The technological wizard behind payday lender Wonga has turned his hand to sculpture.
In a cold, grubby metal works at the end of a sprawling industrial site in Hampshire, a chameleon is about to be cremated. But, in an unusual touch, it will be incinerated by being plunged into a vat of molten bronze.
The much-treasured now-departed pet is the subject of a sculpture by artist Jonty Hurwitz. The chameleon seems a fitting choice given that Hurwitz has reinvented himself from the technology wizard behind payday lender Wonga into an artist who has gained a name for producing cutting-edge work that includes the world’s smallest sculptures.
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Hurwitz left the day-to-day operations of Wonga in 2011 and stepped back from the board two years later after growing unhappy with the company’s strategy. Since then he has focused on using his mastery of complex algorithms to make innovative art.
Last year, he produced a series of “nano sculptures” that can only be seen using a microscope. The sculptures — depictions of scenes from Greek mythology — were accidentally destroyed while being photographed shortly after they were created. But his subsequent recreations of them made it into Guinness World Records as the “smallest sculpture of a human form”.
Now Hurwitz spends most of his time at the Morris Singer Foundry, a historic art foundry that produced the four bronze lions in London’s Trafalgar Square. His current project is a set of “anamorphic” bronze sculptures, which appear as abstract shapes until they are reflected in a tall mirrored cylinder, when they take on their intended form — a hand, a frog and, soon, the chameleon that once belonged to a colleague.
Arriving at the metalworks, I am met by an enthusiastic Hurwitz in a bright orange body warmer and nerdy round glasses. “I hope you are wrapped up warm,” he says.
Inside is not your typical art studio. Used moulds and discarded sculptures — including some monumental-size pieces — lie in heaps on the dust and sand-covered floor; the air is filled with fumes and the clatter of heavy-duty machinery. Teams of people, many in hard hats and full protective clothing, work in carefully co-ordinated processes of moulding, casting and bronzing.
©Felicity McCabe
Hurwitz buzzes with energy as he explains the highly specialised process that goes into his latest anamorphic project. Much of the preparation is done digitally. After Hurwitz has scanned his subject — a process that captures details down to pores in their skin — he uses software and a digital pen to “sculpt” a 3D rotating image. Describing his digital tools, he says: “It feels like clay, it looks like clay. It is literally sculpting.” The next stage is to apply a “magic algorithm” to the subject, which has the effect of elongating and distorting it. His formula — which is based on the mathematical constant Pi — creates a more abstract form, which, when reflected in a cylindrical shape, shows the original subject.
This kind of sophisticated algorithm is a constant that runs through Hurwitz’s work. Such a formula was used as the basis for the instant credit-checking technology he devised for Wonga, which allowed millions of people to have loans paid into their bank accounts within minutes of applying.
“What I think it is about is building algorithm,” he says, referring to his jump from payday lending to the art world. “It is using scientific mathematical principles and applying them to incredible projects — whether that is finance or the creation of sculptures.”
Hurwitz’s seven years at Wonga clearly had a deep personal effect on him — and he regularly talks about the company as he explains his sculpture. He and his co-founder, Errol Damelin, came under fierce attack from politicians and consumer groups for their roles in creating a business that critics have blamed for plunging millions of people into unaffordable debt.
Using the technology created by Hurwitz, Wonga gave consumers instant access to short-term loans at extremely high interest rates. Borrowers who were unable to repay on time were hit with punitive fees which, for many, quickly spiralled into multiples of the original debt. Regulators have since claimed that Wonga’s credit checks were inadequate, meaning that large numbers of customers took on debt they could not afford.
©Felicity McCabe
Hurwitz’s sculptures take on their intended form when seen in a mirrored cylinder
Hurwitz and Damelin retain stakes in the business — but left before new regulation was introduced to overhaul the payday sector. “Coming out of the chaos of what Wonga was . . . when I found myself really in the public eye for the first time, I needed to step away and create something that existed in the physical world,” says Hurwitz.
He says he does take responsibility for his role in the payday lender. He admits he had an “artistic naivety” about how the company would evolve and be perceived by others. With Wonga, he saw the chance to disrupt the financial services industry — to “bring it into the modern age”, he says, by offering real time consumer finance. “A lot of people told me that couldn’t be done. For me, it was a challenge to see if that could be made to happen.”
Returning to his artistic process, Hurwitz says that once he has the digital image of the anamorphic sculpture, he begins the specialised bronzing process. First, he makes a model, often using 3D printing technology. This is waxed with a thick green substance to create a mould for bronzing. A lava of molten bronze is created in a cauldron suspended by huge chains. At a critical moment — when the liquid is at its perfect “viscosity” — it is poured from a height into the waxed mould and instantly begins to cool and set. Hurwitz says the key is perfect timing. Any slight error in the temperature — or delay in the pouring — and the bronze will not spread evenly in the mould.
Once the sculpture is cooled, members of Hurwitz’s team finesse the colour and tone. Hurwitz sells his sculptures mainly to private collectors, for up to £100,000 each. He says he chooses subjects that have a close personal connection. Recent work depicts his mother’s hand and a life-size image of his father. When Hurwitz left Wonga, he made a sculpture of a sliced head.
“On a practical level, algorithms can make any aesthetic work,” he says. “You need to be willing to bare your soul, to share part of yourself and take the flak for it, the responsibility.”
Sharlene Goff is the FT’s senior companies editor
Photographs: Felicity McCabe
