# Nokori (残り) by Andrew Mitchell

Source: https://andrewmitchell-art.xyz/art/nokori.php
Kiwi News: https://news.kiwistand.com/stories/Nokori-by-Andrew-Mitchell?index=0x69d67d6b701e100dbae479c0cba434602fcc828290940b9873fcbe60cdcb8d6dbd668b88
Submitted by misha on 2026-04-08 UTC, 4 upvotes, 0 comments

## Summary

Andrew Mitchell describes Nokori, a collection of 401 fully on-chain, EVM-generated artworks built with SVG, CSS and embedded vanilla JavaScript, all constructed purely through Solidity string concatenation with no third-party libraries or HTML canvas elements. Each piece pairs an SVG image with an HTML animation that appends textures to the SVG. Mitchell says the project's name means remnants and regret, and that after two years of building and scraping it back, the work is what remains. He writes that the pieces are meant to look worn down, as if time has left its marks on them, and that he wants the images, rather than his own narration, to tell the story.

## Article

All artworks are constructed purely with string concatenation. No 3rd party libraries or HTML <canvas> elements are used at any point. Nokori is a collection of 401 fully on-chain, EVM-generated artworks rendered with SVG and CSS. Each piece includes two components: an SVG image and an HTML animation, both built entirely in Solidity. The animation includes embedded vanilla JavaScript to dynamically append additional textures to the SVG.

Nokori means remnants, what remains after everything else is gone. I've now spent two years on this project, building it up, scraping it down. Nothing's left but the work itself. I will probably still look back and see things I wish I could change. That's okay. Nokori can also mean regret. Oftentimes I avoid this feeling. What was I doing freshman year of college? I can hardly remember why I was the way I was. It is hard not to feel further and further from myself as the days pass. Is that a form of regret? Maybe? Sometimes I catch myself moving too fast, heart racing, almost manic, scrubbing dishes, showering, walking. It's unhealthy to live on what feels like borrowed time, rushing between states of working, sleeping, relaxing, etc. It's better to move slowly, because at least I am then living on my own terms.

Working on Nokori has helped me navigate the highs and lows of the last few years. The cracks and threads carry something unspoken. I've tried to give the impression that the pieces were always meant to be worn down as if time itself has left its mark on them.

Rather than narrating the story myself, I want the images to tell it for me.