In anticipation of a solo exhibition by artist Nardo at Bitcoin Mena in collaboration with OTM GalleryI sat down with him to explore the intersections between memes, myths, and digital culture. Nardo’s work navigates the interesting space between the tangible form of traditional painting and the ephemeral nature of meme culture – two seemingly contradictory mediums evolving alongside Bitcoin.
The title of your exhibition, Fresh Impact, and the central panel, Sandwich Artist, both reference subway-related memes. Notably, Subway became the first fast-food chain to accept Bitcoin in 2013 — a moment documented by Andrew Torba, who famously used Bitcoin to buy a $5 branch in Allentown, Pennsylvania (an ironic detail, given that Torba is Now the CEO of the social media company). network missed). This early mix of Bitcoin and meme culture sparked humorous musings on “spending generational wealth” on the trail and highlighted themes of the value of the currency over time, with the purchasing power of the dollar diminishing while Bitcoin grows. How does this Subway meme influence you, and how does it shape your drawing style in an increasingly digital age?
I think there’s something to be said for rapid consumption in contemporary culture, whether it’s through fast food or internet memes. The attention span of the human senses has diminished to frequent bursts of dopamine, as choosing the type of bread, meat, and toppings becomes the most exciting part of the afternoon. Then comes the tireless effort to finish 12 inches of processed food. Repeat this over and over because it’s convenient, and maybe next time, you’ll thrill yourself by substituting the cheddar for the 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 as a dopamine hit: we share them with friends, they go viral, and then they often die, leading us to move on to the next. However, the success of memes also lies in their systems: cultural iconography, bold fonts superimposed on captivating images, sharp visuals, fried aesthetics, or low-effort applications. Memes are based on visual and cultural layers such as bread, meat, and class.
I think that with regard to Bitcoin, we have to really confront its experimental nature at the specific moment of exchange. Buying a $5 block of Bitcoin in 2013, then seeing it today in 2024 at roughly $4,300, is somewhat silly and painful — but the experience is eternal. The mere use of digital Internet money in exchange for physical and consumer goods feels almost alchemical.
Evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins coined the term “memes” to describe units of cultural transmission, likening their spread to the proliferation of genes. Memes are also similar to viruses in how they spread across social networks, blurring the lines between genes and viruses as both can integrate into DNA and influence evolution. You and I have joked that memes — and meme currencies — are like the fast food of digital culture, the equivalent of cybernetic fast food or street drugs. Are memes a low art form? Are the accumulation of studio waste made famous by painter Francis Bacon or the strange waste and detritus of Dash Snow’s 2007 installation “Hamster’s Nest” somehow related? What are your thoughts on contemporary artists like Christine Wang, who replicates prominent memes in her recent painting exhibition, “Cryptofire Degen,” at The Hole in New York? What happens when a digital meme turns into a physical painting?
This all ties into what I discussed earlier, which is that I’m interested in slowing down the process of consumption. Delicately hand-painting a meme in oil and presenting it like that can be a bit annoying. Likewise, considering garbage as a form or content, rather than something to be thrown away, fascinates me.
After a user consumes his lunch and scrolls through countless memes on Twitter, what is left behind from it all? The whole experience may seem to undo the rot of the brain, the diminishing of structure and existence in the shadow of negative chaos. However, this is perhaps the liminal mindset needed to give birth to the most widespread ideas.
My introduction to cybernetics came from Japanese anime series such as Ghost in the Shell (1995-2014), which explores cyberpunk themes such as online minds, hackers, and cyberviruses, echoing Dawkins’ ideas about memes and cultural transmission. The series highlights concepts such as “ghost hacking” and “thought viruses,” which reproduce across networks and influence societal behavior, in line with Dawkins’ idea of self-replicating cultural units. Given your recent exploration of the “skippedy toilet” meme phenomenon, what insights have you gained into how this meme spreads across social networks and shapes the collective consciousness of younger audiences?
the Ghost in the shell Connectivity is not far removed from the world as we know it now. As with the premise of this “fiction,” our flesh brains are located within an electronic interface of digital personalities and communications. We practically live vicariously through a digital shadow self, a projection of who we think we could become. This is in line with why I often say, “You become what you are Mimi.”
I’m deeply fascinated by the phenomenon of American youth’s obsession with new memes that older generations can’t account for, e.g Skipedy toilet. I believe that it is in this fracture of feeling that new languages are born, while ancient myths are reassembled in contemporary ways. Skipedy toilet he Iliad From the Internet.
Beyond Ghost in the Shell’s exploration of cybernetics, the Neon Genesis Evangelion anime series intersects with the concept of the Age of Aquarius through its themes of interconnectedness and collective consciousness. The series delves into the merging of individual identities, echoing how “hive mind” behaviors in contemporary internet culture reflect the rapid influence of shared information and memes. In your artwork Sandwich Artist, you highlight the tension between individual art and the pressures of representing a faceless brand. How have you noticed this shift over time, and how can artists deal with collective ideas while maintaining their individuality in today’s digital culture?
the Sandwich artist The piece uses a well-known meme template, but through various digital modifications – specifically literal scribbling from pre-existing text – it takes on a graffiti feel and eventually becomes my own. I like this piece because it is an individual statement of my work and reflects the way 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 wants a brand to rally behind it, but history craves individual artistry.
We’ve discussed the term “subway” in relation to submarine sandwiches, but it also conjures up the idea of underground transportation. Japan has become famous for studying fungal growth patterns to improve subway and train systems. Like fungi, memes spread and connect individuals in a vast, decentralized network, evolving as they move from one “host” to another. This fungal comparison highlights how memes adapt and spread dynamically, reflecting natural systems of growth and communication. How do you think artists can consciously navigate this fluid landscape of diffusion, host vessels, and network dynamics?
The lifespan of most internet memes moves so quickly that it’s difficult to comprehend them before they disappear into a shallow grave. Among the few who have managed to control the collective consciousness, I find it fascinating to analyze how they relate to humanity’s past on a metaphysical level. Trends and symbols have remained constant throughout human history; They simply reappear in different forms over time.
Effective memes depend on effective systems for communicating information. As artists, we must remain aware of history and metaphysical symbolism, because this awareness can help us reveal our primal selves through the mirror of memes.