#year rings

[birosandpaper-blog]

its not the years in your life, its the life in your years

[darklymatters-blog]

Years by Bartholomäus Traubeck is one of the most interesting works of art I have seen in a long time. Essentially, year ring data are being translated by a computer and played on a record player, reflecting the growth of a single tree over many years. For more info on the “Years” project click here.

[janinthemoon]

Bartholomäus Traubeck slices trees into records, then transforms the year rings into piano music. (via @spamflet)

<a href="http://traubeck.bandcamp.com/album/years" data-mce-href="http://traubeck.bandcamp.com/album/years">Years by Bartholomäus Traubeck</a>

[yearrings-blog]

Shakespeare Revisited?

I hath made a decision. A decision as colossal as Atlas' world. From this moment on till the end of this manuscript, I shall converse and commune in the tongue of the Avonic Bard. (I've made a decision. A big one. This post is gonna be in Shakespeare's English. With translations of course) This choice hath been made to bring forward my timeless passion, as Pluto's for Proserpina, for the unspoiled beauty of the manuscriptual works. Thou naughty rabble of the garbled jargon universe of the current day, this manuscript shall be a cooling shower of Bacchus' nectar for thy tortured psyche. (I love literature, that's why I'm posting this. It'll do good to this generation of SMS-lingo-typing people) Can no being on earth compare the monotony of the wheel of life? This monotony consumes me, as a desperate hysteria, not sharp and quick as a lion's paw to his prey, but a slow, torturous process as a hopeless execution. (I'm bored. Really bored.) I try in hope to seek an occupation, however worthless and low, but fail. Fail and fall, as the bitter rain from the clouds of Jupiter. I did see visions flash past me. A maiden beckoned, sweet, tender and filled with beauty, nothing less than heavenly Psyche, Cupid's wife. She beckoned and called me, and did bestow upon me a kiss, and loved me as a sweet butterfly loves her flower, as a ruler loves his power as a drunkard his wine, and as a woman loves a man. Oh! how I yearn for her as a Norwegian yearns for a Greek spring. (I was jobless. So I began daydreaming about my girlfriend.) But hark! what sound be that, coursing upon my ears like the drums of thunder? It was the call of duty returning to its owner, the bitter taste of realisation forced down the throat of those lacking it, the cold stone striking my heart, I could barely breathe for I was thrust into the clamoured rabble of life again. (I suddenly flipped awake and got back to work) And here I end my manuscript, thanking those who cast their eyes upon it, requesting them to bear in mind, that there will be infinite more, as a parallel mirror shows one unending trains of their own countenance. Farewell. (Thanks for reading. Follow Year Rings for more and more crazy stuff! See you soon!)

[yearrings-blog]

Joblessness.

Have you ever felt so utterly jobless that you feel you're worth nothing? That feeling you get when you have absolutely nothing to do. You're tired of doing everything and too lazy to start something new, yet not content with being idle. That feeling, which overpowers you to just stare, stare and stare. Stare at nothing, and think of nothing. Expressionless, but not bored. Seemingly calm, but a war seems to be raging inside your head. That feeling that leaves you with a sense of helplessness, but the sort of helplessness that you cannot, and do not wants to get out of, yet you would love to complain bitterly about it. That feeling which numbs your sensations as though you're being swirled down into a black hole, which makes you feel like an insignificant tiny little particle of nothingness in the active universe. That feeling you cannot live without - which you crave for when you're busy - but which you die under when you have it, and you yearn for the hustle and bustle of life to hit you with a vengeance again, and you do not care when it does, you'll face it and enjoy it and swear never to live like this again. Ironic, isn't it? That feeling when you're so absolutely jobless and the only thing you can do is write about it. That feeling.

[bartvandidden]

[dangerous-muse]

A record player that plays slices of wood. Year ring data is translated into music, 2011.

A tree’s year rings are analysed for their strength, thickness and rate of growth. This data serves as basis for a generative process that outputs piano music. It is mapped to a scale which is again defined by the overall appearance of the wood (ranging from dark to light and from strong texture to light texture). The foundation for the music is certainly found in the defined ruleset of programming and hardware setup, but the data acquired from every tree interprets this ruleset very differently.

[oddpop]

bartholomäus traubeck - years

"a tree’s year rings are analysed for their strength, thickness and rate of growth. this data serves as basis for a generative process that outputs piano music. it is mapped to a scale which is again defined by the overall appearance of the wood (ranging from dark to light and from strong texture to light texture). the foundation for the music is certainly found in the defined ruleset of programming and hardware setup, but the data acquired from every tree interprets this ruleset very differently."