Arweave TX
Chronist
Crypto art came charging into the art world as subtle as a bulldozer. But is it truly a new movement running parallel to conventional art, or another fascinating ‘degeneracy’ of the latter?
One of crypto art’s standout qualities is how it has onboarded a whole new generation of creators and collectors, many of whom believe they’re part of something entirely new, and in some ways, of course, they are. How we create, distribute, and own art in the crypto space is definitely revolutionary. But when it comes to the art itself, it’s often more connected to traditional movements than we might think.
I’d argue this is a strength: like every major art movement, crypto art is deeply influenced by what came before it—sometimes intentionally, sometimes subconsciously. Many of the visual elements and concepts we see in today’s digital art bear striking resemblances to ideas explored by modernist artists decades ago. Whether it’s a shared impulse to push boundaries or the timeless struggle with themes of identity, society, and mass culture, artists across all mediums and eras seem to be wrestling with the same issues.
Crypto artists—and the tools they use—are likely drawing more inspiration from traditional art than they realize. And some of the world’s most famous museums, like the Guggenheim Bilbao, which I had the chance to visit recently, house the very works that might have inspired these digital trailblazers. In this series, we will take a closer look at how those pieces, and their authors, can interconnect with crypto art.
It’s hard to deny that the avant-garde ideas of modern and contemporary art paved the way for crypto art’s rise. I mean, think about it—when Marcel Duchamp slapped a urinal in a gallery and called it "Fountain", he forced the art world to ask, “What even is art?” Fast forward to today, and we’ve got digital artists creating works out of code, or even AI, raising a very similar question. And while I’d love to dive into the ‘elephant in the room’ that is AI art, I’m saving that for another post—I’m not ready to make that many enemies just yet. So, let’s stick to the broader discussion of crypto art vs conventional art.
Take Beeple's "Everydays: The First 5000 Days", for example—the piece that sold for a jaw-dropping $69 million. It’s a digital collage made up of 13 years’ worth of daily creations, which draws a clear parallel to the obsessive, process-driven methods of modern and contemporary artists. The only real difference? Beeple’s canvas was a screen, and his paints were pixels.
But let’s get a bit more visual here. If there’s one traditional art form that crypto art mirrors the most, it’s got to be collage. This type of art was pioneered by the likes of Robert Rauschenberg, one of the most famous modern American artists, whose piece Barge is displayed at the Guggenheim Bilbao (and honestly, this artwork itself was one of the main reasons I made the trip). Sadly, I couldn’t get a decent photo—because the thing is almost 10 meters wide—but here’s a shot from the museum’s webpage:
Rauschenberg took everyday objects, photographs, and printed material and smashed them together into a single work that captured a chaotic, layered view of the world. Sound familiar? It should, because this kind of layering and remixing is exactly what many digital artists are doing in the crypto space today, just with different tools. For instance, take my project "Subliminal Chronicles", which are collages made using images representing key news events from the time of each iteration, alongside text snippets from these news.
See the resemblance? Well, in my case, it’s not by accident, the chaotic vibe and even the gray tones are inspired by Rauschenberg’s early collages. As his first experimental pieces were done in grisaille, I also wanted my early collages to follow a close visual language and evolve with time.
Still not convinced? Let’s compare two works more. On the left is "Unconscious Collages #1340", a CC0 collage I own that was generated by the artist hisartwork using code. On the right is Rauschenberg’s Palladian Xmas (Spread), a collage from 1980 made using solvent transfer, acrylic, and other materials on a wooden panel:
The parallels are unmistakable—whether it’s physical or digital, the essence of collage remains unchanged: taking fragmented pieces from different worlds and combining them into something that tells a bigger, richer story. Decades and mediums may have shifted, but the drive to remix, reimagine, and redefine still runs through it all.
And of course, we cannot forget to mention projects like CryptoPunks, Hashmasks, and Nouns. These don’t just produce singular pieces—they create avatars, mix traits, and let randomization take the reins, much like how collage artists played with randomness by placing unrelated images together to form new meanings. Ultimately, one could even say that the memetic mashup culture of NFTs is collage art on steroids. But let’s save this meme talk for the next article.
Crypto art may come dressed in blockchain tech and NFTs, but its roots are deep in the same art traditions that once shocked the world. From Duchamp’s urinals to Warhol’s soup cans, the DNA of modern and pop art runs through today’s digital creations. The tools may have changed, but the game remains the same: remix culture, challenge norms, and blur the lines between high art and mass consumption.
In the end, crypto art isn’t as disconnected from the past as it seems. It’s just taking the same old questions—what is art, and who gets to own it—and giving them a whole new twist. After all, in a world where memes become million-dollar NFTs, what’s more fitting than art that keeps you guessing?
