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@psm-research
People's memories are maybe the fuel they burn to stay alive.
Haruki Murakami, After Dark.
The critic *creates* the finished work by his reading of it, and does not remain simply the inter *consumer* of a "ready-made" product. Thus the critic need not humbly efface himself before the work and submit to its demands: on the contrary, he actively constructs its meaning: he *makes* the work exist...
Hawkes, T., Structuralism and Semiotics (1977), p. 157
I finished my MA project, and you can view it here.
That lightbulb moment
Out of nowhere, massive holes. Pulsating and shivering around the room. It’s suddenly dark gold, black and blinding. They’re everywhere, bursting into the room and absorbing everyone in it. The drones have made these… things closer to being real than any other music has. Where did they come from? Has anyone else noticed? I look up, and Bob gives me a nod that says, “you know what this is”. And I do. This is everything. The sound is enveloping everything, and I sit there watching it, wondering how everyone else is hearing, seeing, feeling, tasting it. Whatever that shift was, we all made it together, probably by accident; I don’t remember the rehearsal or the first concert feeling like this. From fast, thin beatings, the room suddenly explodes with these holes. It’s joyous, and this exact second in the performance - I barely remember which piece it was, or how far through we were - is this only important thing. I can’t describe what I’m feeling. I turn my head and the holes morph, the colours shift towards blue, they’re pulsating faster. This sounds different to everyone in the room, doesn’t it? I hope it’s just as powerful as it is where I’m sitting. Never mind evoking emotion with complex harmonies or narratives, Phill Niblock’s dense drones have made me feel and experience more in these few seconds than probably the sum total of my previous musical experiences. I have to make music that does this.
Attempt at describing my synaesthesia
A slowed down recording of a library interior is never just the sound of pages being turned, rain falling on the roof, and keyboards being typed on, but also an ever-rotating pool of dark blue; brown, white & grey particles and entities breaking through the surface. Neither is one blurred photograph transitioning to another via flash frame just two photographs, but a low rumble and scratching texture, transitioning with trilling pulses, ascending in implied pitch.
The aim is to resist passive consumption in favour of encouraging the audience to become active participants in the construction of meaning.
William Raban, research statement.
Replying to Adam
Adam Fergler watched a sketch of a new piece, nialas rud, last night, and sent me some feedback. Here's his message, and my reply.
Hi Phil! Just watched 'nialas rud'. Really good stuff, as seems to be the norm from you! I really like your overall style. I find it quite cubist in a really refreshing sort of way. Reminds me a little of William Raban's work, particularly pieces of his like 'Thames Barrier'.I'm also a great fan of Rothko and your work puts me very much in the same mindset as his canvasses do. My only criticism of 'nialas rud' would be the slight disconnect between the very 'clean' lines of the imagery, which almost cut the visual space in different ways, and the much more ethereal sound-world. I wonder if perhaps the distinction needs to somehow feel more purposeful. I may not be articulating thatvery well! I just feel that there's a big contrast between the two elements and I can't put my finger on why or what to do with it. An easy solution is to make the music more like the imagery or the imagery more like the music, but I think there are probably much more interesting things you could do. I'm not sure what exactly! But I feel that somewhere in your aesthetic lies the answer. I'm being really picky here, but then you did ask for brutal feedback! I'd really love to see what you do with the piece in the end. Always great to watch/hear your work.
Reply:
Hey Adam, I'm glad you like the sketch! The point you brought up is something I'm thinking a lot about. I'm interested in presenting materials that are contrasting or 'unrelated', as a way of tackling the conventional sound/image hierarchy (I'm thinking about Chion's audio/visual contract, stuff like that). The issue I'm having though is doing it in such a way that doesn't seem like a copout! Personally, I like that they don't fit, as there's often more interest in stuff like that for me, but this is just a rough sketch, so it'll hopefully become more polished!
My supervisor has brought this up once or twice too. He mentions the 'cognitive gap' that comes out of making asynchronous stuff that has contrasting or unrelated components. My project is looking at how an audience experiences a work that is presented with no information or external frame of reference, and passing on my compositional practice (which is very much stream form/free association) to the viewer/listener, to see what kind of piece they make it into.
nialas rud Sketch:
Attempt at describing my compositional practice, #2
My compositional practice can be described as a consolidation of free association and a slow motion stream-form composition. I primarily memorise shapes, colours and textures that I perceive in other music, then use those as a means for choosing sound sources in my own work. The sounds can be vastly different from the materials I am referencing, as my perception of shapes etc. follows little logic, beyond rough pitch areas generating certain colours, and timbres generating textures and shapes. Thus, when composing, an extra step to the process outlined by Martinez is present, in that I am rarely free-associating with a bank of samples, chords or musical notes, but rather my perceptions of them.
I employ a stream-form method of composition both before and during this free association. I collect field recordings of sounds I happen upon in my day to day life that interest me. I then choose subsequent sounds based on what I feel could interact or layer with the original sound in an interesting way. I bring the recordings together in a DAW, and perform an ‘improvisation’ of sorts; layering, filtering and mixing the sounds. I remove any that I feel are unnecessary, then begin composing a piece. The accidental nature of capturing the sounds sparks a free association: I relate the field recordings I have made with synaesthetic reactions to other sounds and music, and edit the sounds in such a way as to approximate elements of these, much the same as how
“a language student reaches a point where they are able to create original phrases by free associating with the phrases they have internalised”
Martinez 2010 (Accessed 18th April 2014)
I create original pieces by associating with my perception of music and sounds that I have internalised. For example, in dánbeag #3, there is a high-pass filtered crackle or fizzing texture. I created the sound by loading a sample of pieces of card being dropped onto a desk into a granular synth patch (Max/MSP), recording the output of the patch, and applying a high-pass filter. This is a response to a texture in Francisco Lopez’s Untitled #218. It, similarly, is a crackling, fizzing texture, likely high-pass filtered, but I have referenced my synaesthetic perception of the sound (white hot/tinted yellow spots flickering on a grey background) when creating the texture in dánbeag #3, rather than the sound itself. I also do not know what Lopez used as source material in Untitled #218.
The stream-form method during the free association manifests itself in how I edit the sounds. I have no real plan when composing, but arrange and edit new layers of sound relative to others (usually an original field recording that serves as a background or canvas), similar to Pip Dickens’ method of painting,
…each layer of the painting process being balanced against earlier layers resulting in an overall finalised and finished visual mix.
Adkins/d’Escriván 2013:7
My photographic practice, when composing these pieces, differs slightly. Similar to my gathering of sounds, I photograph objects and locations I happen upon that I consider to be interesting (the interest can lie in anything from a cracked brick to lighting, or general shapes and outlines of objects). I then attempt to create abstract images in-camera as much as possible; a ‘photographic improvisation’. I experiment with exposure times, shutter speeds, ISO settings, and crude tilt shifting (removing the lens and moving it around in front of the mirror, morphing the image). Often, I use images that are abstracted almost to the point of being unrecognisable. Here, there is a parallel with my perception of sounds; I find myself drawn to abstractions that feature colours, shapes or textures that are either similar to my synaesthesia, or free from any concrete representation (though this does not necessarily mean that I match images with my synaesthetic response to sound, as I will discuss in the commentary for 14AB2).
Free associations with other photographers also come into play. In dánbeag #3, the central image is a false multiple exposure of an industrial storage tank, referencing Idris Khan’s Every… Bernd and Hilla Becher Spherical Type Gasholders (2004). Likewise, the photographs in ( ) can be compared with Wolfgang Tillmans’ monochrome photographs, such as quiet mind and Time, Action and Fear (both 2005). These photographs are part of a larger series of monochrome works that intend to evoke a number of differing emotions in the viewer, and encourage closer, or perhaps, ‘reduced’ viewing of the images;
Tillmans’… near-monochrome, photographs (all 2005) can be seen to evoke mystery (‘quiet mind’)…a sense of place (‘Berlin Woods’)…to display all sorts of surface incident (the color-field atmospherics of ‘Time, Action and Fear’)…to create a feeling of dislocation that can be either foreboding (‘Zuversicht’)…or euphoric (‘they are this way’)…and to seemingly perform before us (the fluid dance of lines which animate ‘it’s only love give it away’)
Nickas 2006: xii
(The intended effect of ( ) is all and none of these; the audience is encouraged only to undertake reduced listening and viewing of the piece’s components. In anecdotal feedback of a screening of the piece, audience members said that the images seemed monolithic, intimidating, and moving, even though they do not move.)
The images are then sorted, and organised into draft ‘sets’ that might be used in a draft of the piece. I also browse through my existing catalogue of photographs; occasionally including old photographs often taken with no specific purpose in mind (e.g., the images in 14AB2). Sound and image are brought together, continuing the stream-form method. I make revisions on either or both components if I feel they are necessary, produce a second draft, and continue the process until I am satisfied. Again this refers back to Dickens’ method of painting. The original images may not appear at all in the finished piece, as in ( ), but their influence is present in my subsequent compositional decisions.
...truth be told, the first time I heard it, I was not happy. Because I tended to mix my own work at a relatively quiet level, the mastering process necessitated upping the gain, which brought out a number of sounds that I had never even heard. The disc sounded relatively ok at a very very low volume, but if anyone listened to it at a normal listening volume or on headphones, it wasn’t the piece I’d intended at all.
Steve Roden on the first master of Forms of Paper (2001). In On Lowercase Affinities and Forms of Paper. Steve Roden, Line_053, 2011. lineimprint.com
I was painting about happiness and bliss... Happiness and bliss are very simple states of mind I guess.
Agnes Martin on 'Morning' (written in 1975).
Attempt at describing my compositional practice, #1
My compositional practice can be described as a consolidation of free association and a slow motion stream-form composition. I primarily memorise shapes, colours and textures that I perceive in other music, then use those as a means for choosing sound sources in my own work. The sounds can be vastly different from the materials I am referencing, as my perception of shapes etc. follows little logic, beyond rough pitch areas generating certain colours, and timbres generating textures and shapes. Thus, when composing, an extra step to the process outlined by Martinez is present, in that I am rarely free associating with a bank of samples, chords or musical notes, rather my perceptions of them.
I employ a stream-form method of composition both before and during this free association. I collect field recordings of sounds I happen upon in my day to day life that interest me. I then choose subsequent sounds based on what I feel could interact or layer with the original sound in an interesting way. I bring the recordings together in a DAW, perform an ‘improvisation’ of sorts; layering, filtering and mixing the sounds. I remove any that I feel are unnecessary, then begin composing a piece. The accidental nature of capturing the sounds sparks a free association: I relate the field recordings I have made with synaesthetic reactions to other sounds and music, and edit the sounds in such a way as to approximate elements of these, much the same as how “a language student reaches a point where they are able to create original phrases by free associating with the phrases they have internalised” (Martinez:2010). I create original pieces by associating with my perception of music and sounds that I have internalised. For example, in dánbeag #3, there is a high-pass filtered crackle or fizzing texture. I created the sound by loading a sample of pieces of card being dropped onto a desk into a granular synth patch (Max/MSP), then recording the output of the patch, and applying a high-pass filter. This is a response to a texture in Francisco Lopez’s Untitled #218. It, similarly, is a crackling, fizzing texture, likely high-pass filtered, but I have referenced my synaesthetic perception of the sound (white hot/tinted yellow spots flickering on a grey background) when creating the texture in dánbeag #3, rather than the sound itself.
The stream-form method during the free association manifests itself in how I edit the sounds. I have no real plan when composing, but arrange and edit new layers of sound relative to others (usually an original field recording that serves as a background or canvas), similar to Pip Dickens’ method of painting,
…each layer of the painting process being balanced against earlier layers resulting in an overall finalised and finished visual mix.
Adkins/d’Escriván 2013:7
What's amazing is that all these people buy a camera and start using it, and what they do are the most avant-garde things that no professional cameraman would dare to do.
William Klein, The Many Lives of William Klein, 2012.
A photograph is supposed not to evoke but to show. That is why photographs, unlike handmade images, can count as evidence. But evidence of what? ...Everyone is a literalist when it comes to photographs.
Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others (2004:42)
I am trying to be unfamiliar with what I’m doing.
John Cage, Robert Rauschenberg, Artist, and his Work, in Silence. P. 106
Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences.
Roy Ascott
“Photographs may be more memorable than moving images, because they are a neat slice of time, not a flow. Television is a stream of under selected images, each of which cancels its predecessor. Each still photograph is a privileged moment, turned into a slim object that one can keep and look at again.”
Susan Sontag, On Photography. 1977:17-18
Francisco Lopez - Untitled #249