Jackson Pollock Computers

It’s funny how, even in an art museum, where you’d expect peo­ple to be hip to such things, I’ll be look­ing at a Jack­son Pol­lock paint­ing and some­one will say “I don’t get it”.

So let me sum it up: a Jack­son Pol­lock paint­ing is Jimi Hen­drix at Woodstock.

Jimi Hen­drix (1942−1970) grew up in a world where recorded music was every­where, and new tech­nolo­gies brought near-​perfect “high fidelity” stereo­phonic record­ings into the home. Not only could you buy your favorite song, you could buy your favorite per­for­mance of a song, and musi­cians had an incen­tive to make each per­for­mance dif­fer­ent from the stu­dio ver­sion to sell more tick­ets & “live” records.

Freed from the need to make each per­for­mance the same as the last, musi­cians were able to reduce a per­for­mance down to its essen­tials. Instead of sounds orga­nized by eas­ily per­formed mea­sures, refrains, and codas, musi­cians like Hen­drix used their instru­ments as ampli­fiers of emo­tion, props in a audio-​visual dis­play of raw feel­ings. Rock out a soul­ful solo, play the gui­tar with your teeth, then set it on fire.

Jack­son Pol­lack (1912−1956) died while Hen­drix was still a kid, but he came of age in the hey­day of the Brownie cam­era, a sim­ple cam­era whose $1 price tag made it ubiq­ui­tous. His drip period started about ten years after color film hit the mar­ket. To that point, most paint­ings were por­traits of peo­ple or moments frozen in time. Even pointil­lists drew rec­og­niz­able forms. But afford­able color cam­eras meant any­one could cap­ture their own images of Aunt Gertrude in her new hat.

Early Brownie cam­era (cour­tesy Wikipedia)

Like Hen­drix, Pol­lack was inspired to reduce paint­ing to its essen­tials. No longer tied to tra­di­tional forms, he exper­i­mented with mate­ri­als and abstract ways of express­ing his con­flict­ing emo­tions through paint and can­vas. The image hang­ing in a gallery is only the out­put of one per­for­mance, echoes of the motions, grunts, and groans as he lit­er­ally attacked and embraced his media.

Today’s young com­puter engi­neers and design­ers pecked at the keys of a com­puter long before they could read the let­ters on the keys them­selves. There’s no sense of intrin­sic amaze­ment when they sit down in front of a PC. The banal­ity of com­put­ing, cou­pled with cheap, dis­pos­able micro­proces­sors like Arduino, is lead­ing to a new gen­er­a­tion of devices that don’t look like tra­di­tional computers.

IBM 5150 (cour­tesy Wikipedia)

Prod­ucts like Supermechanical’s Twine are the Wood­stock gui­tar solo of the infor­ma­tion age.

Twine is a wire­less mod­ule tightly inte­grated with a cloud-​based ser­vice. The mod­ule has WiFi, on-​board tem­per­a­ture and vibra­tion sen­sors, and an expan­sion con­nec­tor for other sen­sors. […] The Spool web app makes it sim­ple to set up and mon­i­tor your Twines from a browser any­where. You set rules to trig­ger mes­sages — no pro­gram­ming needed. The rules are put together with a palette of avail­able con­di­tions and actions, and read like Eng­lish: WHEN mois­ture sen­sor gets wet THEN tweet “The base­ment is flooding!”

- Twine sales pitch

Twine

Stripped of the need for affor­dances such as key­board or dis­play, Twine expresses a sin­gle emo­tion: appre­hen­sion. A Twine on your base­ment wall embod­ies your fear of flood­ing. The Twine on your wash­ing machine is your guilt for let­ting laun­dry sit between cycles. It may not be as beau­ti­ful to the ears as a Hen­drix gui­tar solo or as visu­ally stun­ning as a Pol­lack, but the essence is the same.