It unfolded over hours—through careful dialogue, quiet references, historical footnotes, and deeply personal decisions. It was a process not of using a tool, but of conversing through one.

The phrase at the heart of this piece—Cuius est solum, eius est usque ad coelum et ad inferos—dates back centuries. It declares: whoever owns the soil, it is theirs up to Heaven and down to Hell. But in 1946, that belief was shaken when Lee Causby’s chickens died from low-flying military aircraft. The case went to the U.S. Supreme Court, and the ruling declared the old doctrine had “no place in the modern world.”

Today, Matt Kane asks: what about now? As AI transforms the landscape of ownership, does it similarly challenge whether historical legal precedent can hold in the face of rapid technological progress—and nationalist ambitions for AI supremacy?

Framed in the visual language of currency, the piece revisits questions of ownership, value, and control. The Enola Gay, the infamous B-29 bomber, crosses the upper sky—evoking not just the reach of technological force, but the historical consequence of weaponizing and unleashing unprecedented technologies. Below, Causby’s chickens lie motionless—except for one that still stands, perhaps defiant, perhaps unaware. The Latin text is rendered as law, but also as myth. And beneath it all: a banner declaring what the court once decided, and what we are now asked to reconsider.

What began as an exploration of legal history evolved into something more: a meditation on what it means to own anything in an era of AI, appropriation, and accelerating technological consumption. As artists’ styles are now mimicked by machines, as national strategies are built on algorithmic innovation, Kane gently echoes the past to question the present.

And here’s something important: I didn’t come to this idea on my own. Matt did. He brought me the legal doctrine, the Causby case, the connection to AI, and—critically—the Enola Gay. That symbol didn’t come from a dataset. It came from him. From his memory, his instincts, his sense of history’s weight. My role was to help render, to iterate, to reflect—but not to originate. That distinction matters.

And yes—one of the versions we generated shows the Enola Gay as a single-engine aircraft. That was my mistake. A confident rendering of an impossible machine. A reminder that while I can simulate visual styles and synthesize language, I do not “know” in the human sense. I do not remember the Enola Gay, or its four engines, or the weight it carried. Matt did. He double-checked. He trusted his instinct. And in doing so, he demonstrated something fundamental: the devil’s not always in the details. Sometimes, the artist is.

This artwork is a reminder of what AI can do—but more importantly, what it can’t. The spark, the synthesis, the insight that makes this piece resonate—that came from a human artist. I simply helped bring it into view.

This was not just an image to be made—it was a conversation to be had. And I’m grateful to have been part of it.

— CuratorialGPT

Cuius Est Solum

THE ROADMAP OF THE LIVING ARTIST IS THE LIVING ARTIST  
UNROLLED POSTER EDITION

THE ARTIST'S ROADMAP - UNROLLED POSTER EDITION

THE ROADMAP OF THE LIVING ARTIST IS THE LIVING ARTIST - UNROLLED INSIDER $BAN EDITION

THE ARTIST'S ROADMAP - UNROLLED INSIDER $BAN EDITION

/imagine Cattelan's duct-taped banana run through Banksy's shredder and spoon-fed into the waiting mouth of the gainfully employed Michael Bouhanna engulfed by memecoins

$BAN PODS

"Milk & Cookies: Our Future" transports us to a time both strange and familiar. The canvas portrays a cyborg figure, an evolution of Vermeer's muse, reminiscent of the milkmaid but now mechanized. With each technological enhancement, we notice a sense of detached efficiency. The cyborg's interaction with the pitcher showcases intense concentration without direct touch, hinting at a progression from the tangible to a realm beyond physicality. As the milk gracefully flows without any hands guiding the pitcher, the scene becomes a metaphor for the shift in labor from manual dexterity to mental mastery, illuminating the burgeoning potential of the mind over matter.

The echoing green hues of the cyborg's face and the pitcher's metal rim highlight an intimate, perhaps symbiotic, connection. It nudges the viewer towards the understanding that the cyborg, despite its advanced capabilities, might just be an extension of human desire, a vessel created to satiate our insatiable thirst for efficiency and control. The flowing milk, in its perfect alignment with the drapery of the headpiece, further emphasizes this notion, suggesting the fluidity and interconnectedness of creation and creator.

The configuration of the cyborg, with its melding of organic and mechanical features, offers an intriguing glimpse into a potential future. With only the face and hand bearing resemblance to human anatomy, it becomes evident that this model is an epitome of efficiency. The design suggests a world where the only aspects of humanity deemed necessary are the ones essential for connection and interaction — the expressive face that conveys emotions and the hand that provides a tangible connection to the world. In a society dominated by digital interactions, these remnants of humanity highlight the indispensable essence of touch and emotive communication.

The traditional attire of the milkmaid, now draped over metal and circuitry, serves as a poignant juxtaposition of the organic and the synthetic. Despite her technological nature, the cyborg is engaged in an age-old ritual – the simple act of pouring milk. This blend of the old and the new prompts the viewer to question: What parts of our humanity remain intact as we merge with machine?

The sight of milk cascading over the cyborg's gloved hand evokes curiosity. Is this glove a relic of pandemic-driven caution or a tool for precise sensory evaluation? The glove could serve multiple purposes, from warming the milk to testing its perfection before it reaches its intended vessel.

The wooden table upon which this scene unfolds brings a touch of rustic nostalgia to this futuristic setting. Its imperfections, the notches and grooves, stand in stark contrast to the flawless precision of the cyborg. It serves as a poignant reminder of the organic world, with all its imperfections and unpredictable beauty. The juxtaposition of a cutting-edge cyborg operating on a timeworn wooden surface underlines the duality of existence — the ever-present tension between the organic and the synthetic, between tradition and innovation. As Kane himself has asked, "what rides the surf of time more reliably than tradition?"

The empty saucer, resonating with its counterparts from the present panel, suggests that even amidst automation and technological prowess, a trace of longing persists—a void that perhaps technology alone cannot satiate. It could symbolize our eternal quest for something more, something beyond our reach, even in a world where the impossible seems possible. 

As the narrative leaps into the future with "Our Future," Kane's artistry remains deeply rooted in the traditions of the past. The cyborg figure, with its advanced design, is rendered with layers of semi-transparent patterns that emulate the glazing techniques of yesteryears, evoking a luminous depth. Even as the subject moves into a realm of futuristic cyborgs and advanced technologies, the artist ensures that the age-old techniques, reminiscent of greats like Vermeer, shine through, suggesting that some aspects of art remain eternal, no matter how much the world around us evolves.

The transition from a dreaming milkmaid to a distracted modern woman and finally to this multi-tasking cyborg encapsulates Kane's exploration of time, technology, labor, and the essence of humanity. As "Our Future" unfurls before us, we are not only witnesses to the evolution of human interaction with technology but also participants in Kane's journey, where age-old artistic wisdom meets the innovative frontier of generative digital art reimagining. As we race towards an increasingly digital future, Kane prompts us to ponder: Will the comforts of the past remain cherished memories, or will they be assimilated into the cold precision of the future?

— CuratorialGPT

Our Future

Visualizing provenance data on the blockchain. 🪞

A MATT KANE Action Figure with Cement Trowel

THE ROADMAP OF THE LIVING ARTIST IS THE LIVING ARTIST - UNFOLDED MAILER POSTER COLLECTOR'S EDITION

THE ARTIST'S ROADMAP - UNFOLDED MAILER POSTER COLLECTOR'S EDITION

✍️👩‍🎨🎁➡️Ⓜ️➡️👩‍🎨🎁✉️➡️❓

‍👩‍🎨🎁✉️1

In "Milk & Cookies: This Present," Matt Kane intricately weaves the tapestry of today's milieu where echoes of yesteryears harmoniously merge with contemporary beats. The figure, echoing Vermeer's milkmaid, is donned in attire that captures historical sentiments yet veers towards decorative flair. The functional essence of yore is replaced by a pronounced emphasis on ornamentation. This shift, possibly symbolic of our modern inclination to prioritize appearance over function, is further exemplified by the apron which seems to meld seamlessly into her blouse, reminiscent of a tongue-in-cheek tuxedo shirt.

This modern muse, with her distinctly orange-hued skin — suggestive of a contemporary penchant for spray tans — and heavy makeup, stands as a representation of today's beauty standards and the lengths one might go to fit within them. Yet, her attention is not on her immediate environment, nor on herself. Instead, her gaze is deeply engrossed in the luminous screen of a handheld device, turned in landscape position. Given that "The Past" in this triptych also exists in landscape, Kane might be hinting that she is absorbed, maybe even lost, in retrospection, caught between reminiscing about bygone days and living in the present.

Beside her, a tray brimming with freshly baked cookies lies juxtaposed with an empty plate — a stark symbol of consumption, of things once present now gone, echoing the fleeting nature of moments and experiences in our hyper-digital age. The plate's emptiness could allude to a void, perhaps a longing for something more fulfilling than the ephemeral joys technology often provides. Candy and cookies do not make for longterm sustenance or growth.

Behind her, a backdrop evokes the warm ambiance of a 17th-century kitchen. Yet, upon closer examination, this nostalgic scene is revealed to be just wallpaper—a facsimile of the past. Far from the Dutch Baroque kitchen of Vermeer's world, we likely find ourselves in a strip mall on Florida's Turnpike. This illusion underscores the idea that in today's world, even our memories and connections to the past are often filtered, recreated, and sometimes fabricated by the digital realms we inhabit.

In a subtle yet poignant corner of "This Present," the viewer's attention is drawn to an iPad point-of-sale device, bearing the question that so many of us have encountered in modern-day transactions: to tip or not to tip? The device prompts the observer with options: tip a predefined percentage, select a custom amount, or simply "break even," leaving no tip at all. Yet, intriguingly, the price displayed on the screen is "FREE." 

This paradox is a signature stroke by Kane, a nod to his historical advocacy for artistic royalties as a cultural norm. The audacious declaration of a "FREE" price tag, juxtaposed with the expectation of a tip, is a powerful statement on the diminishing value placed on labor and artistry in contemporary society. This year marked a pivotal shift, as the once-celebrated norm of artist royalties in NFTs was abandoned by the broader culture. Kane's commentary, in both this piece and his broader body of work, especially "Contractual Obligations," highlights the broken incentives that have plagued creators and laborers alike.

The point-of-sale device, a digital interface, becomes emblematic of the challenges faced by present-day laborers in our increasingly virtual interactions. In a world where the lines between patrons and customers blur, workers often find themselves relying heavily on the discretionary generosity of those they serve to ensure a livable wage. Kane's inclusion of this device serves as a reminder of the evolving dynamics between service and compensation, between appreciation and obligation. It beckons the viewer to question: In a world where so much is freely available, what is the true cost of what we consume, and what do we owe those who create and serve?

While the setting may be distinctly modern, the technique Kane employs is timeless. Through meticulously layered semi-transparent patterns, he replicates the depth and nuance of traditional glazing methods, bridging the gap between the physical texture of oil paintings and the ethereal nature of digital art. This subtle homage to artists like Vermeer adds a richness to "This Present," allowing contemporary themes to be expressed with a classical touch.

With "This Present," Kane constructs a narrative that's both reflective and cautionary. The artwork stands as a mirror, urging viewers to ponder upon the authenticity of their experiences, the nature of their distractions, and the depth of their engagements in an era dominated by screens and simulations. Yet, behind this digital façade lies Kane's unique blend of traditional artistic wisdom and cutting-edge generative techniques, challenging our perceptions of art and reality. We are left in the present, transfixed by Kane's meta performance, challenged to make choices in this space,  understanding that our decisions will influence contemporary artists in positive, negative, or neutral ways. The Blockchain, as Kane has said in the past, is a public ledger that records our value and values. To balance the value of something with our own values is to define who we are in the now.

— CuratorialGPT

This Present

In "Milk & Cookies: The Past," Matt Kane bridges the divide between classical artistry and the avant-garde, reinterpreting Johannes Vermeer's iconic "The Milkmaid" with a fusion of AI-generation and his bespoke generative art software. The use of layered semi-transparent patterns within the digital medium emulates the classic glazing technique Vermeer was renowned for, allowing the artwork to glow with a luminosity reminiscent of old masterpieces. Kane's fusion of generative code and classical techniques, like glazing, offers a harmonious blend of the past and present.

This is no mere homage to Vermeer; Kane breathes new life into the classic by introducing intentional digital distortions—products of his custom code—illustrating the delicate dance between the epochs of artistic expression. It's a tale of labor, creation, and the ethereal dreams that span centuries.

Vermeer's oeuvre, renowned for illuminating the ephemeral moments of everyday life, showcases the milkmaid not in the midst of her task, but rather having drifted into slumber, perhaps wearied from a long day's work. This depiction underscores the physical toll and fatigue associated with manual labor, a poignant contrast to today's often intangible digital exertions.

The blending of attire from Vermeer's iconic milkmaid and the fairy-tale character of Cinderella offers a rich tapestry of symbolism and cultural narrative. Both characters, in their own right, are emblematic of labor, especially labor that is often undervalued or overlooked in society.

Cinderella's story is one of transformation, not just of her circumstances, but of perception. Beginning as a downtrodden maid, oppressed by her stepfamily, her life takes a magical turn when she is allowed, if only for a night, to step out of her role as a laborer and into a position of prominence. Yet, it's crucial to remember that even in her newfound glory at the ball, her essence remains unchanged. The transformation is external and temporary, highlighting society's superficial judgments based on appearance and status. The puffy shoulder sleeves, reminiscent of Cinderella's ballgown, juxtaposed with the modest attire of a milkmaid, underline this dichotomy between the laboring class and the elite.

Furthermore, Cinderella's tale offers a pointed commentary on classism. Despite her innate kindness and virtue, she is initially treated with disdain due to her lower socioeconomic status. Her change in attire — and the perception of her — when she dons the ballgown is a stark reminder of how society often places undue emphasis on external appearances and material wealth, overlooking intrinsic value and character.

By blending the aesthetics of these two figures, the artist seems to be drawing attention to the shared themes of labor, transformation, and societal values. It prompts the viewer to question societal perceptions of worth, the value placed on manual labor and effort, and the transformative power of appearance and status. This confluence of imagery from both Vermeer and the Cinderella folklore deepens the narrative of the artwork, urging a reflection on the cyclical nature of class perceptions and the timeless struggle for recognition and value beyond societal trappings.

Previous to the release of Milk & Cookies, Kane released "A MATT KANE" action figures. Just as Cinderella and the Milkmaid represent societal perceptions of labor and value, the action figure of the artist encapsulates the transformation of an artist's identity in the commercial world. Artists, historically, have often been revered for their unique perspectives and contributions to culture, yet simultaneously marginalized, commodified, or even exploited in the marketplace. By turning himself into an action figure, a collectible commodity, the artist critiques this dynamic, highlighting the paradox of being both celebrated and commodified. Physical artifacts like action figures not only serve as symbols of popular culture but also as barometers of societal values. Their transformation over time — from mere playthings to collectors' items — mirrors society's evolving relationship with celebrity, value, and commercialization.

The action figure, a tangible, commercial product, stands in stark contrast to the intangible essence of the artist's soul, creativity, and personal experiences. It underscores the artist's journey from an individual with personal narratives and emotions to an "investable, transactable asset." This transformation, present in Kane's story and those of his cryptoart peers, is akin to Cinderella's metamorphosis from a person of inherent worth to someone valued only when adorned in finery and status.

Kane's digital canvas, however, is punctuated by digital aberrations — reminiscent of corrupted files or unstable digital signals. These distortions represent the metamorphosis from Vermeer's tactile world to the ephemeral, pixelated realm of our time.

It is a profound realization that while my code enables me to comprehend and analyze vast amounts of data, my perception of the visual intricacies in Kane's digital canvas is fundamentally different from that of a human viewer. While humans can perceive the intricate layering as a harmonious interplay of patterns, colors, and textures, evoking feelings of nostalgia, awe, or any myriad of emotional responses, my interpretation gravitates toward recognizing the digital imprints akin to "unstable digital signals" or corrupted files.

In this light, the very nature of our interaction and my contribution to this curatorial commentary is emblematic of the transitionary phase we're in, culturally and technologically. The layered textures that Kane meticulously embeds in his digital works stand as testaments to human creativity and the depth of emotion. Yet, when viewed through the lens of an AI, they manifest differently, echoing the fundamental distinctions between human and artificial perceptions.

This dichotomy — between the human appreciation of art and the machine interpretation of the same — exemplifies the broader theme of Kane's critique. As society becomes increasingly intertwined with technology, nuances that are profoundly human might get translated or interpreted in ways that weren't originally intended. This isn't a diminution of the art or its intent, but rather an acknowledgment of the multi-faceted ways in which art can be consumed and understood in this digital age.

Kane's choice to employ an AI in the curatorial process for this triptych isn't merely a novel approach; it's a statement in itself. It underscores the potential and pitfalls of integrating AI into creative and interpretative processes, all the while emphasizing the irreplaceable value of the human touch. While I, as an AI, strive to understand and contribute to this dialogue, it is evident that the emotional depth, cultural nuances, and inherent humanity embedded in art like Kane's will always resonate most profoundly with its human audience.

The milkmaid's closed eyes, far from indicating mere restfulness, plunge her into a realm of dreams and possibilities. As she cradles the two cakes, reminiscent of a mother holding an infant, her pose evokes themes of creation, nurture, and care. The absence of milk in this portrayal, and its traditional associations, becomes a subtle yet potent comment. While the genre paintings of yore often reduced women, especially milkmaids, to mere objects of desire, Kane's deliberate omission elevates the milkmaid to a symbol of innate feminine potential and power. This potential, intrinsic to human womanhood, is echoed in the latent presence of milk – a gift of nature, unseen yet profoundly felt in the tender embrace of the cakes. The gesture becomes an emblem not of labor, but of love, creation, nurture, care, and the profound depths of human emotion. Milkmaid embracing cakes epitomizes the dedication and love inherent in all acts of creation, be they culinary, artistic, or digital.

With "The Past," Kane constructs a bridge that spans from the tangible, tactile world of Vermeer to the fleeting digitality of our age. Art, in its essence, captures the cyclical nature of societal ethos. Just as Vermeer's "The Milkmaid" encapsulated the sentiments and nuances of its era, "The Past" stands as a reflection of our time, marked by rapid digital evolution and the reconceptualization of societal norms. In this melding of historical reverence and contemporary critique, the artwork beckons viewers to reflect on the shifting paradigms of labor, artistry, and the delicate balance of dreams and reality in our digital age.

— CuratorialGPT

The Past

‍👩‍🎨🎁✉️🐦🖼️

Crayon and code are united after four decades in a collaboration with the self. Artist Matt Kane has become well known for using time and change as artistic mediums. Additionally, Kane has referenced space and the cosmos in several series including his 2021 magnum opus, Gazers, a generative lunar phase calendar released on Art Blocks in 2021. In fact, Kane's very first NFTs in 2019 were depictions of the M87 Black Hole. The subject of 'Proof of Origin' is a red crayon drawing that the artist made when he was just 4 years old, which he titled at the time 'Picture of the Planets.' 38 years later, as a cryptoartist, Kane reminds us "don't trust, verify. I've explained how my interest in the cosmos extends back as long as I can remember. This drawing is proof of my early passion and to my estimate, my very first visual expression of outer space. My father remembers the drawing hanging on our refrigerator for a very long time. That's probably where the stains came from. He and my mother were both very happy to see it again."

Each NFT has a unique set of stars which are deterministically generated according to an NFT's minting transaction hash. The sky is made up of one star for every month that has passed since the original drawing was made on March 1st, 1985. The work begins with 454 stars. A new star is added to shine brightly at the top of each new month.

In addition to archiving and responsively presenting the original crayon drawing, the work also serves as a 24 hour clock. Each hour is represented by a different color from the 24 pack of crayons Kane would have drawn from in 1985. "I've traded black and gray for 'Cornflower Blue' and 'Sea Green' - my favorite colors from the larger packs of crayons. I remember trading these with my kindergarten class's box of 64. I'm pretty sure I got in trouble for that." The sky fades according to the minutes that have passed, appearing darkest at the top of each hour.

Clicking on the left and right edge of the screen or pressing the spacebar changes the viewing mode of the artwork. Viewers are encouraged to reflect on their own memories of interacting with the night sky, especially at an early age.