NFT Spotlight: Color Block Party by Yener Torun

Please note that the following review is not an endorsement of purchasing the NFTs discussed, and the author does not themself own any of the collection.

Photography has become one of the cornerstones of the NFT space, ranking as a discrete category on the largest NFT marketplace OpenSea alongside collectables, music and virtual worlds. The attraction of NFTs to photographers is obvious. While there is a clear appetite for viewing photos (the most popular photo-sharing site, Instagram, sees 1.22 billion users per month), typically photographers are not paid anything for attracting views – instead needing to enter into partnerships and act as influencers. Other digital avenues like selling photos to stock photography sites do bring in direct money, but typically that’s measured in cents.

NFTs are shaking up the photography landscape by representing an avenue by which photographs can sell for significant amounts, thanks to the digital form of scarcity that NFTs have pioneered. And thanks to smart contracts, artists can also benefit from royalties for every onwards sale. With that in mind, we’re turning our attention today to an NFT collection known as Color Block Party from established photographer, Yener Torun.

Image Credit: Yener Torun

The Background

The Turhal, Turkey-born Torun is known for his flat, geometric compositions of minimalist buildings. Torun is a trained architect, having studied at Istanbul Technical University before starting a photography project in 2014 – his time studying architecture clearly an influence on the choice of subject for his photographs. Before selling his work as NFTs, Torun found success exhibiting his creation on Instagram, where his images have attracted 166,000 followers. His works have also been licensed by Google as official Android wallpapers.

Color Block Party is Yener’s first foray into NFTs, with the collection minted in September 2021. The collection of 30 photographs draws from across his portfolio, with most of his images featuring buildings from his adopted hometown of Istanbul. Yener’s collection is composed of work from the earlier part of his career, consisting of non-commercial photos published between 2015 and 2019 – a choice which he said is down to making the collection more coherent.

As he told The Modern Analogue, “It all started as a hobby, but within no time it became a passion. I finally felt like I had found something that gave free rein to my creative urges and helped me express myself through what I create – without any restrictions or the instructions and expectations of others. I let myself be influenced by all the things I like – music, painting, cinema, graphic design, popular culture, and even architecture itself. Then I turned those influences into something new and unique. Since then, I have spent a lot of time on the streets and on the computer honing my photography and editing skills to express myself in the best way possible.”

Image Credit: Yener Torun

The Collection

Thanks to the pastel colours, symmetrical framing and flat compositions, Yener’s works are highly reminiscent of the work of director Wes Anderson. A recurring theme in the collection is windows, their own uniformity reflecting and informing the buildings as a whole.

According to Yener’s description of the collection, “Yener’s compositions typically flatten space and emphasize lines and colours over depth. He transforms the urban landscape by reinterpreting architecture as geometric abstraction, creating an alternate reality by removing architectural elements from their original environment and repurposing them.”

It’s worth remarking on the fact that, while the images give off a distinct sense of spontaneity, they are highly edited, as the artist has revealed via before and after comparisons. He told the Guardian: “I increase the brightness and saturation to create a heightened sense of reality, which tricks the viewer into questioning what is real and what is not.” Alongside that is extensive digital recomposing and recolourisation, all to produce an effect that seems to return imperfect real-world buildings to an idealised design stage.

Image Credit: Yener Torun

Further asserting the sense that the point is not to valourise the buildings depicted within the photographs is the fact that no geographical information is contained within the NFTs themselves. Each image comes only with a short title, often a wry reference to what the photograph depicts (WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS for an example prominently featuring the colour yellow, for instance), though three go without a title at all. The overall effect is to transform these real locations into surreal and stylised glimpses of the urban spaces the majority of us live in.

The Verdict

The medium of photography in general is well suited to the digital world of NFTs. By serving as a more equitable means of buying and selling art, NFTs are bringing in established photographers as well as inspiring others to take up their cameras for the first time. Yener’s collection, meanwhile, is especially well suited to the culture of NFT art and its fondness for hyperreal, digitally abstracted versions of the world.

Union jack swastikas and space-age braids: Thirteen Ways of Looking – review

Herbert Art Gallery and Museum, Coventry
From an AI interaction with a deceased black artist to a Punjabi granny making a sandwich, this show explores identity through the generations

Keith Piper’s THIRTEEN DEAD remains relatively unknown. Yet the 1982 work was one of the earliest artistic responses to the previous year’s fire at a house party in New Cross, south London, that took the lives of 13 young black people.

Handwritten words appear with pictures of the victim’s face on a series of postcards placed across a width of charred patterned wallpaper and skirting board: “Sister Yvonne survived with us 15 years in Babylon. On the dawn of her 16th year, Babylon sniffed her out.” The explicitness of the work is deeply affecting. Anger isn’t an emotion you expect to feel in an exhibition inspired by a poem (Wallace Stevens’s Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird), and yet, the more you absorb the details of this work – the victims’ baby faces, the burn holes – the more you appear to be at the mercy of your own rage.

At Herbert Art Gallery, Coventry, until 13 December.

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Union jack swastikas and space-age braids: Thirteen Ways of Looking – review

Herbert Art Gallery and Museum, Coventry
From an AI interaction with a deceased black artist to a Punjabi granny making a sandwich, this show explores identity through the generations

Keith Piper’s THIRTEEN DEAD remains relatively unknown. Yet the 1982 work was one of the earliest artistic responses to the previous year’s fire at a house party in New Cross, south London, that took the lives of 13 young black people.

Handwritten words appear with pictures of the victim’s face on a series of postcards placed across a width of charred patterned wallpaper and skirting board: “Sister Yvonne survived with us 15 years in Babylon. On the dawn of her 16th year, Babylon sniffed her out.” The explicitness of the work is deeply affecting. Anger isn’t an emotion you expect to feel in an exhibition inspired by a poem (Wallace Stevens’s Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird), and yet, the more you absorb the details of this work – the victims’ baby faces, the burn holes – the more you appear to be at the mercy of your own rage.

At Herbert Art Gallery, Coventry, until 13 December.

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Forget Titian, here’s a talking dog! Is this digital art’s big moment?

A film noir about a cluttered flat, an animated canine, Yesterday whistled in a corridor … artists in coronavirus lockdown are making the leap to digital. Can they stop people switching over to Netflix?

The last art I saw in the flesh was the Titian exhibition at the National Gallery in London. It was a remarkable, treasurable experience: his group of “poesie” paintings, based on stories from Ovid, had last hung together 400 years ago. Two days later, the museum closed its doors. By then, most commercial galleries in the UK, and many public institutions, had shut. The drift to digital began soon afterwards. Visual arts organisations launched so many podcasts and IGTV broadcasts and film streams and viewing rooms and talks from the archive that it has sometimes been overwhelming.

This week, the most social, crowded, people-watching-oriented event of the global visual art calendar – Frieze art fair, in its New York iteration – is happening on devices everywhere. It has transformed itself into an online shop with art as the scrollable produce. The Asos effect is amplified by the fact that prices, for once, are displayed for all to see. A Martin Creed neon spelling out the words DON’T WORRY could be yours for $150,000 (£118,000).

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Related: You've got mail! The New York paper sending you artworks in the post

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