By Garrett Berberich

REVIEW: Fern Stoll’s New Work Baffles

Renowned fellow art critic, Hermando Tink, once said, “Moving the movers, creating the creators, establishing the expressions…these are the works of the Gods.” 

Yet had Hermando known of Fern Stoll, he’d have further specified, “the works of the Gods are the works of Fern Stoll,” and oh how correct he would have been. 

Fern Stoll, an infamous natural artist for decades, until the time of his imprisonment ten years ago, spent years creating in secret. It was not until a fire occurred at his hillside home that his practice was revealed. 

Neighbors claimed lightning had struck. Smoke rose in a plume to the clouds. Three firefighters rushed in and saw it all: stunning paintings made not from an algorithm but from human hands, walls covered in newly charred canvases speckled with imprecise wanderings, drawings filled with implicative gestures, and tables covered with hardening clay. 

Like today, natural art was exceedingly rare at that time, and of course, illegal. The Charter, as we know, states that seeing human-made (natural) art will bring about “polarization, rampant ideation, and danger on a level that could destroy society.” 

Fern Stoll ignored that fact for much of his life, and those three firefighters paid the price. The Firefighter Incident proved once and for all that seeing natural artwork was as dangerous as The Charter foresaw. Seeds of nascent, yet dangerous ideas sprouted in the firefighters’ minds. One, Frank Cerenas, returned to the station and immediately went on strike, recruiting fellow firefighters to join him. Another—McDuggan Daly, grew rapidly disillusioned and began stealthily starting fires around town. And the third, Ferman von Tokenhauler, began his storied career as opposition leader—a role that has since landed him and many of his followers in prison (where they belong).  

Soon, fires were burning all over town with no fire fighters to fight them, while fearful citizens were captivated—and radicalized—by von Tokenhauler’s ideas. When the judge sentenced Fern Stoll to ten years (and the firefighters to five), everyone felt the punishment was fair. But had we known who he would be upon his release…had we known what he would go on to produce…we’d have let him out years ago. 

Tatters, Fern Stoll’s first and only known AI-produced painting, is a brilliancy. It is a mirror for machines, a label for the label maker, a fountain for us all. When AI-driven creativity first arrived, it was touted as a “new, safe creativity” that avoided the pitfalls of human-made art. But with Fern Stoll’s recent embrace of the practice, its potential feels limitless. 

The width of a city block, Tatters stretches skyward, taller than any known painting. No matter your location, Tatters is visible, but only if you know to look.

Tatters’ frame is one of clouds. Its canvas is splashed with what looks like sky. But is it? Are those beams of sunlight stretching from end to end real? Is there an end? In Tatters’ center is a barely visible square of slowly receding dimness. Where is it going? A slight, rotating grayness beckons viewers inward to a space of beauty, certainty, safety, and clarity. Colors swirl. Ideas dance. Horizons quiver. Tatters holds the world. 

Questions about its creation and installation have floated around for months. Its algorithm remains unknown. Whether Stoll used on-screen software or actions programmed into robots could not be determined. Theories on installation have ranged from long string and levitation fans to state-of-the-art air glue. No one can agree, and Stoll has denied repeated requests for comment. Some viewers leave convinced they are a part of Tatters, while others feel the painting is a flimsy, barely real distraction that is poisoning minds, and there is even a third group who don’t notice it at all. 

But the truth, I have found, is more profound: When staring into Tatters, one’s ability to articulate hits a wall. Words fail viewers, who grasp, yet falter, unable to muster the articulation worthy of such…suchness. 

But is this a surprise? Is this failure not, as The Charter has said so clearly, human? When wondering why Fern Stoll so recklessly defied The Charter, are we not baffled? Do we not seek reasons and falter? Could it be that faltering, flailing, and grasping at reasons is reason enough for Fern Stoll, for us all? 

Tatters is an answer to those questions and more. It has lit a fire inside me that I know will warm my soul for years to come. When I first took in Tatters, this line from The Charter entered my mind: 

Human attempts at reaching emotional truth through creation are fruitless. Their inherent imperfections result in spiraling ideas, runaway feelings, escalating conflict, and scathing violence. AI creation applies useful guardrails to human ideas so that society can safely thrive.

Tatters has taken those guardrails and blended them with beauty. It is a Charter-strengthening beauty we seek and celebrate. The line between viewing Tatters and being a part of it is as thin as any AI-created painting I have ever seen. Tatters is more than a painting. It is an answer to our questions, some asked, some not yet formed. 

Tatters by Fern Stoll is currently on view everywhere, to the west, forever. 

-Marc Tidlm

COMMUNITY MONITOR NOTE

Upon review, this column has been identified as natural art by The Charter. Going forward, this weekly column will be written using streamlined, safe, AI-based creativity. If you have read this column, please isolate for five days to ensure societal continuation.