Intersections of Nature and Technology: A Conversation with Rizal Nugraha

Rizal Nugraha, born in Semarang in 1994, is a contemporary artist and researcher whose innovative journey began with a degree in Fine Arts from Institut Teknologi Bandung, where he successfully graduated in 2017. Initially rooted in Bandung, Indonesia, Rizal has since embarked on an international academic adventure, currently pursuing further studies at HBK Braunschweig in Germany, a move that underscores his commitment to expanding his artistic and theoretical framework.

Rizal's artistic practice operates at the dynamic intersection of digital processes, material transformation, and the remnants of time, inviting audiences to rethink not only the nature of creation but also humanity's relationship with the environment. His work often employs generative algorithms, 3D printing technologies, and organic materials, merging the boundaries between the digital and the tangible. By engaging with these diverse methodologies, Rizal crafts pieces that reflect a profound understanding of contemporary concerns regarding materiality, sustainability, and the enduring traces of ancient life.

Informed by concepts of geological time and the principles of thermodynamics, Rizal's art delves into the fascinating dialogue between past and present. He contemplates how the remnants of ancient organisms are intertwined with modern materials, such as plastics, and how these remnants persist in shaping our current ecological landscape. His work serves as a poignant reminder of the environmental impacts of human activity and the complexity of existence in a world dominated by synthetic materials.

Moreover, Rizal investigates the intricate entanglement of human and non-human agency, exploring how technology can be understood as an extension of life itself. His explorations challenge the conventional distinctions that separate the organic from the artificial, prompting a reevaluation of how we perceive agency in our rapidly advancing technological society. Through his art, Rizal confronts the blurred boundaries between natural and artificial systems, questioning the assumptions that underpin our interactions with technology and the environment.

Rizal’s practice not only embodies a commitment to artistic innovation but also serves as a catalyst for engaging in broader discussions about ecological consciousness, the implications of materiality, and the role of technology in shaping human experiences. Each of his creations becomes a narrative that weaves together threads of history, science, and philosophy, making his work a multifaceted exploration of the complexities of existence.

Through exhibitions, installations, and performances, Rizal Nugraha continues to push the boundaries of contemporary art, positioning himself as a significant voice in an evolving dialogue about art, science, and the environment. His endeavors reflect a deep-seated passion for bridging disciplines and fostering a greater understanding of the interconnectedness of all things, ensuring that his work resonates on multiple levels—intellectually, emotionally, and ethically. As he navigates his artistic path in both Indonesia and Europe, Rizal remains dedicated to creating thought-provoking art that challenges perceptions and inspires a renewed sense of responsibility toward the world we inhabit. Find below our exclusive interview with Rizal Nugraha for RED-EYE

Your artistic practice intricately combines digital processes with material transformation. Could you take us through your creative workflow? Specifically, how do you select and integrate technologies like generative algorithms and 3D printing into your projects, and what role do these tools play in shaping your artistic vision?

It always depends on the project. I always try to take serious considerations into the materials that I use—whether they conceptually support the work, how they behave and interact with each other, and what histories they carry. Sometimes, the idea comes first, and I find the right tools and materials to express it. Other times, I start with the material or process itself and allow the work to emerge from experimentation.

For example, what fascinates me about 3D printing is its transformation of pure data into physical form. It embodies a direct link between digital and material realities, making it a natural medium for my exploration. Generative algorithms like L-systems play a similar role: they abstract organic growth into computational rules. By using these tools, I’m not just simulating nature—I’m engaging with the blurred boundary between artificial and organic systems, between mathematical models and the unpredictability of physical matter.

Drawing from concepts of geological time and thermodynamics, your work reflects deep temporal scales and natural processes. How do these scientific principles enrich your artistic expression? Are there particular ideas or discoveries that have significantly influenced your work, and how do you translate these abstract concepts into tangible art forms?

A few years ago I stumbled across a meme, which depicts an image of dinosaurs, oil barrels, and plastic dinosaurs, with the text "a trace of the true self exists in the false self". Putting scientific accuracy aside, the idea of matter persisting through time—cycling through different forms while retaining traces of its origins—really struck me. It echoes the first law of thermodynamics, which states that energy (and matter) cannot be created nor destroyed, only transformed.

This realization made me think of science in a more subjective or even mythical way: not just as objective knowledge, but as something deeply tied to memory, persistence, and meanings. Recently I've been exploring digital technology through this lens—especially its relation to energy since it relies on electricity to exist. We tend to think of digital space as weightless, detached from material reality, but it is powered by electricity, which in turn depends on the extraction of fossil fuels and human labor. In my work, I try to bring forth this hidden materiality—or rather, the hidden relation between objects. In this case, the connection between the intangible realm of computing and the earthly processes that sustain it.

You focus on exploring traces of ancient life within contemporary materials, especially highlighting the persistence of plastic remnants. What specific historical narratives or ecological messages do you aim to illuminate through your art? How do you strike a balance between aesthetic appeal and the urgency of these environmental concerns in your work?

There's this text from Gregor Mobius titled "Alien Live as an Observer", in which he describes a simple algorithm to visualize DNA/RNA chains in black-and-white grid patterns. He realized that this black-and-white sequence reveals that not only biological function, DNA also stores other information that operates on a level of meaning. In other words, DNA stores a rudimentary memory of ancient lives on Earth, even though its properties are still very basic (hot/cold, bright/dark, etc).

This resonated with the "Bog Instinct" series, where I melted black plastic sheets onto metal frames, creating membrane-like, flesh-like forms. The plastic itself, derived from petroleum, is a transformed remnant of ancient life. I imagined that in some way, it still "remembers" its origins—not literally, but in the sense that material history persists, carrying echoes of deep time. Even though plastic is considered an artificial material, its behavior in my process—melting, stretching, wrinkling—feels strangely organic. Personally, I don't see my work as a vehicle to deliver a direct environmental message, but rather as revealing these hidden connections: how material, energy, time, and history intersect in ways we rarely consider.

The entanglement of human and non-human agency is a recurring theme in your practice. In what ways do you believe technology functions as an extension of life? Can you share examples from your work that exemplify this relationship, and what insights do you hope to provide your audience regarding the dynamics between humanity and technology?

From the toolmakers of Oldowan and Achulean to OpenAI and Meta, tools and technology have always served to extend our self to help us interact with the world; whether to interpret and make sense of our environment, or to tame and conquer it. Harnessing the power of the sun, or extracting it from ores, allowed us to improve not only our survival as a species but also our quality of life and extend the horizon of our knowledge.

I would say currently there isn't one specific work that fully encapsulates this theme, but it is present throughout my entire practice, or at least it was always present in the back of my mind when I created them. In every piece, I explore how technology extends beyond being just a tool—it actively shapes our perception, environment, and even what we consider natural. Whether through the transformation of digital data into physical matter, the persistence of ancient materials in modern forms, or the ways we encode and store memory, this entanglement between human and non-human agency is always at play.

Your exploration of the blurred boundaries between natural and artificial systems raises intriguing questions about perception and authenticity. Could you speak about specific works where this theme is particularly pronounced? What kinds of reactions or reflections are you hoping to provoke in your audience when they encounter these pieces?

Currently I am working on a series of new works that revolve around the L-system. Developed by Aristid Lindenmayer in 1968, it's a simple recursive algorithm with the purpose of modeling growth patterns found in nature, such as tree branching. The rules are quite simple, but the results can be very complex. I'm always fascinated by generative recursive models such as L-system or cellular automata because in a way they try to abstract a process of nature and boil it down into a mathematical model. It's not a mere copy, it's trying to capture the essence.

There we can already see the merging borders between natural and artificial; the model itself is artificial, but at the same time it is also a natural phenomenon. I think this blurring can also be seen in the relation between our digital world and the earthly ores that feed it, and our use of tools to interact with our environment.

In the previously mentioned works, I 3D-printed the generated L-system onto a frame and encased it with bone glue. Bone glue has this appearance of yellowish brown that strongly reminds us of fossilized resin. This gives it the appearance of fossilized remains of unknown life forms. The fact that the 'lifeform' is artificially generated, materialized into PLA plastic, and encased with glue made of liquified animal bones is important to the work. I don't quite have the right words for it, but there's some kind of role reversal happening here between the natural and artificial, creating an ambiguous sense of time and origin.

There's also this series of computer-generated caves that I made. Initially, I planned to use them as backdrops for other works, but I became more interested in the caves themselves. I started exploring them virtually—rendering snapshots as if I were a photographer inside a real cave. These digital voids exist only as data, yet they recall to my mind the relation between digital landscapes and the material reality that surrounds them.

Studying in Germany has likely offered you a diverse cultural perspective. How has your experience in this new environment influenced your conceptual approach and the thematic exploration in your work? Are there distinct elements of the German art scene that you have integrated into your practice, and how do they differ from the artistic landscape in Indonesia?

I would say the artistic atmosphere here is generally more open to experimentation—not that the Indonesian art scene lacks experimental art, but the institutional and academic structures are different.

At my university, HBK Braunschweig, I feel the learning environment is much more self-directed compared to my experience in Indonesia. There's an emphasis on conceptual rigor but also on giving students the freedom to explore without immediate pressure for justification. This has allowed me to push my work in unexpected directions.

At the same time, I think the Indonesian art scene has a certain fluidity that makes it dynamic in a different way. There’s a strong sense of community, where artistic discourse often happens organically through informal gatherings rather than within institutional spaces. This creates an environment where ideas and collaborations develop in a more intuitive, spontaneous manner.

Environmental sustainability is a pressing issue in our contemporary discourse. How do you incorporate sustainable practices into your artistic workflow, especially when working with materials such as plastic and organic matter? What challenges do you face concerning the environmental footprint of your materials, and how do you see your role as an artist in addressing these concerns?

Ironically, I don't see myself as an "eco-conscious" artist in a direct sense, though I do make personal efforts to reduce my contribution to waste and pollution. However, I've become more interested in energy consumption in digital technology—particularly how AI, rendering, and computation have quite huge environmental footprints. Rather than framing this as a moral argument, I want to create a sense of connection—reminding us that digital environments are not immaterial, but deeply embedded in resource extraction, labor, and energy infrastructures. I guess the big picture is, I want to show that everything is connected through an invisible web of history, structures, and even myths.

Hybridizing digital and organic materials presents unique challenges and opportunities. Can you describe some of the technical difficulties you've encountered in this process and how you've addressed them? How do these challenges inform your creativity, and do they lead you to unexpected avenues in your work?

There are always technical challenges, but the most interesting ones are not necessarily about execution—they are about making the conceptual and material connections feel meaningful. How do different objects and materials interact with each other, not only in their physicality but also in their history?

For example in my work 'A General Summary'—taken from Rudyard Kipling's poem of the same title, I paired a 3D-printed, 3D-scanned ancient human footprint from the site of Engare Sero, Tanzania with Artemia (commonly known as brine shrimp or 'Sea Monkey'). I put water and Artemia eggs on the recess of the footprint, as if it was a small ephemeral pool which was the natural habitat of this type of organism. Artemia's eggs, also known as cysts, can lay dormant for years in dry conditions as a method of survival. Here, in the eggs and the human footprints, we see two persistent organisms: one survives by way of stasis, the other by proliferating and becoming the dominant species of the Earth. This is the main challenge for me, to find this peculiar connection between things in my work.

Your examination of computational energy consumption raises essential questions about modern existence and technological advancement. What prompted you to delve into this theme, and how do you believe it connects to broader societal issues such as climate change or resource depletion? How do you incorporate these topics into your artistic narrative?

I think it started with my interest in the transformation of matter, how nothing ever truly 'lost', only converted into other forms. At some point, I started thinking about the connection between digital technology and energy, since after all fossil fuel is still our number one source of energy. This ties back to the idea that traces of ancient life exist even in our most advanced technology.

This perspective informs my work in different ways. My 3D-printed objects translate digital data into physical objects, making the invisible tangible again. My cave renderings also play with this paradox; simulated geological formations that exist only because of the real-world minerals and energy that sustain digital infrastructure.

Rather than delivering a clear message, I want to evoke a sense of entanglement— between the artificial and the natural, the ancient and the future, human and non-human, and so on. I think this invisible connection is interesting to observe and understand. It helps me to see that most events that happened on this Earth are not isolated; they connect to each other through ways that we couldn't always fathom.

My favorite story of this kind is how the payload capacity of NASA's space shuttle was basically determined by the width of two horses' asses. It's because the size of the booster cannot exceed the width of train tunnels, which was determined by standard rails, which goes way back to the first railways and tram in England, which followed the standard road width of the ancient Romans, which were determined by their standard wheel spacing on their chariots and wagons, which happened to be dictated by the width of two horses that usually pulled them. Facts aside, I'm always delighted by stories like this because it's a fun way to open our eyes to the invisible web that connects our world. And I'm hoping that my works could evoke similar feelings.

As you look to the future, what new directions or explorations do you envision for your artistic practice? Are there specific materials, themes, or technologies that you are particularly excited about? How do you see your work evolving over the coming years in response to the changing landscape of art and society?

I guess I will continue my current course for some time, but it will definitely change in the future. One topic that I've always been interested in is language, especially since the rise of LLMs (Large Language Models) as the basis of AI chatbots that now have become a part of our daily lives. I'm interested in how we perceive language compared to a machine, and how it's used as a carrier of information vs. as a conveyor of meaning. It still needs a lot of research, so I'm excited about what I will discover in the future.

I try not to be bound to just one theme or medium; it will always change depending on my interests and what happens in the world. And my practice will evolve according to this development. I almost never touch any traditional medium like drawing or painting even since the beginning of art school, but who knows, maybe someday something will click and I'll do an oil painting on a huge canvas.

Interview by @mirawanderlust

Image Courtesy of Rizal Nugraha

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