I’ve always wanted to write a six-word story. Here it is: Near to singularity, unclear which side…".

This is one of the first tweets to be published by Sam Altman (CEO of OpenAI) in 2025.

A playful format first made popular by Wired magazine, the 6-word story invites writers to summarize a story or a concept in just 6 words, thus exalting creativity and brevity.

Altman’s paraphrased theme is complex and revolves around the evolution of Artificial Intelligence. It is a play on words that captures the concept of Technological Singularity, a hypothetical moment in the future in which Artificial Intelligence will surpass Human Intelligence, leading to unpredictable changes in civilization, as described by futurist Ray Kurzweil in his book The singularity is near. This Singularity is often characterized by the fusion of Human Intelligence with Artificial Intelligence, potentially leading to an exponential increase in technological capabilities beyond current understanding.

The phrase "it is not clear which way" suggests ambiguity and perhaps questions whether we are still able to distinguish the difference between the two. This reflects a common theme in discussions regarding AI, where the boundary between Human Intelligence and Artificial Intelligence is becoming increasingly blurred.

We are entering a state of Limbo, or rather, are already in a sort of middle ground, in which most of us are unaware of the risks and benefits AI presents, and are fearful of its development... The confusion is tangible, just as it has always been in pivotal moments of human history.

In this context, I borrow Sam Altman's 6-word question-statement to introduce an exhibition that brings two artists into conversation.

Do not expect cyberart or futuristic prophecies. On the contrary!

I use this oracle to antagonize and emphasize the Singularity of art, its capacity to subvert expectations, and therefore affirm - at least in this realm - its superiority in virtue of the unpredictable and extraordinary nature of human thought and action.

We will meet dragons, mermaids and mythological beasts, the sole inventions of man, and terrifying monsters, together with a few aged Pop Stars. We will traverse centuries, or rather millennia with Guadalupe Salgado's plush "Low-budget Archaeology" sculptures and decipher entire eras through the unmistakable drawings of Anthony Coleman.

In both artists’ work, manual skill is essential and indeed, a distinctive trait. It is the medium that makes them identifiable and authentic, in a word, Unique. Manual skill, like calligraphy, is a singular trait of every human being, and offers a subconscious translation of one's being. But rarely does it manifest as something that is immediately recognizable, and only for some artists does it become a figurative style.

Anthony Coleman, a self-taught artist who expresses himself through drawing, is world-renowned for the extravagance of the characters that populate his everyday life and in his reinterpretation of pop culture. Countering his limited technical skills, Coleman has a great gift for expression when he encounters his favored media: graphite on paper. His portraits sometimes refer to humanized animals from comics, clowns or monsters from the writings of horror authors; all of which can be assimilated into ancient myths, or their direct descendants: the subjects are always represented frontally, like Egyptian deities and seem to emit Force Fields. They present persistent characteristics that ultimately dictate the artist's distinctive style: noses like elongated beaks, angular faces, backgrounds with flat but bright colors, shadows typical of commercial brand mascots. At first glance they appear as childish drawings, but the authenticity of the linework is essential. You may not recognise the characters, but it is impossible not to recognize his work.
The dedication with which the Philadelphia-born artist pursues the task of expressing himself and leaving a mark through his art is palpable: to quote Whitney Mallet in the article published in Carhartt WIP #10, Anthony Coleman is an artist who is not trying to be anyone else but himself.

Guadalupe Salgado dives into History with an almost sociological approach, revealing the founding traits of man and "civilization": working from drawn scenes that subsequently take the form of sculptural installations. Evoking distant cultures from both Western and Mesoamerican (Mayan, Aztec, Toltec, Indian) civilizations, Salgado underlines the presence of aggression and oppression, but also our intrinsic need for myths and religion. The Mexican artist blends, interprets and criticizes the history of Humanity through a playful, at times pop, revisitation of archaeological finds. He creates scenes that highlight the idiosyncrasies of the human being, which remain constant through centuries and millennia. We encounter sacrificial rites, votive statuettes, mythical animals, blessings and curses that have marked civilizations around the globe. He mockingly translates the millennia into soft stuffed animals made of punched wool, undermining the typical significance of archaeological relics that have come down to us as vestiges of lost humanity. Guadalupe copies the Venus of Willendorf, reproduces the Two-headed serpent, an Aztec sculpture, preserved in the British Museum, and appropriates them, returning light, weightless bodies that subvert expectations and send our gaze into the past through an entirely unexpected lens: capturing the state of ruin, both seasonal and systemic, while revealing the satire in tragedy through the artist's distinctive style.

Every artist steals. But perhaps it's only the truly great artists who can't help but make something their own when they copy. Something in the process causes the original object to be translated along the way, imbued with a gesture or quality that only that artist could have given it. As much as I try to resist great claims about art, I believe in this one. And forgive me for bringing up AI, but as machine learning tools become better at mimicking what we can do, in all media, this ineffable idiosyncratic quality becomes more valuable. I'm not sure that great artists are any more unique than the rest of us. It seems more accurate to say that they've found a way to successfully channel their individual frequency. If you believe that each of us is a special snowflake, then great art might be someone who speaks with a voice that is authentic to who they are (rather than trying to be something they're not).

(cit. Whitney Mallett, Wip magazine #10, 2024)

Artificial intelligence certainly already creates artistic products, but how will they be recognizable and unique? To date, “machines” copy or “create” on inputs assigned by humans. The creation of AI images arises from the impulse of its flesh-and-blood creator. But it does not yet seem capable of generating autonomous thought, much less disruptive thought. This appears for the moment to be a unique trait of the human. What the machine lacks, for the moment, is urgency, the physical and mental necessity of the artist's doing. It is the completely personal modus operandi that implies an anomaly of thought and interpretation of the world.

(Text by Daniela Barbieri)