Dear MOCA: Why Is Losing Async.Art Such a Big Deal?
In so many words...
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Dear MOCA,
I’m somewhat new to crypto art, and I see so many OG artists and collectors really upset by the announced closure of Async.Art this week. I know a bit about Async because of the Forever Supper drop they did a few months ago, but why were they so important? People are really upset about this closure in a way I haven’t seen before when other projects or platforms have had to shutdown.
Sincerely,
Asking About Async
Dear Asking About Async,
A very good and very pertinent question, considering this week’s events. It’s admittedly difficult to answer it fully because —and this is among the most important points I’ll make today— Async.Art’s influence was so powerful and so widespread amongst so many artists. If we’re to discuss with any expediency all the reasons why Async.Art’s loss is so monumental, we will inevitably leave out important parts not only of its own narrative, but the narrative of so many who were involved in it. That alone might begin to communicate the breadth of Async’s legacy. As a forerunning platform that was instrumental in developing innovative and interactive tools that centralized the blockchain’s place in artistry, Async had a palpable effect not just on crypto art culture, not just on crypto artist careers, but on the very art itself. If crypto art’s is a wildly beating heart, then Async.Art was one of its main arteries, one now severed.
So perhaps that helps explain why there’s blood everywhere, so to speak.
I don’t want to get too in the weeds about Async’s actual product offerings —I’d rather focus on their implications on general crypto art— but it’s worth briefly revisiting some of the remarkable products they offered.
Like, for example, the unprecedented level of artistic dynamism Async afforded to artists by allowing the tokenization of “Master” and “Layer” artworks. Essentially, you could collect the one “Master” artwork, but alongside the Master artwork were a number of “Layers,” which could be collected separately. These “Layers” were essentially small packs of aesthetic details that could be cycled between at their collector’s discretion, and whichever Layer was chosen would appear ultimately in the Master artwork. On Async’s explainer page for this functionality, you’ll find a little animated demonstration designed by Alotta Money, which is awesome, especially coming from an artist who often used Async for his own brilliant artwork. I’ve included it here:
Colborn brought this up on our Current Events podcast the other day, but the Master/Layer dichotomy basically transferred control over an artwork’s appearance from the artist to its collectors. Sometimes this meant artworks would cycle between a few different aesthetic states, like with Carlos Marcial’s The Memorial (2020) where the Master artwork’s central object —a gun wrapped in Fiat currency— could reflect various world currencies, from the Chinese Yen to USD to the Venezuelan Bolivar, depending on the whims of its layer-owner. Other times, as in untitledxyz’ Form Farm (2021) for example, there were dozens of collectible layers each containing dozens of various choices, leading to a completely unpredictable Master artwork that boasted trillions of possible appearances.
And then there was Async Blueprints, a generative artwork service which combined the gamification of trait-focused PFPs with actual capital-A artwork, and presented them to collectors in an environment where traits generated in real time, as if you were watching slot machine symbols spin by before your eyes. It was also, from what I understand, easy to use regardless of one’s coding background. One of the first crypto art projects I ever felt compelled to collect, Mr. Richi’s Money Laundering (2021), emerged from Async Blueprints, as did projects by XCOPY, Coldie, Alotta Money, HairofMedusa, Osinachi, Kristy Glas, hundreds of artists more —and their art!!— benefitting in ways big and small from this seemingly-simple little innovation.
Add in the fact that Async encouraged and hosted artworks which updated dynamically based on the time of day (more on this in a bit), and you can start to sniff Async’s central mission: To break down the door of blockchain artistry and allow everyone —artists, collectors, momentary admirers— to gaze upon the treasures behind it.
Because at Async’s core were two entrenched values: accessibility and creativity. To those engaged with early crypto art —at a time when royalties were first being widely challenged (the famous Matt-Kane-led “Minimum 10% NFT Royalties – Letter to Platforms” demanding the standardization of 10% royalties was written around the same time Async incorporated, in February of 2020)— here was a platform created by an OG crypto art figure —Conlan Rios, Cryptovoxels royalty and vaunted collector— that not only offered a thoughtful and well-curated blog (with explorations of various artworks written by Lisa Liang, Sam Brukhman, William M. Peaster, and Conlan himself, among others), but a massively innovative and layperson-friendly toolkit. It should come as no surprise that one of the capital-G Great collaborations in crypto art history was compiled, minted, and hosted on Async.Art. I am of course talking about First Supper (2020), which featured 22 layers and 13 artists. I included it in last week’s “Dear MOCA,” coincidentally, but it’s worth seeing again in all its glory.
So that’s the background. That’s the nitty-gritty of what Async was. But the most important possible point is that Async was always there. Async was an stalwart collaborative vehicle, and Conlan is as true a steward of crypto art’s values and legacy as anyone in the space. Of course there’s this great outpouring of grief after Async’s announcement; countless artists had personal experience with the platform, they saw how it allowed their own art to expand. As both collector and writer, I have stared more than once in amazement at Async artworks, I have explored the platform’s many features, I have had my own eyes opened to the dynamism possible in crypto art’s highest expressions. Obviously, you can’t encode my visitations on-chain, but I’ve watched seen all 24 aesthetic states contained within Manards’ A Day of Soft Construction (2020), changing every hour on the hour. I have done so with Sundial (2021) by VansDesign. I have watched Genesis (2020) by James Fox flood with brilliant reds and greens, only to be consumed by black-and-white chiaroscuro on its twice-daily state change. I could mention Right Place & Right Time (2020) by Matt Kane, which changes composition each day based on the previous 24-hours of Bitcoin price volatility, and I could mention many many others. Regrettably, we only have so much time, and this newsletter only so many words.
My point is that Async has, since its inception, represented the very best of what crypto art has to offer. The artists who minted on Async were routinely among crypto art’s most forward-thinking and thoughtful. The art minted there was among the most cutting-edge examples of modern digital art. With Async, we could show the unenlightened normie world what this most innovative of art movements was capable of expressing when imaginations were unleashed and the blockchain demystified.
The loss of Async.Art is almost Biblically symbolic.
It makes us think “Well, if Async can’t persevere in perpetuity, how can I?”
It makes us wonder glumly why attention and income and acclaim in our space is so rarely directed towards those who most deserve it.
If Async.Art was the best of us, then even the best of us are not inoculated against the perils of an extended bear market. And these are hard understandings to internalize, and they make the recent rise in crypto prices seem dull and pointless by comparison, because what does all this success, all this money, all this expansion into new territories represent if we are no longer joined on this journey by the best among us? I have no answers for now, nor will I pretend to. I only know that the process of finding out is going to hurt. It already hurts. It hurts a lot of us.
I am confident however —if it is any consolation— that Async.Art will be celebrated eternally for its place as a most vital link in the chain that is crypto art’s history. Async so instrumentally demonstrated this movement at its most creative and effervescent, and it will not be soon forgotten, will not ever be forgotten. It is too deeply entangled with the most majestic moments and members of our community. If crypto art is to wind-up well-studied one day, which I firmly believe it will, then Async.Art will be well-studied along with it. Async.Art’s memory will never be allowed down from the high pedestal upon which it sits. Of that I am confident, so long as we all bear the responsibility of upholding Async’s values, which luckily are our values too. So few things are within our control in this wacky, jagged crypto art world, but that certainly is.
Nevertheless, it sucks massively that from here on out, we will have to navigate forward without Async.Art’s steadied influence and horizon-seeking eye. It will be hard not to daily feel the brunt of that loss.
Which might be why everyone is taking this so hard. And why we might continue to do so for a long, long time.
I hope that answers your question.
- Your Friendly Neighborhood Digital Art Museum,
MOCA