In reflecting on Casey Reas’ discussion of chance operations, I found my fundamental assumptions about artistic intent deeply challenged. I’ve always associated “intent” with manual, top-down control, but Reas’ argument for “jitter” or “noise” as a tool to keep a system from becoming “homogeneous” offers a much more interesting path. I am particularly struck by the idea of “homeostasis” within a system — where a work stays dynamic and shifting while maintaining a consistent texture. This shifts my perspective of the computer from an “obedient tool” to a creative collaborator. By utilizing randomness as a “jumping-off point,” I want to see if I can bypass my own aesthetic biases and “logical nonsense,” similar to how Reas and Tal Rosner used dice-rolls to spark compositions for their Chronograph project.
However, Reas’ mention of Rosalind Krauss’s critique of the “grid” leaves me with a lingering, uncomfortable question: if a work is generated through chance, can it still hold onto the “pure feeling” or “humane quality” that artists like Mondrian or Malevich aimed for? If I follow John Cage’s lead and use chance to “remove myself from the activity,” I worry that the work might lose its connection to social discourse and humanity. Yet, I am increasingly drawn to Gerhard Richter’s provocation that chance is “better” than the artist because it can “destroy what I’ve worked out wrong.” This suggests that the “human” element might actually reside in my willingness to let a system disrupt my own ego.
All these connections reinforced my goal to find an “optimum balance” between total randomness and complete control. Moving forward, I want to experiment with defining “minimal structures” or constraints that allow for “surprising visual qualities,” testing whether a system-based approach can actually feel more organic than one born of purely determined geometry.