A Three-Dimensional Nothing A Three-Dimensional Nothing
i
Photo by Richard Horvath/Unsplash
Experiences

A Three-Dimensional Nothing

Holograms and Art
Stach Szabłowski
Reading
time 6 minutes

Holography is a dream come true, which artists have fantasized about for centuries. At the turn of the 1960s and 70s, when technological advancements enabled the creation of three-dimensional holographic images, there was the whiff of an artistic revolution, the greatest one since the invention of photography in the 19th century. Yet, the revolution never happened and it leaves one wondering why. 

People carry holograms with them every day. At least, those who use credit cards do—a small holographic image is one of its basic security features. The technology is used for reading barcodes in stores, and there is even a holographic principle, according to which the universe is… one huge hologram. Only an expert in physics could explain the exact details, but the important thing is that supposedly the proposition helps overcome the contradictions between scientific notions about the nature of the universe on a micro and macro scale. In other words, it reconciles the theory of relativity and quantum mechanics, which is no mean feat. If the universe is an enormous hologram, it’s odd they’re so rarely encountered in galleries, and that instead of admiring these unique images in museums, they usually only appear on credit cards.

An Object in Amber

The classic

Information

You’ve reached your free article’s limit this month. You can get unlimited access to all our articles and audio content with our digital subscription. If you have an active subscription, please log in.

Subscribe

Also read:

To Know Beautifully To Know Beautifully
i
Ribbons of Saharan sand dunes / NASA
Science

To Know Beautifully

Where Art and Science Meet
Szymon Drobniak

What happens when we combine science and art? Art acquires a new dimension, while numbers reveal their charm. The art and science movement is gaining popularity.

When Stefanie moves her body, data clack. On her neck there is a thick line, on the line are patches of information. Some are green, with soft, rounded shapes; others are darker, navy blue, with the sides serrated like the edges of an oak leaf. Finally, there are single patches that stick out and resemble strange bookmarks hanging from between the pages of a book: acid orange, neon bright, bristling with the spikes of a sharp zigzag. Each slice of data is the sum of a week’s measurements of fine particle air pollution, turned into the brightness and saw-edgedness of each of the shapes. The green and thornless ones represent the parts of the year with the lowest particle pollution. The ones that are thorny and tinged with fierce orange are the scraps of the year with the highest pollution level, when fine particle pollution exceeded norms, becoming a real life and health hazard for humans and other living organisms.

Continue reading