My sketchbook is filled with half-written concepts, fragments of thoughts and arrows pointing in every possible direction that each page looks like a koi pond after throwing in a handful of breadcrumbs.

I have always enjoyed collecting concepts more than trying to come up with ideas.

For me, ideas have always felt like they were meant to solve a specific situation or problem.

But by seeking out the essence of various philosophies or methodologies, these concepts can then be more easily transferred between different fields, from music to photography, to architecture to generative art.

So by seeking out core concepts, I find that ideas also tend to flow as a matter of consequence.

I am often asked my thoughts and advice on matters related to generative art, on topics ranging from the aesthetics of outputs, to collection design, to pricing.

Though I am always enthusiastic to help answer such questions as best as I can, I honestly consider myself to be just as inexperienced and curious about this emergent space as many others.

In an attempt to try to bring a sense of clarity and consistency to my own creative process, I have assembled this list of ideas and questions from the many fragments of thoughts scattered within my sketchbook.

These act as prompts for exploration at various stages of my design process.

While this text is written in relation to generative art and primarily for artists, I have tried to keep most points general enough that they can be applicable to other fields as well.

I also invite this text to be read by collectors and art enthusiasts as well, in the hopes that it might draw attention to the numerous considerations that go through an artist's mind as well as the nature of the creative process that follows as a result of them.

This text is not meant to be considered as a ‘checklist’ or as a guarantee of any measure of success in any particular direction.

Instead, its aim is to gently guide and assess how you feel about any responses that might arise, either by yourself or in discussion with others. As such, I feel it is more appropriate to think of these questions as considerations instead.

There are also absolutely no right or wrong answers.

Also important, is that these considerations are not intended to be academic or exhaustive.

While I have written many of them to be as universal and neutral as possible, they are based largely on my own thoughts, feedback and experience gained as a collector and lessons learnt across the creation of Sabler, Tesseract, Ersbla, Alleles and other projects.

As such, as my experience within the field grows, I intend to update, clarify, refine and simplify this text accordingly.

The list is designed to be referred to as necessary, in any order, picking either a few or several things to consider at a time, depending on where you are currently within your creative process.

The text is divided up into loose semantic categories, some with a preface or additional text (and some without questions) to help explain the context for their consideration, however many of the considerations overlap and may be phrased with subtle differences between the categories.

Considerations About Collections

When a collector chooses to mint or acquire an edition from a collection, it represents an act of participation within the story of that collection. A generative artist, through the act of making a collection available, is extending an invitation to which others are welcomed into the process of its completion.

What is it about such an offer that makes it so engaging? Given that it can be difficult to predict what any resulting generative edition would look like, what then makes owning a piece of a collection so exciting to a collector?

In this context, I am not referring to the significant potential financial gain that can come from a commercially successful generative collection, but instead from the point of view of the artistic process itself.

When thinking about collections, there are always multiple levels to consider. The first and most obvious level is the individual output or iteration. Next is to think about how a range or group of outputs would look together within a wider context (for example, considering a collection in relation to other collections by the same artist).

It is possible that collectors enjoy participating in the process of bringing finality to a collection. After all, generative art is one of the few genres in which the artist does not necessarily have total control over the process. Owing to the advent of generative art and mint-able works, collectors are now an essential and integral component of the collection creation process.

It is also conceivable that collecting satisfies some basic human need, such as a sense of belonging, given that a collection shared or owned by many is not much different from a community.

Whatever the reason, I find it to be a worthwhile exercise to consider how to make a collection that people will want to be a part of. What is it that makes a good collection feel like magic? Is there a process to this and can it be refined?

Below follows a list of questions about collections and collection structures that have no definitive answers, but are written to help to guide you in a direction that best represents your individual approach.

• Can a collection be desirable?
• What makes a collection desirable?
• What makes a 'good' collection?
• What makes a collection (or body of work) cohesive?
• What is more desirable, individual outputs or a collection as a whole?
• Would it be pleasurable to have a piece/pieces of this collection?
• Do ‘basic’ or ‘common’ outputs manage to be reasonably unique?
• Are the outputs consistent?
• In this collection, is there / should there be / will there be a big difference between outputs?
• Do different outputs contain enough similarities to be considered part of the same collection or do they appear to belong to different collections?
• Is there a point at which (subjectively speaking) there is too wide of a gap between outputs and they should / could be split into separate collections?
• Does this have an effect on the perception of the collection as a whole? On collectability?
• Would I personally (still) be happy to receive what might be considered a ‘common’ output of my collection?
• Is there such a thing as aesthetic desirability?
• If so, what are the elements that contribute to that?
• What works, artists, art movements, design systems consistently provide me with inspiration / resonate with me?
• Is the concept behind the collection simple to understand and easy to communicate?
• Does my chosen number of editions dilute or limit the capabilities of this collection? e.g - are there too few editions that there’s less chance of something special appearing, or too many editions that even the special feels common and the collection is in danger of losing cohesiveness?
• What is the ratio of ‘unique’ outputs to more common outputs?
• What makes the ‘special’ or ‘unique’ outputs different from the majority of the outputs?
• Is this something which is artificially or intentionally controlled (e.g setting a fixed percentage of rare outputs) or is this a result of randomness and algorithmic uniqueness?
• If a collector were to own a single iteration of a collection, is it sufficiently unique, aesthetically pleasing to own or display? I.e is the result something they could cherish if they never were to sell it?
• Can the collection direct viewers down a particular path of thought?
• If so, how might that be achieved?
• Is there a difference between an artistic expression and a product? Can these be the same thing? Does being intentional about all elements of collection make it any more or less authentic?

Considerations About The Intangible

There is something magical about outputs and algorithms that occasionally appear to have a mind of their own.

On the one hand, this can be thought of as the logical result of specific randomness fed through a system of complex variables and yet, we also have the ability to perceive this as something almost spiritual, philosophical or ethereal - as if certain outputs were the result of some kind of ‘ghost in a machine’.

Despite knowing this may not be the case, the below questions are considerations about collections and whether to perceive them as more than the sum of their parts. Beautifully optimised algorithms, simple yet elegant code (the parts that may remain unseen to many) - do these intangibly change not only our own perceptions and explanations of our projects, but affect the outputs themselves and the way iterations are interpreted and received by others as well?

The below questions are made to help explore beyond a clinical, logical activity such as coding, and consider how to infuse our collections with that intangible sense of wonder, craftsmanship and feeling of 'something special'.

As such, try approaching these with a Schrödinger's cat kind of vibe!

• Can an argument be made for generative art being 'alive'?
• Is there a point at which a generative output can become more than the sum of its parts?
• Am I in control of the code, or is the code in control of me? In other words, am I still on target with what I intended to create, am I exploring something else due to serendipity, syntax error, math errors etc.
• Even if the existing code produces the desired results, is there any benefit to simplifying / refactoring the code?
• How much autonomy have I given to my algorithm?
• Does this algorithm have the capacity to surprise?
• Could it be said that the algorithm seems to have a 'personality'?
• Do outputs created by a machine still possess or represent some of the 'soul' of it's creator(s)?
• Can there be a spiritual aspect to generative art?
• Is it possible to create algorithms that convey a sense of awe, joy, curiosity, wonder?
• Hypothetically if we were to say generative art is not just about code, what else is it about?
• Have I achieved what I set out to achieve using the simplest possible methods?
• Does elegant code affect, even if hidden to many, the perception of quality or craftsmanship of a collection, even if it is unlikely to be seen by many?

Considerations About Consistency

With generative art, especially in the format where collectors are minting and obtaining an iteration, it would not be out of place to think of generators as ‘factories’ and editions or iterations as ‘products’. Thinking within this context, we might see how a degree of consistency might be desired across multiple levels simultaneously; consistency from one iteration to the next, consistency within a collection as a whole, consistency between collections etc. This is a concept I have loosely termed ‘fractal consistency’.

As such, looking for a philosophy, ethos or process by which to create such consistency can be important to ensuring the longevity of a collection as well as cohesiveness across a body of work.

In search of this, I sometimes go looking for answers in areas completely unrelated to the field at hand. For example, in Thai cuisine it is said that a satisfying meal is the result of the combination of hot, sweet, sour, salty and spicy taste profiles.

In Japanese cooking, a balance is sought between sweet, bitter, salty, sour and ‘umami’ - the ‘fifth taste’ which translates conceptually to a savoury taste or texture that provides a sense of satiety, fullness and satisfaction.

Regardless, most forms of cuisine have such theories for reliably satisfying dishes. Thus, if we were to apply a similar concept to generative art, what might such a model look like and how might it be implemented?

Could there exist a system by which to produce an equivalent balance of ‘visual flavours’, appropriate for the aesthetics of each collection, something that might help to create consistently ‘satisfying’ outputs?

Considerations On Concepts and Explainability

In graphic design, a logo that is designed to work well in black and white almost always works well when presented in color. However a logo designed to work in color does not always translate as effectively to black and white, as one of its channels for communication is subtracted and not added.

Similarly, a song that has a strong composition or melodic structure can quite often be arranged in any style, from rock, to pop, to dance, to jazz - while still remaining recognisable. Have you noticed how most popular songs are catchy and easy to hum to like a children’s song? This is something I refer to as ‘lullaby simple’.

When approaching generative art, I approach concepts by looking for the visual equivalent of the ‘lullaby simple’. The core motif is often simple, but it can be explored with various levels of complexity, like jazz, while at its heart there is still something recognisable. I find this to be a reliable and useful consideration for this.

At other times we create things arbitrarily, because we like it, or it’s just what came to us and ‘felt right’ at the time. Many forms of design education demand explanation for such decisions, which can lead to the feeling like we must explain or create an elaborate context with which to express our work, for the fear of not appearing ‘academic’ or ‘artistic’ enough otherwise.

While I still believe design decisions should be justified in some contexts, in the realm of generative art I wonder if this adds additional variables and pressure that is at odds with the nature of the field itself.

Below are some questions I ask myself in order to test for congruence between what I say my collections are about, and what I actually feel they are about. This way not only is it easier to explain my thoughts behind a project, there is also less cognitive dissonance, imposter syndrome, feelings of ‘playing the artist’ etc.

• Can the artist’s intent for a collection be communicated without need of an explanation?
• Do iterations need to be explained within a narrative context or is it fine for them to just be as they appear?
• Would viewers / collectors just ‘get it’ ? (Of course, it’s also perfectly fine to create works without anything to ‘get’!)
• Am I applying a definition / story / narrative to a collection after it has reached a fixed point or was this always the intention?
• Does every collection have to have a story or a reason?
• Would a collector or viewer have to work too hard to understand my concept?
• Am I trying too hard to justify my concept? Am I myself convinced by this?

• Does my concept work effortlessly?

  *

• If not, can I find a way to make my concept work effortlessly? How can I refine?

*I’m a big believer in ‘sprezzatura’- making something appear simple and effortless, removing the outward rough edges, hiding the complexity behind grace and refinement, so that interactions between a piece and its viewer appear frictionless. While this is something that’s important to my personal creative approach, feel free to adjust this consideration in line with your way of designing!

Considerations About Aesthetics

Speaking from a graphic designer's experience, the topic of aesthetics, especially related to an artist's body of work, can be an interesting one. For example, sometimes as artists we are not consciously aware of what others perceive to be our 'style' or 'aesthetic'. Other times we are perfectly aware of our style, and this can be a double edged sword - because:

a) we can become trapped by what we think others expect to see,

b) we try to double down on that aesthetic, which can make subsequent work feel derivative, forced.

In the case of a brand, a designer's work is to create a consistent and recognisable language or vibe between the a company and those that interact with it. This sometimes means creating detailed and comprehensive documentation right down even to the spacing between letters, to help others interpret a companies' message and create a companies image that it can be recognised distinctively out of an ocean of competing brand identities.

For example, we might want a Picasso because we have collectively established an expectation or schema of what what a 'Picasso' looks like. Yet, I would imagine there are plenty of Picasso pieces which are harder to sell than others because they don't look sufficiently 'Picasso-y' enough.

Therefore, it can be difficult to strike a balance between recognisability and being trapped behind an aesthetic. I like to feel that apart from specific palette choices, I don't have a fixed aesthetic. If there is any consistency to my work, this comes rather from design philosophies and approach to creation more than any intentional stylistic flourishes. This way I can satisfy my desire for consistency, without necessarily being tied down or expected to continue along any particular aesthetic path.

Ultimately I do not have an answer for this, other than I think it is worth considering being aware of one's aesthetic, yet careful not to become creatively stifled by it. It leads me to ask myself how I myself can continue to deliver on certain expectations with a sense of newness, while still allowing for surprise and wonder.

When we watch an entry in a well-known movie franchise, we are usually aware of the rules of that universe and what elements we expect to see. If a template is well established or robust enough, it becomes possible to bend or break these rules in a way that the audience feels it offered enough 'newness', while also being a solid entry in the series.

Failure to stick to established rules or introducing too much newness leads to audiences feeling such a film is an entry to the series in name only.

As such, here are some thoughts for consideration:

• What might collectors like to see?
• How aware am I of my collector's expectations?
• To what degree am I allowing that to drive my design decisions?
• Am I trying to recreate previous success or expected aesthetics with this
• How might I exceed their expectations?
• How much newness should I / can I introduce (if any)?
• Is there a way I can delight, surprise, reward the observant in a subtle way?

Apart from the matter of aesthetics relating to style and consistency, there is also the consideration of aesthetics as they relate to an individual collection. One of the wonders of generative art, is that with a few minor tweaks to variables or upon the introduction of unique inputs, our results can differ entirely.

However, the question arises of how much latitude to give to an algorithm? In this instance, we as the artists get to curate chaos to some degree, limiting outputs to within a particular aesthetic range. Yet even within this range, at what point does an output appear to no longer belong to its collection? It is not unusual that some unique 'stray' outputs escape even the initial curation that might be hard-coded into an algorithm.

Yet from a collector's perspective, if there is too large a gap between aesthetic outputs within a collection, unless there is enough conceptual or aesthetic overlap, a collection can 'fracture' on secondary markets, with one or some output types outperforming others. This leads to a floor price which at a glance appears to speak for the collection as a whole, but rather is reflecting the result of aesthetic divergences. As such, it is worth considering whether the creation of separate collections might be a better option for release if you observe this kind of thing happening during development*

*unless of course, the aesthetic differences are integral or intentional to the narrative of the collection. Conversely, collections that contain very different but identifiable categories of outputs can sometimes drive collectors to want to obtain one of each 'type' of attribute, again a useful consideration during the design stage.

If collectors perceive a gap between 'desirable' outputs and undesirable outputs, once most of the desirable outputs are obtained, a collection can lose energy and 'stall'. Alternatively, collectors might perceive this issue and decide not to collect at all. Thus, it is might be useful to consider designing in a level of 'base desirability' to avoid this, where a 'common' or regular output isn't too different from the special ones, still aesthetically pleasing overall, just sharing similarities with more pieces. On the flip side, a collection with outputs that appear too similar or too consistent can suffer from a lack of energy. Naturally this will differ from collection to collection, but is a useful consideration.

• What is my visceral reaction to these aesthetics?
• Which outputs (if any) resonate with me the most and why?
• Have my palettes' colors been chosen with any method / system / harmony etc?
• Are the palettes I’m creating robust enough to work effectively in future collections, across a larger body of work, within different contexts etc?
• Are there any design systems that could be implemented or modified to bring cohesion to the outputs?
• Do my color choices remain harmonious once randomness and variability is introduced?
• Can I iterate or evolve my design or aesthetic by adding / tweaking / modifying a single rule? (e.g colors, shape, proportion, rotation, transparency, scaling etc)
• Can color harmony / disharmony be used creatively to accentuate individual interactions or a collection as a whole?
• Is the collection plottable? If so, how does this change my design approach?
• Can this be printed? If so how might the piece appear when printed?
• Is this designed primarily for display on a screen, at an exhibition, metaverse?
• Is there a specific type of paper or printing technique that would enhance or change the output once printed?
• Has post-processing been added to the collection?
• If post-processing has been added, was this the intention from the start or a decision made later?
• Has post-processing been applied out of a desire to fit with an aesthetic trend, or is this integral to the overall look and feel of the final outputs?
• Can plain, non-post processed outputs still be aesthetically pleasing or do they appear ‘unfinished’?

Considerations About Releases, Pricing and Collectors

Upon the conception or completion of any project, one of the most consistently tricky periods to navigate is the release. Relatively new developments in the creation and distribution of generative art demand that we invest at least a little bit of time considering the more commercial aspects of the field.

Many factors here can determine the reception, perception and or commercial success such as the following : market conditions, choice of chain, artist status, aesthetic results, output variability, scarcity or availability, uniqueness etc...

Furthermore, each of these factors can impact releases that are yet to come - for example, if a collection is released with the assumption that holders of said collection will have priority for future works, it can become difficult to welcome new collectors through primary sales for subsequent collections, as your options would be to ‘lock in’ collectors from previous collections, excluding newcomers except through secondary sales, or increase edition sizes to accommodate new collectors at primary, an issue that would only compound with each subsequent release.

While this is an extreme example, it serves to illustrate some of the issues that can occur without sufficient forward planning.

As the reception of a project is the result of many of the factors mentioned above and more, it is helpful to consider how to handle our reaction to our collections if it is not as we were expecting. It is easy (and very human) to lose motivation or experience burnout if we feel our work has gone unrecognised, unnoticed or misunderstood. If there has been enough personal growth, by attempting something new or operating out of one’s comfort zone, or having ‘done it for the sake of doing it’, I have personally often found this is enough to justify the involved process of putting out a collection in the first place.

Next, pricing can be a sensitive subject, often especially more so for artists because of the many mental hurdles that need to be overcome in order to set our prices confidently.

Wether relating to generative or any other art field, the first hurdle is often the acceptance that art in general has value. While many of us know this logically, conditioning can lead us not to agree with this viscerally. When this happens, it can lead to dissonance where we might say we want to sell our art, but don’t feel that we should or can, leading to actions that work counter to our best intentions.

Jumping over this first hurdle leads to a second hurdle: that specifically OUR art has value and that there appears to be demand for it!

Some artists are more comfortable than others with this realisation and tend to hit the ground running. But from the many conversations I have had with creatives from different fields over the years, despite believing in what we create, recognising and becoming comfortable with the value our work has to others can take yet more time to internalize and truly accept.

This is a very common issue, precisely because ‘value’ is largely subjective. Creative work is often not a matter of hours spent, but rather the value to the person wishing to obtain the result of that creativity.

What does it mean specifically to the collector?

Does your logo change the perception of their business? Will your rug really tie their room together? Does that edition finally complete a triptych in their carefully curated collection? Does the possession of a rare piece help convey a sense of status or create an entry point for conversation?

Simply due to the sheer number of factors that can affect pricing (and that beyond primary sales it is largely out of an artist’s hands) it is more productive not to question why a certain piece of art has value, but rather focus on the acceptance that it does have value.

The ‘why?’ and the ‘how much’ of the value is for others to decide. By focusing on providing value, the mind is instead freed up to focus on infusing that into the art rather than worrying about the complexity of pricing.

It should also be said that pricing is becoming an increasingly collaborative activity. You don’t really have to do it alone. If the market thinks you priced too high, it’ll let you know. If you’ve priced too low, it’ll let you know. It is always communicating if you listen to it. The process of pricing can be continuous and a dialogue.

Sometimes the market can place you within a phantom hierarchy. At times this may work for you or against you, yet ultimately it is out of your hands and not your concern. All you really can do is focus on consistency, longevity and doing your best work.

Lastly, the market’s reaction is not necessarily chronological or linear. Maybe a new collection brings context to earlier works and changes the perception or desirability to previous pieces. Perhaps later works provide the tipping point that finally allows collectors to familiarize themselves with your aesthetic, demonstrate consistency or bring context to a larger body of work. Thus, the immediate reaction to any one work or collection is not necessarily finite, but has the capacity to change and develop over time

This is why it is most important to continue to create work you believe in regardless of how a collection is received or how it performs. An artist’s narrative is continuous, never finite.

On Collection Releases

• What exactly am I hoping to achieve by releasing this collection?
• What am I most proud of with this collection?
• Is this collection impressive from a technical / coding / aesthetic / narrative / intentional aspect (or all / more than one of these) and are those elements apparent to those that are receptive to these?

• Do I believe in the collection I’m releasing?

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  It is important to draw attention to a subtle distinction here - between releasing something that may not be our best effort, that we don’t completely believe in - and the anxiety that precedes most releases precisely because we believe in it and want it to be well received…

• Can attention be drawn to what I’m most proud of with this collection?
• Could further explanation or knowledge of this make a difference to viewers or collectors?
• Have I taken into account global timezones, days of the week to optimize availability for collectors who might wish to mint?
• Does this release do anything to enhance, reframe, recontextualize or build upon any narrative or aesthetic from prior works?
• Are there any examples of art where my perception or reaction to the work has changed, due to understanding the artist’s original intent?
• Even if this collection is not received like others / I can’t replicate the success of previous efforts / public reception is different to what I expected or hoped for, have I achieved enough quiet ‘wins’, personal development or improvement for this release to still be considered a personal success?
• Is there a way to use the features or unique functions offered by a particular platform to add value, perspective or in some way enhance the experiences of an output in some way?

On Collectors

• What different types of collectors exist?
• What aspects of this collection might be attractive to collectors?
• Have I considered the collector's experience?
• What issues have been faced by collectors trying to obtain editions in the past and how might it be possible to streamline or improve their experience?
• Hypothetically, if there was such a thing as an optimal minting / collecting experience, what might that look like?
• Might collectors like to be able to print and if so, have I made this simple for them (e.g suitable print resolution, or dimensions/paper sizes that can be framed by most readily available frames etc.)
• Does this collection communicate clearly to the type of collector that would be interested in this? (e.g through thumbnail, aesthetics, colors, complexity of description etc)
• Is there / should there be a release strategy for this or any future releases?
• Would follow up / variant / special editions etc in any way dilute or alter the perception of a body of work?
• Does the collection fit aesthetically, narratively with previously published collections?
• Does it have to?

On Pricing

• After factoring in current marketing conditions, botting, flipping etc- is my intended pricing fair / reasonable to new and or existing collectors?
• After factoring in current marketing conditions, botting, flipping etc- is my intended pricing fair / healthy to the longevity of the market, larger ecosystem?
• What do you feel comfortable charging?
• Is the amount higher or lower than equivalent works from other artists?
• If it's higher, why? If it's lower, why?
• Would you like to charge more, if so why - additionally if you'd like to charge more but don't, why don't you?
• Given that the act of pricing is an act of communication in itself, what message are you sending by the price that you choose?
• Do you factor development time or level of experience into pricing?
• Do you perceive a correlation between the quality of a collection and it's price?
• If you were to live full time off your art, would a combination of development time and number of intended editions make the process of pricing any easier?

If you’re reading this, I appreciate that you have read this far. I hope these considerations have been or will be helpful to you as they have been to me, and look forward to evolving this text as adoption, technology and more experience allows.

I hope through this text (that ended up way longer than I originally intended!), I have been able to demonstrate my love for the field of generative art and a glimpse into my thought processes while creating collections.

I would like to thank all the artists who inspire me on a daily basis, as well as my sincere gratitude to the community for their kindness and reception of my work.

The space is still very young and I am incredibly excited and honoured to embark on this journey with you all, hopefully with many new collections and projects yet to be seen.

For now, back to my sketchbook!

If you have any questions or would like to continue the conversation, I am most active on Twitter [@]studioyorktown or via my website studioyorktown.com