Synthetic Aesthetics: Notes on the Genius of Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg

Illustration of Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg from Dezeen 

the online architecture, interiors, and design magazine

dezeen.com

Is Daisy Ginsberg the most interesting artist working in the world today? She's certainly a strong contender for the title and would probably get my vote.

For the past decade she has explored and experimented with the possibilities of synthetic biology, creating works and curating exhibitions that critically examine the relationship between art, science and nature, whilst researching the human desire to enhance the world (her Ph.D. completed in 2017 was on how our dream of a better, brighter future materially shapes the present).

Curently resident at Somerset House Studios, Ginsberg's recent projects have included one on the possibility of wilding Mars for the benefit of new plant species (rather than terraforming it to the advantage of man); one on recreating the scent of extinct flowers from remnants of their DNA (whilst simutaneously resurrecting a notion of the sublime); and - opening at the end of this month - an installation entitled Machine Auguries that highlights the silencing of the natural world via the use of deepfake birdsong to create a synthetic dawn chorus.

Working with the sound designer Chris Timpson, Ginsberg has combined recordings of real birds with machine generated responses - the latter only being distinguishable from the former due to a deliberately inbuilt distortion. It's both a very beautiful and heartbreakingly depressing work that raises awareness of the fact that we have lost 40 million birds in the UK in just 50 years and that many once-familiar and much-loved species continue to be in decline.

There's no doubting that artificially intelligent machines can generate many fantastic images and sounds - things that are more real than real -  but, personally, I would hate to live in a virtual world without actual flowers, birdsong, or the sound of children playing.   

Notes

'Machine Auguries', by Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg, is part of the exhibition 24/7: A Wake-Up Call for Our Non-Stop World, at the Embankment Galleries, Somerset House, London, 31 October 2019 - 23 February 2020. Click here for more details.

Readers interested in knowing more about Ginsberg and her astonishing body of work, should visit her website: daisyginsberg.com

Flightpath

Photo: Matt Cardy/Getty Images (www.theguardian.com)

Daybreak in Hounslow
and passenger jets
roar overhead.

Midday in Hounslow
and passenger jets
roar overhead.

Twilight in Hounslow
and passenger jets
roar overhead.

But in between the metallic hum of engines,
you can hear little birds singing as gaily as
on the fifth day of creation.

Zarathustra and the Nightingale

One has to speak with thunder and heavenly fireworks to feeble and dormant senses, says Zarathustra.

If we interpret this injunction in a generous manner, it can be understood to mean that Nietzsche is interested in constructing a poetic post-metaphysical language that will enable the individual to break free from received conceptual schema and the moral-linguistic conventions of grammar and thereby find new ways of thinking and feeling. 

But, I have to say, it does sound a wee bit fascistic and shouty. Or, in a word, Wagnerian. The sort of thing that Dietrich Eckart might have had in mind when he created the Nazi battle slogan Deutschland Erwache!   

It also anticipates Heidegger, who claims in Being and Time that we must rediscover some form of primordial language from which to assemble a vocabulary of elementary terms that authentically speak Dasein. Philosophy's ultimate task, he says, is to preserve the force of these words and prevent them from being enfeebled and flattened within the common understanding.

I have to confess, there was a time when I found this kind of thing seductive if never entirely convincing: I wanted to believe that there was a universal (though secret) litany of magical words, letters, and phonemes that might somehow tear up the foundations of the soul and shatter eardrums and law tables alike, but I was never quite able to do so.

And what prevented me from embracing this mytho-religious idea of language was the following passage from Lawrence's Sketches of Etruscan Places:

"And before Buddha or Jesus spoke the nightingale sang, and long after the words of Jesus and Buddha are gone into oblivion, the nightingale will sing. Because it is neither preaching nor teaching nor commanding nor urging. It is just singing. And in the beginning was not a Word, but a chirrup."

- Sketches of Etruscan Places and Other Italian Essays, ed. Simonetta de Filippis, (CUP, 1992), p. 36.