The Realization Triptych is a collection of three influential works created during the Realization Era (1986-2006). Though the pieces were created separately and without the intent to be considered as a group, art historians believe when combined, the three encapsulate both the social and artistic zeitgeist of the time.
The first piece of the triptych is Surprise Egg Journey by Cortexist Enflame. Surprise Egg Journey is a mix of charcoal and resin-based printer ink on a 20 mile-long piece of canvas fabric. The painting depicts a humanoid silhouette crossing a landscape; this silhouette reappears every mile. The landscape is initially a natural one, resembling a pre-Mechanoid Northeastern region. Cortexist exhibits their botanical knowledge through a vast array of accurately depicted trees. They put great care specifically into their depiction of Taxus baccata: the English yew tree. At the 6 mile mark, the trees suddenly disperse, and the painting takes a sharp turn into the ethereal. The scenery becomes formless and fluid; this is where the printer ink takes center stage, as Cortexist puts their mastery of pen control proudly on display.
The remaining five miles have a unique texture to them that manages to feel smooth, yet bumpy. Those who have been able to feel the canvas have described it as rubbing a waxy piece of steel. Visually, the texture mimics a rubbed impression of some sort of concrete or pebble pathway, overlayed with a glossy finish. Cortexist achieved this effect by slicing one end of the charcoal diagonally and dipping the tip into ink. Once inked, they rubbed the charcoal against a piece of sandpaper. The result is a thin, smooth film perforated with charcoal shavings. This effect continues until the very end of the canvas, where the figure enters a building that is presumed to be a grocery store.
At the time of its creation in 1987, critics praised Cortexist’s usage of value. The Plenitude Era (1970-1985) was punctuated by its incredible and near excessive usage of color- for an artist to produce a fully grayscale piece with such precision was seen as a nostalgic resurrection of pre-Plenitude styles. Additionally, Surprise Egg Journey’s biological themes were well received. While such a theme is seen as gauche in modern times, Cortexist was seen as a visionary for their ability to tastefully portray an emerging social issue in an impactful way. The sun, initially portrayed as a simple celestial body, begins to deform as it makes its way across the canvas. It flattens out and starts to resemble a uterine egg. The egg undergoes mitosis. At the cusp of anaphase, the sun disappears completely. When it reappears, it has split into two. The plants in the final five-mile long stretch of the painting have creases and folds reminiscent of a human brain. The yew tree, once accurate to life, now resembles a sprawling dendrite.
Surprise Egg Journey is considered the genesis of the long-standing debate between art naturalists and art futurists. Cortexist received a fair amount of criticism for the length of the piece. It was viewed as gimmicky, and a result of robotic ability alone; a 20 mile tapestry with such detail could not be accomplished within a human’s lifespan. In 1990, Cortexist admitted that they used bot programming to render the stars present in miles 6 through 15. Naturalists used this as further evidence that art made by robots should exist as its own genre, rather than be considered traditional art. Futurists argued that this actually adds more philosophical merit to the piece. Surprise Egg Journey is currently on display at The Ditch Museum in Enuma Peak.
The second piece of the triptych is Mirekind’s 1997 historical fiction novel Occam. Mirekind herself was emblematic of the changing views on casual names. Throughout most of her life, she referred to herself as Uesseb Mirekind- however, Occam was the first work from the author in which she dropped her first name. She would do this once again for Occam Revised, the less-discussed sequel to Occam. However, she went back to using the Uesseb Mirekind moniker for future releases. This context leads many to further interpret the book as an ironic rejection of the rising popularity of medicialcentricism.
The plot follows an older robot named Gizmo as he tries to enter the organ inheritance business. Built entirely of scrap, he is cynical and aloof- many of his interactions are defined by his inability to understand the emotions of others. He takes on the role of an impartial observer throughout the book. Gizmo meets Gusson, a human with temporal lobe epilepsy. Gusson is looking to give his brain to a robot so he may live on. However, he is hesitant to allow Gizmo this privilege; he would prefer a doctor receive his brain. In arguably one of the most well-known scenes in the book, Gusson says:
“A doctor is a doctor- a physician with a winding list of maladies in his own head! Complimenting my own brain, riddled and addled, compacted with riddles of neurological nature, our walls can be fortified- and within the walls of our castle, this doctor and I, we will rule a land until the end of what is linear! Who is Ozwald, if not wretchedly in love with Queen Mandias? I couldn’t expect you to know: and that is the issue, here.”
Gizmo decides he must become a doctor. Over the course of the book, it is revealed that the robot needs an inheritance so he may receive an upgrade that is typically incredibly expensive, but free to those who choose to inherit. After Gizmo’s first conversation with Gusson, the novel mostly consists of vignettes taking place in the heyday of the Plenitude Era. He encounters humans and robots alike and analyzes their interactions. As he learns more about medicine, the analyses focus less on the interactions, but more on what is happening in the bodies of the conversation's participants. Ultimately, Gusson gives his brain to Gizmo. As Gizmo receives his upgrade, the light from the blowtorch causes him to have a fatal seizure. The final sentence reads:
“And the good Doctor Gizmo, as his brain and circuits aligned themselves to dam the scenic flow of the Cleft, thought of life as cruel.”
The response to the novel was mixed for many reasons. For one, Mirekind’s prose has been described as eclectic and rambly; many attribute this to her esoteric ideas that tend to be poorly developed upon. Some saw Gizmo as too cartoonishly robotic for a novel that tries to aim for a serious tone, while others saw the portrayal as thematically fitting. The most famous criticism, however, is Mirekind’s lack of understanding of epilepsy. Medical professionals pointed out that a seizure would not only not cause instant brain death, but it would certainly not be able to fry a robot’s circuitry. Occam unintentionally caused a wave of panic among biotics with brains so severe that lobotomy cases jumped from 2% in 1996 to 11% in 1998. The Empyrean Biotic Institute had the book banned for a year, and all profits Mirekind made were used to fund an anti-lobotomy media campaign. Regardless, Occam is considered a modern classic that is still studied today.
The final piece of the triptych is The Construction of Theia, created by Launder. The best way to describe Theia is as a mixed-media sculpture. Two blank pieces of canvas sandwich a roughly six foot tall, four foot wide brick of bronze. The front piece of canvas has a simple heart shape cut into it. The section revealed by the heart cut-out is slightly tarnished, though this was not initially apart of the statue. The back piece has a series of small rectangles stacked vertically on top of each other in a way that resembles a spine. The inner side of the back canvas is marked with 33 tally marks.
The sculpture is deceptively expensive: the bronze brick ultimately cost around one million dollars to construct. This price tag was not Launder’s choice, however; Theia was created in response to the ruling of the Pleroma v. Empyrean case. Though bronze had been banned for personal augmentation purposes, it had not been banned for construction. Launder spent one year seeking out scrap bronze from defunct offices, construction sites, and illegal shops. Once the materials were compiled, they spent six months molding the bronze into a perfect cube. The heat used to mold the sculpture was generated by Launder themselves, via high voltage resistors Launder had embedded into their hands. This allowed them to directly manipulate the bronze. On the day Theia was unveiled, Launder was heavily fined by the Empyrean for theft of important materials.