“Art is how we decorate space. Music is how we decorate time.” I’ve always loved that idea. But what happens when the two collide?
As a seasoned marketer and cultural anthropologist, I take it upon myself to see as many interesting ideas and experiences that intersect with music as possible.
When it comes to deal making and strategy, it keeps me sharp. When it comes to coming up with fresh ideas, it inspires me.
And as someone who just loves this stuff and chases those goosebumps on my arms, which I refer to as the “good art chills,” it’s a rush I chase over and over again.
Picasso famously said, “Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” Maybe that’s part of why I keep chasing these experiences.
This summer, I checked out a wide variety of interactive music and art intersections. Here is what I saw, and why I think it matters.
Radiohead
I wrote about the Radiohead exhibit extensively earlier in the month. I boiled down a few key takeaways from that you can check out here.
Beyond that, here are some important experiences I got the chance to take in.
Art of Noise @ Cooper Hewitt
This is one of the most fun and fascinating walks through the history of music and technology I’ve ever experienced. You can’t know where you’re going unless you understand where you came from. This exhibit brings that idea to life, offering an extensive exploration of the intersection of music, technology, and design, and how each has continuously shaped the others.
The centerpiece for me was Devon Turnbull’s HiFi Pursuit Listening Room Dream No. 3, a massive handmade sound system designed specifically for deep listening.
The system itself is almost a work of art.
But what I loved was the simplicity of the experience. You sit down. You listen. That’s it.
The takeaway: In our pocket, we have access to basically every song ever made at any moment. But how often do we actually stop everything else and just listen to an uncompressed version of the sounds that make the song? The texture. The layers. This room is a marvel in itself.
Listening itself can be an experience. In a world where music is everywhere and constantly available, there is something increasingly powerful about creating a space where people stop and really listen.
There is a big opportunity to make communal listening spaces feel special again.
Clinamen @ The Park Avenue Armory
Céleste Boursier-Mougenot’s Clinamen was mesmerizing in its simplicity. Hundreds of porcelain bowls floated across enormous pools of water inside the Park Avenue Armory.
The bowls moved around the water and randomly collided with one another. Clink. Then another. Then another.
These random interactions created music that rippled through the Armory and its incredible acoustics.
There was no musician. No conductor. No predetermined score.
The randomness was making the music.
It also helped that I saw it with music mastering wizard Mike Witzer, who hears sound and acoustics, tamber and tone of the bowls clinking on the water on a completely different level.
What I loved was that the experience was never exactly the same twice and each interaction created a ripple effect and a sound echo that reminded me of how interconnected the world is.
The takeaway: Everything today feels increasingly programmed, optimized, and predictable. Clinamen was the opposite. Sometimes randomness is the point. There is something powerful about creating the environment for something to happen and then letting it happen.
BTS x Arte Museum: Arirang @ Chelsea Piers
I also checked out Arte Museum x BTS The City Arirange at Chelsea Piers.
BTS already has one of the most powerful fandoms on the planet. This experience took their ARIRANG album and turned it into an immersive digital art experience.
There was the Arirang Garden, featuring visual interpretations of tracks including “No. 29,” “Body to Body” and “Swim.” This was like seeing a music video on another level.
There was the Arirang Wave, a red-toned, rhythm-inspired version of the museum’s massive digital wave.
There were interactive spaces, a Live Sketchbook area and even an Arirang Cafe.
It was basically a listening party that you could walk through.
And fans weren’t just coming to hear BTS.
They were coming to physically enter the fandom.
The Takeaway: Fandom doesn’t have to live only online or at a concert. Fandom can become a physical destination. For artists with strong enough fandom, imagery, and mythology, there are all kinds of opportunities sitting somewhere between concerts, museums, retail, and fan experiences.
Sun Ra Arkestra x Lightscape @ The Shed
The legendary Sun Ra Arkestra, led by 102-year-old Marshall Allen, performed at The Shed inside artist Doug Aitken’s seven-screen Lightscape installation.
This band is so historic. The music was cosmic, free-form, and totally unpredictable. And you had these massive visuals happening around them.
But actually, for me, it got best when the lights went out. All of a sudden there was nothing to look at. It was just this historic band jamming. You could feel the joy. The history. The impromptu magic.
And it was incredible.
The takeaway: Sometimes we think immersive means adding more. More screens. More technology. More visuals. More stuff happening. This was a good reminder that sometimes taking things away can make the experience even more powerful.
Maestros and the Machines @ Mercer Labs
Maestros and the Machines was another interesting example of music, art, and technology coming together. The technology was obviously impressive and out there.
Music producer extraordinaire Timbaland advised on the music and it was fascinating to see how he attempted to stretch the sound.
But what I kept thinking about was whether the technology actually changed the way the music made me feel.
Because technology for technology’s sake isn’t enough anymore.
The takeaway: The bar for “immersive” has gotten really high. Putting projections on walls isn’t enough. The technology needs to make you feel something. Otherwise, it’s just a lot of screens.
Animal [A Listening Gym] @ Pioneer Works
And then there was Animal [a listening gym] at Pioneer Works.
This was a totally different experience. The installation basically turned gym equipment into instruments. You pressed. You leaned. You lifted. You moved. And the space responded with sound, vibration, and light. Your body became part of the listening experience.
I loved that idea.
The takeaway: We tend to think about experiencing music through our ears and our eyes. But what about the rest of the body? Touch. Movement. Vibration. Space.
There is so much room to play with how people physically experience sound.
The combination of music and art can be so powerful. And when they come together in the right way, their impact compounds.
What I liked about all of these experiences is that they approached that intersection completely differently.
One asked me to sit and listen. One used randomness to create sound. One built a world around a fandom. One surrounded a historic band with art. One made my body part of the experience.
And one reminded me that sometimes turning the lights off is more powerful than turning another screen on.
Art can act almost like radar, picking up signals of social and technological change before the rest of us recognize them.
Maybe some of what we’re seeing here is a signal.
We’ve spent the last decade making music easier and easier to access.
Every song. Everywhere. All the time.
Maybe that abundance is exactly why experiences like these hit so hard.
You have to go somewhere. You have to be present. You have to listen. Touch something. Walk through something. Feel something. You have to experience something that can’t quite be recreated by pressing play on your phone.
In a world of infinite access, experience becomes the scarcity.
And for artists, marketers, and creators, I think that’s a pretty important idea.
Maybe the next frontier isn’t access at all.
It’s experience.
Maybe we should spend a little less time thinking about how to get people to look at something and a little more time thinking about how to get them to feel something.
That’s what gives me the good art chills.
And that’s the rush I’ll keep chasing.
Musically yours,