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Hello! I'm Kwame Bruce Busia, but many know me better as just Bruce or Studio Yorktown.
My artistic journey has taken me from architecture, to photography, graphic design, and even creating tools for fellow digital artists. Today, I'm deeply immersed in the world of generative art, exploring the creation of art via the use of computer code.
I explore various art forms and mediums and while I don't have one particular aesthetic style, my creations are guided by two things: attention to detail and a love for simple concepts that can both delight and surprise.
I'm enthusiastic about web3 and the future of NFTs and believe in their ability to open up innovative ways to connect with others and distribute art.
I release my works across multiple chains like Tezos, Ethereum and Solana, creating ‘Sabler’, ‘Tesseract’ and ‘Perpendicular Inhabitation’, as well as had my work displayed internationally including at Art Basel Miami Beach and the NEAL Digital Gallery in China.
For a glimpse into my past, present, and future projects, feel free to follow the link in my profile 🙏🏾
🔴⚪️⚫️
Bruce | Studio Yorktown retweeted
ORIGINALITY AS THE GOAL: Follow your curiosity, make something meaningful for others, and let *their* responses shape what you make next.
- Start with your own questions.
- Make for others, not just yourself.
- Treat feedback as fuel for discovery.
- Don’t let AI’s instant answers end your curiosity.
linkedin.com/pulse/originali…
HT @hardmaru
🤖 Made with AI
If you were curious about the state of crypto, I came across a tool called @Sporemap which visualizes memecoins by meta/sub-metas like a petri dish. When displayed like this, it think it put even NFTs into perspective. All of this competing for the same liquidity and attention!
Thank you for your thoughtful response, Eric. Reposting, as the advice may be of help to others as well 🙏🏾
Replying to @StudioYorktown
I think this is something all of us work through at various periods in our lives, especially when there are major life events/changes/transitions.
Personally, I’m much earlier in my artistic practice than you are, so the details are different. But I’ve worked through similar ruts a few times in my profession and creative practice.
Some things that were helpful:
- (Re) engaging in restorative practices that replenish curiosity and inspiration, eg daily walks without headphones (pay attention to architecture, people, etc), museum visits, listening to music albums instead of playlists, buying physical art books in mediums you don’t work in, etc.
- Discovering play again from messing around in new mediums with zero pressure for output, drawing and building things with your kids, etc.
- Managing unchecked ambition and desire for productivity. Your kids are only kids once. Super cliche, but it’s wild to experience how quickly they grow in hindsight. This was my largest source of tension and lesson learned from my first kid.
- Financial pressure can be counter productive to being creatively unhinged. In periods of burnout, having diversified revenue streams amd/or taking on passionless “mercenary” projects have been helpful for me.
- Catching up on sleep, exercise, and nutrition, if those have taken a back seat.
Lastly, don’t rush things. Focus on being in motion. Creativity, curiosity, intuition, and joy/passion will all return quickly when the right building blocks are in place. Good luck with everything Bruce ❤️
Bruce | Studio Yorktown retweeted
It has taken some years developing and building on Utopias of the Damed as a central theme. Here is a new development, hand written in JavaScript and plotted with an Axidraw/rotring ink/fabriano water colour paper.
Lately I am finding myself *really* struggling to ‘lock in’.
I used to have a gut instinct on what to create next. I would occasionally find myself obsessed with some concept and hyper focus on bringing it to reality.
Lately I wonder if I’ve lost that instinct. I increasingly struggle to concentrate. I drift from one idea to the next, but before there was this sense that you knew what was worth pursuing and what was a dead end. But with rapidly advancing technology, nothing really seems like a dead end anymore. Much of the curiosity is gone.
It is as if the desire for pursuit comes from partly not knowing if something will or will not work out.
Then the combination of global instability, rapid advances in AI, having young kids, real time redefinition of the value of art, and a gradual misalignment with the web3 space, the scams, the posturing, lack of authenticity, the informational asymmetry. And to say this delicately, there are also some performative aspects expected that do not align with me and that can be problematic.
It all has me wondering has me wondering what is next, what will bring a sense of joy back, where to look for it etc.
I am curious if any other artists have/are experiencing this at the moment. How are you / did you get through it?
Maybe there’s fewer of us here than before, but I appreciate still being able to have occasional discussions on my timeline about art, the process, discovery and not about floor prices.
Fantastic! 😄
Can software break out of a rectangular screen?
What if we could make our own interfaces by combining our devices?
I worked with @harveymoon0 and prototyped a series of interactive @p5xjs sketches on multiple displays, using Touch Designer @1null1.
Music credit: Don Hanson
These are incredible. I highly recommend following Maciej, his work is nostalgic, one-of-a-kind 👍🏾
Web3 talks endlessly about fully on-chain art and permanence.
I built Signal Rituals: original 3D animations translated into text, with both the animation data and custom renderer living entirely on Ethereum L1. No files, no IPFS, no external hosting.
There was no interest. Not a single sale.
Maybe I overestimated how much any of this actually matters to people.
Bruce | Studio Yorktown retweeted
the release of "digger," and the response to it, has got me mulling over the state of arts criticism, and how much it's come to reflect the polarization of the world around us. "good" or "bad." masterpiece or disaster. the rush to deliver a verdict, to take a side, to be right. as though the critic's job is to be a judge, rather than a translator, an interlocutor, a guide through unfamiliar territory.
i've always appreciated cultural criticism that feels like a conversation with works and ideas, rather than a pronouncement about them. criticism that holds space for curiosity rather than certainty, and extends that curiosity even to work that confounds us -- especially from artists who've already taught us new ways of seeing. i tend to find it more exhilarating to encounter something on its own terms rather than on my own, especially when i don't yet know what to make of it. that feels like a superpower these days, one we're neglecting and forgetting how to use. criticism has the power to resist the flattening of public discourse, to remind us of the value of nuance, ambiguity, and contradiction -- all increasingly in short supply.
and i've been thinking more broadly, too, about how there is safe art, tasteful art, accomplished art, art that meets our expectations. and then there is brave art. not that these are mutually exclusive categories. but there is art that looks beautiful and polished on a museum wall, art that knows how to look like Art. and then there is art that breaks the rules, that doesn't particularly care whether it looks like art at all, that isn't trying to be anything except the truest possible expression of itself. and how, if you make brave art, a lot of people are going to give you a lot of shit. you're going to get bad reviews. you're going to be mocked, dismissed, misunderstood. because you're doing something that many of us don't yet have the language, the reference points, or the imagination to recognize.
of course not everything experimental or misunderstood is brilliant. not every provocation is profound. harsh criticism can be justified, illuminating, essential. but this seems like a moment to remind ourselves that making the art we need -- not necessarily the art we want, or even the art we deserve -- requires a willingness to be illegible, unpopular, ridiculous. to resist the temptation to make something everyone already knows how to appreciate. because art isn't only here to confirm what we already know, or to reward us for having good taste. it's also here to make us uncomfortable, confound our expectations, challenge our assumptions, show us something we don't yet know how to see.
that takes bravery from the artist. but it also takes a great deal of courage from the audience. a willingness to encounter something without immediately needing to understand it, categorize it, approve of it. to sit with uncertainty. to open up questions instead of shutting them down. to entertain the possibility that what looks like failure, absurdity, or bad taste just might be the first sounds of a language we haven't learned to speak yet.
nytimes.com/2026/10/14/opini…
Bruce | Studio Yorktown retweeted
Many people built who they are out of what they do. When a machine can do part of that, the question is not only about work. It is about what is left of the self when the activity is taken away, and most of us find that out by looking at each other.
we live in a world where a handful of corporations control how we communicate, banks decide who gets to participate in the economy, and governments can make entire populations financially invisible overnight. we've somehow accepted that our digital existence depends on a collection of very large computers owned by people we've never met, and we're just hoping they remain nice. and then we figured out how to build some of this differently. permissionless systems, verifiable ownership, infrastructure that doesn't necessarily belong to a single institution or state. obviously far from perfect, but the implications seem pretty extraordinary to me. especially now, when power is becoming increasingly concentrated and the ability to exclude people is becoming increasingly automated. yet most of our attention seems to go towards increasingly sophisticated ways of moving money around. billions in transactions, thousands of tokens, entire ecosystems built around making numbers go up. i'm not even against any of it. i love the absurdity, the art, the experiments, the completely unnecessary things people build just because they can. i'm participating in the nonsense too. but sometimes it feels like we've invented something with the potential to fundamentally change how people interact with power and decided the most interesting application is figuring out which cartoon animal will appreciate in value next week.
i keep thinking about how much bigger the ambition could be. systems that don't really care where you're born, which passport you hold, or whether some institution approves of your existence; infrastructure that makes it harder to censor, exclude, erase, or confiscate. not because decentralization magically solves all these problems, but because having alternatives seems increasingly important. especially for people who don't have the luxury to treat these things as abstract philosophical discussions. i genuinely don't know how we get there, i don't know what the applications should look like, how we get people to use them, or how much of this is even realistic to achieve. maybe we're still incredibly early, maybe the financial speculation is a necessary part of figuring things out, maybe i'm underestimating how difficult it is to turn these ideas into something actually useful.
probably all of the above.
but i can't get rid of the feeling that we're aiming for something much smaller than what might actually be possible. there's an entire network of incredibly intelligent people working on cryptographic systems that would have seemed unimaginable not that long ago, and somehow a big part of the conversation is still about which number will go up next. i don't think the answer is to stop making weird things or pretend everything needs to serve some grand social purpose. please keep making the weird things. i just wish we were a bit more ambitious about what all this could eventually mean outside our own little corner of the internet.
maybe i have no idea what i'm talking about. i just find it hard to believe that the finish line for permissionless, stateless infrastructure is a slightly more entertaining stock exchange.
My best songs were written and produced a time when I didn’t technically know ‘the rules’.
The concept of best practice, over abundance of choice and too much information from too many sources will paralyze you.
There absolutely is a valley of competence. The least interesting work is often between not knowing what you’re doing and knowing it well.
You really can do a lot with very little. You don’t need 100 tracks, 60 plugins etc.
Sometimes the limitations are why something works. Sometimes any style uniquely attributed to you as a ‘signature’ is born from what you DON’T have, not what you do have available.
It can be difficult step away from creating ‘right’ work. It takes a lot of courage, you spend more time in the dark, off the map and fewer people willing to meet you half way. On the other hand you can create technically excellent but soulless work based on established rules because no time is spent challenging those rules or how they got there (often by stumbling through the dark with no guarantee of ‘success’)
Keeping a developed understanding, but the enthusiasm of the novice (Beginner’s Mind) seems to be the sweet spot.
Designers and musicians these days have infinite access to every reference and tool to ever exist yet suffer from paralysis and the notion of having to do a technique the "right" way... Yet still come up sauceless. I think we need to ask ourselves WHY?
Earlier in my career, when I knew less, I was making more "interesting" work. When I was producing music, I had 1 or 2 drum packs, 1 of those small korg volca synths and I was making DOPE beats.
Pokémon Red for the gameboy was 373 kilobytes.
Liberate yourself from the notion that you must know everything to move forward. They're calling it something less savoury these days (somethingmaxxing) but there is freedom in knowing that your only toys are in your own sandbox.






























