Garret Kane, an interdisciplinary sculptor, animator, and writer currently working in Brooklyn, New York, uses storytelling, myth-making, and character-building to create fictional worlds (complete with android-like beings) that fuse the organic and the technological. Drawing on science fiction, bioethics, and ecology, his innovative practice combines a huge array of natural and synthetic materials—everything from ceramics and metal work to 3D-printed components, found objects, moss, wood, minerals, and home-grown crystals. Through playfulness, dynamism, and ingenuity, he envisions how technology might improve, rebuild, and reverse damage to the natural world—rather than annihilate it. His sculpted worlds elicit a childlike wonder, allowing us to rediscover nature and our first interactions with it, and act as catalysts to spark imagination, instigate awareness, and explore the limitless potential of new technologies.
Raina Marie: I first encountered Golemecha in 2017 at the Flatiron Building in Madison Square Park. Despite the crowded New York streets, this colossal sculpture drew attention with its formidable presence—a discernible structure of the human form surrounded by floating, glowing orbs. What is the story behind this work, and how was it created?
Garret Kane: Golemecha is the reinvention and combination of a mythological being through the lens of technology. The name is a fusion of “golem,” a protector from Judaic folklore formed from mud and sticks, and “mecha,” a giant, walking robot from Japanese pop culture and anime. Combining them creates a new entity constructed from the amalgamation of nature, technology, and myth. During a trip to the Galapagos Islands, I envisioned this creature as a larger-than-life Greco-Roman sculpture. Once I returned home, I began to create the seven-foot figure in contrapposto. I spent weeks gathering twisted roots and dead branches from upstate New York and eastern Long Island, then assembled, treated, and preserved them. I created an ultra-thin 3D armature with ZBrush and printed it in about 50 parts on SLS machines. After joining them with wire, mesh, and steel rods for reinforcement, I submerged various sections in a chemical solution to grow crystals inside. LEDs were embedded within the figure’s hollow interior, and 3D physics equations engineered to fit into specific areas were printed in resin, painted with conductive paint, electroformed with copper, and patinated. Silicon molds of rocks and roots were used to form Hydrocal casts, adding surface detail. Finally, I applied acrylics, oils, clay, and crackle paint and added finishing touches like flocking, preserved Bonsais, and tiny roots. The large branches at the bottom twist and turn like sinuous vines, making it feel dynamic, yet simultaneously still.
In addition to Greek and Roman sculpture, with its emphasis on beauty and symmetry, I’m drawn to 20th-century art movements like Surrealism (tapping into the unconscious and dreams) and Futurism (focusing on technology, movement, and speed). These concepts align with the ever-dynamic, ever-changing nature of my sculptures, which invoke hallucinations or phantasms.
Science-fiction films and books, graphic novels, and anime have also been significant inspirations since childhood. 1984, RoboCop, Terminator, Akira, Ghost in the Shell, Alien, and 2001: A Space Odyssey ignited my fascination with imagining future technologies and the possible implications of what it means to be human. My work, which reimagines bioethics, artificial intelligence, and existential risk, combines these themes with art history to engage viewers about what the future might hold. I consider the sculptures to be living biological creatures that evolve like any other life form.
RM: Golemecha does not look human; it is god-like. As if born from a primordial force, it is caught in a state of formation.
GK: My intention is to portray Golemecha undergoing a metamorphosis. I seek to convey this idea within the sculpture itself, as well as each time it is presented in a new context. For the “Habitat” exhibition at SU Art Galleries in Salisbury, Maryland, it was surrounded by a series of abstract, angular sculptures called “Symbiotics,” which are made of wood, preserved moss, and cut acrylic. The creature seemed to be immersed in its indigenous environment from another world. Lighting enhanced the dramatic effect, picking out all the material and textural details. Other times, I have removed the lighting completely, giving the figure an ominous and destructive appearance. As part of Rockaway Art Week in New York in 2023, I displayed it outside on the beach, alongside another life-size figure. My ideal presentation would be to exhibit all my works with living flowers, mushrooms, and other organic elements to visualize transitory aspects of nature and how nature continuously evolves.
RM: Is this why you are drawn to outdoor sculpture? The Chlorosapiens (2018), for instance, consist of faces and limbs made of wood, paper, plaster, and cement emerging from trees. I visited this installation at the Pocono Raceway in Long Pond, Pennsylvania, two years in a row (2021 and 2022) and saw firsthand how the sculptures changed over time and were altered by nature.
GK: Like all organisms, these sculptures are in a state of flux. You can see how weather affects them, how plants grow on top and through them. Depending on how one views it, nature could be coalescing with the figures or consuming and destroying them. My goal is to connect viewers with nature in figurative art, leveraging our innate understanding of facial expressions and body language. The androgyny in my work encourages personal interpretations. I aim for ambiguity in identity, stage of life, and transformation. Are the figures emerging and adapting to their environment, or are they rotting and decaying? I like to push the boundaries of what is recognizable as “human,” because the human form is a relatable vehicle for storytelling—we can all connect to the body, how it moves through space, changes over time, and relates to others.
RM: You use a huge range of mediums and artistic methods. When I visited your studio, I was astounded by all the tools, equipment, and materials. It’s like a laboratory, with a 3D printer, a metal-plating system, crystal baths, and a ceramic kiln. Can you expand on your processes?
GK: A project can begin in a few different ways. Most of the time, it starts with an idea I keep thinking about and then translate into a sketch. Fiction writing is integral to my practice. Many of my sculpted figures have backstories and character arcs. I often ask: What if we could actualize entities like golems, angels, or mother nature through technology rather than magic? How would they look, act, and adapt in this world? Once the narrative and armature maquettes are ready, I fuse the work with glazed and fired ceramic pieces, grown crystals, epoxy, branches, flocking, mosses, paint, and patinas.
I also sculpt forms in 3D and print them (using various methods like SLS, FDM, and SLA) into physical objects. For “Seraphoids” (2015–18), a series of small-scale figurative works in dynamic poses, I started with a 3D sculpture of a basic human form in ZBrush. I masked out the major muscle groups, extracted, and printed them. Next, they were connected to a kind of mycelial complex of roots and wires. The works are adorned with an eclectic biomass collage that includes moss, roots, branches, flowers, minerals, shells, feathers, animal bones, and fossils, following the flow and form of the figures’ pose. I like using technology to realize the human body to suggest how advanced genetic and neural net technologies can aid humanity in disease resistance, longevity, vitality, intelligence, and empathy.
Alternatively, I measure and scan a physical object (like found wood) with photogrammetry to bring it into the digital space. This is my practice for the “Symbiotics” (2017) and “NeoGrowths” (2020–22) series.
RM: The “NeoGrowths” are abstract works reminiscent of topography or geology. Some appear to be aerial views. Others feel like looking inside an undiscovered biological system. They might also be remnants from the cradle of civilization or tools from an unimaginable habitat light-years away.
GK: Both the “Symbiotics” and the “NeoGrowths” explore the concept of landscapes and unknown worlds. For “NeoGrowths,” I combine pieces of found wood from distant places where I have traveled, like Bali, as well as wood collected from my childhood home in Long Island. I 3D-scan the pieces using structured light or photogrammetry. These digital replicas help inform how the geometry will be shaped and become digital artworks that complement their physical counterparts. Then, the wood is cut at a central point, split in two, and reconnected with complex geometry constructed from printed resin that is gold electroformed or chrome airbrushed. These inserts fit perfectly into the wood, like natural extensions or an exposed interior. Lastly, I add flocking, epoxy clay, paint, patina, and preserved mosses. The “NeoGrowths” invite discussion about the balance between nature and technology. Is one dominating the other, or are they coalescing in novel harmony? Are they separate facets of existence, or is one simply a continuation of the other?
RM: Another series, “Transmutations” (2020–22), also alludes to these questions and concerns. These works merge discarded electronics and organic materials to make playful forms.
GK: I bridge opposing forces by combining discarded manufactured goods like headphones, printers, and lamps with organic materials such as branches, roots, and driftwood. I cut and melt these items in the studio, joining them with glue and epoxy clay. I add paints, patinas, flocking, and preserved mosses to create the illusion of natural transitions from one substance to another. These sculptures are commentaries on mass production, throw-away culture, planned obsolescence, and the unsustainability of a purely capitalist system dependent on infinite growth.
Artists like David Altmejd, Anselm Kiefer, Patrick Jacobs, Daniel Arsham, Kris Kuksi, Cajsa von Zeipel, Wassily Kandinsky, Hilma af Klint, Jimmie Durham, and Wangechi Mutu have all impacted my work. They are very different, but they have all found a way to synthesize a wide range of materials, methods, and ideas to find an original and understandable visual language raises questions about a wide range of important issues.
RM: The throughline across your work is harmony of the natural world, humanity, and technology, which are often seen in opposition, and you postulate questions that humanity must ask as we dive further into the 21st century. What role do artists and art play in society? Considering the accelerated development and widespread reach of technology, are you optimistic or pessimistic about its unforeseen impacts?
GK: Personally, I don’t see technology as separate from the natural world, but as an extension of it. It is part of the evolution from primitive tools to advanced innovations like synthetic biology and quantum computing. These technologies, as noted by physicist Michio Kaku, are set to transform our reality by 2050. My work explores the interconnection between nature, religion, science, and technology, and focuses particularly on bioethics—the rules governing the modification of the natural world. I speculate about potential advancements in biotechnology, or “wet tech,” as the next computing wave, contemplating its ability to reshape nature and enhance durability, efficiency, and renewal. I am optimistic that innovations in AI, nanotechnology, and synthetic biology could lead us to a utopian future, altering not just our reality, but also our perception of it: allowing humanity to realize unprecedented potential and transformation akin to becoming our own gods.
Art has the power to change, edify, inspire, and dream. It allows a moment of introspection, like when we look at nature or engage in deep meditation—a suspension from reality. Many things in life compete for our dopamine; visual content is ubiquitous in our lives, and it’s only speeding up. I hope my works act as a catalyst for taking action to create and collaborate for the betterment of humanity. I want them to captivate all age groups and become an impetus to investigate reality and the planet at large.
RM: What have you been working on recently?
GK: I recently finished an installation called 4 Horsemen of the Apocatastasis, which is a play on the biblical four horsemen of the apocalypse: death, famine, war, and conquest. I began with four maquettes then scaled them up to life-size works intended to be shown outdoors. Instead of humans riding horses, the sculptures are centaurs, chimeric fusions of human and animal. They represent concepts directly opposed to the original: life, abundance, peace, and empathy, fictionally constructed through a fusion of synthetic biology, nanotechnology, and neuromorphic quantum computing. The materials include sourced branches treated with various non-toxic resins, copper-plated leaves, flowers, crystals, and 3D-printed and hand-sculpted ceramics parts. An apocalypse is defined as “complete final destruction of the world,” whereas apocatastasis is “the restoration of creation to a condition of perfection.” I reimagine these terms as a kind of new ecological equilibrium achieved through advanced technologies. Although the original story is about existential dread, this work emphasizes hope.
