Maria Ahmed‘s Beautiful the Chewed Sounds is a meditation on the meeting of analogue and artificial worlds, speaking through layers of image, word and sound. A six-minute looped video, collages and texts activate one another – sparking open, rhizomatic chains of connection. The work mixes references to nature, bodies, and machines until they begin to blur together, making it difficult to tell where one thing ends and another begins. 

The source material is a hybrid archive of found analogue and digital fragments that resists easy categorisation, including 3D scans, GIFs, old books and photographs, stock footage, AI slop, Victorian poetry, digital tags, cut up text and a 1926 music recording of Purcell’s Dido’s Lament. Together, these shards move and coalesce in hope of a new language emerging, somewhere out of the latent dark of a caterpillar’s cocoon.

At its core, the work asks how we might describe the contemporary moment— a time when the wet materiality of human vocal cords gives way to algorithmic speech, and where mobile devices translate flesh into Chroma-keyed prosthetics and the familiar mixes easily with the strange. It gestures toward a language where binaries dissolve, and the boundaries between voice, code, and body collapse into a field of mouths — where meaning trembles, transforms, and begins again.

Download a PDF version of the work here. 

Tracing the Hollow is a threefold digital interpretation of a moth that I saw and photographed on July 20 2025, on my way home from the exhibition Degas’ Obsession. The exhibition documents how it took Degas nearly 30 years and 14 layers of paint to capture a fleeting moment of practising ballet dancers. A tiny paint fragment had to be removed from the painting to gain this insight.

Tracing the Hollow consists of three stages representing the moth’s presence and absence:

1. A moth resting on a wooden surface captured with a vintage CCD sensor 
2. A Hough lines translation of an upscaled version of the photo 
3. A Delaunay triangulation – digitally structured absence, or the subtraction of organic presence.

Kasper Bergholt is a Copenhagen-based artist and photographer who returned to the visual arts in 2023 after a 15-year hiatus.

His work has since appeared in exhibitions and collaborations across Melbourne, London, New York City, Atlanta, Helsinki, Budapest, Warsaw, Minneapolis, Chongqing, Taipei, and Glasgow.

He holds a Master of Arts degree from the University of Copenhagen and has been awarded the university’s rare gold medal.

bergholt.net

ghosting myself began as a visual diary: phone-shot videos I could have shared, but I didn’t. Resisting the urgency to post, I treated video-making as a delayed, replayed act of sharing, attentive to the temporalities and tools of the social media culture. The clips, lifted from my camera roll, passed through Instagram filters that slowed them, blurred them, glitched the now, softened identity. After the first cut, my video felt wrong: I had rebuilt the logic of the feed. So I turned the piece inside out. I used AI to translate the representational beyond its regime, making diagrams that show how the footage beats: heartbeats in tracks and markers, waveforms saying almost, not-yet. That first cut survives as a hole that sets the tone for the whole. I wanted my online subjectivity to appear otherwise, legible but not obedient. I layered in what I carry around: the sea filmed by my brother; a page from Lispector’s Água Viva; my reflection in a metro window; one boy in a ‘sorry mum’ t-shirt at the Pride in Thessaloniki; crossing my favourite park with a friend; the view I watched every night in July from a sublet in Berlin, going to bed at dawn; a Stuart Croft video at Leeds Art Gallery; a page from Daniel Rubinstein on photography and psychoanalysis; two sentences highlighted in Maggie Nelson’s Bluets; a woman waiting at a café by the Opéra. Not proof, but remainder. Images kept as glitter to carry around and within. A moving image that tries to look from the inside out, choreographing the small weather of feelings, and to say, almost silently, as if asking for permission: I wrote a poem. Can I read it to you?

Evangelia Danadaki is an artist and researcher working with video, performance, and film. Her work is situated at the intersection of visual art, feminist philosophy, and psychoanalysis, conceptualising imaging as a practice of plurality and affection. Currently, she is a PhD candidate at the University of Leeds (School of Fine Art, History of Art and Cultural Studies), recipient of the Amanda Burton Scholarship, and an Associate Editor at Parallax. Recent work has been presented at the Association for Art History (University of York, 2025), the American Comparative Literature Association, and the Samuel Beckett Society Conference (University of Edinburgh, 2025, and California State University, 2024).

evangeliadanadaki.com
@evangeliadanadaki

What remains when we disappear from living memory? When all that's left are traces and fragments of our existence, what was our purpose, and what compels us to explore the voids others leave behind?

These questions arise as I piece together the life of my great aunt Dr Annie Deane, who passed away before I was born — a relationship defined by absence. Annie was a pioneering spirit and a constant in the community, tending to their medical needs for over thirty years. Yet she left surprisingly few footprints. Rather than attempting to fill the gaps in Annie's story, All that is solid… finds comfort in the unknown, recognising that the spaces she left behind are as essential to understanding her as any tangible trace.

Through found and generated images, I look for the essence of Annie, inhabiting the liminal spaces where memory meets imagination, and presence meets absence. Through AI collaboration, the fragments become starting points for new kinds of traces — visual speculations that live in the space between what we know and what we imagine. Here, the incompleteness of her history becomes not a problem to be solved, but a generative space where absences collaborate in creating meaning — the hole in the doughnut that makes the doughnut whole.

All that is solid… reveals how everything exists in constant transformation, where boundaries between past and present, memory and imagination, life and death, become fluid and permeable — a space where the holes and the whole exist in constant dialogue.

Sarah Deane is a visual artist exploring how personal and cultural histories are remembered, forgotten, and reimagined — particularly through the lives of women. Through photography, collage, and archival materials, she layers, fragments, and reconstructs images to revisit personal and cultural histories, with a focus on memory, place, and transformation. She was recently awarded a bursary from Galway Arts Centre and Galway Culture Company, as well as funding from Galway County Council, to experiment with AI in her visual arts practice. Her work All that is solid… received Honourable Mentions in the AI categories of the Tokyo International Foto Awards and the B&W International Photography Awards.

sarahdeane.com
@deanesphoto

Delivered with the exhausted resignation of someone who's had quite enough of being a coherent subject, BHAM💥 – The Black Hole Aesthetic Machine – is an illusory product designed to help humans accept their impending obsolescence.

BHAM💥 offers no solutions, only a framework for sitting with uncertainty as the ground we all naively believed in implodes.

BHAM💥 manifests as a website and a downloadable PDF — for now...

Sarah-Jane Field works with various forms of image, including photographic pictures, text, audio, and whatever other informational form seems like a good idea at the time. Recent work includes generated images in Prompt Magazine (2025), a meditation titled Prompt-Engineer for Lexiconia — a research project creatively exploring terms used to describe generative AI processes (2024), and Beyond Romanticism: Relationship Advice for the Now for Source (2023). In 2022, her project why is there an astronaut in a field of flowers/ was exhibited at Future Focus, Quad Gallery, Derby, and received a Format award.

Sarah-Jane is the co-producer of The Doughnut (W)Hole Pavilion for The Wrong Biennale 7th Edition alongside curator Kim Shaw.

sarahjanefield.com
@sarahjane.field

In May 1997, Garry Kasparov became the first reigning world chess champion to lose a match to a machine, resigning to the US-designed IBM Deep Blue supercomputer during the sixth game in just 19 moves. Following the match, the machine was destroyed, and Deep Blue never played again.

The Memory of Deep Blue provides an analogue, photographic record of this landmark victory for artificial intelligence. Composed as a series of photograms and contact sheets, each print retraces a move by the computer (white) as it slowly defeats Kasparov. With every move, Kasparov’s pieces fade to black, resigned to the limitless endurance of a machine designed to outwit him at every turn.

In my practice, I attempt to question the duality between machine and artist, digital and analogue, machine and chess player at a historical point in which the role of the photographer stands poised to be transformed by AI.

Alan Knox is a Scottish artist and photographer whose work explores the feeling of the sublime and uncanny. In 2015 he graduated from the Glasgow School of Art, where he was awarded the Chairman’s Medal, and in 2020 completed his MA in Photography Arts at the University of Westminster, London. His work has been exhibited internationally, including as a winner of the Daniel Blau Gallery 5 Under 30 award in London; as an awardee of the Magenta Flash Forward prize at Division Gallery, Toronto; as part of the jury selection of Festival Circulations, Paris; and at StreetLevel Photoworks, Glasgow; Lonsdale Gallery, Toronto; and Kaunas Gallery, Lithuania, among others. In 2025 his work was selected as part of the Ashurst Art Collection.

alanknoxphotography.com
@alanknoxphotography

Drawing on Mark Fisher’s Hauntology, I haunt myself explores how memory and forgetting, presence and absence, and the ghosts of our digital lives shape who we are. In an age of overwhelming media and endless documentation, this work asks what it means to exist between an endlessly archived past and a future predicted by patterns. How does this near-constant documentation affect memory — does it preserve something important, or does it simply amplify the noise? Maybe memories need gaps and blurry edges?

In this work, I engage in a dialogue with my AI self, exploring what it means to be here, now.

David Koh is a Singaporean-American artist exploring the intersection of technology, humanity, and cultural identity through hybrid digital-physical works, interactive media installations, and web-based art. He earned his MA in Fine Art from Central Saint Martins in 2023. David has exhibited internationally, including in Germany, Italy, the USA, France, and Mexico. He co-curated De-Oriented, featuring emerging Southeast Asian artists (London, 2022), and was an artist in residence at Objectifs Photography Centre (Singapore).

davidkoh.co
@koh.working

In 1993, Jeff Wall spent over a year orchestrating actors and combining 50 photographs for A Sudden Gust of Wind (After Hokusai). Today, AI generates similar compositions in seconds. My series After Wall transforms these balanced human arrangements into fungal-like tableaux, exploring shifting concepts of authorship and artistic value in the AI era.

Wall’s work synthesises references from cinema, literature, and painting. I extend this chain through AI, using his compositions as creative prompts. Prompt-writing — a nuanced practice that exists somewhere between programming, poetics, and visual composition — requires deep engagement with AI’s interpretative logic. Subtle shifts in phrasing profoundly alter outcomes, making prompt-writing an intuitive, iterative dialogue.

I use fungi metaphorically, inspired by forest networks — the Wood Wide Web — to replace Wall’s human figures with fungal blooms. These organic forms evoke decay, regeneration, and transformation. By recasting human-centric compositions with organic proliferation, I move away from the concept of the sole creative genius, tipping towards a more collaborative, interconnected vision for creativity. Just as fungi enable trees to exchange resources, AI facilitates the flow and evolution of artistic ideas.

My work explores a broader creative ecology, blending individual vision with collective intelligence, emphasising dialogue between natural and technological systems over hierarchy.

Ben Millar Cole is a photographer exploring the intersection of visual arts and technology. Collaborating with AI since 2017, he is drawn not to seamless simulation but to the creative potential of errors, breakdowns, and unexpected outcomes. His work reimagines photographic traditions through AI, blending digital image-making, sculptural composition, and print processes to examine how human and machine creativity intertwine. Ben’s work has been exhibited at the California Museum of Photography, Palmer Gallery, and Rencontres d'Arles, and received the 2023 Wallpaper* AI-Generated Design Award. His photobook One Horse Landed won the Belfast Photobook Prize and was featured in European Photography magazine.

benmillarcole.com
@benmillarcole

To Pigeon-Fill the Sky is a photographic storybook about artificial intelligence, the creative process, and, of course, pigeons.

Returning to photography after a year-long hiatus, I struggled to match the quality of my old work. My new images were weak. They lacked dynamism, punctum, decisive moments. No birds filled their skies. I had spent a year remembering the best of my old images — rose-tinted — and had forgotten the patience and persistence that were required to make them. I saw photographs of miracles and forgot how long I had stood there waiting for them. I had forgotten that good art takes hard work.

As a software engineer and a photographer, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about artificial intelligence. Over the past three years, I’ve witnessed my two industries froth and fight over the glittering promise of AI — the shortcuts it opens, the expertise and experience it renders obsolete, and the slop that it burns into being. I imagined an artist who might forego patience, persistence, and hard work for an artificially injected decisive moment — why wait for punctum when you can add it in post?

To Pigeon-Fill the Sky is the story of that artist. It exists as a photobook, shot and edited in the summer of 2024, and as a website, expanded, distorted, and hacked together in the summer of 2025. It contains analogue photography, digital photography, real pigeons, and digital pigeons, shot in and around London, England.    

Duncan Petrie is a London-based photographer, writer, and web developer originally from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. His work explores the presence of nature within human environments and imagines what the world might look like in our absence. Balancing humour and beauty, Duncan creates at the intersection of his many interests, blending curiosity with visual storytelling. Recently, he has focused on completing projects inspired by the indie or poetic web — an anti-corporate, deeply personal corner of the internet built from blogs, webrings, and experimental single-page sites. In 2025, Petrie exhibited in group shows at Getxophoto, the Photobook Café, and the Glasgow Gallery of Photography.

duncanpetrie.com
@probablyduncan