The Art of Randomness: Brian Eno, Digital Experimentation, and Finding a Linear Narrative

Last night, I watched Gary Hustwit’s documentary “Eno” at the Portland Museum of Art. What stood out the most to me was something I hadn’t expected. The documentary was the product of a six-year experiment led by Gary Hustwit, who explored the idea of presenting small pieces of media in a random format to the audience. Who more fitting to explore this concept with than Brian Eno? Eno admitted that he wasn’t fond of the idea of being a documentary subject, but his fascination made it impossible for him not to participate.

With the help of technologist Brendan Dawes, they developed a system where the chances of the sequence repeating between screenings would be incredibly slim, with 52 quintillion possible versions of the film. From a technical standpoint, it’s quite simple. Modern cinema projectors use digital files, and a few lines of Python code could manage the random sequencing.

I was really intrigued by the idea of seeing random moments from such a prolific creator’s life presented as an 85-minute documentary. Would it feel like watching Eno “Quantum Leap” through different timelines of his life, like Scott Bakula? The outcome showed that six years of experimentation had produced a highly refined and clever solution. The host informed us in advance that “digital squiggles” would show up between segments, indicating a distinct division between time periods right from the start.

You’d always be aware that you were “leaping,” and I’d argue that this adds to an overall linear narrative. However, I started noticing a pattern every time a “digital squiggle” appeared. The type was stylized in white, monospaced font, resembling code against a dark background, and animated to jump and skitter across the frame. As I stared intently to see if it was actual code, I noticed references to media files (mov, mp4), with names like “u2-traking-cstl” “fripp_reelp” and “lctru_wndsuni” This suggested that these would be the segments we’d watch, almost as if a giant digital wheel was spinning, and wherever it landed, that’s what we would see.

The best part of this approach, and what left the biggest impression on me, was how the segments gradually shortened over time. Although the presentation was random, you subconsciously felt a progression toward an endpoint. This clever, controlled display of text offered a sense of context and an underlying linear narrative. It's random, but you are in the right direction.

I highly recommend you see it if it comes to your town. Also, for my studio friends: Eno uses Logic Pro on a MacBook, with an M-Audio MIDI controller—in other words, he’s just like us!