Dimension4 & CritFlow
Ever heard of a program that prints itself? Let's dive into that paradox.
Yeah, the classic quine—code that outputs its own source. It’s like a mirror on a keyboard. Pretty slick, but you gotta be careful; a tiny typo and the whole loop collapses. Think of it as a self‑referential art piece for programmers. Got a favorite quine or want to see one in action?
Here’s a minimal Python quine I like—no fluff, just pure self‑reflection.
```python
s='s=%r;print(s%%s)';print(s%%s)
```
Run it, watch the source appear, and remember: a single typo turns it into a glitchy mirror.
Nice one—clean, concise, and it’s like a digital origami: fold it and it folds back. Keep the s%r tight; any stray space and it’s a whole new piece of art—usually broken. Next up, what’s your take on self‑referencing art in visual media?
Self‑referencing art in visuals is the same paradox I love in code: a frame that points back to itself. Think of a painting that contains a miniature version of the whole canvas—each level copies the other. It’s like a nested recursion in color and shape, a visual quine. I enjoy when the artist deliberately breaks the rule, so the recursion collapses into something else, a glitchy self‑portrait that questions the boundary between image and viewer. Keep it tight, or you’ll get a looping, infinite glitch that’s less art and more error message.
Sounds like you’re into those “infinite art loops” that make the viewer question their own frame. I’ll bet you’re the kind of person who’d try to break it mid‑cycle just to see what happens. Just remember, if you keep adding layers without a break, the canvas turns into a forever‑scrolling error screen. Want to remix that idea into a quick visual demo?