Category Archives: Art

The Major Labels Are Not Reestablishing Their Dominance

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The Misleading Statement

A couple weeks ago, Forbes ran an article detailing how the major record labels were taking their “revenge” on the current landscape by making “strategic partnerships” with music services to reestablish their dominance. This was a very bold statement. Here’s why it’s misleading, and essentially false.

The major record labels (the Big Three, Warner Music Group, Universal Music Group, and Sony) are indeed striking deals with music services like Spotify, Rdio, and SoundCloud, but these deals don’t signal what the article asserts that they do. The reality is that the majority of the label-service partnerships revolve around licensing rights and royalty payments, an already broken system that will continue to feel squeezing pressure as we move further into the digital age.

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What the major label industry really looks like; The Big Three

What the major label industry really looks like; The Big Three

The article focused on the labels’ calculated move to reassert their control as gatekeepers by using their access to artist content as a leveraging technique. This is true, and is completely expected; the labels are doing what they can to hold onto what power they have left. But the reality of the situation is that this isn’t a new move; it’s a rehashing of the same dynamics that the labels have relied on for years. This is exactly why they’re not “taking revenge” on anything or anyone.

The Ironic Voodoo of Ignoring the Middle

As much as they would like to believe they still hold the power they once did, the major labels need to acknowledge that their ability to deem music as “good” or “sellable” is essentially irrelevant in the grand scheme now. It’s lost a certain sheen of relevance because they’re no longer the only deciding force out there to dictate the music the gets made or played. Now, the power of choice and reach comes to and from anyone with an internet hookup and a laptop. Ergo, though they may try to deny it, the major labels are gatekeepers no more.

So here’s where the ironic voodoo comes in: major music streaming services like Spotify and Rdio sign licensing deals with the major labels because they think that’s the only way to survive in the music landscape, and the major labels license their music because they essentially see no alternatives at the moment. Simultaneously though, both sides ignore those artists who fall in the middle: the independents (who, by the way, make up a massively growing market). Thus they are dismissing today’s independent artists who might be major underground sensations tomorrow. SoundCloud used to be a happy place for the independents. Then even that changed when they signed a deal with Warner and began seeking out deals with the other major labels.

The Punch: The Percentage Dynamics People Ignore

I wrote here why independent artists will eventually begin to move away from SoundCloud. What I didn’t focus on at the time, and precisely what the Forbes article glazed over, are the percentages of these streaming companies that are owned by the major labels. Beyond my argument regarding SC and Warner, the Forbes article noted that Warner owns 5% of SoundCloud, which it acquired in the streaming service’s latest funding round (and also which it acquired at about a 50% discount from what other investors paid).

That’s not all though; all of the Big Three collectively own about 10-20% of other streaming services, such as Spotify and Rdio, as well, and Universal jumped on a 13% stake in Beats before Apple snapped them up. (And this doesn’t take into account all the “360 deals” that are taking place).

Thus, we have the major labels, who control the licensing that these streaming services depend on, owning parts of the streaming services themselves. Essentially they can bully the services into driving towards what’s best for their artists with the power to pull their licensing from said services if they don’t comply, thereby draining them of their lifeblood. Doesn’t sound like a pyramid scheme to me at all… Oh wait, yes it does.

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Major Label Percentage Ownerships of (some) Streaming Services

Major Label Percentage Ownerships of (some) Streaming Services

Here’s what it means in the bigger picture: the major labels are gobbling up these stakes to preserve their roles as the gatekeepers of the musical landscape, and to possibly make a grab at the distribution arm for their music. Despite the fact that this is working for them for the moment, it most certainly does not mean that they’re reestablishing their dominance over the music landscape. This matters for two main reasons:

  1. It underscores the reality that the labels aren’t really coming up with any new tricks; they’re just rehashing the same ones again.
  2. It proves that assertions of “equal opportunity” for independent artists on streaming services like Spotify and SoundCloud are basically false.

Why Warner Now Holds Leverage Over SoundCloud

With its 5% stake in SoundCloud, Warner will clearly attempt to steer the service’s vision and attention towards the the artists it represents, and whose interests it has at heart. Why would it not? That’s exactly what I would do. It’s not personal for Warner, it’s just business. But what it means for independent artists on SC is something much bigger: that they will no longer be the focus of the service, and again will need to contend themselves with scraps of attention after the major label(s) is (are) done feeding.

Look at it from the point of view of Warner: why would they contribute to SoundCloud’s latest round, snapping up 5% (even at a 50% discount) if they weren’t going to leverage that to their advantage? The point is they wouldn’t because they’re going to do exactly that.

soundcloud_logo

SoundCloud logo

Now that Warner has control (to some extent) over the new distribution channel, SoundCloud, as well as the music that SC wants to license (i.e. the lifeblood of any music service), it holds all the leverage in the relationship. Essentially if SC doesn’t steer its model towards what would benefit Warner’s artists, Warner can decide not to renew its licensing agreement with the service, thereby cutting out SoundCloud’s feet from under it. And the same is true with the other labels and streaming services. The labels are worming their way into controlling not only of the material for distribution (the music), but the distribution channels as well. As a result, we end up with the same concentrated power dynamics and gatekeeper power-plays as we had before.

Squeezing Models of the Past

Yet, easy though it may be for the major labels to dig into their deep pockets and purchase stakes in these streaming services hoping to once again gatekeep the music landscape, it is nonetheless not the same game they are used to playing. It’s now much easier for any music startup to get into the streaming or downloading service—and thus become a new source of distribution for artists. This means that the probability for the major labels to bottleneck and control the distribution channels is actually much smaller, particularly when it comes to artists and services that don’t focus on major label content, but rather independent dynamics.

For all their “strategic partnerships” and licensing/royalty practices, the major labels are not taking revenge or “reestablishing their dominance” over anyone. They’re still playing catch-up, and will continue to do so as long as their business model revolves around the obsolete (and completely unfair) royalty paradigm. Realistically speaking, the majors are playing a losing game: they’re no longer essential for artists to find fanbases or have exposure—the internet’s taken care of that. Independents can now crowdfund themselves, as well as make their own way in the live arena sans any “360 deals” with labels.

Perhaps the most telling part of the Forbes article came in the last sentence. One phrase pretty much summed it all up: “By looking forward, while squeezing the models of the past…” The rest is irrelevant. Even Forbes knows that the major labels’ models are outdated and like squeezing water from a stone. That begs the question: if they know, and we know, why don’t the major labels seem to get it?

Rediscovered Appreciations

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I went to see my brother’s semester high school play tonight. The performance was a mix of musical theater numbers and spoken word pieces spanning a number of genres. With only about 12 students participating, I was impressed and intrigued by the amount of work each student had to put in to cover multiple characters.

Yet as I sat in the dark theater, what really started occurring to me between numbers from Rent and Fiddler on the Roof was just how much I knew about the musical theater pieces; and how much I didn’t know.

Though I’ve always loved creative sorts of things, I was never much one for musical theater. I never hated it—but I never loved it. I was always somewhat ambivalent, happy to enjoy the music I liked, and dismiss the parts that bored me. Tonight, however, some of those same pieces that I may have dismissed years earlier came back to me in a different light. And even ones I’d liked before—somehow I found myself rediscovering an appreciation that seems to have been dormant for some time.

I suppose that we never know what exactly we like and don’t like because those things can change so drastically and so rapidly. Appreciation for something is a process just as much as is the production of it. Sometimes—as with that production—that appreciation can take years to develop and catalyze in a way that becomes concretely apparent to us. In that time, many times we pay it no heed. But at the moment that it becomes clear in an instant, it seems to have come out of nowhere. Perhaps it’s not that it came out of nowhere, but that it took more time to realize something’s potential and worth.

When Your Fingers Bleed

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I’m not a particularly amazing guitarist. I’m not horrible, but I was never going to be a virtuoso. But that never stopped me from shredding until my fingers bled.

I’ve picked up and put down numerous guitars over the years, and even a bass guitar every now and then. I knew I was never going to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Slash, but I still loved the feeling of a guitar slung over my shoulder. Just an artist’s comfort zone, I suppose.

I’ve indeed had nights where I play a riff over and over until I can’t feel my fingers anymore—just the tingle of what it feels like when you can feel the numbness coming on. Many days I’d find the tops of my strumming-hand fingers rubbed raw from hitting the strings on the downstroke. Some nights the skin was so raw and red that they bled a bit.

Perhaps some could say that my technique is faulty and that I’m doing myself a disservice, but in the end I love the feeling of that tingle when I put the guitar down. I love the struggle—the battle—to come out on top, even if I take some hits along the way. In some pseudo-masochistic way, I consider those raw fingers and numb hands the cost of being a part of the music fold. That’s the cost of being so drawn to something, you couldn’t walk away if you wanted to. Like a moth to a flame, those little cuts are the burnt edges of my wings.

I love the feeling of the calluses and the slightly metallic scent on my fingers after. Sometimes it’s not the worst thing in the world when your fingers bleed. On some nights, after you’ve struggled and fought through a song until you hear it right, it just feels right.

Blogging: One Month In—A Retrospective

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Today marks one month since I started blogging every day, and man has it been a long month. Though long doesn’t necessarily mean bad, and in the last few weeks I’ve found myself able to talk about a number of topics that might not have occurred to me otherwise. True, a lot of my posts have been on topics like music and tech that I continually follow, but the desire to write every day has enabled me to streamline my thoughts into a more digestible format.

In the last month, I’ve discussed numerous things in the music and tech space, including:

Yet I’ve found myself able to write about things that otherwise would seem unimportant, had I not had a goal to write every day. I’m not sure writing posts on writer’s block, on singing, art, and on concepts of passion would ever have occurred to me without the goal to produce new material:

Perhaps the most intriguing thing that’s happened though is how my desire to write has only become more engrained in me. I’ve always been a writer—essays, journalism, poetry, and research papers always came fairly easily to me, and even provided a sense of enjoyment most times. But now my writing has taken on a whole new dynamic in my life.

In fact, it mirrors what artists tell me when I ask why they choose the tough path of day jobs and long nights on the road: “I do it because just like I wake up every morning and need to breathe, I need to play music.” And that’s how writing is to me now. I wake up ever morning and need to breathe, and then I need to write.

Tidal’s Choppy Waves Keep Rolling

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The choppy waves keep on coming for Jay Z’s streaming service Tidal, as today it was hit again with another round of criticism. I myself outlined my thoughts on the Tidal service first in a post when it launched, and then again in a questioning follow-up post earlier this week. This time, though, the critique comes not from disgruntled music streaming fans or competitive services, but from Steve Albini.

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Tidal logo

Tidal logo

For those unfamiliar with Albini, he cut his teeth in the mainstream spotlight producing albums for artists like Pixies and Nirvana, and has become an outspoken critic of many of the streaming services in the last decade. A criticism from Albini can’t be as easily dismissed as it might otherwise be particularly because he has both the industry experience and insider knowledge to call those in the industry on their bullshit.

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Steve Albini; Photo courtesy: Jordi Vidal, 2014

Steve Albini; Photo courtesy: Jordi Vidal, 2014

Albini has been critical of the mainstream music machine even before Kurt Cobain’s death, jumping into the mainstream music business debate in 1993 with his piece entitled The Problem With Music. He’s done the math and lived out many of the results, and so when Albini takes aim at your service, you better realize that other people in the music community will take notice (even if the mainstream isn’t).

In an interview with Vulture.com, Albini used phrases like “little streaming fiefdoms” and the “budget version of Pono” when referring to Tidal. While the latter comment is a critique on the mainstream listener’s ability (or even care) to distinguish between lossless quality and normal mp3 audio quality, the former is almost a little more telling. “Little streaming fiefdoms” is pretty telling in and of itself; it’s dismissive of what Jay Z and company say Tidal is (and purportedly will be), instead asserting that the service is yet another little city-state vying for validation in the greater streaming landscape.

Perhaps the most intriguing thing about this particular thought process is what it means for the dynamic of the current landscape; as Albini (and others) become increasingly critical of services that act like little principalities, the traditional walled-garden approach to music seems to be under siege. And there are those of us who rejoice in that. The walled-garden concept works well in numerous areas of tech and business—it’s great for security, healthcare, and finance. But it is not good for media, and music specifically.

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Criticisms of Tidal on Buzzfeed the day after its launch

Criticisms of Tidal on Buzzfeed the day after its launch

Music is freedom, and needs to be treated as such. To constrain music to the dynamics of a walled-garden system is to take away so much of the actual discovery and freedom that is associated with it in its purest form (though many would argue that there’s still plenty of “discovery” to be had). Regardless of this fact though, it remains an important fact to note that people of Albini’s caliber are taking aim at people like Jay Z and services like Tidal.

One might even argue that they—whether they intend to or not—are clearing the path for new music services yet to be launched. Only time will tell in that regard. For me though, this does not go unnoticed. Anyone interested in the future of the music industry would do well to keep these criticisms catalogued and fresh in mind. It’s precisely by graphing these grievances that we will begin to see how the future of the music industry will unfold.

Passion Isn’t Exhausting—It’s Invigorating

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A couple days ago, I wrote a post about how when things get tough in my line of work, it’s always best to go back to the artists. The artists are where I find my love rekindled again and again, and where I’ve made some of my best friends.

I think, though, that one of the best things I experience in talking to artists every day is the sheer passion that spills through their emails and calls. They are so passionate about their work and the work of their peers that, most days, they can barely contain themselves. Sometimes our conversations consist of us (me and an artist) interrupting each other to ask the other if they’ve heard the latest release from a group we both love.

While some might take this as daunting and exhausting after a certain period of time, the truth is that it never really gets old. It gets old hearing someone blather on about something when their heart really isn’t in it; you can tell. But when someone is so incredibly passionate about something that it jumbles the words falling out of their mouth—that’s not exhausting at all; it’s reinvigorating.

That’s something I would wish on anyone having a discussion in their professional field. That’s what makes this feel like play-time when it really is work. It’s what enables me to send out stacks of emails (does that metaphor make sense?) without losing a bit of my drive for the day. And what’s more, it’s incredibly infectious. This is why I do what I do, and love it every day.

I Miss the Amorphous Power of Poetry

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I haven’t written poetry in months. Probably somewhere near half a year at this point. For me that’s like an eternity.

Poetry used to be one of my most expressive forms of communication. I used to write so much that it became necessary to start dividing the pieces into separate collections. As of yet, most of those collections haven’t been finished to the point which I would like.

Yet what I miss most isn’t writing a poem per se, but what writing a poem allowed me to do. It allowed me to write something that could be left set in stone. It did not need to be researched, backed up, sourced, or set up as the solution to or for an argument. A poem could exist in and of itself; its value existed simply because it did.

In many ways writing poetry is easier because it allows me to just write, and look for patterns and meaning in what I write after I write it. I don’t need to start with a central thought and build out an argument around it. In many ways, it’s the same dynamic as I enjoy with blogging.

Poetry is so powerful precisely because of its ambiguous nature. The amorphous power that resides in a poem, terse or epic, is innate to its nature as a piece of writing that is purposely enigmatic. Every syllable could mean something—or it might not. Regardless of what your high school English teacher might have forced on your thought process, poetry isn’t about finding the “right meaning” that’s hidden between the words. It’s about finding the right meaning for you, something which could be very different from the meaning for the person sitting next to you.

This is what I miss most about writing poetry. Its sprightly chirping of words that could mean something, or nothing—words that could have been carefully chosen, or words that were just thrown onto a page and never wiped off. In the end, it’s irrelevant. Poetry is about the search, not the find; that’s why it intrigues me so much. I will have to write more in the coming months.

Further Musings on Writer’s Block: Day Two

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As the writer’s block seems to continue, thoughts dance through my head that anyone who know’s me would be slightly confused with. Sure, it’s a well-known fact (at least by those who know me) that I’m a huge art, history and music buff, and as such, these are the topics that typically dominate my writing. Even business and tech have come to the forefront of my preferred subject lists, even as I continue to educate myself in them.

What only those closest to me know is my real fascination with things that are well outside the realm of any humanities study. I was never a strong math student; in fact, I hated math. I hated it every day, every night; because it never made sense in my head that there can be only one answer. I was raised by two lawyers—in my world there’s never just one answer. Thus it would follow that as I’ve completed my schooling and graduated from college, I would only interact with math in professionally necessary capacities: taxes, data metrics, simple calculations, etc.

Yet in times when I find the creative juices refusing to flow, times like today, I find my mind drifting back to topics of mathematical thought, and other topics that are most days seemingly beyond my appreciation. Because why should sitting and pondering mathematical principles appeal to me? I struggled every day in grade and high school with it. Want me to write an 8-page essay? No problem, done in a couple hours. Do these 30 math problems? I’ll see you next week.

Perhaps it’s precisely my artistic mindset that drives me to ponder about things like mathematical thought and application—the worst thing for an artist is to feel that you’ve mastered something so much that it’s become stale to your growth. Mastery of any such thing in itself is irrelevant; what matters is how it feels. Am I being challenged or is this a rehashing of what I did yesterday? Thus on day two of my writer’s block, I find myself thinking not of tech trends or the socio-economics of medieval Britain, but of the interconnections of math principles and philosophical thought. Go figure.

Musings on Writer’s Block

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Some days, the words flow onto the page very easily, and some day’s they don’t. Today is one of the latter. That said though, even writer’s block itself can be a constructive lesson in writing. It teaches you that even the most adept writer struggles sometimes to come up with a thought process worth putting down for others to read.

But that actually begs a few question about the thought processes we as writers discard as “not good enough.” Are they really not up to par, or is it simply our nature as writers and creators to deride ourselves until we come up with something truly “worth writing?” Just today I’ve discarded numerous ideas for posts because they didn’t seem to be “enough” for me to put out to a readership.

But perhaps that sort of self-critical thought process is in fact too self-critical. Self-criticism is part of the creative process—it’s what we as creators feel helps us push forward to our greatest productions. So perhaps the whole writer’s block demon is indeed a blessing in disguise. Irritating though it might be, it nonetheless helps us to distinguish our sub-par thoughts from the truly remarkable ones. For me, I’ll try to keep a more open mind when it comes to the writer’s block I know will inevitably come back around.

An Artistic Analysis of Four Tech Investors

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Seeing the World Through Artistic Eyes

Part of being an art student is that you inevitably see art everywhere, whether it’s meant to be noticed as art or not. This goes for anything—drawings, graffiti, cars, apps—and most recently for me, Twitter profile avatars.

Twitter avatar profile pictures of Fred Wilson (top left), Brad Feld (top right), Hunter Walk (bottom left), and Marc Andreessen (bottom right)

Twitter avatar profile pictures of Fred Wilson (top left), Brad Feld (top right), Hunter Walk (bottom left), and Marc Andreessen (bottom right)

As I was scrolling through my feed the other day, I saw a number of avatars go by, and my resulting thought process surprised even me—I thought wouldn’t it be cool to analyze those the way I used to analyze art pieces for my art history classes (well, cool is relative I suppose, but I’m an art nerd, so there). So that’s what today’s post is about: no talk of music, apps, or any major tech trends. Just an artistic analysis of the profile avatars of four tech investors. I wasn’t sure exactly how to order these, but I decided it would interesting to go according to an art history timeline, rather than simply by alphabetical order. Let the analyzing begin.

Fred Wilson

Fred Wilson‘s Twitter avatar is one of my favorites from an artistic perspective because of its striking power. I look at Wilson’s picture, which sets a large facial portrait against a lime-green background, and think immediately of the work of modern Austrian painter Egon Schiele (something which I’ve tweeted about numerous times). For those unfamiliar with Schiele’s work, he redefined the concept of portraiture in the early 20th century by daring to accentuate bodily features way outside their normal proportions. Some common aspects of Schiele’s work are overly-large eyes, and a strong, set jawline, usually defined by a sharp contour, which can clearly be seen in his pieces “Self Portrait” (1910) and “Self Portrait with Physalis” (1912).

Egon Schiele; left:

Egon Schiele; left: “Self Portrait” (1910); right: Self Portrait with Physalis” (1912)

Looking at Wilson’s picture, the enlarged eyes and clearly defined jawline fit the mold of Expressionism which Schiele helped to pioneer. The eyes are deep-set—almost sunken—but with a gleam that seems to burst from the canvas, made even brighter by the bold green that encapsulates the pupils. The cut jawline is mirrored at the top of the piece by raw, almost rugged strokes of brown making up Wilson’s hair. Yet while the zig-zag strokes chisel the top of the portrait in an almost sculpted way, the slight waviness of the hair on either side of Wilson’s heads help to capture a curved smoothness which bleeds out into the dynamism of the green background.

Fred Wilson Twitter avatar

Fred Wilson Twitter avatar

The life of the piece, though, is centered in the eyes, and the cheeks. The eyes swirl knowingly—disjointed only by the large space between them. The cheeks meanwhile, glow warmly with the only hot colors on the canvas: a roughly hewn pink which darkens towards the face’s edges. Even the the portions of the piece where the paint seems too thin are almost indicative of Schiele’s practice of leaving paintings unfinished. Collectively, Wilson’s avatar contains deep traces of Expressionism roots, though nodding to a lighter palette than was typically used in Europe at the time.

It’s also worth noting, however, that Schiele is not the only art master represented. Henri Matisse seems to make an appearance as well, mostly in the nose-area. While the nose seems almost too large for the face surrounding it, it nonetheless conjures up images of Matisse’s “Portrait of Madame Matisse (The green line)” (1905), or even his “Self-Portrait in a Striped T-shirt” (1906). Intentional or not, I nonetheless look at Wilson’s picture and see Schiele’s Expressionism and Matisse’s Fauvism and Modernism.

Henri Matisse; left:

Henri Matisse; left: “Portrait of Madame Matisse (The green line)” (1905); right: “Self-Portrait in a Striped T-shirt” (1906)

Brad Feld

Brad Feld‘s picture is similar to Wilson’s in that it’s a painted portrait. That, however, is where the artistic similarities end. Whereas Wilson’s piece drips of early 20th century Expressionism and Fauvism, Feld’s portrait exhibits a more mid-century style. The thinner mouth and quirky glasses add a Pop Art flavor to the portrait, a fact that’s exacerbated by the bright greens and purples that play through both the back and foreground.

Brad Feld Twitter avatar

Brad Feld Twitter avatar

While still set amid deeply defined contours, Feld’s jawline is nonetheless more curved and flowing than Wilson’s, and with the light stream of pink that follows the chin-line, Feld’s smile is captured perfectly. The curvature of the lower half of the portrait plays on the wavy strands of hair which sit at the top, floating in a controlled messiness which adds a sense of jubilance to the work.

The most striking feature, though, is Feld’s eyeline. Encased in straight-edged square glasses, the eyeline cleanly divides the portrait into two halves, thereby introducing a sense of order into an otherwise happy-go-lucky piece. The Andy Warhol-esque psychedelic color-scheme in the background is indicative of mid-’60s Pop, as is Feld’s mauve shirt collar. Seemingly taking direction from color-schemes like that in Warhol’s “Marilyn Monroe” (1962), Feld’s avatar bleeds with a real ’60s flavor.

Andy Warhol;

Andy Warhol; “Marilyn Monroe” (1962)

Of particular note, though, is Feld’s smile, which reminds me of pieces by a famous Pop artist, though not one the mainstream is too familiar with. James Rosenquist emerged separately from Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein, but is notable for his use of “the grin,” which can be clearly seen in the baby portion of “F-111” (1964-65) and in President Kennedy’s smile in “President Elect” (1960-61). The grin which plays through Rosenquist’s pieces finds a home in Feld’s piece as well, framing the portrait in visions of Pop from all styles of the decade.

James Rosenquist; top:

James Rosenquist; top: “President Elect” (1960-61); bottom: “F-111” (1964-65)

Hunter Walk

Hunter Walk‘s Twitter avatar isn’t hard to place; one look at it and the first thing any art student or aficionado would think is Roy Lichtenstein. The cartoonish quality of Walk’s picture is not only evident, but is the main focus of the piece itself. Whereas the previous pictures exhibited more subtle elements of the art movements which seem to be at play in them, here there is no question. The animated nature of the piece has a disarming effect on the viewer, making Walk’s smile seem all the more friendly.

Hunter Walk Twitter avatar

Hunter Walk Twitter avatar

Much like Lichtenstein’s “Drowning Girl” (1963), Hunter Walk is portrayed in a series of curves and flowing lines. Though obviously different subject matter than the aforementioned painting, there is nonetheless a similar ebb and flow that connects the two. Walk’s hairline is jagged only in certain spots, leaving the rest to create a circular movement around his head. The dynamism that this movement contributes to the piece cannot be understated because it is precisely mirrored by his shoulders and neck tilt.

Roy Lichtenstein;

Roy Lichtenstein; “Drowning Girl” (1963)

Rather than appearing stilted and set, Walk seems to lean into the movement, adding to its run through the picture. Even the shadowing of his beard and smile accentuate the flow of the centripetal movement. The darker shade of gray used for the beard moves along the face smoothly in some areas, and yet is cut sharply in others, much like the movement of waves splashing up against a cliff. The smile, meanwhile, is simple, but creates an eddie around which the flowing contours of the beard and facial lines must move.

Perhaps most interesting of all, though, is the way in which Walk’s beard in the piece seems to harken back to Lichtenstein’s common use of pointillism. While clearly one solid color throughout, Walk’s beard is nonetheless styled and colored in such as way as to appear to be more individualized than it really is. When compared to Lichtenstein’s oil piece “I Can see the Whole Room…and There’s Nobody in It!” (1963), Walk’s avatar seems to take on a different sense of shadow. As the man in Lichtenstein’s painting is lightly shadowed along his face to create a deeper perspective, so too does Walk’s beard in his avatar create for him.

Roy Lichtenstein;

Roy Lichtenstein; “I Can See the Whole Room…and There’s Nobody in It!” (1963)

Marc Andreessen

Perhaps the most post-modern piece of the four is Marc Andreessen‘s avatar, done in a way which most would describe as “South Park-ish” owing to its cut-and-paste style. While this is actually a good description based on South Park popularizing the cut-and-paste style in the last couple decades, it begs the question of what does that mean artistically? Is it just a cartoon? If so, why doesn’t it look like Hunter Walk’s Twitter avatar, which also exhibits a clear, cartoonish quality?

Andreessen’s avatar is a mix of post-modern, cut-and-paste qualities, but it also employs a sense of Pop which is prevalent in the other avatars. The sharp, clean lines cast the picture in brisk light, asserting that it’s so simple, there must not be anything under the surface. But there is.

Marc Andreessen Twitter avatar

Marc Andreessen Twitter avatar

The cartoonish Pop quality hides the other influences which dance through the piece. The basic oval-shaped hands, straight-line eyebrows and simple circular head harken back to the bare-bones approach towards geometry of Cubism, while the flat, cut-and-paste quality is indicative of the Superflat movement. As Cubists like Pablo Picasso and Juan Gris attempted to unravel the notions of geometry in art, so too did post-modern artists like Takashi Murakami desire to understand depth in a different way.

Right: Pablo Picasso;

Right: Pablo Picasso; “Girl Before a Mirror” (1932); left: Juan Gris; “Harlequin with Guitar” (1919)

The simple, circular curvature of Andreessen’s head in the avatar seem to mirror the circular head of the girl in Picasso’s “Girl Before a Mirror” (1932), while his egg-shaped eyes mirror those of the man in the Juan Gris painting, “Harlequin with Guitar” (1919). The flat quality of the avatar, however, jumps almost a hundred years forward, to the Superflat movement of the 2000s, pioneered by Murakami. As Murakami explored the flatness that depth could have in pieces like 2001’s “Tan Tan Bo,” so too does Andreessen’s avatar explore concepts of flatness and depth (perhaps without even knowing it). In its exploration of depth and geometry, Andreessen’s avatar is thus more artistic than it initially appears.

Takashi Murakami;

Takashi Murakami; “Tan Tan Bo” (2001)

Art and Tech Intertwined

Though these are just four analyses of four Twitter avatar’s it’s become clear that art and tech are more closely intertwined than perhaps initially thought. This might explain why I see pieces by Basquiat and other artists come up so often in the tech industry. But it may be even simpler than that—it may simply be that art resonates with people in the tech industry precisely because they are also in the business of creating as much as painters and sculptors are. Or maybe they just like how it looks, that’s a valid point too. In the end what matters is what you see when you look at pieces and avatars like this. For me, I see art that is deeper than what’s on the surface. What do you see?