Robert Henke, Barbican, London
- Written by Robert Freeman
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Living testament to the fact that computer science and engineering degrees more and more seem like appropriate training for a music career, Robert Henke is the co-developer of Ableton Live, genre-defining software that allows electronic artists to write and adjust music at the same time as they perform it. As the phrase ‘Love code’ flashes up during the climax of his new show/installation/”live demo” at the Barbican,Lumiere, one is struck with the sense that far from lacking the traditional ‘warmth’ of say - a cello performance - electronic machines and the community that creates them are responsible for some of the 21st century’s most interesting contributions to the Arts.
"What you are going to experience tonight is something unique that only happens at this moment, in this place,” Henke announces to his audience before his set. Because the light (and as a result the music) is affected by the space it’s displayed in, each performance of Lumiere is different. A white laser stands behind the desk at the back of the room, projecting shapes onto the screen. As the laser forms these shapes, ‘abstract sonic events’ are created off the back, blips and cracks that react to the data from the machine. Although the music itself is a cousin of Henke’s work as Monolake and retains the ghostly ambient echoes that populated records like Silence and Ghosts, more importantly it retains the tension between artificial and ‘real’. On record Henke uses a mixture of computer effects and field recordings, and the blip of a key combines with the rattle of a spoon to inhabit lacuna between the two, the space within the machine. Tonight though drips and clicks are represented in the visuals just as the visual is represented in the music - a synaesthesia between the two senses.
But the most interesting part of the tonight’s show is the effect of depth on a two-dimensional screen. As white laser squares bend and warp on the wall above the audience, the effect becomes three-dimensional, and the flat image takes on a perspective. Although this is essentially just a visual translation of lines of code, the architecture of the Internet mirrors the architecture of the world, and in an unnervingly Borgesian way, that series of ones and zeros is another world, a world inside a flat screen. The sound seems to extend beyond the speakers, beyond the screen, into the building itself. Henke’s gigs are surround sound, but it is not this that creates the space in the music. It’s the lasers that bounce around them, breaking the frame, slipping and breathing in and out of the wall. This gig tonight is like watching the actual Internet, translating those on/offs into something we can comprehend.
Just as a blockbuster film might employ computer-generated techniques, the illusion of technology is that what we’re seeing on screen is a real world rather than just lines of code. But what is a real world? Every tiny part of nature is a series of ones and zeros interacting with each other. Whether it’s the curling of a leaf that follows the Fibonacci sequence or the fact that there are equations to tell you the exact radius of a moon orbiting Jupiter, life can be translated to data, and vice-versa.
As Henke manipulates Roman numerals and geometric patterns on his soundboard, smoke machines exhale and lasers project above the audience and one feels that far from a two-dimensional screen with images on it, this artist is bringing data out into the world. Just as the personalities of human beings are becoming more and more caught up with the web (splitting between on and offline), the binary dance that Robert Henke has created, the siren call of clicks and beeps that accompanies lasers, flashing lights and a computer, reminds us that in fact technology is also coming out into the real world to meet us. And the Internet is looking at you.