Tag Archives: photography

New New Babylon Project – Sep 2026 update

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For a general introduction to the New New Babylon Project, please check out the project page.

We are now in the grant phase. The deliverables for this phase are:

  • An AI-Based Analysis of Supporting, Contradictory, and Complementary Resources
  • An artistic XR rendering of a New New Babylon on top of an existing city or city district
  • Art Expo (minimum Online, ideally IRL) 
  • Art Book

I am trying to get the first two done, or at least well-developed, by year-end.

AI-based Analysis

I have been experimenting with Google’s NotebookML – now Gemini Notebook. I uploaded some 70 resources about:

  • Constant’s New Babylon from 1950ies
  • 21st-century criticism of his work
  • Architectural reflections about urbanism
  • Urbanism and memory research from the Protocol Institute
  • Some cybernetics material related to Gordon Pask and his conversational protocol

Gemini Notebook generated the following summary, but it seems to miss the cybernetics material – at least in this summary – but this is probably due to the 50-source limit under the free plan.

“These sources explore the intersection of urban design, digital media, and human identity, primarily focusing on how play and structured environments shape our perception of the world. Kevin Lynch introduces “imageability” to describe how clear physical layouts, such as paths and landmarks, help residents build mental maps and feel emotionally secure. Building on this, Valerie Frissen and others examine “Homo Ludens 2.0,” a concept where digital connectivity and gamification allow users to experiment with their identities within virtual landscapes. Drew Austin bridges these ideas by analysing protocols, like the urban street grid, which act as invisible “software” managing the tension between rigid infrastructure and fluid human behaviour. Together, the texts suggest that whether through physical architecture or digital platforms, the rules and forms governing our surroundings profoundly influence how we navigate, create, and relate to one another. Overcoming protocol failure or urban chaos requires a deeper understanding of these interactive systems and their impact on the human experience.”

Gemini Notebook generated some very interesting reports, slides, visuals, and blog posts that I will share on this blog in the coming weeks. Below are some teasers.

The last one – “The Architecture of Experience” – is particularly interesting, as it goes well with the work I have been doing with Andreea Ion Cojocaru on “Home Experience”. See also our joint talk for UnitedXR Europe in December of last year.

Artistic XR rendering test case Ghent

The idea here is to virtually create a layer – the city of play – above the city of Ghent (could be any city in the world). I am experimenting with the Cesium open platform for creating powerful 3D geospatial applications. Testing in both the Unity and Unreal Engines. The plan is for the layered city of play to be composed of self-sculpted shapes, created in Blender or Nomad Sculpt. Ideally with 3D audio on top, but that is a nice-to-have. An alternative would be to leverage the material of Spectracities.

Shapes on top of Ghent – Unity Engine – © 2026 Petervan Studios
With the courtesy of Spectracities

Open Call

If you think this is interesting and want to contribute to the project – in money or in kind – drop me a note. Feel free to comment. To stay updated, subscribe to the blog.

Warmest,

The Weak Image Speaks

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The camera—
that profoundly liberal invention—
whispers:

I’m ready for anything.
Give me chemicals, give me a little light,
give me time and no shaking,
and I will be done.

A pocket-sized Enlightenment,
believing every world is reachable,
every surface printable,
every body open to possibility.

And now generative machines produce punctum—
yes, Barthes’ punctum—
the involuntary meaning that slips through
the cracks of intention.
Not planned by the author,
nor by the algorithm,
but arriving later,
after you’ve slept on it,
after the dopamine subsides.
Fast food for intellectual minds,
rewarding at first bite,
quickly stale.
You return in the morning and mutter:
It was not that great after all.

Style appears.
Style overload.
Those who lack craft run toward it—
high, abstract, fast—
while you work the old way,
learning the hand,
the long path,
refusing to choose sides.

Spend time with it—
real duration—
and you’ll see how expensive time has become.
Only unproductive duration is free.
Yet we abandoned that when we entered the cinema,
trading mobility for the promise of instant return.
No one waits for tomorrow in a theater.
In a museum, though—
time’s ticking clock can’t be heard.
There we look forward to looking back.

And somewhere in this,
the black box—
practical, yes,
but also a symptom
of our incapacity to coexist.
The dark room becomes a social problem,
a refusal of interference,
a denial of shared space.

Everything becomes a question of time,
of how little we have left,
of how duration is mined
like ore.

Growing old treated as disease,
dementia as enemy,
while software dreams
of pure disembodiment—
young, innocent, clean.

And yet—
beneath all this—
you remind us:
we are bifocal,
split,
never individuals.
We are believers,
especially visually.

The camera says:
I’m ready for anything.

But the eye says:
I am not a camera.

And the brain says:
I choose no side.

And the forest says:
Take your time.

And the weak image
whispers from the periphery:
Here is the non-event—
stay long enough, and you may hear it breathe.

+++

The text above is an artistic experiment inspired by the insights David Claerbout shared in his presentation Reclaiming Our Agency and in BIRDSONG, the publication accompanying the premiere of The Woodcarver and the Forest at the Castle of Gaasbeek in August 2025.

I first edited the full transcript from the presentation, and then OCR scanned text ‘The Time Spent” from the BIRDSONG book. Then I made a personal selection of the sentences that resonated with me. Then I gave that to ChatGPT and asked it to condense all this into a 1000-word poem, then 500 words, then 100 words. Then again, I made a personal selection of the best GPT snippets. And further edited them to my personal (un)taste.

Inspiration: Stefan Vanfleteren

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Sometimes, the silence of the sacred and the touch of chance awaken something deep within.

This is what happened to me when I once again found myself confused by beauty, when visiting the Stefan Vanfleteren exhibition “Transcripts of a Sea” in the Museum of Fine Arts in Ghent.

“In 2020, photographer Stephan Vanfleteren embarked on a challenging project that culminates in the exhibition Stephan Vanfleteren. Transcripts of a Sea at the MSK Ghent, during autumn and winter 2025. The exhibition is the conclusion of a long quest, not only into the depths of a body of water, but also into the essence of artistry – Vanfleteren’s answer to what complete artistic freedom can mean.”

You can find good-quality pictures on Stefan Vanfleteren’s website. That page also includes some paragraphs about Vanfleteren’s practice and his approach to this project. But the experience in the museum is way superior.

First, there is the silence. When you close the door between the entrance hall and the exhibition space, the noise of the city is cancelled, and it feels like you are entering a sacred space. The silence also slows you down. Your steps are more measured, respectful. Your breathing adapts.

Second, there are the artworks. Huge, super high-quality photographs of the North Sea. Most black and white. They radiate the same sacredness as the paintings of Gerhard Richter. They incentivize introspection. The artworks are positioned in conversation with actual sea paintings of famous painters. The difference between painting and photography blurs completely.

I begin to wonder, leaning in to scan some of the photographs up close. It feels as if I’m standing in the sea. It’s something I have done before, with paintings, sculptures, and bodies. This close-by scanning is a different eye-set that adds a new aspect to my artistic practice. Here is a “scan” of one of the paintings…

Third, there are the information panels—their texts are as beautiful and inspiring as the paintings themselves.

Here is an example of the panel poetry:

“The North Sea is not azure blue, but rather a medley of grey, green, and brown hues, shifting with the mood of the weather. Through those muted, muddied, and sullied reflections, the white foam crashes in the surf – boiling with fury or dripping with desire between land and water. Even the tallest wave eventually lands flat on its stomach. The surf as a postscript of a long journey.“

“At first, I sought to capture the sea as faithfully as possible. But gradually, I realized it could never be truly reproduced. It is precisely the art of letting go that has led to fascinating and challenging results. Chance, failure, and experiment became ever more important. embraced the unexpected quirks of my camera: motion blur, miscalculations in focus distance, and unforeseen colour casts.“

“The absolute freedom found in a confused autofocus, incorrect exposure, or unintended framing became a blessing. And I allowed the scratches, mist, droplets, and salt stains on the camera’s protective glass to remain, trusting in the unexpected. In fact, I chased my own delightful failure.“

I am reminded by this Gerhard Richter quote:

When I walk out, I am overwhelmed by the sheer effort and attention to detail it took the artist to land an exhibition like this. Just watch the logbooks at the end of the expo.

Picture by author

There is also a film screening of “The Tide Will Bring You Home” by Basile Rabaey, who followed Vanfleteren during his five-year sea expedition. But the small film Black Box was too crowded to make this a joyful experience. So, I skipped that, hoping the film will appear sooner or later on the Internet.

Basile Rabaey

A tapestry of slowness, silence, and chance. “Transcripts of a Sea” runs till 4 January 2026 at the MSK in Ghent.