How Do We ‘Read’ Art in the crypto world?

How Do We ‘Read’ Digital Art? - (Opinion piece)

What Makes Something ‘Good,’ and Can We Apply Tools from Traditional Art Reading to This Culture?

Before you read, allow me to preface this by stating that this is written by an artist, an art historian, and someone who is new to, curious about, and admittedly ignorant of the crypto space… Very eager to learn—always happy to debate. Written following an incredible trip to Marfa, Texas, for @artblocks weekend with @glitch.

Someone once said to me, with equal measures of wisdom and banality, that the crypto space is “a space for people that are curious about things” (Greg).

As an outsider viewing the work, you cannot get past the gate without curiosity. Much of the work is baffling to most, especially when viewed through a traditional lens. But sit within the culture of this space long enough, and the artists, collectors, and investors you encounter are generous, humble, playful, and intelligent. In this writing, I consider whether crypto art can be discussed in relation to traditional artistic values, whether it has a place within historical artistic discourse, and what it offers to society at large to gain its popularity.

In a way, the art in this space breaks through traditional hierarchies, intellectual egoism, classism, and formalism of the traditional art world. It welcomes artists into a realm that is playful and, in many ways, deeply human—contrary to what you might expect. The work is innovative, at times gimmicky (without any negative connotation implied), and it has an exciting, almost childish proximity to objects and merchandise that are simply fun. However, communities are rarely without their barriers to entry. Here, those barriers are education and knowledge of technology, business, crypto, and innovation. If you can play the game and articulate the language of this world, the gate swings open.

But what is good art in this comparatively young space? In a realm where the visuals are not often inspired by relatable human conditions and values (e.g., emotion, beauty, tradition, or common social commentary), where fewer thematic or aesthetic traditions exist for comparison, and where the genius of the work is often hidden in the process or technology behind it—how can we confidently assess what is “good art”?

To the outsider, some of it might at first look more like a PC screensaver than an “artwork.” There is still work that values aesthetic virtuosity and craftsmanship, such as that of Joe Pease and Sam Spratt but this does not seem to hold the same level of priority across the whole field as it does in (some of)  the traditional art spaces. Therefore, appreciating the work primarily for its traditional artistic craftsmanship or for how it makes you feel (in an emotive sense) is not always accessible. So perhaps our framework for analysis cannot solely be borrowed from the traditional art world. Perhaps we need a new set of rules.

Much of the work in this fast-paced space is valued for its innovation—for how it plays technological games, interacts with consumers, and contributes to the progress of the crypto art scene. In this context, it can be difficult for a novice to discern what is “good” or not because what is “good” is often determined by the rules the work is playing or breaking—many of which exist “behind” the work.

This is not the first time we have arrived at such a juncture. Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain—a simple urinal presented as art—comes to mind as a pivotal moment in conceptual art, where the value of the work lay in its concept, message, and new way of thinking. Similarly, crypto art can alienate viewers who approach it with a narrower or more traditional relationship to art. The same could be said of performance art or abstract contemporary dance. These forms of art require a secondary engagement, where our response is not through emotional instinct or traditional viewership, but through an informed or open-minded lens that may demand education or experience in the field.

We can see crypto art again aligns with traditional artistic discourse when we consider how it engages in a dialogue between humanity and the rapid pace of technological expansion. In 1757, Edmund Burke wrote about the theory of the “Sublime” in art, describing experiences provoked by awe-inspiring scenes of nature. These experiences, characterised by vastness and power, evoked feelings of fear and inferiority. For Burke, the “Sublime” was defined by “terror as the ruling principle.”

What, in our current landscape, is more dominant than the omnipresence of technology? Artists, both in the past and now within the crypto space, have explored themes of fear and power by offering moments where we can “play god”—attempting to manipulate or capture forces beyond our control—or by reflecting on our subordination to them. Immanuel Kant, in his Critique of Judgement (1790), wrote:

“The feeling of the sublime is at once a feeling of displeasure, arising from the inadequacy of imagination in the aesthetic estimation of magnitude to attain to its estimation of reason, and a simultaneous awakened pleasure, arising from this very judgement of the inadequacy of sense being in accord with ideas of reason, so far as the effort to attain to these is for us a law.”

This overwhelming sense of something bigger than ourselves has historically been a subject for artists, and now our new “god” (for some) is technology. Thus, crypto art continues a familiar artistic tradition. What is new, however, is how the work creates a space for dialogue with technology—a context vital to viewing and assessing whether the work is “good.”

Finally, I want to touch on impermanence and play. We often seek formulas, traditions, and expectations to position ourselves and our opinions in relation to art. But this culture, which celebrates rule-breaking, play, and innovation, inherently accelerates the pace of change. It generates a culture where value is constantly shifting—evidenced by the investment market deeply ingrained in this art field.

Perhaps as the space matures, profiles will become established, and thematic trends will emerge, slowing the pace of change. When this happens, clearer barometers for what is “good” may develop. For now, however, innovation and change dominate, fostering a culture and financial market that is anything but static.

As newcomers to the field, it is important to recognize that while we can borrow certain tools and expectations from the traditional art space, relying on them exclusively does the work a disservice. This art is not spoon-fed to its audience through visuals or traditional conceptual analysis. It demands insight into its processes, curiosity about its statements, and consideration of its context within technology and society.

Previously, I thought much of the work was simply bad “art,” proliferating technology's visibility in an already tech-saturated world. But as my inquisitiveness endures, I see more humanity, intention, and purpose in this field. Perhaps I am being converted into one of the curious.