The Pixel Universe | Yosca Maeda

If pixels are the base units of digital experience, they are also fundamental to the collective imagination of a “born-digital” generation. Playing with the semiotics and DIY aesthetics of early video games, Yosca Maeda’s recent exhibition at NEORT++, “Afterglows,” included LED displays alongside interactive screen-based works that allowed visitors to dial down the resolution of his ludic animations and rewind to an age of 8-bit experience.

As Larva Labs’ popular CryptoPunks (2017) project attests, we are living in an age of technostalgia where people choose pixel art avatars to present their online identities. But by bringing pixel art into the physical space of the gallery, Yosca Maeda is relocating it from the world of commercial illustration and expanding the frame of contemporary art. In this conversation, the artist otherwise known as mae discusses the power of pixels to awaken memories in his audience.

NIINOMI: Today, we’re discussing Yosca Maeda’s solo exhibition “Afterglows” joined by the artist alongside Alex Estorick, who co-curated the previous exhibition at NEORT, “Patterns of Flow.” 

‍Alex Estorick: Maeda-san, you may not remember, but we wanted to include you as part of an exhibition at Unit in London called “The Pixel Generation.” Sadly, we weren’t able to make it happen in the end, but I’m happy to be here to talk with you about your collaboration with NEORT.

‍N: Your solo show has been very well received, attracting many visitors. How do you reflect on the exhibition now that it has concluded?

‍Yosca Maeda: Overall, I feel a great sense of relief that we achieved something meaningful. Our success was due to several factors. First, the challenge of presenting digital expressions in a physical exhibition space. Then, seeing visitors’ reactions and feeling their genuine enjoyment at being able to interact with the works, which connected to their own memories and prompted a warm emotional response.

‍N: One notable feature was the intuitive mechanism by which visitors were able to alter the works’ resolution by turning a dial. The relationship between the digital and physical works also sparked numerous discussions. What do you remember of your conversations with visitors?

‍YM: We often discussed why the digital medium is so important to me. Digital media have an intangible quality, which is very significant to me because my motifs are memories and recollections, which are themselves intangible. This aspect translates purely into the artwork such that one can feel the duality of digital existence. 

‍AE: One of the things I find interesting about NEORT is that, from the very beginning, the gallery has sought to join together digital and physical worlds of experience into one hybrid space. Not only do we experience your works online but we can also interact with screen-based and LED-based works simultaneously. 

Historically, pixel art involved a granular process of building up worlds pixel by pixel, color by color, particle by particle somewhat like a mosaic or micromosaic. With your interactive works, the audience can alter the resolution of the world that they are experiencing such that an animation gives way to a concrete, low-resolution still. You’ve made a calculated decision to simplify your motifs rather than render them as seamless and illusionistic. To me, your focus on the DIY aspect of digital art coupled with your interest in memory captures the essence of a kind of technostalgic longing for early game aesthetics and retro tech that is widespread right now. 

‍YM: The inspiration for what I call my art devices was the act of turning. I saw potential in that action, derived from music boxes, which have this nostalgic quality. I focused on the physicality of turning something, which can be seen as giving it your own energy, preparing it for playback or indeed rewinding it and, in the process, exploring within yourself. With wind-up toys, there is always the excitement of what is going to happen. The same is true of musical devices that use dials — one feels compelled to take action, knowing that something will happen when you make contact. 

Humans all have their own relationship to the act of turning. Creating a point of connection can bring digital elements closer to our own natural sensibilities. 

‍AE: I love the idea of dialing forward and backward, which feels like a sculptural gesture that reflects our endlessly looping, dare I say, postmodern experience where we might walk into the street and encounter styles from the 1970s, from the 1990s, and 2025 all at once. Right now, It feels like we experience the world with history flattened. Your works allow your audiences to play with memory as a visual feedback loop. In the last few years, generative pixel art has increased in popularity, partly due to the introduction by Kim Asendorf of pixel sorting. How have you incorporated a generative component into these works?

‍YM: Well, these works are hybrids that combine generative elements with my own manual work during the process of interaction. I wasn’t especially conscious of current trends. Rather, I was focused on connecting to my own intuition. When you turn the dial, you cede control and things start to break down, creating an unstable state. I’m visualizing sensory experiences, and although it might seem like I’m showing a definitive answer, that’s not actually the case. 

My work exists in the elusive space between breakdown, reconstruction, and decomposition. While the content I create is personal, speaking through my own memories also resonates with others.

‍N: Many artists use pixelation as a visual expression of enjoyment or because they appreciate retro aesthetics. But what is the essential reason for expressing your work through pixels?

‍YM: Well, it connects to the exhibition’s title, “Afterglows.” The image I wanted to convey is like exploring the light that lies deep within oneself. I often encounter themes for my work by scooping up tiny particles of light within my inner darkness, piecing together inner landscapes or fragments of memories.

I see pixels as atoms of digital light. I connect them one by one, filling in space rather than creating everything at once. It’s like tracing a dialogue within myself.

Rather than focusing on material details, it’s about capturing the impressions that flash through my mind. Pixels are a very direct means of self-expression. People might see them as nostalgic, calling to mind video games or mosaics, but, for me, it’s about expressing inner emotions, inner light. The process is similar to solving a puzzle, but it’s even more challenging because you’re building something without knowing the final form.

‍AE: When you’re working at the level of the pixel, you’re using the basic material of the digital world to reconstruct reality. Artists such as Jodi and Cory Arcangel are celebrated for their modification of old video games, while many pixel artists such as eBoy, who have had great success with commercial commissions, have tended to remain outside an art world frame. What does pixel art mean to you?

‍YM: It’s a deep and complex question. 

Rather than simply pixelating existing things to make them cute or interesting, I want to focus on how the feelings inside me can be expressed through minimal elements.

Pixels are created in the process of pursuing these essential qualities. When viewers experience the works and are able to recall their own true nature or essential feelings through them, I think it becomes a socially meaningful expression.

‍AE: In the process of expressing your inner world you also turn to familiar types — ghosts, cats, fish — which are both personal and universal symbols. According to Ruth Catlow, art on the blockchain has always been about “translocal” communities coming together according to shared interests rather than shared geography. Throughout the show at NEORT, visitors from all over the world have left their responses on the monitor by the entrance. Have any of their insights stayed with you?

‍YM: Well, since I create from what exists within me, how it will resonate is always unknown. When viewers speak of my works both past and present, they often say: “this reminded me of something” or “this memory came back to me.” My work isn’t about making what people might like but rather projecting my own feelings onto each object. When these feelings connect through the artwork, that communication creates warmth. 

To speak to someone’s memories using your own memories is the most direct way to make a connection.