graphic, code, time
a tree is a recursive structure. a branch splits into branches that split into branches. the math is simple. the results are not.
this was an early processing sketch -- one of my first real explorations of creative coding. the algorithm was straightforward: draw a line, rotate by some angle, reduce the length, repeat. add a bit of randomness to the angle and the length reduction. run it again. get a completely different tree.
i ran it hundreds of times. each execution produced something that looked like it had grown rather than been drawn. oaks, willows, strange twisted things that don't exist in any forest but feel like they should. the same dozen lines of code, endlessly generating forms that surprised me.
there's a particular pleasure in writing code that you can't fully predict. you set the parameters, you define the rules, and then you step back and watch it do something you didn't plan. the tree grows and you think: i didn't draw that. the algorithm drew that. but i wrote the algorithm. so who made this?
the intersection of mathematics and organic form is one of those places where control and chaos meet. the code is precise. the output is wild. somewhere in between, something that looks like nature appears on screen.
this was an exercise in letting go. in trusting that simple rules, given enough room to breathe, will produce something worth looking at. most of the time they did.