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Kevin Murray investigates why a Russian artist crochets magazine covers generated by AI.
It was a balmy 24 degrees in Moscow: the last summer day before temperatures begin to plummet. Across the city, buildings were being demolished to make way for glass towers. We picked our way through the construction detritus. Occasionally, pleas for “peace” appear on grimy walls.
Katika is taking me to her studio. I’m interested in a new body of crochet works she’s made that are taken from AI-generated covers of Japanese magazines. I’m also curious to see another side of Moscow beyond the imperial architecture along the Moskva River.
Eventually, we emerge from the rubble and find a charmed complex of artist studios, galleries and cafes. Katika orders a combination drink of iced coffee and orange juice. As a Melbournian, I note the Ethiopian Yirgacheffe coffee that fills the shelves.
We then descend underground to find her studio, filled to the rafters with crochet projects, including the series of magazine covers. How did the idea come about? Katika tells me about a childhood fascination with Japanese culture, starting with a Tamagotchi and evolving into a fan of Sailor Moon cartoons. This has evolved into a love of Asian packaging.
I have always had a dream to crochet covers of real magazines.. I tried to ask magazines in Russia to crochet their covers for free. It’s just my dream. I just like to combine the handwork and something printed. It’s digital and hand, and I like this conversation.
The magazines refused her permission to copy their covers, so she turned to AI. “Just one day, I thought, why not make my own magazine covers?” Katika used a variety of apps, starting with MidJourney, then ChatGPT and finally a Russian app called Kandinsky.
For Katika, it was a conversation between AI and craft.
I crochet very slowly. It can take days or weeks. But the generation of images is very quick. It’s just 10 seconds. I fell in love with this conversation between quick and slow.
As often happens, the generated cover has text that is unreadable. “It’s something magical, like, from another planet.”
This is just one of dozens of Katika’s projects. She occasionally exhibits her work, but some cannot be shown in public.
Crochet is a lifelong passion. “I love something repeatable.” Katika has three sets of the same black outfit that she wears every day.
Crochet something different because you have only one open loop, and it’s so comfortable. It’s like a little dance with your hands. I love it so much.
The precinct gets few foreign visitors, especially from Western countries. Katika is devastated by the current conflict in the West. AI provides Katika with a way of being connected: “I feel like I have a conversation with the world. AI brings together all humanity.”
It’s a radically different view of AI from the West, which sees it as radically anti-human. For us, AI threatens the demise of creativity, and we celebrate when we can restrict its use. But for Katika, it’s a creative process that energises the handmade by offering a freedom difficult to obtain otherwise.
Katika pursues her work with a wholesome dedication relatively isolated from mainstream culture: she is currently blacklisted by the government. And she is producing in a country that is at odds with much of the world. For makers like Katika, Garland is one of the few platforms that help them connect with others. There are many more Katikas out there whom we should support, despite our reservations about the country where they are located.
Crochet stories, not war.
About Katika
Visit katika-art.com and follow@katikaart
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