Why is everyone saying this robot looks tired?
When ruminating about art in the digital age, a myriad of examples define how technology and art manifest their interconnectedness. People have referred to technological growth through art for centuries. Most famously, Dada artist Raoul Hausmann’s Mechanical Head (c. 1919) is a paradigm for technology-focused artwork that utilises elements of technology or mechanical parts as a means of fashioning a subtle commentary, or rather a conspicuous critique, on the masochistic nature of society’s obsession with technological advancement. A century later, the general public tends to realise AI and graphic design as the modern conveyance of art and technology intersectionality, though I would argue otherwise. Installation and performance art, popularised in the 1960s and 1970s, offer the most pensive and least kitschy portrayals of how technology can be interpreted and perceived in artful ways. These art forms are unconventional, which is highly suited to the unconventional beauty of contemporary forms and structures based on simplicity and technology.
In 2016, the Guggenheim Museum commissioned an installation from provocative artist duo, San Yuan and Peng Yu. Known for their controversial instalments like Dogs That Cannot Touch Each Other (2003) and hyper-realistic portrayals of humans, such as their Old People’s Home (2008), the Northern Chinese pair’s most recent installation consisted of a giant robot arm, more specifically a KUKA industrial robot. The instalment, titled Can’t Help Myself, sits in a large, empty space with clear acrylic walls permitting outside observation. Within its cage, an industrial robot with visual-recognition sensors and various software systems performs its only job for its audience: to contain a viscous, red liquid within a designated parameter. Once the liquid surpasses the boundaries, the robot tenaciously and unfailingly flails its arms out to sweep the liquid back into the centre, leaving traces of its fanatic compulsions splattered about the enclosure. Able to perform a total of 32 different movements, the petulant robot has gathered a following of empathy from the public as the voyeuristic consumption of the exhibit transformed into a misanthropic self-reflection intended by San Yuan and Peng Yu. Originally an experiment to see if this robot could replace an artist’s will, the meaning of the instalment has become ambiguous and broad as its public reception has unfolded. Over time, the robot has begun to malfunction, and its movements have become more erratic and impaired, the instalment coming to a close in 2019. Some view the robot as a reflection of capitalism or authoritarianism, referencing the robot and its fate to the puppeteering of political agendas. Others view the robot and its progression as the zeitgeist of this period of technological development we live in.
Reconceptualising how we view the intersection of art and technology may involve rejecting tradition and embracing modernity fully. Using traditional art mediums for nontraditional motifs like robotics often results in banal representations of technology or gaudy uses of technology to convey cliché narratives about technological development. While the pendulum may swing between futile and sincere, and while public reception may often ultimately define this, creating artwork that uses technology as a tool of beauty and an embodiment of life is possible.
