Digital artist Cao Yuxi explains how the algorithm is trained to observe nature

Is it possible to stop being distracted by technology and return to reality, with the help of technology? In his works, the Chinese programmer and visual artist Cao Yuxi deconstructs traditional painting by integrating algorithms, software and drone imagery with this aim: to use the technological process to restore "the human element" of reality. Standing before his latest installation, “Nature’s Computility,” presented at the Videocittà festival—which took place from 10 to 12 July at the Gazometro in Rome—Cao tells “Il Foglio” of his desire that his audience, once they have entered this space, “rather than talking about technology, should forget it entirely. I would like only a feeling or a personal memory linked to the sea, to water, to remain – something that has nothing to do with technology at all. I hate seeing works that are merely ‘particles’, a moving robot: when that happens, it’s just a technological demonstration; it’s no longer art. Even if a work stems from a highly technical system, when you look at it, it should make you reflect on the human side of yourself.”

Cao Yuxi drew inspiration from the works of Fabrizio Plessi, his “Vertical Seas” and the landscapes of Hawaii’s Big Island: “I was grappling with a project to realistically simulate water down to every single particle, which is technically very difficult. There are a great many physical parameters to calculate, and each iteration requires a huge amount of computing power: the more you do it, the more you realise just how frustrating it is to achieve even a single second of realistic animation.” This is how it works: an algorithm calculates, for each frame, where each particle moves and simulates the movement to recreate a realistic animation. But to achieve something that looks like water, you need a huge number of particles – we’re talking millions – and the computer has to calculate the position of each one at every moment. And even before it becomes an image, it has to be processed and ‘assembled’ in the computer’s memory. Then one day, Cao – born in Shijiazhuang, less than 300 kilometres from Beijing – sat on the banks of Qianhai, in Shenzhen’s technology district: “The real wave was right in front of me; I could hear the sound and see the movement.I thought: ‘Why don’t I take a drone and film a video, so I can use it as a reference?’” It was already exactly what I was looking for, and it had come about so simply, thanks to nature. It was as if the real computing power was incomparably greater than that of my computer. So I wanted to celebrate it, to let the public feel this force.” The work has indeed become particle-based, but every single point actually comes from footage shot in nature, blurring the boundary between the figurative and the abstract. From this programme emerged a ‘pipeline’ of works linked to the human perception of water: a series of works based on various algorithms interconnected by an output that continues to generate results as the input changes.

When he started out, first in China and then in the United States, Cao was focused on making an impression through the use of artificial intelligence. Then something changed, “it became a fad”, he says, and now that everyone sees AI as a looming threat, my approach has changed: I feel the need to go in the opposite direction. His slogan has become: ‘AI not art’ – artificial intelligence is not art, it is a tool to speed up the work, “a starting point that reminds you what you were actually looking for. But the result produced by AI is never the final work itself’. The artist recalls the early years, ten years ago, when a genuine online community dedicated to this type of ‘technological art’ formed; the public marvelled at the innovative techniques, whereas today many companies simply think: ‘If I can generate it with AI, it means the process to get there is very quick, so it must be cheap’. So, with eyes dulled by disillusionment, Cao finds herself swept along by changing times: the rapidly deteriorating Chinese economy, unemployment, increasingly accessible AI, and a political climate that leaves no room for art as it does in Europe. “In China, many artists have to treat art as a secondary, part-time job: you need something else to get by.” He says he is going through a period of uncertainty like so many Chinese people: “Am I still doing the right thing?”, he often asks himself. He says he arrived in Rome with a sense of insecurity, not fear, “but a certain bewilderment at what is happening in China – why don’t people there grasp the meaning of what I do?”. Then, every time he goes to Paris, Prague, or even Rome, and “I present a new piece, I feel understood again; I set off with a fresh dose of confidence”. “I find that the environment in Europe is much more favourable; it’s easier for an artist to keep working on what they want.”