Before consolidating his mature idiom, Wandrey worked as a designer and illustrator, shaping record covers, editorial imagery, and posters. This proximity to mass circulation sharpened his sense for iconic condensation, serial order, and visual impact. The applied field became his laboratory: he observed how images travel, how they persuade, and how popular graphics and high art continually exchange methods. That experience gave him a rare freedom to move between picture, object, and space while retaining the precision and discipline of graphic construction.

In the late 1970s Wandrey oriented his work toward the visual grammar of the computer age. In New York in 1978 he articulated Digitalism, pairing it with a forward looking program often summarized as Science and Beyond. Grid, module, and pixel like units became structuring principles, while hard contours and luminous clarity turned into hallmarks. Early screen aesthetics, game imagery, and informational codes did not remain references but were transformed into a coherent pictorial syntax. What looks like technical order becomes cultural statement.

Wandrey expanded the picture plane by introducing a material iconography of technology. Circuit boards, cables, microcomponents, light elements, and plotter derived drawing enter the work not as decoration but as semantic carriers. Hardware becomes hieroglyph, a sign system of a society that produces myths through devices and interfaces. At the same time, canonical figures from art history are not merely quoted but re-coded through his digital grammar, staging a controlled metamorphosis between tradition and technological present.

Wandrey is often read as a pioneer of an analog Digitalism, positioned between art, design, and media history. His oeuvre anticipates questions that now define the present: how images are generated under technical standards, how bodies and identities migrate into code, how devices become cultural symbols. Curatorially, his achievement can be framed as an act of translation, binding Surrealist imagination, Pop strategies, and technological thinking into an autonomous iconography. The tension lies in the balance of cool precision and intellectual play. In Hamburg he called his atelier Casa Digitalis, yet he meant more than a workplace: it was also his inner world, the mental architecture from which the work’s images and systems arise.

Petrus Wandrey died in Hamburg in 2012. His work, however, reads less as a closed chapter than as a set of propositions whose relevance intensifies with each acceleration of the digital present. What he formulated in analog materials as vision and warning now meets a world that has caught up with his premises. In that sense, the oeuvre does not recede into history; it continues to expand in meaning, reception, and cultural urgency.

The on chain structure follows the logic of the physical works. Unique pieces correspond to singular originals and are issued as true 1/1 tokens. Graphics, lithographs, and other multiples are issued as editions, with fixed maximum supplies that match the analogue edition sizes. Each work is clearly labeled so collectors can read, at a glance, whether they are looking at a unique masterwork or an edition, exactly as they would in the print tradition.

Before consolidating his mature idiom, Wandrey worked as a designer and illustrator, shaping record covers, editorial imagery, and posters. This proximity to mass circulation sharpened his sense for iconic condensation, serial order, and visual impact. The applied field became his laboratory: he observed how images travel, how they persuade, and how popular graphics and high art continually exchange methods. That experience gave him a rare freedom to move between picture, object, and space while retaining the precision and discipline of graphic construction.

In the late 1970s Wandrey oriented his work toward the visual grammar of the computer age. In New York in 1978 he articulated Digitalism, pairing it with a forward looking program often summarized as Science and Beyond. Grid, module, and pixel like units became structuring principles, while hard contours and luminous clarity turned into hallmarks. Early screen aesthetics, game imagery, and informational codes did not remain references but were transformed into a coherent pictorial syntax. What looks like technical order becomes cultural statement.

Wandrey expanded the picture plane by introducing a material iconography of technology. Circuit boards, cables, microcomponents, light elements, and plotter derived drawing enter the work not as decoration but as semantic carriers. Hardware becomes hieroglyph, a sign system of a society that produces myths through devices and interfaces. At the same time, canonical figures from art history are not merely quoted but re-coded through his digital grammar, staging a controlled metamorphosis between tradition and technological present.

Wandrey is often read as a pioneer of an analog Digitalism, positioned between art, design, and media history. His oeuvre anticipates questions that now define the present: how images are generated under technical standards, how bodies and identities migrate into code, how devices become cultural symbols. Curatorially, his achievement can be framed as an act of translation, binding Surrealist imagination, Pop strategies, and technological thinking into an autonomous iconography. The tension lies in the balance of cool precision and intellectual play. In Hamburg he called his atelier Casa Digitalis, yet he meant more than a workplace: it was also his inner world, the mental architecture from which the work’s images and systems arise.

Petrus Wandrey died in Hamburg in 2012. His work, however, reads less as a closed chapter than as a set of propositions whose relevance intensifies with each acceleration of the digital present. What he formulated in analog materials as vision and warning now meets a world that has caught up with his premises. In that sense, the oeuvre does not recede into history; it continues to expand in meaning, reception, and cultural urgency.

The on chain structure follows the logic of the physical works. Unique pieces correspond to singular originals and are issued as true 1/1 tokens. Graphics, lithographs, and other multiples are issued as editions, with fixed maximum supplies that match the analogue edition sizes. Each work is clearly labeled so collectors can read, at a glance, whether they are looking at a unique masterwork or an edition, exactly as they would in the print tradition.