Anamesis
InLiquid Gallery
1400 N American St.
Philadelphia
Showing through Feb. 22, 2025
Seen Dec. 21, 2025
In 1975, computer graphics researcher Martin Newell created one of the first-ever 3D models by translating an everyday object — the Melitta-branded Utah Teapot — into a dataset of mathematical coordinates. The teapot was an ideal subject for '70s experimentation because of its singular shape: It boasts a variety of curved and convex surfaces and is self-reflective, to boot.
Though the world of digital diagramming goes entirely over my head, the Utah Teapot has become an in-joke of the computer art community. Otherwise antiquated and unknown, the Utah Teapot has become a mundane yet ubiquitous symbol for the start of a 3D world of design we all inevitably occupy today.
2025 marks the 50th anniversary of the Utah Teapot’s development. In celebration, artist William Cromar 3D-printed a series of stainless steel “Utah variations,” showing the teapot from all angles and reference points (pictured above). The teapot is featured in an exhibit at InLiquid Art Gallery called “Anamesis.” The show is a self-described exploration of “existence, memory and the interplay of technology with our intimate lives.”
Cromar's artist statement does a lot of clarifying for those (me) completely confused by the undertaking:
“Many consider this humble teapot to be the most important object in the history of computer graphics,” Cromar explains. “As a graduate student, Newell created the original coordinates by hand on graph paper using traditional methods of drawing projection. He later said that if he’d known it would become so popular, he would have done a more careful job on the dataset. He half-jokingly lamented that despite all the things he has done for digital graphics, the only thing he will be remembered for is ‘that damned teapot.’”
Cromar’s take on the teapot combines a “more careful job on the dataset” with various projection methodologies to create isometric, axonometric and 2-point perspective, parallel, section, rotation and scale versions of the object.
I’ve gotten trapped in Google searches trying to internalize what all those terms mean. But if we just look at the artwork in front of us, what we see is a surrealist expression of old technique. It’s wild to think of the worlds within worlds that stem from the seemingly simple digital construction of what is, essentially, a human watering can. Staring at warped iterations of an old-as-time design (the teapot dates back to 1500 AD) feels like falling through Wonderland into Alice’s backwards tea party.
Cromar is not the only person to pay respect to the early model. The Utah Teapot shows up in numerous Pixar films — check out the above shot from Toy Story. I realized I had seen a more overt reference to the Utah Teapot in a particularly trippy episode of The Simpsons, during which Homer stumbles into a third dimension and becomes “Homer Cubed” alongside a host of misunderstood mathematical equations and shadowy shapes, among which is the famous kettle.
Even the “meme man,” the hideous 3D rendering of a smooth, disembodied male bust, is an implicit throwback to the dawn of the third digital dimension, before the internet became a dank breeding ground of deep-fried communications. Not even Newell could predict how dense 3D could get.
Like any successful meme, the Utah Teapot had a viral impact. Though meme culture might seem removed from reality, or at least self-referential in a way that undermines popular understanding of the true information in transit, it is ultimately a self-aware response to the increasingly absurd building blocks of humanity.
So sit back, relax, and spout yourself a cup of 2025. Maybe this is the year that the Utah Teapot will save us by pouring us back into simpler times. Or maybe it’s gonna get crazier than any of us could ever render.
