Playground magazine

For a whole generation (or even two or three), the idea of the hologram is inevitably linked to films, especially to that scene in “Star Wars” in which RD2D projects Princess Leia's cry for help on the wall of the Skywalkers' shack. That virtual, 3D representation of a human being (a volumetric beam of light that would be used for communication all over the Empire) undoubtedly made a huge impression in pop culture, and has been a bit of a Holy Grail for the special effects industry ever since. What had been possible on screen should also be taken to real life, something that was possible in theory, because there's no law in physics saying otherwise, but it would take highly sophisticated technology. Further back in time, if we were to dive into American science fiction literature from the 40s onwards, we would likely find numerous references to holographic representations, not to mention teleportation fantasies. All this makes the concept of the hologram utterly fascinating.

On 21st April, 2012, while half the world was sitting in front of a screen watching the two main Spanish football teams meet, something special was about to take place in California: on the main stage at the Coachella festival, during a concert/swindle by Dr. Dre (the man who earns the most making the smallest effort), 2Pac Shakur appeared, as a hologram, or something looking like one. A realistic representation, with limited but natural movements, rhyming, moving around a certain part of the stage with his shirt off, and interacting with Snoop Dogg. 2Pac, murdered in Las Vegas in September 1996, was reborn only miles from where he left this earth, and it seemed like a circle was closing, a circle that had started in 20th century sci-fi. In 2Pac's particular case, it was rather ironic, as he wasn't agnostic and rejected the idea of life after death, but it was a triumph for a part of applied physics that, sooner or later, would have to show the world what it's capable of.

Holography, as a scientific discipline, is relatively young. Dennis Gabor, the inventor of the method to reconstruct three-dimensional images with light beams (laser beams, to be exact), won the Nobel Prize for physics in 1971. The industry around this technique has been growing exponentially over the decades, until the production costs for the creation of virtual bodies were affordable enough to be used in the worlds of art and small industries. There have been holograms exposed in museums, contemporary art fairs and avant-garde installation (in 1972, Salvador Dalí claimed he was the first ever artist to use it, even though his claim proved to be wrong), and the idea has obviously played a decisive role in the development of 3D cinema.

The 2Pac hologram at Coachella raises a lot of questions, and its nature generates both optimism and rejection. Apart from the technical consideration that, according to the experts, it wasn't really a hologram but a special effect created by using certain holographic mechanisms (technically it consists of an optical illusion known as “Pepper's ghost”, used mainly in magic tricks, and taken to the musical stage for the first time in 2006, when Gorillaz played at the Grammys featuring a light effigy of Madonna), the vivid, moving projection of a dead person - until now considered impossible - is giving way to reflection and debate about ethics, its artistic possibilities and commercial exploitation.

Though it sounds like a platitude, it has to be said that the use of holographic figures during a concert is not a revolution in music, as many technologically optimistic people sustain, but a technological innovation; maybe not even an innovation, but a practical (and tardy) application of a device that is now good and affordable enough to use industrially, no longer strictly as an experiment. We say 'tardy' because there have been other 'holograms' before 2Pac's: on the catwalks, during conferences by Al Gore and Richard Branson, or the aforementioned Grammys gig by Gorillaz, not to mention other craftsman-made Pepper's ghosts (after all, the origins of this technique trace back to the 16th century, at the dawn of modern optics). With those precedents, the price Dre apparently paid for 2Pac's projection (400,000 dollars for five minutes of concert, or freak-show, depending on how you look at it) seems obscene for an optical illusion executed with state of the art equipment. Because it was never a real hologram, so there's a bit of pig and poke in there as well.