In anticipation of a solo exhibition by artist Nardo at bitcoin Mena, in collaboration with AOTM GalleryI sat down with him to explore the intersections of memes, mythologies, and digital culture. Nardo's work navigates the intriguing space between the tangible form of traditional painting and the fleeting nature of meme culture, two seemingly contrasting mediums that are evolving alongside bitcoin.
The title of his exhibition, Fresh Impact, and the central painting, Sandwich Artist, reference Subway-related memes. Notably, Subway became the first fast-food chain to accept bitcoin in 2013, a moment documented by Andrew Torba, who used bitcoin to buy a $5 sandwich in Allentown, Pennsylvania (an ironic detail, given that Torba is now a director executive of the social network network Gab). This early mix of bitcoin and meme culture sparked humorous reflections on “spending generational wealth” on a war footing and highlighted themes of the currency's value over time, as the dollar's purchasing power declines while that of bitcoin grows. How does this Subway meme resonate with you and how does it shape your approach to painting in an increasingly digital age?
I think there's something to be said about rapid consumption in contemporary culture, whether it's foot-long fast food sandwiches or internet memes. The attention span of human senses has been reduced to repeated dopamine bursts, where selecting the type of bread, meats and toppings becomes the most exciting part of the afternoon. Then comes the tireless effort of finishing 30 centimeters of processed food matter. Repeat this over and over again because it's convenient and maybe next time you'll get excited swapping out the cheddar for provolone.
However, Subway has developed a systematic experience that seems timeless. Memes and internet behavior work in a similar way. The ephemeral consumption of entertaining or humorous memes acts like a hit of dopamine: we share them with friends, they spread at rapid speeds, and then they often disappear, prompting us to move on to the next one. However, the success of memes also lies in their systems: cultural iconography, bold fonts superimposed on captivating images, very sharp images, fried aesthetics or low-effort applications. Memes are based on visual and cultural layers: bread, meat and toppings.
I think when it comes to bitcoin, we should really confront its experiential nature at the exact moment of exchange. Having bought a foot long for $5 in bitcoin in 2013, only to see it today in 2024 at ~$4,300, is both absurd and somewhat painful, but the experience is timeless. The very act of using digital Internet money in exchange for physical and consumer goods seems almost alchemical.
Evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins coined the term “memes” to describe units of cultural transmission, comparing their spread to gene replication. Memes also resemble viruses in the way they spread through social media, blurring the lines between genes and viruses, as both can integrate into DNA and influence evolution. You and I have joked that memes (and memecoins) are akin to the fast food of digital culture, serving as cyber junk food or street drugs. Do you consider memes to be a vulgar art form? Are the accumulation of studio trash made famous by painter Francis Bacon or the extravagant debris and detritus from Dash Snow's 2007 “hamster nest” installation related in any way? What do you think of contemporary artists like Christine Wang, who replicates notable memes in her recent painting exhibition, “Cryptofire Degen,” at The Hole in New York? What happens when a digital meme becomes a physical painting?
This all ties back to what I mentioned before: I'm interested in slowing down the consumption process. Meticulously hand-painting a meme in oils and presenting it as such can be a bit jarring. Similarly, I am fascinated by considering trash as form or content, rather than something to be thrown away.
After the user has consumed their lunch and scrolled through countless memes on twitter, what is left as detritus of all that? The entire experience may seem like undoing brain rot: a diminishing of structure and existence within passive chaos. However, perhaps that is the liminal mentality necessary to give rise to the most viral ideas.
My introduction to cybernetics came from Japanese animated series like Ghost in the Shell (1995-2014), which explores cyberpunk themes such as minds connected to the Internet, hackers, and cyberviruses, echoing Dawkins' ideas about memes and cybernetics. cultural transmission. The series highlights concepts like “ghost hacking” and “thought viruses,” which replicate across networks and influence social behavior, aligning with Dawkins' notion of self-replicating cultural units. Given your recent exploration of the “skibidi toilet” meme phenomenon, what insights have you gained into how this meme has spread across social media and shaped the collective consciousness of younger audiences?
He ghost in the shell The connection is not far from the world as we know it now. Much like the premise of that “fiction,” our fleshy brains are located within a cybernetic façade of people and digital communications. We practically live vicariously through a digitized shadow: a projection of what we think we could become. This aligns with why I often say, “You become what you meme.”
I am deeply intrigued by the phenomenon of American youth becoming obsessed with new memes that older generations cannot compute, such as Skibidi toilet. I believe that it is in this fracture of sensibility that new languages are born, while old mythologies are repackaged in contemporary forms. Skibidi toilet is he Iliad of the Internet.
Beyond Ghost in the Shell's exploration of cybernetics, the seminal anime series Neon Genesis Evangelion intersects with the concept of the Age of Aquarius through its themes of interconnectedness and collective consciousness. The series delves into the fusion of individual identities, echoing how “hive mind” behaviors in contemporary Internet culture reflect the rapid influence of shared information and memes. In your work Sandwich Artist, you highlight the tension between individual artistry and the pressures of representing a faceless brand. How have you seen this change over time, and how can artists engage with collective ideas while preserving their individuality in today's digital culture?
He sandwich artist The piece uses a well-known meme template, but through various digital alterations (specifically the literal scribbling of pre-existing text) it takes on the feel of graffiti and eventually becomes mine. I like this piece because it represents an individual manifesto of my work and reflects how I think about my art as a whole. Sure, consistent branding and aesthetics are great for sales if done right, but I'm more interested in how my work exists within a long enough historical timeline. The hive mind longs for a brand to support, but history longs for individual art.
We've talked about the term “subway” in relation to submarine sandwiches, but it also evokes the idea of underground transportation. Japan studied mycelial growth patterns to optimize its subway and train systems. Like mushrooms, memes spread and connect people in a vast decentralized network, evolving as they move from one “host” to another. This mushroom comparison highlights how memes adapt and spread dynamically, reflecting natural systems of growth and communication. How do you think artists can consciously navigate this memetic landscape of propagation, host vessels, and network dynamics?
The lifespan of most Internet memes advances so rapidly that it's difficult to understand them before they disappear into a shallow grave. Among the few that manage to take over the collective consciousness, I find it fascinating to analyze how they connect with humanity's past on a metaphysical level. Trends and symbols have remained constant throughout human history; they simply resurface in different forms as time passes.
Efficient memes depend on efficient systems for delivering information. As artists, we must remain aware of history and metaphysical symbolism, as this awareness can help us discover our primordial selves through the mirror of memes.
