30×
MFRU

We're discussing 30 years here, and I find the historical reflection intriguing. However, as an organizer of the first festival, I'm keen to know your thoughts on what the next 30 years will bring. When MFRU celebrated its tenth anniversary we were already planning a decade ahead, envisioning the future. I'm interested in understanding how the current generation can still inspire their peers and generate interest. Somehow, amidst all the disturbance, art seems to be the least engaging. The new generations are likely pondering how they can continue to create. Computer art originated from social engagement; it's a field meant to enhance people's lives. In some ways, it has succeeded. We live in better material conditions, but it's become a comfort zone. I would argue that it shouldn't be.

One concern that we often overlook, perhaps because we're reluctant to relinquish our dependency on technology, is electricity. Without it, everything crumbles, especially within our realm. The art we've been discussing for these thirty years thrives only in a functioning world. It's up to us to be the first activists, advocating to prevent the collapse of the world as we know it. I don't believe we're doing enough in that regard.

Fortunately, we haven't experienced a blackout during MFRU. It would be intriguing to witness MFRU Unplugged, if we were prepared for such an eventuality. It's been common for us to hunt for unusual pieces or elements, like a specific power amplifier. MFRU has a rich history of unconventional components, though certainly not documented in the archives (laughs).

Nostalgia finds its best setting in analogue discussions by the sea with a beer in hand. Marina Gržinić was right: the future is paramount. I'm intrigued by how young people globally and locally perceive and engage with code, digital technology, and art. However, I hold a radical stance on the entire digitalization of society, one that I'm fully committed to. I believe the only solution is... forgive the melodrama (laughs)... the complete de-digitalization of the world. The omnipresence of technology around our bodies, even within them, alongside machine learning, has spiraled beyond our control. Despite our efforts to envelop ourselves with all the ethical tools developed since ancient times, endeavoring to transform a technologized society into a livable one, I doubt it will succeed. I'm not just referring to artificial intelligence (a misnomer, as it currently only involves mass data manipulation); I'm referring to all technological formats. The world's solution lies in what is unlikely to occur: a return to perfect analogy. However, since we possess this self-destructive tendency within us, we'll likely persist with our current trajectory.

Over the next 50 years, I believe we'll manage. We have numerous remarkable artworks that embody a critical stance. We'll uphold this superiority in critical thinking; we're well-prepared in that regard. However, I'm uncertain about the next 50 years. Reflecting on the 1990s, when the internet emerged into our homes, it was a fantastic open space of freedom. Today, the internet has transformed into a corporate entity that resists criticism, even when subjected to it, and it easily deflects any critique. The space for expression is shrinking, and when it contracts to the point where critical discourse becomes impossible — which I anticipate will occur within 50 years — people will encounter new challenges. I don't intend to sound pessimistic; rather, this is a conclusion drawn from mathematical calculation and reality.

The future of computer art is akin to asking about the future of painting, sculpture, video, photography, and so forth. They all involve the ongoing development of technologies, materials, and upgrades to various systems. Within this framework, we can discuss processor levels or the levels of big data, which I don't refer to as artificial intelligence since it primarily involves processing and storing data. While its speed and breadth may fascinate us, it doesn't possess intelligence. Computers operate on sampling, even when there are millions of them; it's still sampling. The more there are, the better and faster they respond to the initial signal. The brain, on the other hand, functions as a quantum computer, encompassing imagination, dreams, and reality, far surpassing all machines. Yet, despite its capabilities, a computer cannot match the complexity of the human brain. In recent years, at Kibla, I've emphasized that, after an initial period of fascination and economic interests, art itself is once again taking center stage. This is evident in the inclusion of various media at Kiblix festivals, which are now more content-driven than media-determined. We've reintroduced painting, printmaking, and sculpture, underscoring the future of art—exactly what I've mentioned.

In the realm of computer art, it's crucial to address the energy aspect, particularly concerning consumption. The vast data centers fueling machine learning systems are notorious energy guzzlers, posing serious concerns for environmental sustainability. The transition to green energy remains ambiguous to me. Consider that computers house lithium batteries, sourced from mining operations in Australia, Chile, and other regions. The environmental toll of mining in Australia and water extraction in South America is considerable. It's essentially a massive scam, a new business model driving relentless consumption. Data centers, each requiring between 20 and 40 MW of energy, are equivalent to the energy consumption of 32,000 households. To put this into perspective, a 50 MW data center consumes as much energy as the entire city of Maribor. While the exact figures warrant verification, the absurdities are undeniable.

The future of computer art carries a message of activism and warning. However, it's essential to understand that we can't solely rely our social responsibilities on hardware and software manufacturers or the incessant pursuit of the new hype. People should have the freedom to choose, which is why I oppose compulsory digitization and relentless adaptation. Currently, the focus seems to be primarily on consumption, but let me clarify: technology should be complemented by insights from social sciences and humanism. What social purpose does the computer serve? Computing must always be accompanied by its humanistic dimension. Art embodies this juxtaposition, even now. Let's continue in equal manner!

A similar initiative has already been undertaken by Miha Horvat, and I am following suit. The aim is to establish a single center for MFRU, both physical and digital. The Cultural Incubator on Koroška cesta serves as a multifunctional organization. For a concept as expansive as MFRU, I envision a dedicated space for activities, workshops, and archives. This could serve as a smaller, pilot space akin to Ars Electronica, ensuring the festival's continuous presence throughout the year. Currently, the festival thrives once a year, only to fade away thereafter. I believe that with a center offering year-round activities, MFRU could make a more significant impact on the local community and beyond. This could be a vision for the future of the festival, given careful design considerations. Particularly as technology continues to play an ever-growing role in our lives. Over the past thirty years, its significance has only increased, and it shows no signs of stopping. We are not subservient to the computer; rather, we are inseparable from it.

Upon reflection, I find myself facing a contradiction. On one hand, as mentioned earlier, not much has changed. On the other hand, there have been significant changes, especially for new generations who are born into and live with technology. Perhaps I lack imagination. Personally, I wish I could converse with my cat. However, I fear the leap to interspecies communication may never occur. Regarding the festival, I hope it will continue to thrive with the infusion of new, young forces.

I'm currently immersed in a narrative where I conduct numerous extensive interviews. This prompts me to address the question at hand. The solution, in my view, lies in maximizing the connection between those who curate the MFRU and all its stakeholders. This connection should extend beyond just MFRU and Maribor; it should encompass Ljubljana and beyond. Many assert that our scene is small, underdeveloped, and poorly organized, making survival difficult, if not impossible. However, over the years, every foreigner I've introduced to our scene has been deeply fascinated by its strength and the myriad events it has witnessed. It's regrettable that we lack comprehensive archives, as we have so much to showcase. The extent of intermedia activity here is remarkable, even though foreigners may not fully grasp the term "intermedia." When asked about the computer festival, I often respond, "We produce and distribute using computers." This conceptual foundation endures.

I find it easier to envision what I would like the festival to become in 30 years. The upcoming generations might need to accomplish something for the festival that we couldn't achieve: to separate it from other entities and make it uniquely theirs. We need someone solely dedicated to MFRU, without other distractions. Considering the global developments in IT, Kiblix and MFRU should be at the forefront of this narrative! However, they often remain in the background, overshadowed. During my time curating MFRU, a professor introduced me to a philosophical concept. "Potential is the ultimate stage." In Slovenia, we talk about the land of potential; in Maribor, we talk about the city of potential. But when you consider this philosophical paradigm, it all seems rather complete. We also witness cyclical patterns in the world. I doubt that the technological giants will lead us into space. In Vienna, I learned about new media art, where I encountered several impressive scientific artworks drawn with crayons—better then anything else I have seen.

Has MFRU left an impact on you? Is this festival tangible, or is it merely an illusion of people associated with it? What have we accomplished? The structures we've established, or have we merely guided you to empty cabinets?

I'm deeply connected to the festival, and for its 30th birthday, I'm particularly interested in hearing the thoughts of not only our generation but also the younger one. Has MFRU left an impact on them? Is this festival tangible, or is it merely an illusion created by the people we are associated with? What have we accomplished? The structures we've established, or have we merely guided you to empty cabinets?

Due to the growing, yet increasingly concealed and misunderstood, role of data-processing units in today's world, computational art, which sheds light on their mechanisms and questions their potential uses and implications, is becoming more significant. The relevance of MFRU to this matter is noteworthy, and it would be logical for it to evolve into one of the largest festivals in the country.

Today, all art is computerized to some extent; even staging a dusty opera requires computers to control lights and sound. MFRU is well-established and holds its position in the broader world. Continuing and conceptually expanding it to new topics, such as artificial intelligence, environmental issues, and the collaboration of non-human actors like animals, plants, nature, and smart machines with humans—or even their interactions without humans—would be worthwhile. Theming a world without us makes sense in the current capitalocene era.