Hyperrhiz 29

Collaborative Art Practice, Technology and Human Unreadable: An Interview with Operator

Ania Catherine and Dejha Ti (Operator)

Interview by
Merve Güven Özkerim

Citation: (Operator), Ania Catherine and Dejha Ti and Merve Güven Özkerim. “Collaborative Art Practice, Technology and Human Unreadable: An Interview with Operator.” Hyperrhiz: New Media Cultures, no. 29, 2025. doi:10.20415/hyp/029.int06

Abstract: In an interview with Ania Catherina from the Operator (duo), the possibilities of alternative and creative uses of blockchain technology in plastic and performative arts, and the aesthetic debates they raise, are discussed through the example of Human Unreadable.

Keywords: blockchain, decentralise, NFT, algorithmic choreography, privacy.

Interview

Merve Güven Özkerim: Let’s start by talking about the period before the Operator was established. You have a rich interdisciplinary background in dance, choreography, performance art and human-computer interaction, multimedia installations, engineering. How did your interest in algorithmic art begin?

Ania Catherine: The mediums you are talking about are dance, choreography, performance, human-computer interaction, multimedia, and engineering—reflect our distinct but complementary backgrounds. These disciplinary trajectories are, in a sense, divided between Dejha and myself. I was trained in ballet and studied various dance styles throughout my youth, with no background in technology. My artistic practice centers the body as a tool, consistently prioritizing movement, performance, and choreography, with a focus on organic and physically embodied expression.

Dejha, on the other hand, received extensive training in multimedia art, with a focus on code-based art, digital image manipulation, experimental media, human-computer interaction, and innovative interface design...etc. Her background was strongly rooted in technology, and her artistic research explored novel modes of interaction between humans and machines. Prior to our collaboration, she was developing immersive installations that invited participants to engage through facial recognition or facial interaction interfaces. These works emphasized a dynamic interplay between human presence and machine responsiveness, positioning technology not just as a medium, but as a collaborator in the aesthetic experience.

Our collaboration began somewhat serendipitously—initially as a one-off meeting to work together on a project. There was no deliberate plan to build a long-term artistic practice. However, as our personal relationship evolved, so did our creative one. As a couple, our lives became increasingly intertwined, and so did our fields of interest. We began exploring Dejha’s world of technology, multimedia, and human-computer interaction, alongside my own, which was deeply rooted in physicality, movement, and performance. The convergence of these two domains became both our shared obsession and the foundation of our artistic life. Nearly eight years later, we continue to collaborate, now also as a married couple. That’s kind of how those come together within the Operator. Operator is the container for everything that we make.

Prior to our current work, I had limited exposure to algorithmic art in the digital sense. However, one could argue that earlier choreographic practices—such as Merce Cunningham’s chance operations—constitute a form of analog algorithmic art. Cunningham, who collaborated closely with composer John Cage, employed systems of chance (notably dice rolling) to generate choreographic sequences. Just as Cage introduced indeterminacy into music, Cunningham brought procedural randomness into dance, using non-digital, rule-based methods to structure movement. In this way, his work anticipates certain principles underlying our own blockchain-based practice: a reliance on procedural systems to generate or govern creative outcomes. While Cunningham’s algorithms were analog and embodied, ours are computational and distributed—yet both approaches explore how systems can shape aesthetic experience beyond direct human intention.

As a dancer, I had not been formally exposed to algorithmic art within the context of my academic training, particularly not in its digital or computational forms. However, one might consider Merce Cunningham’s use of chance operations—such as dice rolls to generate choreographic sequences—as a form of analog algorithm. His methods exemplify early rule-based systems applied to choreography, preceding the widespread integration of computational technologies in artistic practice.

When working on Human Unreadable, we began researching the lineage of computational choreography, within which our project is situated. In doing so, we encountered the seminal work of Analivia Cordeiro, whose pioneering use of body movement as input for computer-based visual systems represents a foundational moment in the history of algorithmic dance. Her contributions are central to this lineage, and they provided a crucial historical and conceptual reference point for our own explorations of human-machine choreography.

Merve Güven Özkerim: Human Unreadable, which you describe as “an experiential artwork in three acts that begins on Art Blocks and ends in a live performance,” unfolds like a dynamic process. That is that rather than an implementation of fictional pre-defined parts from the beginning, due to on-chain generative choreography there is a strong processual aspect. Is there any software, hardware or any other technological optimizations that take place between Act I, Act II and Act III?

Ania Catherine: We consider Human Unreadable as a unified whole, in which all acts function together as a total work. Conceptually, the narrative arc begins with the human—represented by myself in a motion capture suit—performing a series of movements. This motion data is recorded, beginning from a basic, organic point: the human body in motion. From this foundation, we undertook a series of processes and developed various tools to explore how such motion data could be stored on the blockchain—a medium inherently not designed for large-scale data storage. Therefore, we had to develop methods to compress and prune the motion data to a size that would allow for upload and subsequent sequence generation, while still accurately representing the original human movements. This process fundamentally begins with the human body.

Subsequently, we needed to put those movements on a chain. The algorithm orchestrates a sequence based on these movements. For example, participants are assigned specific movements (e.g., movement 3, movement 1, movement 24, movement 11) with intervals, culminating in a comprehensive dance when executed in a coordinated manner, including moments of slow motion.

The creation of the dance involves the generation of motion data corresponding to the specific dance performance. This motion data is subsequently utilised to generate black and white images. In the visual output, such as the art blocks output, the rectangular form serves as a representation of the inherent dance. Thus, the choreography of the sequence essentially shapes the visual representation, wherein the movement is concealed within the artwork. This conceptualization likens the artwork to a metaphorical curtain, behind which the essence of movement remains hidden. In Act II, the objective is to bring people accustomed to disembodied generative art, predominantly characterised by abstraction. Mostly characterised by geometric, clean, and modernist design aesthetics, our aim was to transition this audience towards a more tactile engagement with code. Act II is basically this is what happens in Act II like if Act I is. This is the curtain which is the artwork, and the dance that happened is like hiding inside that image. Act II gives you a little bit of a glimpse of the movements that created the artwork. Act I, Act II is kind of like this. You start to get a glimpse of the movements in the format of a fully on chain movement score.

In Act II, we present hand-drawn stick figure animations that document the individual movements used to generate the final artwork. These visualizations serve as a partial revelation of the choreographic input that underpins the piece. Act III, when we finally have the chance for the audience and the public to see the dance like that original movement to see it in the flesh. Which is the culmination of the artwork, is bringing people from. There's movement hiding in the image. Then they get a little bit of a glimpse of the image. Then all of the obfuscation layers disappear, and you just have a human watching the dance. So it's this, the whole arc is a slow recovery of the human.

Merve Guven Özkerim: When did you first encounter blockchain technology? While some describe it as an “artistic revolution,” others criticize it sharply in terms of its environmental impacts and sustainability. What do you think will be the artistic and theoretical effects of blockchain technology?

Ania Catherine: Our initial encounter with blockchain occurred in 2019, prompted by the completion of a large-scale installation at the Scab Museum of Art in the United States. It was like using a touch designer and like kinetics and environmental sensors. It was like a crazy digital artwork that, like no one understood what was going on. it seems to be a pattern like we have very complex things. We did that artwork and we really wanted to speak about the artwork and share what we had done, because it was a major milestone for us creatively. But there were very few events or institutions that were really talking about digital art, or like art and technology. There are so many options in this regard right now. But before it really was supranational, it was hard to find people who took it seriously.

So, we reached out to Elena Zavelev, who founded the Contemporary and Digital Art Fair (CADAF). She was gathering for this event in New York, and we didn't know her. We contacted her by sending an email. We were just like, “Hi, we just did this installation. We'd love to speak at your fair. It's a digital artwork.” And she was like, “Yes, great. Come and speak about your installation.” We went there, and there were several artists, some of whom are now really well-known. Basically, we found ourselves in this room with a bunch of people doing very different things with technology.

We weren’t using blockchain at the time, but we ended up in this kind of small digital art community with people who were making art with AI, people who were making art with blockchain. And then we were there, sharing our experiential, immersive digital art. That was the first time we got introduced to artists using blockchain, back in 2019, just because pretty much all of us were rejected from the contemporary art world. So we all found ourselves as the “rejects” who were making weird, experimental art with technology. That's how we got exposed to artists working with blockchain. If we look at it from the perspective of artistic revolution and environmental impacts, I think it's very important for artists to think about the tools they use.

At the beginning, before the Ethereum merge, its energy consumption was definitely a huge problem, and its environmental impact was significant. However, after the merge, that impact was reduced to a tiny fraction of what it used to be. Now, I don't really feel it's as much of an issue. Of course, it depends on which blockchain you're talking about. For example, Bitcoin and ordinals are still much worse in terms of environmental impact. But the Ethereum blockchain, which is primarily what we use, has improved. It's not perfect, but the impact is far less than it was before.

I think it's important for artists to choose a blockchain that is better for the environment and more responsible. Some artists are drawn to blockchains where there's a lot of money circulating, even if the environmental impact is horrible. But for us, we feel pretty good about minting on the Ethereum blockchain. Ultimately, it's up to each artist to decide what they think is worth it.

Merve Güven Özkerim: At the beginning of your work, you created non-technology prototypes. Later, you bring in a variety of technologies that come into play. What does using blockchain technology add to Human Unreadable? In other words, what would be missing from Human Unreadable if blockchain technology were not so integral to it?

Ania Catherine: This is a fantastic question. It is not a necessity for all our artworks to incorporate blockchain technology. However, Human Unreadable is a product of the limitations of blockchain technology and the limitations of the human body. The entire artwork exists solely because of, and is built around, these two things. This artwork is site-specific to blockchain, and its core elements—what it's about and what it's doing—require blockchain for Human Unreadable to function.

As a dancer and choreographer, I observe the challenges faced by individuals in the performing arts globally. The dynamics for dancers, choreographers, and performance artists are distinct, given the absence of a tangible object for sale. Essentially, dance and performance exist as service-oriented industries, grappling with the perennial challenge of sustaining livelihoods in a sector traditionally devoid of tangible products. That art form has never been able to be transacted in the art market; you don't have a thing that you can sell to someone in the way that someone sells a painting, a sculpture, or a sketch. Performance artists are just like happy moments that you saw, and there's nothing to sell.

The first thing that comes to mind when I read this question is that the collectibility of choreography is huge. We've found a way to put motion data and choreography on-chain, storing it so that someone can own an artwork in the form of a unique sequence of motion data. This data can be owned, transferred, and has value. So, the introduction of choreography becoming collectible through digital scarcity via an NFT is huge. I think that's one of the most important things that the artwork does: it introduces a way for ephemeral art forms to become an art object through blockchain.

Merve Güven Özkerim: Art and technology have historically developed in a centralized manner within power relations (we can also include oppositional perspectives). Nowadays, the word “decentralization” comes up very often with blockchain technology. In fact, the idea of going one step further and switching to Web3 technologies completely is often discussed. On the other hand, a central understanding still prevails in terms of software and hardware. In addition, it could be argued that all the rules of art (and anti-art) were determined from a central point. Do you think this decentralized structure may change in the future and what are the difficulties of creating a decentralized product within a centrally developed system?

Ania Catherine: I think the issue is that blockchain is decentralized, in the sense that it operates as a decentralized system. Specifically, I don't really participate in the broader crypto world outside of the blockchain art space. The crypto art world and Crypto Twitter, where much of the crypto community lives and operates, serve as platforms for many of these conversations and interactions. I can only speak from my perspective, as someone who isn't involved in DeFi (decentralized finance) or that part of the crypto world. My focus is on decentralized art communities.

Continuing from my perspective, I observe that although the industry itself is decentralized, there are still significant challenges and complexities in navigating this landscape. There are artists on these platforms from all over the world. The beauty of it is that it has this permissionless quality—anyone, anywhere, with an internet connection, can showcase their artwork and have someone from anywhere in the world purchase it. No one needs to say you're good; you can sell it.

However, I believe centers emerge even within a decentralized system. Money and value still typically flow from one corner of a decentralized system. So, you have a decentralized artwork or art world with artists from all over, but you also have people within that decentralized system who have the most influence, the most money, and connections to institutions. These individuals can select which artists from the decentralized system they want to bring into this new, “soft” center.

It's decentralized in theory, but I still believe power, influence, and money remain concentrated with specific individuals. Not everyone who wields influence, power, or capital within Web3 possessed it in the traditional Web2 realm; some have amassed it entirely within Web3, which is certainly possible. Participation in this decentralized landscape doesn't automatically grant significance based on financial status, as is often the case in the more centralized Web2. Instead, Web3 constitutes a distinct world where importance is derived from different factors and dynamics.

Despite this, I still think a kind of “soft center” emerges. There are indeed areas where capital, influence, and respect converge, forming circles of artists whose work is consistently purchased. Conversely, at the peripheries, you might find someone unable to sell their digital artwork for even 50 cents. No one will buy it simply because they aren't part of that influential circle.

Merve Güven Özkerim: In his renowned essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” published in 1935, Walter Benjamin foresaw some of the consequences of technological changes on art, such as the decay of the aura. Do you think on-chain long-form generative art has the potential to recreate an “aura” of artworks?

Ania Catherine: I don't perceive long-form on-chain generative art, in particular, as a revival of the aura. Instead, I view it as a phenomenon occurring within the dynamic interaction between an artwork and its audience. So it's always a subjective thing. It's not like this. Painting is old and was done by someone important, and it has the aura like it? Could that same painting to someone else like they could pick up on nothing of that like energy or importance, or like that cloud of meaning and significance. İt is also not limited to the physical I've definitely experienced.

Examining a digital artwork, I acknowledge that countless devices worldwide have the capacity to view the same piece. In that shared experience, I sense a connection, as if the work is communicating with me, allowing me to perceive the artist's essence through it. I resonate with the idea that the concept of aura, particularly for me, is deeply intertwined with relational aspects. I believe this phenomenon transcends the distinction between physical and digital mediums. Whether encountered in a physical space or through a digital experience, the aura can be evoked by various forms of artistic expression, such as a song that resonates and elicits a profound sense of presence. Because other people can hear it, and it's not like that exact copy is the one that the musician did specifically for me at that moment. I still can feel it.  I don't think that technology changes the idea of aura because it's always relational. The connection established with a digital artwork is unique to each individual, encapsulating a personal experience for every viewer.

Merve Güven Özkerim: Is it important to you that your work is not easily copyable due to technical specifications or other technical restrictions?

Ania Catherine: In terms of someone can't save a picture of our artwork, or you mean copyable as in style voice. Which is extremely copyable. It's just a black vectorized signature on a white yeah background like that. Anyone could do it on their laptop very easily. It doesn't. Actually, it's never going to be mistaken for being an Operator artwork, because we are minting from our wallet. It has our signature as if we are the ones who minted this thing. We are the people who made this, and it's attached to us as an entity, as an artist, as a wallet.

If something that looks just like Human Unreadable is minted from a wallet that is not Operator, it doesn't have any worth like if someone minted an exact Human Unreadable artwork, saved it, uploaded it to Open Sea. Minted it under a wallet called like. I don't know Brittany Smith and it's the same artwork. That artwork is gonna have no value because it's coming from someone different. So in a way blockchain and the provenance and the wallet as the signature, the digital signature and identity of the artists in the art world. That's also how it works. It's not really the art that has value. It's the promise of the artist. It's the significance of the artist. It's their trajectory. It's whether they're in institutions. That's really what people are investing in. They're not investing in an art work, they're investing in the trajectory of an artist's career with blockchain. You have the artist's signature. That's actually where the value is not in the image itself.

Merve Güven Özkerim: If the history of post-digital or post-internet art were being written in the future, how would you position your works?

Ania Catherine: I perceive our work as not explicitly aimed at addressing or aligning with particular technological frameworks. Our creative endeavours are more focused on engaging with the dynamic and evolving landscape of cultural occurrences and circulation, rather than being driven by a deliberate emphasis on specific technologies. We see that everything is moving towards more decentralized things. It's almost as if we're just exploring different subjects. For example, privacy— we've been examining privacy as a topic since 2019.

Now, going on five years, we’ve been deeply focused on privacy. But what we’re really trying to do is understand its future—how it’s predicted to evolve—and reflect on how the concept manifests both in the present and in the near future. We’re not concerned with labeling our work as digital or post-digital. To us, it's about exploring privacy—examining where it’s heading and how it functions. You can’t ignore the technologies that are shaping what it means to keep something private. We’re simply observing where things are happening and aligning our thinking on privacy with the cultural directions it’s moving toward.