Melting ears (on Cory Arcangel's two works)

The one I liked was this:


while the one that goes further is this:


Both are fragments of works by Cory Arcangel.
The difference between them is significant. The first one is a joke - it is a repetition, a trick played on the idea of reproduction or universality.
The other one too. But the other one moves towards something else. It provides us with the doubt as to what it should be like. I don't know Schoenberg's op. 11, 3. I might have heard it, but I'm not sure how it sounds. Yet it certainly doesn't sound like these cats. Or does it? What is it about Schoenberg that makes him sound like Schoenberg? And why do we need him to sound like Schoenberg? (Why do we call artists people who interpret in the most faithful way? And no, this is not a rhetorical question. What is it about repetition that still makes it move us aesthetically? And no, any form of the answer "the difference within the repetition" will not satisfy me as long as I keep putting the same piece on my mp3 player and enjoy it beause it is the same, and still appreciate its freshness, not its "difference".) The thing, here, is not just about the cats, it isn't the old elephant-making-oil-paintings trick. It is rather about other possibilities of listening, of paying attention, of defining what you hear. Can we hear the Schoenberg in the original cat videos? Can we hear Bach in the original music versions? The Bach composition, in that sense, says too much - it states a clear correspondence between the original YouTube videos and Bach's work. The second says less: it says "it is out there, but it's hard to say where exactly, and why exactly we would stop there". (And does it while being damn funny). And that's when our ears melt and reconsolidate, they become other ears, and other, and other. We are forced to listen to what might be there, and not what we think is there.
So why do I like the first video more? Maybe because I still enjoy what is there a lot.
Or because I'm not a fan of Schoeberg.

Blocked Keys

The etude by Gyorgy Ligeti I would like you to pay attention to is the second one. It starts at 2'15".
Here is what a competent source has to say about the work:

The third etude, "Touches bloquees" ("Blocked Keys"), uses the same technique that first appeared in "Selbstportrait," the second of the Three Pieces for Two Pianos. Certain keys are held down silently with one hand while the other hand plays a very fast chromatic line on and around the blocked keys, which of course do not sound. The result is a complicated rhythmic pattern that gives the music a somewhat mechanical quality. At first the silent gaps are all the duration of a single eighth, but eventually the gaps are two eighths, then three, and continue to increase in length until the texture becomes increasingly sparse. Again, this etude is about the creation of illusion; we see a continuous pattern of eighth notes on the page, but what results in performance are quirky rhythmic patterns that are not discernible to the eye and would be all but impossible to notate in a more traditional fashion to achieve the desired effect.

Actually, it wasn't so much about the listening for me. What put me in a state of awe was the seeing. It is the clear struggle between the hands, the tension between the immobile one and the one that runs crazily above it or under it. Also, the tension of the one that is supposed to stay immobile, simply blocking some keys, but cannot resist the opportunity and spurts out sounds now and again, as if to underline it has total power. And then they switch. And we hear it, we hear this body negiation, we hear it once we see it, once we understand the game, it becomes obvious.
The music becomes obvious. Because it's about music, right?
And the soldier-fingers, constantly attempting to design the space through movement. A movement whose purpose is not something else - like a sound - is a dance. If you ever needed proof, here is one.

Old-Time Avantgarde

Oh, and on a different note, here's a little bit of pre-mash-up mashing up, for your listening amusement, the one and only John Oswald:


It is a fascinating feeling, to realize that today's contemporary is tomorrow's retro, that no matter what, everything we wear, listen to, appreciate or create today will be looked at in just a few years with a paternizing, if not condescendent, smile. Timeless art? Pl-lease. The very feeling of them not being timeless, of being dated, is part of the pleasure of appreciating them. Age can work for the work, but it is still at work.

Music for my soul

The conditions were again too difficult for my little camera, but I'm posting this photo anyway because I want you all to meet one of my favorite local bands: Kalayo. The genre that their music falls under is World Music but before the term was coined, I'd known it as Neo-Ethnic: Filipino tribal melodies, primal beats, strong percussion and chanting, using both traditional and modern instruments or even, like the djembe, instruments from other cultures. Kalayo is Sammy Asuncion (guitar), Kenway Barcelona (bass, who alternates for Louie Talan), Reli de Vera (drum set), DJ Rodriguez (snare, djembe), Budeths Casinto (djembe, shakers and other percussion instruments) and Boy Garovillo (djembe, kubing or jaw harp, shaker).




Until late 2008, when the membership went through a major change, the band was known as Pinikpikan and the song below (no video except a still image of the CD cover) is the title song from their Kaamulan album.

Motion blur

Not by choice but because this was the best that my itsy-bitsy camera could do. But despite that, I think that the result captures well the rhythm, excitement and power of Wadaiko Yamato, the group of taiko drummers who came here for the Philippines-Japan Friendship Month of July. They are awesome! And we are extremely lucky because this is the second time we've watched them perform. If you've never seen a taiko performance before, watch the video on their website (I hope you have good speakers). But really, nothing beats a live performance so if they ever go to your city, do not miss them. We've watched several taiko groups over the years and they're the best so far.

Live!

Friday, March 26, was the awarding of the 2009 Gawad Buhay!, the Philstage Awards for the Performing Arts, at the Tanghalang Aurelio Tolentino of the Cultural Center of the Philippines. This is only the second year of the award, which recognizes and pays tribute to Filipino artists in theater—plays, musicals and dance. Depending on how it's accented, the word buhay can mean life, live or alive; in this case, the name of the award refers to the fact that the award is for live performances.




The awarding was broken up into several sets, with various groups performing excerpts from their 2009 season. The most electrifying performance for me was that of Ballet Philippines. Candice Adea, who won a Gawad Buhay! for Best Female Lead Performance in Dance, and Angel Gabriel danced an excerpt from Evacuation, choreographed by Bam Damian. (Please pardon the noise and fuzziness of this photo; the conditions were almost too much for my little camera and I was forced to maximize the ISO.)




To showcase the works of Filipino visual artists, and also as an added incentive for theater groups to strive to garner awards every year, the trophies of Gawad Buhay! will always be different. The 2009 trophy is created by Don Salubayba from Davao City. It portrays a dancing bulul, the rice god of the Northern Philippines' indigenous peoples. The three faces of the figure represent music, dance and theater.




A notable difference between this year's awarding ceremony and last year's is the number of artists who attended. Last year, it was easy to organize the small group onto the stage for their photo. This year…




Chaotic is a mild word to describe what happened during the photo opportunity, but I love it. Half a dozen performing arts groups on one stage, happy faces showing pride in their awards, and a gaggle of friends, relatives and colleagues trying to get photos. As a scriptwriter friend told my husband after the ceremony, the artists now own the awards. And that can only bode well for Gawad Buhay!, Philstage and Philippine performing arts.

For those interested, Gibbs Cadiz posted the complete list of 2009 Gawad Buhay! winners in his blog.

More Gentle Uncertainty

Video directed by Takafumi Tsuchiya (TAKCOM).

Another childish question inspired by a beautiful project

What is it that we like about simplicity? Is it not that it's close to us? It is attainable, like something that is nearly us. Or, to put it differently - an it that almost makes it into me. Thus, an imaginary community. Yes, if I dared, I would say simplicity gives us an imaginary community. A universe we don't need to adhere to, as it has already adhered to us.



The video, directed by Johannes Nyholm, is both a music video for Little Dragon, and a pilot of Nyholm's short film Dreams from The Woods.

Audience

Who is it for?
Oh, what a dreadful question.
How embarrassing, how belittling, how pitiful.

1: what is the music?
2: can't we think of circumstances where it doesn't matter?
3 (with some leftovers): but aren't we losing something essential here? Some mistery we break to put it all into the social gesture, as if art really could be effective, as if it ever were, but what does that mean, how do we measure it, but doesn't it become too close to being measurable?
4: can't it be enjoyable? Can't it be blatantly focused on the audience?

This, of course, does not mean it can't be personal. On the contrary, one could openly use this focus and transform it through the connection of the two sides, as in Dan Graham's Performer/Audience/Mirror. But this ever-sacriligeous focus on the audience need not be objectifying, or at least not so openly. Think of applying the concept to the personal, the intimate. What sort of audience are we then?






Part 2 etc

How close to us. Ever closer.
Until, say, we reach the peak, we go beyond the intimate, beyond the sapiens, we give the monkey a camera, dreamfuly believing this is what the monkey sees, dreamfuly hoping (with a tad of gentle self-irony) that this picture, taken by our object, of us, brings us closer, tells us something more about this subject, when in fact it once again brings us back to who we are, as an audience, an audience that acts.
(more pictures taken by Nonja can be found here)

The Splendorous Form of Noise

To see the following video you should enlarge it (double-click once playing).

The above is a compilation of works by the Swiss artist Zimoun.

1. Funny, one keeps telling oneself, enough of the minimal already, somehow feeling that less is a bore should be embraced, and the outrageously overflowing art of the recent years - appreciated and encouraged. And then, something like this appears, and it's irresistible. We've seen things from this universe before, also on this blog, and yet, the simplicity, yes, the damn purity takes over again.

2. I had a chance, recently, to visit several large factories. There were wonders there that could probably match most of the things on this video. Yet there was one thing they couldn't do: be useless. It's the sheer uselessness of it that gives it the power. We are not attached to anything but the thing. Art as the thing-that-cannot-be-used? Not necessarily, not in some purist sense. Great industrial design is to be cherished. And yet, there is a level of insanity here, of out-of-this-world-ness, that takes us to an exotic land, allowing for the silliest and most delicious connections to be made.

3. Luxury requires waste. A truly luxurious lifestyle is one where perfectly good things get wasted, as if to outplay their natural use and dying away. The true master of luxury seems to be saying her opulence is so great, the very perseverence of things is no match - they lose their original function and only exist to the extent they are participating in this out-of-this-world-ness of luxury.
You know what I'm aiming at? Here's the hypothesis:

4. This, this minimalist joyful pleasure-making, is the true luxury. Not the apparent richness of the new complexities. In the world of useless purity, everything only serves the joy of simple aesthetic pleasure. More complex works are not quite like that - they have an inner game to play. The elements enter a dialogue, start relations and societies, with their conflicts and functions and disruptions. Here, there is only the ping of a shot of pleasure. This engine moves nothing. It is here to make me smile (or bring inspiration, or scare) - and I turn it off as soon as I have. And don't be mistaken - if I had one of those and got bored with and could afford it, it would go to waste.

4a. Ah, you might say, but the truly great art is one we don't get bored with. Possibly. Yet how often do we actually go back to contemplate (not just think about or admire or analyze) a work of contemporary "minimalist" art? Does it mean it's because it's not that great? What if it's about something else? What if it is an element of luxury, a game we play with ourselves, to feel the exquisite taste of the sophisticated dish, and then to ditch it as soon as we're fed up? It wouldn't be a question of bluff, of fakeness, of shallowness. It would be a question of use. Of why we crave it, this new. Of how we make it useful after all.

David Foldvari, Wrestler

(via)

Two mathematicians

As part of the countdown to the Ateneo de Manila University's 150th anniversary, Philippine pianist Raul M. Sunico performed at the Church of the Gesù on Tuesday evening. Trained at the University of the Philippines, Juilliard School and New York University, Dr. Sunico's wonderfully eclectic program included pieces from Frederic Chopin, Isaac Albeniz, Claude Debussy, Franz Liszt and George Gershwin. The list of Dr. Sunico's many accomplishments as a concert pianist, orchestral soloist and musical arranger—both internationally and locally—is too long to include here, but beyond his brilliant piano playing, there are two things that endear him most to me: he arranged Filipino folk songs and kundiman (traditional love songs) for classical piano and recorded them in fifteen volumes—a legacy that will forever enrich Philippine culture; and his many projects on music education, especially for grade school children.



I do not have a photo of Raul Sunico at the piano, unfortunately. The conditions during the concert—dim ambient light, strong spotlights, a pianist that performs with his entire body—were just too tough for my little camera. But I did get one during the photo-op before the concert. So, without further ado, let me introduce to you the president of the Ateneo de Manila University, Fr. Bienvenido F. Nebres, SJ and Dr. Raul M. Sunico, Artistic Director of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, Dean of the University of Santo Tomas Conservatory of Music and pianist extraordinaire.

The Song Is You

It might seem innocent.

Yes, this is innocence. It is the purity of what happens when the postmodernisms and the camps and the sooavantgardes have made their statements and played their anti-tunes, and yet, we are still there, trying to listen in to that something special.

Call us romantic. Call us Those Who Couldn't Stand The Progress And Stepped Back.Retrograded, taking the easy way out, exploring the (music's, world's, history's) feedback.

Yet feedback is not the sound that comes back to its source. It is not the echo. It is the echo used as an input.
Thus, what you call feedback is the mere beginning, the source material of the process of creation. As the world comes back crumbling to the imperfection of our ever-childish senses, our feeble gestures, breaking through our inherited self-irony, make things possible. Better, they give us back the light.


Too light? Too naive?
Would you prefer this?


The Gospel was right: The meek shall inherit the Earth. Actually, they've inherited it already. Along with the self-irony, they took what was most precious, and what many deemed lost - the damn aura. Yes, the damn aura still shining and glowing through all the mechanical reproductions. We still want their bloody flesh, we still want to know this is where it's at, right here, between the stage and you, between the song and you.

x x x
All this crossed my mind when watching the brilliant The Song Is You festival at Powiększenie in Warsaw recently.
The song that stayed with me the most was simple.
Here it is:

Do you get it? Beyond the gorgeous lyrics, can you feel how it was, listening to it in the club basement, with the grand piano behind Momus, the lights, the weekend dying away? Or can you imagine it? How different is the song you hear from mine?
More on the festival here. Don't miss tonight (12.03), the last part of the festival, with Kyst and AU.

Kyst

In A Sentimental Mood

Sonnet 44
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.
But, ah, thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
Receiving nought by elements so slow,
But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

(Shakespeare)

One more thing: The bone in the film is a wishbone:

The wishbone, known in anatomy as the furcula, is a sternum bone found in birds which is shaped like the letter Y. It is used as an attachment point for the wing muscles. It is so named because of a tradition: Two people pull on each side of such a bone, and when it breaks, the one who gets the larger part is said to have a wish granted.

The mechanical sculpture in the film is by Arthur Ganson. Some of his stuff is really awe-inspiring. Check this Machine with Artichoke Petal #2



Of course, it may bring to mind other art machines (Rebecca Horn, but also manyothers), but what I really appreciate here is the simplicity. Modest art is something to be cherished. It also reminds me of some of the musical experiences by the Portuguese musician Nuno Rebelo:


Even the really simple ones are really something: Machine with Chinese Fan


Is it kitsch? I don't care.
(via)

A moment to cherish, although you're not there

(thanks Maria!)

Moebius Bach

Cheerup

Bibi Tanga.

Party

You know I don't usually do this. But this party - Like the Virgins, at Chłodna25 - was a work of art in its own right.
Imagine a Madonna-tribute event gone haywire. Gone insane. Gone absolutely wild, illogical, ending up deep into the night somewhere between Abba, death metal and improvised Polish hip-hop. With a stage that is only a stage as far as you want it to be one, with musicians changing all the time, most singers not knowing most of the lyrics, but making it somehow seem perfectly logical, and blasting our way into the night. Imagine a stage progressively invaded by members of the audience, imagine not being sure if you're still part of the audience, or the fact that you're singing your guts out with one foot on the stage and one of the several microphones extended towards you every once in a while make you part of the band already. Oh, that's right: we're all part of the band. And surprizingly enough (not so much if you realize how amazing were the musicians involved), it was the best thing that could ever have happened to the concept of tributes.
The pics were stolen from here.

Ongaku in Motion

One of the perks of working at a university is the wide range of learning opportunities right at our doorstep. And no, they are not all dry lectures. Last month, the Ateneo de Manila's Japanese Studies Program, with the assistance of the Japan Information and Cultural Center of the Embassy of Japan, celebrated the Philippines-Japan Friendship Month with "Ongaku in Motion." Ongaku means music in Japanese. The first half of the program featured traditional Japanese music and dance. This is a koto, which is the national instrument of Japan.



After several pieces of koto music, played by the Director of the Japanese Studies Program and a member of the University of the Philippines Koto Ensemble, one faculty member performed a Nihon Buyo dance. It was fascinating with its slow, exact and refined movements.



Unfortunately, I couldn't stay for the second half of the program, which featured J-pop and anime music performed by the students.

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MIAMI

Tra poco è tempo di Miami, 3 giorni di musica indie, forse l'avvenimento più bello che possiate trovare a Milano.. e questo sono io che provo a disegnare qualche mostriciattolo dal vivo durante l' edizione del 2008.

Spero davvero di riuscire a manifestarmi anche quest'anno, merita davvero troppo :)