Hi (2022) by Ellie Pritts

Ellie Pritts is a new media artist renowned for blending creative technology and narrative through analog and digital mediums. Pritts’s deep engagement with emerging technologies influences her creative process, seamlessly navigating between virtual and physical realms to offer viewers a glimpse into a world without boundaries. Pritts’s artwork has gained recognition in publications like Forbes, WIRED, The Art Newspaper, and Smithsonian Magazine. She has also established herself as a creative force commercially, working with leading entities such as OpenAI and Adobe, and global brands like Microsoft, Apple, and Hyatt.

In this conversation, we speak about the use of AI within Pritts’s artistic practice and discuss the benefits that AI can provide to artists. Pritts also shares the driving force behind her resilience despite neurodegenerative challenges, to continue creating immersive worlds where she and her viewers can feel limitless.

Exhibition image from Pritts’s solo show, ‘In The Screen I Am Everything’ at bitforms gallery NYC in 2023. Photo by bitforms gallery.

Dwaynica Greaves (DG): Your professional journey through the arts began with music but has a current focus on visual art forms. How did you find the shift from one art form to the other?

Ellie Pritts (EP): I think of my time studying music similarly to how one might think of being an athlete. Music is a deeply creative field, but the schools and conservatories I attended had a strong classical focus, which emphasised perfection over self-expression. In that sense, my experiences as a musician and as an artist feel quite distinct. However, the way I perceive music still heavily influences my creative process in visual art. The two are deeply interconnected for me, and I’ve always been drawn to the idea of merging those two aspects of my background. While I’ve always wanted to express myself through music, I found that perfection hinders creative thinking. Now I’m more interested in exploring how I can bring together both music and visual art to fully express myself.

DG: In your blog post, Divine Recursions: Overcoming the Insurmountable With AI, you describe how your neurological condition not only contributed to this shift in art form but how it also affected your ability to draw. Could you give us some insight into your adaptability and resilience, and into what encouraged you to continue?

EP: I have a rare disease called DADA2 which has led to profound muscle wasting and weakness in some of my extremities. This effectively ended my career as a cellist. It directly pushed me to shift my focus, including moving away from photography. As my weakness progressed, it became harder to hold my camera and hike to the remote areas I like to photograph. The progression in my arms has been gradual — it's not something that happened overnight — but the impact elsewhere has often been due to strokes which come on suddenly.

Each time I lose an ability, I’m faced with a choice: What do I do now? It feels like a door closes, and that can be really hard, especially when it challenges my sense of autonomy. I don’t have control over what’s happening to my body, but I do have control over how I respond. I don’t easily accept defeat. If my body won’t cooperate, I’ll find another way. In the blog post, I dive more deeply into how this mindset has allowed me to adapt and grow, especially through my work with AI and technology. Collaborating with these tools has shown me a resilience I didn’t know I had. For me, it’s not about whether something is easy or difficult — it’s about following a path that brings me joy. Even when challenges arise, they don’t feel insurmountable because I know I’m following what truly makes me happy.

DG: In Divine Recursions, you also share that you went on a ‘retreat to disconnect and problem solve,’ where you explored using AI to make your art. You state that: ‘The average person still thinks that AI art is only as simple as typing something into Google’. What complexities are involved in creating art with AI?

EP: I think the primary challenge is control, and that was truer then than now. Even today, though, AI introduces an element of randomness that you don’t find in other creative tools. You can’t achieve the same precise control quite yet. That said, we now have more tools to refine things than we did a few years ago, and I believe AI will eventually allow pixel-perfect precision. But for now, you don’t always get exactly what you want, and that’s where learning the language of AI becomes important. You have to understand the model’s nuances, thinking how AI ’thinks’. You develop a fluency over time, but even with experience, it can stump you, especially when trying to replicate something specific. The misconception that AI art is simply typing a prompt and getting the perfect result persists. And that leads to another misconception — that if something is easy, it has no value.

DG: In your own process and experience, what are the benefits of using AI as a tool to create art for the art world and for yourself?

EP: AI offers an enormous advantage in its ability to let you start and iterate on a project independently. A lot of art forms have traditionally had high entry barriers, but with AI skills, you can get a strong head start on your own. For example, I’ve always wanted to create large-scale sculptures, but the financial barriers were significant. With AI, I was able to complete my first large-scale sculpture last year in a cost-effective way. I believe anything that reduces friction in the creative process is beneficial, and AI tends to do that — it helps you move from concept to fully executed artwork much faster than traditional methods. Personally, aside from the practical benefits, I enjoy the unpredictability that AI brings. What others might see as a drawback, I find exciting. I also work with analog video hardware, where randomness plays a big role, so the ephemeral, unpredictable nature of AI resonates with me. It keeps me grounded in the present moment.

DG: Chamberlain et al., (2018) investigated categorisation and aesthetic ratings of human-made and computer-generated art. In their first experiment, they found that, when presented with representational and abstract artworks, participants were more likely to categorise representational artworks as human-made and that computer-generated artworks garnered lower aesthetic ratings from participants. In their second experiment, however, they noticed that aesthetic responses were more positive when participants were shown the creative processes behind computer-generated artworks.

As an artist who includes computer generation in your work, do you feel it is important for your creative process to be revealed to your viewer?

EP: I’ve found that people generally appreciate art more when they understand the effort that went into it, whether it’s computer-generated or not. It’s human nature — when you learn about the process, you’re more likely to appreciate the result. Personally, I don’t always need to know how a piece was made to enjoy it, but I recognise that many collectors, institutions, and art lovers do. As I’ve grown in my career, I’ve become more mindful of documenting my process and sharing it, because it really does enhance people’s connection to the work. I’ve seen firsthand how letting people into that inner world adds value.

DG: A further question based on Chamberlain et al (2018) might be, do you think that computer-generated art is predominately abstract?

EP: The way I interpret this question is to ask, ‘Do people who use computers to generate art prefer abstraction?’ Since computers aren’t generally creating art autonomously, the art generated is a reflection of human decisions. So, the question is more about the types of aesthetics people are drawn to when using technology. Or maybe it feels like an expectation. I don’t believe humans are inherently drawn to creating abstract art with computers, but I think there is a loop where people associate certain styles with computer generation due to cultural exposure. For instance, society may have trained our brains to associate generative art with abstraction. In reality, however, using computers or tools like AI allows for any kind of subject matter — realistic or abstract.

‘Dynamic Glitch Fleur IV’ (2023) by Ellie Pritts. Shown at Interreality, Los Angeles. Videography by Ellie Pritts.

DG: Do you think acceptance of AI art is increasing?

Definitely. There will always be people who are against it, but I’ve noticed more acceptance and education over time. A lot of people didn’t realise that AI has been integrated into the software they’ve used for years. As people become more educated about AI, they tend to be less broadly negative in their outlook. The peak of backlash seems to have passed, and now the discussion feels more balanced. I also think it’s important for creatives who fear being replaced by AI to experiment with it, if only to see that it’s not as easy or perfect as it might seem. That understanding can alleviate some of the anxiety and perhaps even open up new possibilities for integrating AI into their practice. But I also respect that some people simply don’t want to use it, and that’s completely valid.

DG: Moving away from the general topic of AI towards the discussion of another form of digital media, you have a video entitled: We have to destroy the internet. What are your thoughts about society’s relationship with the internet?

That was a collaborative audio-visual artwork with Devon Welsh. Devon is an incredible artist, and those words — ‘We have to destroy the internet’ — are his. They resonated with me because the internet is such a double-edged sword. It’s indispensable to our lives, yet it also creates this strange tension: we feel tied to it, even when it doesn’t make us feel good. There’s this constant push and pull. My career wouldn’t exist without the internet, and yet a big part of me longs to disconnect completely.

I worry that we’re increasingly forming parasocial relationships rather than genuine connections. Living online gives people the illusion of closeness because they have access to your daily life, and that’s part of why we share — there’s a desire to connect. But key elements, like personal, one-on-one interaction, are missing. Instead of sending someone a photo, you may post it on Instagram for everyone to see, and that personal moment is lost. This creates the illusion of community, but ultimately, you may end up feeling more isolated because you’re not engaging in real conversations or socialising. You’re just becoming a news feed.

DG: On the topic of travelling, in your blog post, That’s SoCal: the best coast on film, you share that you have ‘moved over 15 times in the last 10 years, well over 30 times in [your] adult life so far’. Why is global movement integral to your life? Does this influence movement in your work?

EP: Moving as much as I did, I’d say at least half of the time wasn’t by choice. I struggled with homelessness in my early adulthood. It was a challenge to maintain stable housing. I might find a place to stay for a month or two, but often the situation would become dangerous, or I would run out of money, which led to constant moving. Reaching Los Angeles marked the first time I achieved substantial financial stability, and it was a huge deal for me. I finally had the freedom to stay somewhere rather than having to leave. That sounds counterintuitive — freedom is usually associated with the ability to leave — but for me, having the freedom to stay was paramount. I lived in LA longer than anywhere outside of my hometown, Chicago.

One of my core values now is the freedom to experience as many different cultures and places as possible. But when it comes to living, I have learned the importance of having a home — a reliable, stable place. My history of moving wasn’t always driven by a creative desire to explore new environments, but it has certainly shaped me. It is all part of my journey, and I think that shows in my work.

This influence became clear when I moved from New York to LA. Someone pointed out that the colour palettes in my photography had shifted noticeably, and I wasn’t even aware of it. The LA environment, especially the natural areas like the desert, had a huge impact on me. Being in those places feels otherworldly, like you have landed on another planet. While I love all types of nature, from forests to rainforests, the sparseness of the desert gave my brain room to imagine what’s possible — it felt like a blank canvas. Those landscapes inspired a magical mindset that still influences my work across different mediums today.

DG: Remaining of the topic of movement, with regards to your navigation between ‘virtual and physical realms within video, digital and photography,’ is it possible to lose the balance between them or is the navigation fluid?

EP: The journey between mediums has always been very fluid for me. It happens effortlessly, often simultaneously. When I come up with an idea, I don’t always know which medium it will live in. I might start with an illustration and think, ‘Should this be an animation?’ Then I’ll experiment with animating it. Or I might consider making it into a large print and explore different substrates. As I continue to grow as an artist and gain more opportunities to work in different mediums, I’m drawn to expanding the ways I can create immersive worlds.

There’s something very satisfying about translating an idea across multiple mediums, whether it’s a digital piece or a physical installation. Both still feel important to me in terms of accessibility and the ability to bring people into an experience or another world. It’s fun to take something static and make it dynamic, or vice versa, because each medium offers a unique perspective.

For example, in my current exhibition at the Torrance Art Museum, I’m showcasing a series of video artworks alongside printed frames from the animations. Having the prints physically in my space made me reflect — was the beauty of this moment lost in the animation because it passed by so quickly? But that’s the thing — I don’t have to choose. I can embrace both mediums and let them coexist, each offering something different to the viewer.

Exhibition image from Interreality, Los Angeles in 2023. Video artwork and giclee print by Ellie Pritts. Photograph by Charles White.

DG: One of the unifying elements between your works is your use of psychedelic colour palettes. Could you tell us about your choice to colour grade in this style?

EP: It’s less of a conscious choice and more how my brain naturally works. These are simply the colours I’m drawn to. I have synaesthesia and it affects the way I experience a lot of things, including colour. Over time I’ve realised that my perception of colour is pretty different from others. What feels instinctive to me has created this cohesive aesthetic across all my work, almost like it's hardwired into how I see the world. It’s just a part of who I am.

DG: We spoke a lot about your photography. Throughout your photographic works there is a wide range of landscapes. What draws you to capturing landscapes?

EP: For me, being physically present in the environments I’m capturing is deeply important — almost spiritual. Especially in places like Joshua Tree, I’m compelled to capture the magic I feel there. These landscapes have an otherworldly quality that draws me in, and I use that as a starting point to inspire something even more fantastical and surreal. Having spent most of my life in urban environments, I think I often forget that there are places on Earth that feel remarkably foreign and beyond what we’re used to seeing. Nature’s beauty is not only breathtaking but also offers an incredible sense of wonder — like stepping onto another planet.

*Absolute Union* (2023) by Ellie Pritts, 300 x 168 cm AirTex print.

DG: When you photograph people, does your creative intention differ between these and your landscape works? What do you think having a person in frame does differently for the viewer when compared to landscapes alone?

EP: My intention generally stays the same when I include people in my landscape photography. There are a couple of key things that happen when a person is in the frame. One is scale — conveying the vastness of a landscape can be challenging because you are taking a three-dimensional experience and flattening it into 2D. Having a person in the scene immediately gives a sense of scale, making it easier for viewers to grasp the grandeur of the space.

I once had my portfolio critiqued, and it was pointed out that my photography often feels lonely because of how I capture people in these vast environments. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but over time, I realised there might be some truth to that. I have struggled with feelings of loneliness and being an outsider, and maybe that has subconsciously seeped into my work. When I photograph a lone figure in an expansive space, often silhouetted, it can evoke a sense of facing the world alone — something I’ve definitely felt — but in the moment, I’m not necessarily thinking about conveying that feeling; it might be happening on a subconscious level.

DG: In your digital works and videos, you frequently include faces or facial features. What significance does the human face hold for you as an artist?

EP: The human face is something I only started using in my work relatively recently. If you have followed my work over the past couple of years, you might assume it has always been part of my practice, but that’s not the case. There was a shift during quarantine when I was living alone, and the most reliable and interesting subject I had was myself. Up until that point, I hadn’t really used my own image in my work. I did one project where I used myself because I couldn’t find a model, but I never intentionally set out to capture my face as part of my art.

Once I started, though, I found it to be a powerful experience, which I touched on in Divine Recursions. From that point on, I became really interested in creating people or beings as part of the worlds I’m building. What most people don’t know is that nearly every piece of artwork I create that features a face begins with a photo of myself. By the end of the process, the face might not even look human anymore, but it generally starts with me. I’m constructing these different versions of myself and putting them out into the world. When I feel like I can’t do everything I want in this body or in this reality, it is incredibly freeing to create alternate visions of myself. That’s why faces have become more prominent in my work over time.

‘In The Screen I Am Everything’ (2023) by Ellie Pritts. Shown at ‘In The Screen I Am Everything’ at bitforms gallery NYC, Kunstmuseum St. Gallen.

DG: Last year, you had a solo exhibition at Bitforms Gallery, NYC (2023) entitled: In The Screen I Am Everything. In this exhibition you displayed works that we now know featured your face. What does this statement mean to you? Could you tell us more about the exhibition?

EP: This ties in perfectly with what we were discussing earlier because In The Screen I Am Everything reflects my realisation that in the worlds I create, I can be infinite — there are no limits or restrictions on what I can do or who I can become. These worlds existed on a screen, and the exhibition featured a mix of printed and video work, but the main artwork was a video that showed different versions of me in an evolving landscape. The figures in the video were also evolving, mirroring the idea of transformation and boundless potential.

What I aimed to convey is that I can be anything and everything in the worlds I create, no matter the hardships I might be facing in the real, physical world. I also hoped that when people experienced the exhibition, they’d walk away feeling inspired and limitless, realising that this sense of freedom isn’t just for me — it’s something everyone can tap into. We all have the power to shape our reality, not in a delusional way, but in a way that acknowledges our ability to create and transform.

*Reverse Zoology* *Series* by Ellie Pritts on exhibition at Kraftwerk Berlin, Bright Moments in 2022. Photograph by Camille Blake.

DG: Could you tell us more about why you create immersive worlds?

EP: I create immersive worlds primarily for myself because I want to inhabit these places. I feel empowered by my creativity, and I have the desire to bring these worlds to life. But I also create them for others because I recognise that we all face struggles and hardships. We can feel hopeless or powerless at times, and I believe that using imagination and creativity to transport ourselves to different mental or emotional spaces is incredibly important. It’s also important to be able to do that independently.

A common misconception about me, likely based on the aesthetics of my work, is that I use psychoactive drugs, but I don’t. These visions come entirely from within me. I’m an avid meditator, and I hope that the worlds I create aren’t just for my own happiness — that they resonate with others, inspiring them to explore their own ways of feeling limitless. Ultimately, I want my viewers to feel like they are co-creators of their universe.

DG: Hearing you speak about the concept of being ‘limitless’ is very interesting. Could you tell us more about this concept and why it is important in your work?

EP: Being human is challenging, and most of us will experience the weight of limitations in various aspects of life. As far as we know, we only get this one life, and it’s truly a gift, a miracle. To fully embrace it, I believe it’s essential to feel limitless — to feel like you have the power to make a difference, the autonomy to shape your own path, and to recognise that there’s magic within you. For me, there’s no better way to honour the gift of life than by living it with a sense of boundless possibility.

DG: Lastly, in what ways does your work make you feel limitless?

EP: Everything about my work makes me feel limitless, from the act of creation to the ability to imagine something and bring it to life. Immersing myself in worlds I’ve dreamed into reality and the process is a gift that constantly reminds me of that sense of freedom. It is essential for me to feel that way. I think that’s the main reason I chose to pursue art as a career. Being an artist is incredibly challenging, so there has to be a significant reward — and for me, it is that feeling of freedom and limitlessness at every step.

Self portrait by Ellie Pritts at her solo exhibition ‘Calderúnicae’ at Kunstverein Ludwigsburg Museum in 2023. Photograph by Ellie Pritts.

More information on Ellie Pritts and her work can be found on her website and @elliepritts.

References

Chamberlain, R., Mullin, C., Scheerlinck, B. and Wagemans, J., 2018. ‘Putting the art in artificial: Aesthetic responses to computer-generated art’, Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts, 12(2), p.177.

Pritts, E. (2022) Divine recursions by Ellie Pritts on exposure, Exposure. Available at: https://blog.elliepritts.com/divinerecursions (Accessed: 03 August 2024).

Pritts, E. (2019) That’s SoCal by Ellie Pritts on exposure, Exposure. Available at: https://blog.elliepritts.com/thats-socal (Accessed: 03 August 2024).

07 INSIDE THE MIND: ELLIE PRITTS