A school of art

The Open
Standard A method anyone can run — not a look anyone should copy.

An art movement often devolves into a look. This one is a process: a fixed operation anyone can run, with open slots you fill with your own material and your own choices.

A jazz standard — a tune everyone knows and nobody owns. The changes are fixed; the performance is yours.
An open standard — a published spec anyone can implement without permission.

A lot of art movements have had similar rules baked into their process — Jazz and Hip Hop specifically. But a question arises: if Hip Hop and Jazz have sampling and mixing different styles built into the process, why does so much of it sound the same?

We believe that in most art movements success gets gauged financially. Whatever artist seems most successful financially becomes the new prototype for the movement — the model other artists try to emulate. We want to focus on the process of art making itself. The measure of success should be the art's own growth and the artist's fulfillment. Financial success can never be promised in any art movement. The goal is to create something meaningful for you, the artist. Our wager is that the best way to make something meaningful for other people is to make something meaningful for yourself.

You don't join by making work that resembles anyone else's. You join by running the operation and giving something back.

FIG. 1

The operation is a loop

Most methods run in a straight line: gather, make, finish. This one closes back on itself. What comes out becomes what goes in — which is the single feature that keeps it a living language instead of a hardening style.

CONTENT yours · carried FORM inherited · dismantled LAYER PAST LEGIBILITY SOMETHING SURFACES unattributable DILATE ON IT FEED BACK AS INHERITED MATERIAL → the output becomes the next input
The seven fixed steps as one cycle. Two streams feed a stack that is layered past the point of legibility; an unattributable emergence surfaces from the density; you dilate on it rather than guarding it; and — the closing move — it re-enters the operation as new inherited material. The dashed vermilion path is the whole difference between a language and a style.
§ 01

The Fixed Core

Seven things. Remove any one and it isn't this method anymore. Each carries its reason, because a spec you understand is one you can deviate from intelligently.

STEP 1

Two streams, both changing

Content is your experience, your dreams, the ideas you're interested in. You can also choose to explore your accumulated symbols — some inherited from your culture, some picked up almost at random and then invested with meaning. Some people identify with their horoscope sign; some have a favorite color, or animal, anything you've identified with to the point where it's almost a personal totem. It might be meaningful for you to explore these. Examine who you think you are and why you think you are this identity. Examine your thinking. Why do you think the way you think?

Form is the machinery you say it with — inherited from what you've absorbed and from traditions you deliberately take up, and eventually including your own output fed back in. Every art — visual art, music, literature, dance — has styles, whether they're movements or recognizable forms from individual authors. Sample what is most meaningful to you, and combine what's meaningful from different movements and authors to try to make something new. This sampling and recombining doesn't need to stay strictly within one movement. If you're a visual artist you might learn something from a dance form or a poetic form that you can translate into visual art, and it might turn into a breakthrough. The Z-Boys skate crew revolutionized skateboarding by bringing surfing's language into it. Merce Cunningham did the same thing in the other direction, importing chance procedures from John Cage's music into choreography — deciding the order of movements by coin toss, so a compositional idea from music became a new grammar for dance.

Why Neither stream stays put. Form changes because you're dismantling it on purpose. But content changes too: naming a feeling alters it, and a symbol you've carried for years is no longer the experience it came from. The streams aren't a taxonomy to enforce; they bleed into each other. The practical reason to notice which is which: form is what you're dismantling deliberately, content is what's being changed whether you meant it to or not.
How personal symbols form You don't really choose them, even when you think you did. Something catches — an object, an image, an animal, a shape — and you can't say why. Plenty of other things were equally available and didn't take. Choose is the wrong word; it implies a conscious act, and there wasn't one. Any reason you give for why a symbol matters is almost certainly a story assembled afterward. So your content doesn't really arrive by decision — you find it by noticing what keeps returning without being summoned.
A note on drawing from life This is a tradition, not an exemption from tradition. Egyptian relief, Renaissance modeling, Impressionist optics, Fleischer animation — each is a system for turning observation into a visual language, and each came from people looking at the world. Working from a subject in front of you means working through one of those systems, named or not. So observation is a layer like any other. What it can't be is the only layer. One language patiently practiced is that language, however well done.
STEP 2

The source degrades

Somewhere in the pipeline, the identity of what you took must break down.

Why This is the line between this method and every tradition that handles sources by preserving them — quotation, homage, sampling, appropriation. Those work by recognition: the viewer is meant to catch the reference, and the meaning lives in the gap between source and use. That's a rich tradition and it isn't this one. Here, recognition is failure. If the source survives intact, the work is about the source. Degradation is what makes it about what you did instead.
STEP 3

Layer past legibility, until something surfaces that you didn't put in

Keep accumulating past the point where you can trace what came from where. Eventually something appears that isn't traceable to any source — not borrowed, not quotation, just there, and it feels like you.

Why These are one event seen from either end. Surfacing is a density effect — nothing unattributable emerges from a thin stack, because with three layers you can still name all three. The labor and the payoff aren't separate steps; the first is the mechanism of the second. What surfaces isn't borrowed and isn't quotation — it's just there, and it feels like you. This is also where nearly everyone quits, because work looks finished long before it's accumulated enough, and the layering feels like wasted effort right up until it stops being wasted. You can't schedule the surfacing. It arrives on its own timeline, often after years. The only thing you control is whether there's enough material for it to arrive from.
STEP 4

Dilate on it, don't protect it

Lean in. Repeat it deliberately, at scale, in different places. Find out what it can do.

Why What surfaces first is a hint, not a finding — too small to build on until you've tested its range. Dilation is how you learn whether you've got a move or an accident. And the instinct to preserve it carefully, untouched, is exactly wrong: an unexamined discovery stays a curiosity.
STEP 5

Feed it back as inherited material

Treat the new thing as form. Chop it and run the operation again.

Why This is what makes it a language rather than a style, and it's the most important step. A style is what happens when you stop at Step 4 and guard the discovery — you find something that works, repeat it, and within a few years you're producing a product. Feeding your own output back in means the method keeps eating and keeps producing, and what it produces keeps changing while staying recognizably yours. It's the built-in defense against calcification — which ended or hardened every movement in the historical record.
STEP 6

The work has authority over the plan

Start with an intention if you want. Don't hold it against the evidence.

Why A fixed intention is what prevents Step 3. If you've decided what the work means before making it, you'll read everything that surfaces as either serving the plan or failing it — and the unattributable thing gets filtered out as a mistake, because from inside a plan that's exactly what it looks like. Meaning emerging during making isn't mysticism. It's what happens when you leave interpretation open long enough for the material to say something you hadn't thought of. It's fine to start a piece with an intention — an idea, a concept, an image in your head you want to get down. What this step says is that you might find, in the making, that you actually said something different, that the image came out other than planned. That is worth your consideration.
STEP 7

Give something back binding

How and how much is your decision. But part of this movement is for you, the artist, to give of yourself to something larger than yourself. Give back to the community.

Why Two arguments, and you only need one. First: everything you use was handed to you by people who mostly weren't paid for it, and a method built entirely on inheritance that returns nothing is parasitic on its own premise. Second, for anyone unmoved by the first: if your work has any impact, people will take from it regardless — the choice isn't whether that happens, only whether you're in the conversation when it does. There's a structural reason too: Step 5 works at community scale only if material is actually circulating for people to feed back in.
§ 02

The Slots

Each slot lists known fillings. The lists are open. Inventing a new filling is in-language — it's the most in-language thing you can do.

SLOT 1

Source handling

Fixed: the source degrades.  Open: where and how.
Preserved
Transformed
Dissolved

One dial. Work at the preserved end and degradation must happen later, through layering volume.

  • Working from memory / visual library — study intensively; work without direct reference. When you need a form — an eye, a mouth, a hand — you reach for the remembered version. Memory is lossy, so what you produce is already a step from what you saw. This isn't a technique for degrading sources; it's improvising with what you've internalized, and most of the dissolution comes from layering, not from this step. (Lineage: Lecoq de Boisbaudran's memory drawing — pupils included Rodin and Fantin-Latour. In concept-art pedagogy the internalized store is the "visual library.")
  • Direct observation — working from life.
  • Direct reference — photo, model, object present.
  • Tracing, grid transfer, projection — maximum preservation at intake.
  • Collage / assemblage — source physically present and recognizable.
  • Sampling and chopping — the fragment moved intact, then cut.
  • Détournement — source recognizable, meaning hijacked.
  • Contrafact — keep the underlying structure, replace the surface. (Bebop's move: a new melody over "I Got Rhythm" changes.)
  • Constructive drawing — forms built from internalized structure, no reference at all.
  • Chance and process techniques — frottage, decalcomania, glitch, automatism; the source becomes a texture generator.
A hazard — cryptomnesia Working from memory carries a known failure mode: you encounter something, forget you encountered it, later produce it, and believe you invented it. Jung wrote about it; George Harrison lost a lawsuit over it. It's the inverse of what this method wants — the same memory degradation, but it erases attribution while leaving the content mostly intact. This method wants the reverse: content dissolved, awareness kept. So when something surfaces and feels new, ask whether it's unattributable or just unremembered. You won't always be able to tell. Asking still matters — more, the more your work circulates.
SLOT 2

Chopping unit

How small, and along what axis — formal elements, gestures, marks, passages, whole structural moves. The test: if a viewer can still name the source, cut smaller.

SLOT 3

Accumulation tempo

Fast and many, or slow and few and thick. A DJ set accumulates in an hour; a drawing practice accumulates over years. Both run the operation.

SLOT 4

Layer transparency

Do prior layers stay visible or get buried? Palimpsest or opacity.

SLOT 5

Who layers

Solo accretion. Other artists' hands. Environment, weather, decay, time. Machine processes. Audience.

SLOT 6

Feedback interval

How fast Step 5 recycles — immediately within a piece, or after a whole body of work.

SLOT 7

Give-back form

Fixed: you give back.  Open: how, how much, to whom.
  • Releasing work — free at full resolution; free at reduced resolution with paid full; free after a delay; source files, layered files, stems, brushes, presets, samples; public-domain dedication or licensed release.
  • Teaching and documenting — teaching the method; tutorials and process breakdowns; mentorship and apprenticeship; critique.
  • Circulating others — documenting and promoting other artists (see the note below); publishing others through zines, compilations, mixtapes, small press, group shows; writing about peers; curation and jury work; passing on work you can't take; sharing open calls.
  • Infrastructure and material — trading work; running or hosting spaces; shared studios, tool libraries, print co-ops; maintaining archives, forums, wikis; buying other artists' work; donating work for fundraising.
  • Coordinated giving — scheduled community giving days, on the Free Comic Book Day model, where a shared date creates audience no individual could generate alone.

A small note on giving back that involves someone else's work: There's no reliable way to predict what a given artist wants done with documentation of their work — it varies by person. Act on your best judgment, then watch how they respond, and if they push back, take their view over your own policy. Some artists won't want you documenting their gallery show, or their work at all. However you feel about it, try to honor that artist's wishes. A gift that can't be refused isn't a gift. (This is specifically about giving back to the community. Criticism runs by different rules — the critic's role is worth examining, but that's a separate conversation.)

SLOT 8

Licensing — the legal shape of Slot 7

  • CC0 — public-domain dedication, no attribution, maximum gift.
  • CC BY — free use including commercial, attribution required. The workhorse open license.
  • CC BY-SA — attribution plus ShareAlike; derivatives inherit the license. Keeps the commons open, but "derivative" is fuzzy for visual work and enforcement is impractical.
  • CC BY-NC — noncommercial only. Popular, but the clause is intent-based and genuinely ambiguous, and mostly burdens small reusers rather than large ones.
  • ND variants — no derivatives. Available, but poorly matched to a remix-based school.
  • All rights reserved — for the work you sell.
The practical answer Dual licensing. CC licenses are non-exclusive, so free public release and separate paid commercial licensing coexist. Two things to know first: CC licenses are irrevocable for copies already released, and free release alone has never sustained anyone. The open-source record is blunt — roughly 60% of maintainers are unpaid, and burnout, not piracy, is the failure mode. Attach a named income stream to whatever you give away.
§ 03

How it differs from the schools before it

Every movement can be drawn as a shape. The Open Standard's shape is a loop that feeds itself. Set beside its nearest relatives, the difference is visible before it's argued. Its two closest kin — Oulipo and Fluxus — are also the two longest-lived, because in both the method travels without the master. Neither, though, closes the loop.

OPEN STANDARD output → input feeds itself · never closes HIP HOP flow · layering · rupture OULIPO constraint rule fixed · escape by clinamen FLUXUS / LeWITT score one instruction · many realizations DADA / SURREAL chance · the unconscious CUBISM one motif · many viewpoints
Six shapes. Only the Open Standard turns its own output back into input; the others move a source or a rule through the work and stop. Hip hop recombines but keeps sources legible on purpose. Oulipo fixes a rule and licenses one deviation. Fluxus issues an instruction others realize. Dada and Surrealism trust chance and the unconscious. Cubism fractures a single viewpoint. The loop is the claim.
Where each movement sits on source-traceability PRESERVED TRANSFORMED DISSOLVED Samplinghip hop Readymade Détournement Papier collécubism Automatismsurrealism Memory /visual library THE OPEN STANDARD — you pick the setting; only the endpoint of "must degrade" is fixed
The source-handling slot as a shared axis. Other movements each occupy a fixed position — sampling preserves, memory dissolves. The Open Standard doesn't pick a point; it hands you the dial and requires only that the needle end past legibility somewhere in your pipeline.
flow · layering · rupture

Hip hop

The closest relative — it recombines inherited material under a grammar of flow, layering, and rupture, and it's built from other people's records. But hip hop keeps its sources legible on purpose. The sample is meant to be recognized; the meaning often lives in catching the reference. The Open Standard runs the layering one step further, past the point where the source can be named.

Where hip hop preserves, the Open Standard dissolves.
rule fixed · escape by clinamen

Oulipo

A writing movement built on a fixed constraint — write without the letter e, and so on. The rule is the whole game, and the content poured through it can be anything. That's a real fixed-core-with-open-slot structure, which is why it's a cousin. The difference is what's fixed: Oulipo fixes a rule you obey; the Open Standard fixes an operation you run, whose whole purpose is to produce something the rule-maker couldn't have specified in advance. Oulipo also licenses one deviation from its own rule; the Open Standard doesn't need to, because its rule is "keep going," not "don't."

Oulipo fixes a rule; the Open Standard fixes an operation.
score
one instruction · many realizations

Fluxus

An instruction is written, and other people perform it — one score, many realizations. Like the Open Standard, the method travels without the master, which is part of why it lasted. But a Fluxus score fans outward: one instruction, many separate performances that don't build on each other. The Open Standard folds back inward: the output of one pass becomes the input of the next.

Fluxus distributes; the Open Standard accumulates.
chance · the unconscious

Dada and Surrealism

These trust chance and the unconscious to deliver the new — cut-up, automatic writing, the exquisite corpse. They're kin to the Open Standard's step 3, where something surfaces you didn't consciously put in. The difference is that Dada and Surrealism largely stop there, treating the chance result as the finished work. The Open Standard treats it as raw material: you dilate on what surfaced and feed it back in.

Where they let go of the wheel, the Open Standard grabs it again on the next pass.
one motif · many viewpoints

Cubism

It fractures a single subject into many viewpoints seen at once — a real operation, not just a look, though it hardened into a look fast. But Cubism works on one motif from the outside: the guitar, the face, observed and shattered. The Open Standard isn't tied to a subject at all, and it doesn't shatter one thing — it layers many unrelated things until something new coheres.

Cubism analyzes; the Open Standard accretes.

The through-line: every one of these either keeps its source legible, or issues a rule from the top, or stops at the first result, or works a single subject. Only the Open Standard runs its own output back into itself. The loop is the claim.

§ 04

Compliance test

You're running the Open Standard if:

  1. Your content is material you found by noticing what recurs, not by choosing what seemed meaningful — and your form is built on layers of inheritance and tradition.
  2. Your sources degrade somewhere in the pipeline.
  3. You layer past traceability, and something has surfaced you can't attribute — or you're still working toward it.
  4. You dilate on it instead of guarding it.
  5. You feed it back as new material.
  6. Your plan is revisable by the work.
  7. Something goes back to the commons.
A note on resemblance: we come from shared cultures with shared totems — symbols we've collectively agreed hold special meaning — so some bleed between your work and others' is normal and expected. But if your style consistently reminds you of one other artist, it's worth examining. Two ways that usually happens: you stopped at the layering step, or you filled the slots with borrowed content instead of your own.
§ 05

Required vs. recommended

Required

The compliance test, and nothing more. You can run this with slot choices that look nothing like anyone else's and still be in-language. That's what makes it a standard rather than a style.

Recommended

Everything else here — offered as advice, not a condition. Chief among it: take the personal symbols seriously and explore them. Not because it makes better work, though it probably does — because the exploring is worth doing on its own.

There's also no way to enforce any of it, and no wish to. Nobody is checking. A specification isn't a membership — if you skip a step, nothing happens except that the method probably doesn't work, which is consequence enough and doesn't need anyone to administer it. This means the standard survives only by being worth implementing. That's the right pressure to be under — and it's why there's no formal escape hatch to grant: there's no membership to be expelled from, so deviation is already free.

Most methods only pay off if they succeed. This one pays off in the running of it — you find out what you've been carrying and why it stuck, and you'd have that even if no one ever saw a piece.

§ 06

Why it works in any medium

The operation doesn't care what the units are. It runs on a single mark, a finished piece, a body of work, and a whole scene of people layering over each other.

A collage layers paper. A DJ set layers records. A wall layers weather and other hands. A body of work layers years. Which means: carry the operation across media, not the images. Translate your look into a new medium and you've reskinned. Translate the operation and you've extended the language.

§ 07

Failure modes

Stopping at layering.By far the most common. It feels finished long before it is.
Chopping too coarsely.If the source is nameable, keep cutting.
Protecting the discovery.Step 4 feels like arrival. It's material.
Borrowed content in the slots.The operation is shareable. Symbols are not.
Reskinning across media.Look instead of operation.
Fixing meaning first.Nothing surfaces if you've decided in advance what will.
Giving with nothing to live on.Step 7 asks you to give work away — but if you charge for nothing and keep no paid channel, the giving runs you into the ground and eventually you stop making work at all. Keep the gift a gift, and earn somewhere else: commissions, originals, teaching, commercial licensing. There's a cautionary case here too. Mail Art — the international network of artists trading work through the post from the 1960s on — was built on pure generosity: no selling, no juries, no market, work circulated freely by mail. That openness was the point, and it was real. But because the movement deliberately stayed illegible to the market, it never built the institutions, income, or archive that might have carried it into wider cultural memory, and it faded from view even as its ideas seeped into everything. The lesson isn't "sell out." It's that generosity needs a structure that lets its givers keep giving. A giver who stays solvent gives for decades. Free release alone has never sustained anyone.
Calcification.Every movement in history hardened into a style or got absorbed. Step 5 is the built-in defense. Use it.
§ 08

What this is not

Not "everything is a remix"

That argument stops at recombination, where sources stay traceable and nothing is ever quite new. Steps 2 and 3 claim something stronger: recombination run far enough produces things not reducible to their inputs. New things exist. Accidents make them too. And a remix isn't a derivative of an original — it's an expansion of the idea the original was pointing to. The source was already reaching somewhere; the remix goes further in that direction.

Not a style

If Open Standard work becomes visually identifiable as a group, the method has failed and calcified.

Not gatekept

Selection is exercised as authorship — what you choose to layer in — not as rejection of others.

§ 09

The method runs on you too

Everything above describes what happens to the work. The same thing happens to the person making it.

Nothing you put in stays put. Naming a feeling changes it. A symbol you've carried for twenty years is no longer the experience it came from — it has its own history now, made of every time you used it, and that history is partly made of the work. Your own material comes back to you altered, because you've been running it.

This is the same loop. Step 5 says your output becomes your input, and that's as true of the personal side as the formal one. You inherit a pile of symbols you didn't entirely choose, you assemble a self out of it, you put that self into the work, and the work hands it back different.

A faster method produces work. This one produces work and grows the person making it — and the two are the same process.

That's the real reason to run something this slow.