We increasingly view the world as they engineer it to appear
En las salas de Art Basel Miami, el artista Beeple ha dado forma física a una pregunta que flota en el aire de nuestra época: ¿quién decide lo que vemos y, por tanto, lo que creemos que es real? Su instalación 'Regular Animals' presenta perros robot hiperrealistas con los rostros de magnates tecnológicos como Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos y Mark Zuckerberg, convirtiendo en carne sintética y acero la inquietud colectiva ante el poder algorítmico que unos pocos ejercen sobre la percepción de miles de millones. Es una obra que no pide ser contemplada desde lejos, sino enfrentada.
- Perros robot con los rostros de los hombres más poderosos del mundo irrumpen en el mayor escaparate del arte global, haciendo imposible mirar hacia otro lado.
- Beeple argumenta que los algoritmos controlados por estos magnates no son herramientas neutras, sino arquitecturas que deciden qué verdades suben y cuáles se hunden sin dejar rastro.
- La inclusión de Picasso y Warhol tensiona el mensaje: el poder de moldear la percepción colectiva no es nuevo, pero nunca había sido tan total, tan invisible, tan automatizado.
- La obra se instala deliberadamente en Art Basel Miami, el lugar donde la riqueza y la cultura negocian qué merece existir, interpelando directamente a quienes sostienen estos sistemas.
- La pregunta que deja abierta la instalación es la más incómoda: ¿logrará el arte criticar el poder sin acabar siendo absorbido y neutralizado por él?
Entrar en Art Basel Miami y encontrarse frente a una jauría de perros robot hiperrealistas con los rostros de Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos o Mark Zuckerberg es una experiencia diseñada para incomodar. Eso es exactamente lo que busca Mike Winkelmann, el artista conocido como Beeple, con su instalación 'Regular Animals': una obra física, imposible de ignorar o de deslizar con el pulgar.
El argumento de Beeple es directo. Estos magnates no solo acumulan capital económico; controlan los algoritmos que determinan qué información llega a miles de millones de personas y cuál desaparece. Para muchos, sus plataformas se han convertido en la única ventana hacia la realidad. Montar sus rostros sobre cuerpos de animales no es un accidente estético: despoja a estas figuras de sus cuidadas máscaras públicas y sugiere que el control de la información es, en el fondo, un mecanismo de adiestramiento colectivo.
La presencia de Picasso y Warhol entre los 'perros' añade una capa de complejidad. Ambos ejercieron en su tiempo un poder enorme sobre cómo el mundo percibe la realidad. Beeple parece trazar una línea de continuidad histórica, pero también señalar una diferencia crucial: nunca antes esa concentración de poder perceptivo había sido tan algorítmica, tan sistémica, tan invisible para quienes la padecen.
El lugar elegido para la obra importa tanto como la obra misma. Art Basel Miami es donde coleccionistas, inversores y árbitros culturales deciden qué arte sobrevivirá. Llevar una crítica al poder billonario directamente a ese espacio es un gesto calculado. Beeple no predica ante los ya convencidos: interpela a quienes se benefician del sistema, en el corazón mismo del sistema.
Si la instalación cambiará algo es una pregunta que la propia obra se hace. El arte que critica el poder corre siempre el riesgo de ser absorbido por él, exhibido y finalmente neutralizado. Pero mientras tanto, en Miami, unos perros mecánicos con rostros humanos siguen preguntando en voz alta quién decide lo que es real.
Walk into Art Basel Miami and you'll find yourself face to face with something unsettling: a pack of hyperrealistic robot dogs, each one bearing the sculpted features of a tech billionaire or historical figure. Elon Musk's face stares out from one mechanical body. Jeff Bezos from another. Mark Zuckerberg, Andy Warhol, Pablo Picasso—all rendered in synthetic flesh and mounted on four-legged frames that move with an eerie, lifelike precision.
The installation is called "Regular Animals," and it comes from Mike Winkelmann, the artist known as Beeple. His work has long occupied the space between digital art and social commentary, and this piece is no exception. But unlike much of his previous output, these dogs are physical, present, impossible to ignore or scroll past.
Beeple's intent is direct. He is making an argument about power—specifically, about who controls what billions of people see and believe. In a statement to CNN, he laid it bare: we are increasingly viewing the world not as it is, but as these magnates have engineered it to appear. The algorithms they control don't simply recommend content; they judge what rises and what falls, what becomes visible and what remains hidden. For countless people, these platforms have become the primary window onto reality itself.
There is something deliberately grotesque about the choice to mount these faces on animal bodies. It strips away the human veneer, the carefully curated public personas these figures maintain. A dog is obedient, loyal, driven by instinct rather than reason. The metaphor is not subtle. Winkelmann is suggesting that by controlling information flow, these billionaires are training the world to behave in ways that serve their interests—not through force, but through the architecture of what we see and don't see.
The inclusion of historical figures like Picasso and Warhol complicates the message slightly. Both were artists who wielded enormous cultural influence in their time. Picasso shaped how we see form and space. Warhol transformed celebrity itself into an art form. By placing them alongside contemporary tech magnates, Beeple seems to be drawing a line: this concentration of perceptual power is not new, but it has never been this total, this algorithmic, this invisible to those it shapes.
What makes the work land is its refusal to be abstract. These are not conceptual diagrams or theoretical arguments. They are physical objects that visitors encounter in real space, that they can walk around, that they cannot unsee. The hyperrealism of the faces—the uncanny accuracy of skin texture, the precision of the eyes—makes the cognitive dissonance sharper. Your brain registers "this is a person's face" even as you know it is mounted on a machine.
The timing is worth noting. Art Basel Miami is where wealth and culture intersect most visibly. Collectors, investors, and cultural arbiters gather to decide what art matters, what will appreciate, what will be remembered. Placing a critique of billionaire control directly into that space is a deliberate choice. Beeple is not speaking to the converted in some underground gallery. He is speaking to the people who benefit from and perpetuate these systems, in the place where those systems are most concentrated.
What remains unclear is whether the work will change anything. Art that critiques power often becomes absorbed by the very systems it critiques—displayed, discussed, and ultimately neutralized. But for now, in Miami, there are robot dogs with the faces of the men who shape what we see, and they are asking a question that will not go away: who decides what is real?
Notable Quotes
We increasingly view the world as they want us to see it, because they control these powerful algorithms. They judge what we see and for many people it is their primary source of news. They have unilateral control over how we perceive the world.— Beeple (Mike Winkelmann), artist
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why robot dogs specifically? Why not just sculptures of their heads?
A dog is a tool. It obeys. It doesn't question. By putting their faces on animal bodies, Beeple is saying these billionaires have trained us to behave like that—to accept what we're shown without resistance.
But Picasso and Warhol aren't alive. Why include them?
Because they were also gatekeepers of perception. Picasso changed how we see form. Warhol made celebrity itself into currency. Beeple is drawing a line from past to present—showing that this power to shape what people see is not new, but it's never been this total.
Do you think people at Art Basel will actually hear the critique, or will they just see it as another expensive installation?
That's the risk. Art that critiques wealth often gets absorbed by wealth. But the work is physical and unavoidable. You can't scroll past it. You have to stand in front of it and feel uncomfortable.
What does he mean by "unilateral control"?
These platforms decide what billions of people see as news, as truth, as reality. There's no democratic process. No oversight. One person or a small group of people makes decisions that shape global perception. That's what unilateral means—one direction, no negotiation.
Is the hyperrealism important?
Absolutely. If the faces were stylized or abstract, you could keep distance from it. But hyperrealism makes your brain register "this is a real person." That dissonance—seeing a real face on a machine—is where the critique lives.