Vanishing Trees
Clelia Patella, Palazzo Citterio, La Grande Brera and Museo nazionle dell'Arte digitale
In the silence preceding every word, nature guards a language that humankind has forgotten. With Vanishing Trees, Debora Hirsch restores voice to three endangered species in the wild: Ginkgo biloba, Pterocarya fraxinifolia and Torreya taxifolia, transforming them into living presences, witnesses of a world that endures time and oblivion.
The work was born as a digital installation, but its true driving force is the memory that animates it and transforms it into experience. The images take shape and dissolve like natural cycles, evoking the continuity between growth and disappearance. The digital lens amplifies memory, translating the biological and symbolic legacy of the past into a contemporary language.
In the artist’s work, vegetal forms become presences suspended between vital time and historical time, evoking an almost archetypal dimension, where the tree is elevated to a silent icon of resistance. In the video the trees express themselves in the first person, they “speak”, through the texts of Lucas Mertehikian, a scholar with whom Hirsch has developed her research in the field of Plant Humanities. In this way the artist replaces the human point of view with that of nature; it is a radical and at the same time compassionate gesture. In this monologue technology becomes a language of resonance and a means through which the vegetal matter regains consciousness and voice. The generated images thus take shape as a site of mediation between scientific memory, imagination, and cultural tradition, where contemporary technologies operate as instruments of continuity, reactivating the past within the present.
Ginkgo biloba is the sole survivor of a plant order dating back more than two hundred million years. Having withstood geological catastrophes, glaciations, and even the atomic explosion in Hiroshima, it embodies the principle of immortality. In its bilobed leaves, a symbol of unity within duality, Hirsch recognizes a form of life that endures without ever extinguishing itself, and a memory that traverses epochs as a continuous line between destruction and rebirth.
Pterocarya fraxinifolia, or Caucasian wingnut, sinks its roots along rivers, inhabiting the shifting boundary between water and land. With its hanging inflorescences and winged fruits traveling on the wind, it becomes for the artist a symbol of voyage and transmission. It is the image of an unending energy that migrates, adapts, and survives mutation like a thought in motion. Its vegetal wings form both a vital principle and a biological structure, carrying the hope of life itself.
Torreya taxifolia, known as Florida nutmeg, lives on the edge of disappearance. The rarest of North American conifers, it survives almost solely through clonal sprouts that regenerate f rom its own stumps: a body that is reborn but does not grow, a life suspended between being and vanishing. Hirsch transforms it into a poetic figure of extinction, a symbol of the turning point between rebirth and surrender. It is a form of life that resists but does not evolve.
At the base of the project there is archival research of iconographic, literary and scientific origin, carried out in collaboration with two institutions of excellence: the Orto Botanico di Brera, part of the University of Milan, and the New York Botanical Garden. Video footage produced at the Orto Botanico di Brera, photographic material, images arriving from herbaria, others arriving from extensive historical research of engravings, lithographs, botanical drawings and rare materials, are selected and reworked by the artist in a process that merges scientific memory and aesthetic sensitivity, translating the legacy of the past into a contemporary language.
The Orto Botanico di Brera marks, the origin of the project: the place where the artist worked and the site that houses the three trees at its center. Among them, the Caucasian wingnut (Pterocarya fraxinifolia) and the two Ginkgo biloba trees (male and female) have recently been designated as ‘Monumental Trees’ by the Italian state for their age, size, and historical significance. The direct observation of these specimens – in their slow transformations, in their scars, in their variations of colour – allowed Hirsch to grasp aspects that no archive can restore. Brera thus becomes the context that imprints its rhythm and its presence on the work. The images of the video preserve this direct experience, bringing into the digital dimension the matter, the light and the traces of the real trees.
Debora Hirsch’s research has developed over the years through the investigation of the cultural genealogies of nature, combining botanical, historical and technological studies and working on archives, datasets and algorithmic processes. In this continuity, her practice finds today a territory in which the painterly gesture and algorithmic experimentation influence each other.
The project Vanishing Trees therefore inaugurates a new aesthetic: painting becomes the starting point that directs the forms generated by the digital. At the same time, the vision produced by AI, with its capacity to relaunch unexpected forms and to amplify invisible details, returns to the physical plane, influencing the composition and rhythm of the material works that the artist develops alongside the video. In this reciprocal exchange, AI introduces a quality of unpredictability, intensifying the work of the artist who, through the choice of datasets and editing, directs the algorithmic generation. Painting and AI thus become two creative processes that feed each other: the digital opens areas that the artist’s hand can make her own, the painting returns to the digital a latent physicality.
This reciprocity generates a new visual language, attested by the presence in the exhibition of a physical work, Fragmenta, also created specifically for Palazzo Citterio. The video unfolds like a visual poem, and the phrases that move across the images, spoken by the trees themselves, constitute an essential account of the life and time of the three trees. Hirsch conveys to them a conscious and lucid voice. It is an act of empathy in which the artist places herself in a position of listening, allowing nature to tell its story through artificial language. The work begins with an essential question: what does it mean today to recognize and preserve what is at risk of disappearing? As Rainer Maria Rilke writes, “everything that lives is a riddle that asks to be seen.” It is not only a question of protection, but of gaze. It means questioning how much we are still able to truly see, to feel the continuity between us and what lives outside our perimeter.
To recognize becomes an act of responsibility, and to preserve a gesture of listening towards what, though not speaking our language, concerns us intimately. Alongside this, another element emerges f rom the work: imagining a tomorrow for life forms that risk extinction. Artificial intelligence generates continuity for the image, a way to prolong the presence of the trees beyond their biological fragility. The video seeks to extend the existence of the three trees by evoking memory, providing them with additional time and a renewed space to inhabit, if only within the confines of the image.
In the dialogue between art, science and humanistic thought, Vanishing Trees reactivates a memory that belongs to Western culture, the one that has always recognized in trees the visible form of thought. From the tree of knowledge in Genesis to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s tree of life, up to Charles Baudelaire’s forest of symbols, arboreal nature has been for centuries the language through which humankind has ex- pressed the complexity of the world. Hirsch gathers this legacy and translates it into a digital grammar, where every image is at once scientific data and metaphor. Her reflection is situated in the territory of contemporary Plant Humanities, which investigates plants as subjects of knowledge, capable of shaping thoughts, worldviews and forms of relation, and through which humanity has developed categories such as origin, transformation, cyclicality and care. In this framework, Hirsch’s work introduces a further dimension, showing how new technologies can become tools to rethink our cultural genealogy, reactivating in vegetal images their ability to produce knowledge.
Finally, the work finds its deepest core through the awareness that every form of knowledge, ancient or contemporary, is born from an act of listening towards life. Every image in the video is thus the result of a double genealogy, natural and cultural. Science provides the structure, history and philosophy offer the meaning, and digital art unites them in a language that brings knowledge back to its original value, that of an experience shared between humankind and the life that surrounds it.
PLANT
Debora Hirsch
Following the protocols of the blockchain which define a space protected from destruction, manipulation, and the passing of time, I decided to bring nearly extinct plants to life and preserve them within the realms of AI and physical painting.
In my research project, PLANT, endangered species are recorded on the blockchain, granting them an eternal virtual existence and serving as a symbolic memory of what we risk losing.
Plants represent the transitory nature of life and death, but they are also symbols of fertility, prosperity, regeneration, rebirth, and renewal in the cosmic cycle of nature. Mario Peixoto, the author of Limit, considered one of the most significant masterpieces in the history of Brazilian cinema, conveyed that "any human action against nature is useless." The Romans believed that "man may change, but nature remains the same." Although this may hold in the long term over some centuries, biodiversity is far from static and depends on the conjunction and equilibrium of various elements. Unfortunately, biodiversity is experiencing a steep reduction in plant diversity.
In the silent embrace of nature, one discerns not merely a passive message but rather an impassioned plea, akin to a silent scream echoing through the wilderness. It crystallizes into form, sometimes taking on an animalistic guise, only to morph into a haunting semblance of humanity at other times. This enigmatic form leaves the observer utterly baffled as they endeavor to decipher the cryptic language underlying the fractured dialogue between two disparate kingdoms.
Amidst this profound contemplation, the observer is inevitably confronted with the sobering reality of humankind's relentless assault on biodiversity. Across the globe, ecosystems are being pillaged, habitats destroyed, and species driven to the brink of extinction by the heedless actions of humanity. The once vibrant tapestry of life is unraveling before our eyes, with biodiversity severed by the callous hand of exploitation and neglect. As the silent plea of nature echoes ever louder, it serves as a poignant reminder of the urgent need for humanity to reassess its relationship with the natural world and strive toward a path of restoration and harmony.
Centuries ago, paintings, engravings, and drawings by European artists depicted the New World as an exuberant and seemingly boundless landscape, teeming with life and abundance— and unfortunately also as a wild environment in need of taming, cultivation, and evangelization. Today, if these artists were to revisit the landscapes they once depicted with such awe, they would likely encounter a vastly different scene—one marred by monoculture, aggressive real estate and logging, deforestation, pollution, and the irreversible loss of biodiversity. The striking disparity between past depictions and present realities illustrates the consequences of exploitation and disregard for the natural world.
Above all, agriculture based on global markets generated by gigantic conglomerates favors monocultures. Monocultures represent the main threat to biodiversity and, paradoxically, also to nutrition. More than fifty percent of crops are destined to feed intensive livestock farming. Investigating agrochemical-dependent agriculture is crucial, characterized by cultivating a single crop over large expanses that depletes soil health and disrupts natural ecosystems. The damage inflicted by monoculture extends far beyond the immediate agricultural context, affecting broader ecosystems and wildlife. As we navigate the complexities of the agrochemical supply chain, it becomes paramount to encourage sustainable agricultural practices that prioritize biodiversity and mitigate its adverse effects, promoting a more resilient and ecological food production system, while preserving local cultures, medicinal potential, and high nutritional value.
Species are currently vanishing before we can fully understand their characteristics. The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Red List of Threatened Species assessments is a valuable guidance in establishing protected areas, allocating funds, and influencing conservation decisions. Despite being the most comprehensive source on global extinction risk, the Red List covers only approximately 6% of around eight million plants, fungi, and animals.
My PLANT compositions may include frames, caves, landscapes, forests, architectural details, and monolithic birds that altogether emphasize the complexity of interconnections that belong to ecosystems, evoking the delicate equilibrium and transience of nature. If any elements of my compositions are eliminated or changed, the entire structure collapses aesthetically, paralleling the fragile equilibrium observed in ecosystems. These contexts are not descriptive of the specific plant’s ecosystem. My plants know no borders; they live in imaginary worlds. The plants have a clear and special presence in the composition and high visual relevance as the true protagonists of the scene. I am not aiming for literal interpretations of the selected plant species; these remain as mere references. The plant representations lack seasonal consistency to highlight their most typical and recognizable elements. To give a sense of the complexity of natural systems and the interrelation of their parts, I build fragments in my painting style, employing a pre-trained AI model that I fine-tune to my datasets. AI allows me to include a multitude of references and produce practically limitless digital outcomes that I later select to be included in my compositions and animations.
My decision on which plants to represent hinges upon a range of factors, including available information about their history, cultural relevance, utility, extinction assessment, the cause of their imminent extinction, and their beauty or peculiarity, to make my rendition artistically and aesthetically intriguing. The PLANT collection is open and can be constantly enriched with additional endangered species, ultimately reinforcing the message of the PLANT series about the dramatic range of extinction cases.
With this project, through beauty and harmony, I aim to bring attention to the loss of biodiversity and valuable ecological resources essential to our physical existence, balance, and spiritual development.
Susan Breyer, Hutchinson Modern & Contemporary
When Albert Eckhout (1610–65)—court painter to Dutch governor-general Johan Maurits—set off for Northeast Brazil in 1636, it was his first venture outside of the Dutch Republic. Maurits, with whom Eckhout traveled, had a particular interest in natural history, and it would be Eckhout’s duty to capture the astonishing natural resources and general fecundity of seventeenth-century Dutch Brazil through his art. During the seven years that Eckhout would reside in Brazil, he created hundreds of drawings and oil studies that he would later use to paint exquisite still lifes. The excitement and allure of Eckhout’s initial encounters with untamed Brazilian flora seep from these paintings; his gleaming green coconuts, ripe melons, and luscious cashew apples convey a freshness and bounty that beckons to viewers, eliciting astonishment and encouraging them to taste and experience such exotic abundance for themselves. At the same time, paintings of the colony’s natural resources asserted the power and status of the Dutch Republic and its governor-general among the seventeenth-century aristocratic elite; the works created by Maurits’s court painters were given as gifts and ended up in the collections of King Frederik II of Denmark and Louis XIV in France, among others.[i]
Colonial conceptions of the natural world are embodied not just in the paintings of European travelers, but also in the collections formed by traveling biologists. The students of the Swedish biologist Carl Linnaeus (1707–78), for example, voyaged across the globe gathering plant species and naming them according to European systems of knowledge. The preserved specimens that these biologists amassed would, in many cases, form the basis of institutional herbaria that today continue to mirror asymmetrical power structures; the majority of plant specimens collected from the tropics—where, significantly, the most plant diversity naturally exists—are now housed in Europe and the United States.[ii] These botanical resources are perhaps even more crucial now than they once were; they can be used, for example, to understand the progress of invasive species, or to help guide conservation planning.
Brazilian-born artist Debora Hirsch, whose work directly addresses the legacies of both Eckhout and imperial biologists, interrogates the belief that humans have dominion over nature, and a right to exploit biological resources for their own gain. In her subtle yet profoundly insightful series Herbaria (2024), Hirsch presents images of pressed plants, mostly native to New York State, that are in varying stages of disappearance due to human interventions. In her video animation HERBARIA (2024), fragile petals, paper-thin leaves, and lithe stems flutter briefly in undefined space, almost assuming anthropomorphic qualities, before fading to white—a reminder that these species will soon only exist in memory. Hirsh often incorporates plants found in the regions where she exhibits, and thus calls for a reassessment of how we interact with—or utterly disregard—our immediate natural surroundings.
Hirsch’s focus on what has been lost through nature’s colonization extends to her evolving project PLANT (2023 – ongoing), which explores the aesthetic and ethical dimensions of extinction while questioning art’s ability to preserve memories and specimens. Hirsch employs artificial intelligence to create her PLANT works, using a pretrained model that she fine-tunes with her own proprietary datasets to generate myriad images reflecting her subject and painting style, which she then distills into a single work. This fruitful employment of cutting-edge technology results in sumptuous compositions whose interdependent elements reflect the complex and fragile habitats that sustain biodiversity. Hirsch records her PLANT works on the blockchain, which she interprets as a “metaphorical counterpart to the physical herbarium”—a permanent, immutable database capable of preserving the endangered species that she represents. While Hirsch’s portrayals of blooms, birds, and baroque scrolls perhaps hark back to Eckhout’s sensuous flora and fauna—one can nearly feel the velvety petals of the blossoms centered in her prints—here, sensuality draws our attention to potentially devastating losses, rather than New World wonders to be gained. Hirsch invites viewers not to fetishize the unknown, but to savor what may, very soon, be impossible to experience in the wild.
Works from the Herbaria and PLANT series are not the first in which Hirsch has addressed the processes and outcomes of colonialism. The artist’s Firmamento paintings (2018–present) allude to Brazilian rivers that were harnessed for the purposes of environmental exploitation and territorial control. Like Hirsch’s PLANT series, these compositions integrate details of the baroque architecture that surged during colonial rule and even now dominates numerous Latin American cities. We can find further references to European imperialism in the shackles that are interwoven with architectural flourishes and aqueous swells, which together evoke the waterways that transported slaves to colonial plantations.
Hirsch has also melded explorations of historical colonialism with the present colonization of humanity by way of the internet. The artist understands the internet as an “abstracted space where oppressive power continues to exert its force”—a mode of control to which we are increasingly and insidiously subjected. In her 2020 work Binary Fresco, Hirsch juxtaposes representations of ancient and natural worlds with digital imaging and binary codes. The temporal, visual, and sonic layering that defines this work links the colonization of the Americas to contemporary digital colonialism and underscores the pervasive influence of virtual culture in our daily lives.
Not only are Hirsch’s works infused with eloquent admonitions, but her paintings, prints, and videos also masterfully resensitize viewers to the deep connections between humanity and nature while considering the impact of technology on both. The artist’s deft layering of forms and temporalities centers our attention on subjects that are otherwise easily overlooked—species and modes of control whose smallness and silence or, conversely, omnipresence, we mistake for insignificance. By reimagining and reanimating, Hirsch stays our gaze on that which is poised to disappear—a delicate purple blossom, a symbiotic relationship, an ecosystem—calling not just for action, but also for celebration: of beauty, of intricacy, of a natural balance so magnificent that it transcends human capacity to colonize.
[i] Rebecca Parker Brienen, Visions of Savage Paradise: Albert Eckhout, Court Painter in Colonial Dutch Brazil, (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2006), p. 25.
[ii] Park, D.S., Feng, X., Akiyama, S. et al. “The colonial legacy of herbaria,” Nat Hum Behav 7, 1059–1068 (2023). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-023-01616-7
SYLVA BIRD
Debora Hirsch
In Matthew Battles’s book Tree, ferality becomes a way to reimagine our relationship with the living world. This book inspires me to foreground and animate the birds contained within my Plant artworks. I realize that these birds are ferals: unlike the plants, they belong to no classification. They appeared algorithmically, unexpectedly and unsolicited. I have chosen to embrace them. I not only accepted their presence, but I favored it, by rarely building a composition without them. [i]
Matthew Battles, in his investigation on the Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima), explores the reality of plants flourishing beyond human intention, thriving in disturbed, anthropogenic landscapes. He invites us to see them beyond categorizations of wild and domesticated, native and invasive, recognizing ferality not as degeneration but as a potent form of life, an adaptation that occurs without human permission or design. Feral trees do not merely endure; they embody transformation itself, proliferating across abandoned lots, highways, and fractured urban spaces, gardens, offering a living testimony to modes of existence outside the frameworks of control and aestheticization.
Birds have long occupied a threshold space between earth and sky, between presence and omen, the tangible and the ineffable. In Roman divination or auspicia, their flights and calls constituted a language of signs, an intricate code through which divine will might be deciphered. Sylva Bird tries to reactivate this ancient sensibility: not through naturalistic mimicry, but by generating presences that act as vectors of hidden messages. Their forms and movements are not random but beckon interpretation, offering the viewer encrypted signals from a world in flux. They do not simply appear; they ask to be read.
Essentially, these birds are presented at human scale. No longer tiny figures inhabiting a distant sky, they stand in direct, corporeal dialogue with the human viewer. Their enlarged presence collapses the distance between species, transforming the encounter from passive observation into a relational field charged with mutual perception. Their scale insists on recognition, establishing a shared space where human and non-human exist not in parallel but in confrontation and entanglement. In this way, Sylva Bird invites a decoding not from afar, but from within the immediacy of encounter. Drawing from these insights, Sylva Bird shifts the meditation from the endangered plant species to the feral birds.
Rather than being reconstructed endangered species, they are simply unsolicited birds algorithmically generated. They are not restorations of a lost past nor speculative projections of an imagined future. They are presences unto themselves, unclassifiable, inhabiting the blurred territories between nature and artifice, between memory and invention. Like feral trees, they unsettle the human impulse toward categorization and mastery, embodying instead an ecology of uncertainty, rupture, and continual metamorphosis. Life that resists frames: it leaks, mutates, proliferates beyond taxonomies and archives. Sylva Bird embraces this ungovernability, proposing not a restorative nostalgia but an ethic of cohabitation with the hybrid, the unpredictable, and the indeterminate. They propose a different way of being, one that welcomes complexity, acknowledges dissonance, and moves beyond the fantasy of purity. Their presence carries not only wings but syntax, reviving a forgotten language of coexistence, ambiguity, and transformation.
Ultimately, Sylva Bird shares with Matthew Battles’s book Tree a commitment to rejecting ideals of purity, resisting the allure of simplistic binaries, and inhabiting the dense, generative spaces where life persists in ways both unforeseen and uncontainable. These birds are not monuments to disappearance, but gestures of ongoing vitality, inhabiting a world where meaning proliferates not through the restoration of what was, but through the improvisational unfolding of what remains possible.
[i] Matthew Battles, tree, Object Lessons (Bloomsbury Academic, 2017)
Download Herbaria exhibition catalogue, Hutchinson Modern & Contemporary, New York
HERBARIA
Debora Hirsch
Herbariums are places where the past is pressed between pages stilled forever in the quiet embrace of paper. These dried and preserved specimens are not only relics of a once-thriving nature but also the remaining records and visual evidence of species that are disappearing or have disappeared from the natural world. Based on these materials, I recreate images that take us back in time, offering a glimpse into an imaginary lost world.
From a static condition of oblivion, selected plants come back to life for a very brief moment but still long enough to sum up an existence, until they vanish once again, alluding to the difficulty of restoring lost ecosystems. “Resurrected” from their herbarium tombs through the glance of art, only to then go back to herbarium cabinets. Their short existence is a reminder of the irreversible nature of our actions.
Ecosystems are intricate webs of life, interconnected and balanced by various dynamics that influence their survival. When one species disappears, it is never an isolated event but often leads to a cascading effect. When plants become extinct in nature, it is not just the genetic code or the organism itself that is lost, but the entire symphony of relationships that allowed that plant to thrive. It is impossible to reconstruct that harmony in full. The very act of animating a plant from herbarium records acknowledges this profound absence: the plants I bring to life exist as solitary figures, disconnected from their original environments, flickering briefly before fading.
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A couple of plants presented in the artwork_
The American chestnut (Castanea dentata) faced near extinction due to chestnut blight, which killed an estimated 4 billion trees. This loss caused a major ecological disruption, affecting wildlife and ecosystems. Current restoration efforts, including breeding programs and genetic engineering, aim to develop blight-resistant trees. If successful, re-establishing the species in nature may take decades. These efforts are further complicated by challenges related to funding, collaborations, and regulatory agreements required for the introduction of genetically modified trees.
Helonias bullata (swamp pink), native to Staten Island, New York, is now extirpated from the region but still exists in North Carolina, New Jersey, Delaware, and Maryland. The plant was primarily extirpated due to extensive wetland drainage for urban development and agriculture. Pollution from fertilizers, pesticides, and urban runoff further degraded water quality. In addition to environmental pressures, Helonias bullata faces biological challenges. Its seeds have restricted long-distance dispersal, relying mainly on butterflies, bumblebees, and sweat bees, as well as water movement. As a result, in a degraded environment, the plant depends heavily on self-pollination, which reduces genetic diversity and limits its ability to recolonize damaged habitats. Restoration efforts must focus on carefully managing wetland hydrology.
Videocittà 2024, Gazometro, Rome
Interview about PLANT and AI
Tell us about your project. How did you start, and how did you arrive at PLANT?
Although nature has always been a focus of my artistic exploration, a pivotal moment deeply inspired me to study endangered flora, biodiversity threats, and the intricate balances of nature, making it my lifelong pursuit. Ironically, this moment did not occur while immersed in the lush nature of my home country Brazil, but rather while exploring the fresco of the Villa of Livia, now housed in the National Roman Museum—a truly outstanding work of art.
The quality and innovation of this Roman fresco amazed me, particularly in its use of perspective and focus techniques. The fresco creates the feeling of being inside a lush, paradisiacal garden, showcasing many plant species and birds. It challenges seasonal constraints by depicting plants and flowers at their peak. Moreover, it features a rare element for the Roman period, a caged bird. This fresco sparked my curiosity about the species depicted that may no longer exist.
My background as an engineer has consistently driven me to explore the impact of digital technology on communication and culture. It was probably the convergence of my research into AI tools and coding and my research on the fresco plants that sparked the inception of my PLANT project. This initiative, which integrates AI and blockchain technology, enables the creation of a permanent virtual archive of endangered plant species, preserving the essence of species that may face extinction in the future. It works as a symbolic archive of what we risk losing.
Georgia O'Keeffe once said, "When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so much, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not."
This quote came to mind because it perfectly encapsulates what I am doing now. Disconnection from nature can lead to a lack of awareness about the vital role that nature may play in our lives. By presenting nature in a way that captures attention, even for a fleeting moment, I want to recreate that sense of wonder and connection.
When I think about the Visions of Hawaii exhibition at the New York Botanical Garden in 2018, I wonder whether visitors to O'Keeffe's exhibition were aware of the degree of danger faced by these landscapes so deeply affiliated with the artist. I wonder how many of these visitors missed the contemporary context, especially if they overlooked the conservation-oriented segments in favor of the more glamorous parts of the exhibition.
O'Keeffe's Hawaiian paintings come from a period when settlers did not appreciate the ecological visions of the Kānaka Maoli, who believed that ancestral spirits often took the form of plants and animals- to perceive all living beings as connected to you enriches your life much more than seeing yourself as a consumer in a world of commodities. Such a philosophy embraces a more sustainable coexistence with nature, in contrast to the exploitative attitude embodied in monoculture agriculture. In the case of Hawaii, we mainly talk about plantations of sugar, papaya, and pineapple.
What challenges did you face at the beginning?
I often ask myself how to avoid having my work appreciated only for its beauty, fine painting, or metaphysical aspects. In PLANT, it was indeed technology that allowed me to convey my message. As I mentioned, I am recreating endangered species in my painting style while using AI, then recording them on the blockchain as a symbolic archive of what we risk losing in the future. AI has allowed me to explore the complexity of natural systems and the interrelationship of their parts. I use a pre-trained AI model that I refined with my datasets, generating digital results that I include in my compositions and animations.
I do not aim for literal interpretations of the selected plant species; they remain only as references. My plant compositions can include frames, caves, landscapes, architectural details, forests, rocks, and monolithic birds, all elements that highlight the intricate interconnections within ecosystems, evoking the delicate balance and impermanence of nature.
If elements of my compositions were erased or changed, the entire structure would collapse aesthetically, paralleling the fragile equilibrium observed in ecosystems.
Birds hold significance as messengers, channels between heaven and earth, and symbolize the soul. The representation of plants lacks seasonal coherence to favor their most typical and recognizable elements. The context is not descriptive- my plants know no boundaries. Plants have a prominent presence in the composition and a high visual relevance as the true protagonists of the scene.
My decision on which plants to represent depends on various factors, including the available information on their history, utility, causes for extinction, and especially their beauty or peculiarity, to make my representation artistically and aesthetically intriguing. The collection is intended as an evolving repository of endangered species, reinforcing the central theme of the PLANT series. It embodies a lifelong commitment to ongoing research.
What excites you most about the future of AI in art?
The ability of AI to process and analyze vast amounts of data allows for the creation of artworks that can draw from a multitude of references. Additionally, the results that models can offer are limitless. AI may enable interactive and immersive artistic experiences that engage the audience in new ways.
From a philosophical perspective, the collaboration between AI and artists may require a redefinition of creativity that sparks conversations about the artists' role in the digital age. It forces us to reconsider what it means to create and appreciate art in a world where even machines can be creators. AI in art also involves a transformation of our relationship with the creative act while maybe transcending certain boundaries and limits.
What do you hope AI can do in the future?
AI can surpass its current capabilities to become a true collaborator in the creative process, possessing an intuitive understanding of human emotions and cultural context. Although AI can mimic styles and generate aesthetically pleasing results, it still lacks a deeper understanding of the human experience that underpins truly profound art. I envision an AI with a deep understanding of the artist's intent.
Another aspiration is for AI to facilitate a deeper and more meaningful engagement between art and its audience. We can already create interactive and immersive experiences, adapting in real-time to the audience's emotional and psychological states, analyzing subtle signals like body language, facial expressions, and biometric data to tailor artistic experiences and resonate on a personal level, by creating an intimate and transformative connection with the viewer.
What is one thing that concerns you about the future of AI in art?
The main risk for me is the potential erosion of the human element at the heart of artistic creation and society. Art has always been a profound human endeavor. Depending on future developments, there could be a risk of homogenization. AI systems, even those designed to innovate, operate based on patterns and data. The diversity of artistic expression is vital for the richness of art and could be at risk of being replaced by more uniform outcomes resulting from commands propagated from centralized systems that promote censorship and manipulation.
The intrusion of AI into the creative process could lead to a loss of emotional resonance in art. Human-created art often carries the weight of personal experience, cultural context, unique perspectives, and emotional depth. AI, despite its capabilities, lacks genuine emotions and consciousness and could favor totalitarian views from powerful entities.
However, AI could also be a powerful tool in a world where freedom reigns. By leveraging AI to enhance human creativity, artists can push the boundaries of their work, exploring new techniques and perspectives. This collaboration between human intuition and AI's analytical capabilities can lead to innovative and unexpected forms of expression, ensuring that the core of artistic creation—its emotional and cultural significance—remains intact while expanding the possibilities of what art can be.
Dataset and archive
Debora Hirsch
The intersection of artificial intelligence and artistic production has introduced new paradigms in image generation, raising profound questions about authorship, historiography, and the materiality of digital archives. Within this evolving landscape, my practice employs AI not merely as a generative tool but as an extension of an broad historical and artistic archive - an archive that constitutes both a methodological foundation and a conceptual inquiry into the nature of representation, preservation, and colonial memory.
At the core of my process is a pretrained AI model that undergoes fine-tuning with a proprietary dataset derived from my personal archive. This archive encompasses thousands of images, including my own artworks, paintings, and photographic documentation of colonial churches, rare books, old maps, tapestries, vases, azulejo tile panels, pelourinhos, baroque architectures, digital interferences, among other artifacts. These materials, spanning multiple temporalities and geographies, are not merely references but active agents in the creation of new compositions. The dataset, therefore, is not an inert collection but a dynamic, evolving entity that reflects and reshapes the epistemic frameworks through which we understand cultural heritage, memory, and extinction.
The process of fine-tuning AI on this archive allows for a generative synthesis of visual motifs, textures, and compositional structures, producing works that are at once deeply rooted in historical materiality and entirely novel. My approach is predicated on the belief that AI can serve as an instrument for recontextualizing historical narratives, challenging the colonial impulse to extract and categorize, and instead proposing an alternative mode of engagement, one that emphasizes continuity, transformation, and critical reflection.
The importance of the archive in this process cannot be overstated. It is both an epistemological framework and a methodological apparatus, structuring not only what the model generates but also how it generates. Unlike traditional datasets assembled for AI training, which often rely on indiscriminate large-scale data scraping, my archive is deliberately curated, emphasizing specificity over volume, historical resonance over statistical neutrality. This intentionality in dataset construction ensures that the AI does not merely mimic but responds, adapting to the visual and conceptual lexicon embedded in the archival materials.
Moreover, the archive operates as a counterpoint to the hegemonic structures of knowledge production that have historically dictated what is preserved and what is erased. By integrating materials that speak to histories of colonialism, extraction, and technological mediation, the generated compositions interrogate the politics of visibility and absence. The process, in this sense, is not one of passive reproduction but of active historiographic intervention, an attempt to articulate a space where artistic memory and algorithmic synthesis converge to reveal new aesthetic and critical possibilities. The digital ledger, immutable and decentralized, offers a contemporary alternative to the archival impulse, ensuring that these generated images and the histories they encapsulate resist erasure in a rapidly shifting digital ecology.
The archive's role extends further into my ongoing project, PLANT, where it serves as the foundational layer for constructing immersive backgrounds that contextualize the fragile botanical specimens at the heart of the work. By embedding these AI-generated environments with the textures, motifs, and visual lexicon of my historical archive, the PLANT project foregrounds the tension between preservation and disappearance, reinforcing the delicate interplay between human intervention and natural fragility. This synthesis of AI and archival material transforms each generated composition into a site of memory, where endangered species are not only depicted but conceptually situated within broader narratives of ecological precarity and historical continuity.