The incredibly talented Pem Lasota, Aram Ebtekar and I put together a small project to enhance the music experience in our living room.
What ensued is the first of many projects we plan to roll out - all focused on building the greatest living-room music experience in the world.
The setup involves 4096 LEDs arranged in a matrix, powered by a raspberry pi and a beefy condenser mic. The electronics fit into a 3D printed case. Pem did a significant chunk of this in Solidworks - a piece of software I was extremely impressed with. In one of the sessions, I was able to make reasonable headway with mild supervision. Few pieces of software are this easy to pick up. Solidworks have done a solid job.
and when everything is put together, it looks like this:
The frame listens via the condenser mic and generates beautiful visualizations when it “hears” audio. This is what happens when we blast Pavarotti on our music system:
A neutrino effect to Flume's Hyperparadise:
The Matrix effect when the bass drops:
For over five centuries the Sistine Chapel ceiling has been among the greatest things man has produced. I would give two limbs for a magnum opus of its caliber.
In contrast, the first time I saw a Rothko in my early teens, I concluded that this was the outcome of giving a child with severe OCD a set of crayons.
Over the last few weeks, amidst a very tough and frustrating period (this is far too complex for this one post) in my life, I had a chance to reflect on one of Rothko’s signature pieces and study the underlying process through a MOMA video . I felt a new sense of respect for Rothko’s works. A Rothko is quite literally a metaphor for life. Our visible exterior is the product of several layers that comprise our experiences.
Rothko had a famous quote:
The people who weep before my pictures are having the same religious experience I had when I painted them.
It took eight years for me to have this experience. I am better off for it.
 The Painting Techniques of Mark Rothko: No. 16 (Red, Brown, and Black)