So goes Ray Bradbury's haunting 1950 short story, in which technology incessantly, futilely grapples against nature after human extinction. But what about today? How can we relate to technology (and vice versa)? In this Opp Now exclusive, four Bay Area art professors parse the delicate distinction between “authentic” vs. “technical.”

Greg Niemeyer, UC Berkeley, data art and media innovation professor:

First, I want to clarify that the technical and the authentic are not exclusive concepts. A piano performance of Beethoven's 7h Symphony by Igor Levit, for example, is a convergence of technical elements (such as the piano itself) and the authentic experience of the interpreter, which makes every performance unique.

In my own work, the visual rendering of climate data is both highly technical and authentic as well. Each time I look at air quality data, I feel the weight of wildfire smoke and the sense of an unstable future, and when I look at commuter data, I feel how grand it is that we get together every day to accomplish another step in constructing, ideally, a better future for all. So I find joy in the notion that we can merge the technical with the authentic through our work.

Synchronicity is a Bay Area landscape painting. Instead of paint, I use data about how the landscape changes, in this case from the summer solstice 2023 to the summer solstice 2024. This reminds us that we all come together every day under the same sky, on the same ground, to achieve the promise of better futures for all.

[Editor's note: The Synchronicity project can be viewed here, or view of the tower here.]

Christina Krzaszczak, Foothill College graphics and interactive design instructor:

Interactive walls featuring designs like butterfly wings, peacock feathers, or scenes from video games are popping up around the Bay Area, showcasing the transformative power of art in engaging audiences. These installations invite individuals to step in and become part of the artwork, creating unique moments that blend the authenticity of in-person engagement with the amplified reach of social media sharing.

This dynamic highlights a compelling conflict: the genuine, unfiltered human experience coexists with the curated, often filtered digital world. By bridging these two realms, the murals foster a sense of community, where in-person connection sparks broader conversations online, and art becomes a living, evolving medium. Ultimately, they reveal that each interaction—whether intimate or mediated—adds depth to the story, celebrating both our shared humanity and the ways technology reshapes how we connect with art and each other.

Celia Stahr, University of San Francisco art history adjunct professor:

Allie Mae Burroughs looks us straight in the eyes. Those thin tightened lips of anguish and her cropped position in front of the slatted wood façade convey the confinement of poverty. Walker Evans’s photograph of Allie Mae came to represent the harsh realities of the Depression for working-class Americans.

In 1981, Sherrie Levine rephotographed Evan’s photo of Allie Mae from a catalogue and exhibited it as her own. It was simply titled After Walker Evans. In doing so, she asks us to question where we derive our concepts of originality and authenticity? For modern male artists, creating original art established them as geniuses. With Evans’s ability to make multiple photos of Allie Mae from one negative, Levine asks, which one constitutes the original? Is Levine’s photo of a photo any less real or authentic?

Just as Levine’s work asks us to question our assumptions around concepts of gender, originality, and authenticity, today, we grapple with questions of “what’s real? What’s fake?” We see this on the political stage and on the Silicon Valley stage of AI and other technologies that blur the distinctions between our “real” lives and our “online” lives. Levine inserted herself into a tradition of male modernism to raise important questions about the status quo.

Sarah Mills, San Jose State University art history assistant professor:

Kate Hartman is a wearables designer based at the Ontario College of Art and Design in Toronto. Hartman directs the University’s Social Body Lab which focuses on wearables that are body-centric and generate prosocial behaviors amongst people in a shared physical space. One of the Lab’s wearables is a set of wings, Monarch V2, which rest on the shoulders and flutter when triggered by a muscle sensor on the arm.

Imagine any winged animal you’ve seen take off by moving their wings rapidly in space. The sensation produces excitement, anticipation, and perhaps euphoria. We link movement to emotion. Our own bodies experience and convey emotion through movement, such as when we dance or our heart beats quicker. Our emotions are an essential part of who we are; and expressing them, uniquely, conveys our own subjectivities or how we define ourselves.

Interestingly, it is an advanced electronic circuit and programmed code (in the Lilypad Arduino) combined with the technical language of weaving and knitting in the wearable that have made this type of self-authentication possible.

Follow Opportunity Now on Twitter @svopportunity

Go deeper:

Opp Now enthusiastically welcomes smart, thoughtful, fair-minded, well-written comments from our readers. But be advised: we have zero interest in posting rants, ad hominems, poorly-argued screeds, transparently partisan yack, or the hateful name-calling often seen on other local websites. So if you've got a great idea that will add to the conversation, please send it in. If you're trolling or shilling for a candidate or initiative, forget it.

☆ The voice-clock ticked on, repeating and repeating its sounds into the emptiness... (part 2)

Go deeper:

home | blog | about | contact | special reports | regional housing tax | donate

☆ The voice-clock ticked on, repeating and repeating its sounds into the emptiness... (part 2)

Go deeper:

Sign up to receive updates on Opp Now articles