A story

“A story must be judged according to whether it makes sense. And ‘making sense’ must be here understood in its most direct meaning: to make sense is to enliven the senses. A story that makes sense is one that stirs the senses from their slumber, one that opens the eyes and the ears to their real surroundings, tuning the tongue to the actual tastes in the air and sending chills of recognition along the surface of the skin. To make sense is to release the body from the constraints imposed by outworn ways of speaking, and hence to renew and rejuvenate one’s felt awareness of the world. It is to make the senses wake up to where they are.” ― David Abram

The question: what is the lineage of what is now called a story (a fiction, a documentary, a novel, a reportage …)? Where does this symbol-laden, semiotic act come from?

When many tell the same one, or when I tell one to myself, in a dream: these are different instances, very much so, than One telling a story—the story—to many. Numbers.

When the story is a deliberate inhalation and exhalation, the warmth of breath, vital, embodied, incarnate, voice: hypostasis.

Before writing, before the interpolation of symbolic systems, the story was the body: the body, a story.

What is at the core of the desperate need to tell stories in this moment, in this cosmos? What is the psychology of storytelling? Everyone has a story, but the embodied, singular telling is suppressed in the noise of the technosocial now.

And when is enough of this telling? word dialogue Light revolution action. When does telling change to listening, and when do words transform into actions?

I force myself to write something, anything, letters on a screen, filling line-by-line. Though there is little to be said and much to be done. A hollow emptiness that has overtaken days and days. Cosmological movement becomes the singular touchstone that allows demarcated time. The horizon, and zenith, the ecliptic and azimuth. Where is the sun, the moon, Andromeda, Orion, Sirius, and the Milky Way? The temporal where of heavenly transit becomes the story.

ruminations

As I catch up, year-end, on a variety of old and new postings from folks, I engage in a blurred comparison process: between what they write (and illustrate), and what I write (and otherwise mediate via image and sound). A number of folks have jumped on Substack, or podcast subscription platforms. It’s hard for me to think about a paying subscription, though, as the monetary side of life is so … sensitive. And I haven’t received a penny in the last decade on my site. How to barter for access to their creative content? Perhaps I’ll raise the issue with some of them. How about a vintage photographic print from my archive for a year’s subscription?

Most others I know have a public (written) voice that is quietly friendly and ultimately readable, compared to mine. I explicitly recall a couple conversations with Norie, my PhD adviser, who said “Be kind to your readers”, something I appreciated, but honestly didn’t understand how to implement. There was and continues to be a profound internal pressure to simply get ideas down in the most precise way manageable with my particular (untempered) linguistic skill-set. As an editor I can clean up an unholy mess of words that someone else has regurgitated, honoring their ideas and intentions and making a kindly and readable text. My own ruminations, while well-edited, have only been subject to a precision test, not a ‘kindness’ test. That test, in itself, is reasonable, but tends to forge a dense, leaden text. My general excuse: texts that I have had to fight my way through understanding very often have been the most rewarding to and impactful of my worldview. Of course, I can’t make any such claims as to my own obfuscations. Giving back the energies of what I have received? Hardly. Ugh!

At any rate, George has now embraced substack with his Story Club; T.C. and her husband Dave continue documenting their interesting life between Alaska and Colorado with the Adventures of the Odaroloc Sled Dogs; Owen documents every day from Finland, India, and elsewhere with a short text and image, and has for the past decade; Christie and her friend have their Emerging Form podcast; Zander started Buzzcut both also on substack. Adam has Datatheism; John Hays has Relative Something. As a vital community exploring the sonic world, aporee::maps continues to evolve with more than 58,000 field recordings. I managed to contribute only a handful during the year, with my total around 1,700 since 2008. Just recently the World According to Sound (co-founded by talented public radio sound peeps Chris Hoff and Sam Harnett) announced an interesting calendar of live 90-minute binaural podcasts — Winter Listening Series — digging deeper into sonic phenomena beyond their shorter podcast series on sound. And, while I’m at it, Radio Web MACBA: a non-profit, cultural communication radiophonic project based at MACBA Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona, hosts more than 800 podcasts covering the heights and breadths of radio beyond radio. Oh, not to mention the trove of 400,000 sound recordings from before 1926 that have entered the public domain as of last week. Finally, Lloyd Dunn, formerly a Tape Beatle, continues releasing his rich sonic and visual work on nula.cc.

Then the next anniversary of Art’s Birthday is coming up on 17 January …

If I had more time, I guess I could be rooting around endlessly online, posting a more full review of these and other voices. But then, how would I get any of my own work done? I wonder: what is the ratio of humans to verbiage? And, what was it before the Gutenberg press, before the typewriter, before the PC, before the iPhone, before Fazebuch?

secondary or primary?

Secondary or primary influences in the course of a day. As thoughts flush, septic, toxic, banal, indistinct.

Dis-ease plagues the surrounds. Time is the wait for embodied encroachment.

Later:

A fragment of pleasing life: Pleased to see calmness on her face, in her demeanor. Pleased to feel the resonance of her heart and life in her voice. Pleased that she is feeling well at the moment. Still drawn by that astonishing intelligence. It engenders endless delving into the nature of our lives. It gives me hope. Otherwise, these days I do not socialize.

Sooner:

Paycheck, taxes, investments, retirement, all terms that frame the life of artifice that follows money, follows a job along the capitalist way. Artifice, yes, art, no. Unless one holds close to mind that it is all performance art. If it wasn’t so replete with dis-spiriting human relation (hah, management!), foundering in that artifice, it might be redeemable. Redemption comes at a price, though.

Afterword: R.M.R. in memoriam

You honored what is heaviest. You knew
the pull of earth; and you were pulled apart
by the dark angel’s voice that seemed as though
it called from somewhere outside your own heart.
You chose the tao of suffering, which led
past every common joy, past the humane
fulfillments, and delivered you instead
to cancer, in a Nessus’-shirt of pain.

Now, breathless, weightless, you can only fall
into yourself: the invisible, unheard
center that you sang. Ahead of all
parting, you might lean back against your chair
and see a sun-lit garden path. A bird
might whistle through you, in the cool morning air.

afterword by translator Stephen Mitchell, 1989. in The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke. New York, NY: Vintage Books.

NSA versus

I find the Open Letter that was publicized by [AOL, Apple, Facebook, Google, LinkedIn, Microsoft, Twitter, Yahoo] to be supremely ironic, calling for specific limits on the governments ability to collect, hold and use data on individuals. While they insure their own access is unfettered and as secretive as possible. The US has quite weak protections in place for personal data: legislation is ‘controlled’ as per everything else in Washington by the collusion of ‘power-full interests’.

For one strong alternative voice in this instance, check out Eben Moglen’s series of lectures “Snowden and The Future.”

Fred Arthur Nettelbeck 1950 – 2011

F.A. produced numerous chapbooks and alternative press publications. Not on many radars, but definitely expelling severe electro-magnetic radiation for the time he was around.

Demonic seconds of my history must not stop now. I am sober and writing this alone. No voice touch or folded skin of beings. I cannot remember. My father is a vapor inside a black box buried hundreds of yards behind my house. I have drunk the last of his beer. I have heard the last of his hollow laughter many long nights ago as coyotes joined in erasing tears, excuses, lies. I am left with what I have created of years. My structured words contained in slim volumes as proof that my face will not last. That here are many ways to spell a life. I cannot blame my vocabulary. I cannot blame the alcoholic seizures. I cannot blame the wet and sticky hours I have spent inside a woman. I cannot blame the relentless black night or the sun again. Again. As I still don’t give thanks for the days nor care to court the clock. Because I am owed millions of dollars. Because they don’t make enough damn booze to drink. Because you’re too stupid to understand. I am living here. As the stars punctuate all the past and future lives. I am living here. Possessed. — F. A. Nettelbeck

voice

Again, back to voice. Given the process of coalescing and erosion. In order to bind the grains of disparate disciplines, different socio-cultural systems, and idiosyncratic paths, a voice which allows some transcendence of localized protocols of communication is necessary. That voice must needs to be poetic in a fundamental sense. It need not have a particular density or timbre, but it does need to be located somewhere within and without any and all those disciplinary spaces, pores.

Is a poetic voice immediate or is it cumulative? It is supposed that the smallest increment or grain of uttered language, the phoneme can hardly be a poetic vocalization. So, maybe language is generally cumulative, accretionary, in that geologic sense of layered erosional deposition, reification, burial, uplift, and consequent re-erosion. In this instance, it is then possible to find a shiny-smooth cobble of, say, cloudy quartz. Well-balanced, raising expectations of imminent knowledge of something when in the hand, pleasing to the eye. What are its origins since arising from the heart of stars: silicon, oxygen. At one point following the gravitational accretion of the planet, the silicon was oxidized by some environment rich in oxygen. Silicon dioxide. Under pressure, super-heated, igneous differentiation allowed masses of these molecules to collect and form crystalline agglomerations within a cooling batholith. Uplift and erosion brings that raw mass to the surface where it is shattered slowly, washed by waters, and dragged downwards by gravity. The cobble is smoothed with many others, and buried with all those, pressure cementing them all again into a single mass, a conglomerate. Another uplift and erosional cycle breaks the conglomerate cement and releases this smooth stone into a creek bed, into a river, where it is further polished. Holding it in the palm, what is its voice? What does it say? How does it speak to its temporary holder? What does it say other that the mute message of gravity to be let down, to be given back to the earth? If the holder knows, they might read signs in the surface, in the raw presence of the thing-ness of the cobble. The signs point to histories and pathways. The reader has to understand the basic elements of those signs in order to create their own understanding as to the origin of the object. But of its pure presence, nothing need be known, but only the immediate experience of the Self in juxtaposition with this thing. Naming all this is the root of language.

Plucked from the poetic talus, the transformed erosional product of language, the cobble might be heaved through the wall of the proverbial glass house of culture, period. Howl.

waka – Day 6 – eNZed

learning Maori numbers, Whanganui, New Zealand, December 2010

Up early again, before all the girls are off to school, the morning routines are quite entertaining to witness. Compared to similarly-aged kids in other places (the US!), all the kids I’ve met here seem quite relaxed. Is it the culture here, or? There is a laid-back quality, but I haven’t been here long enough to see how it suffuses through the society. There have to be substantial social issues, with colonialism having left such an influence on things. The stack of histories of NZ that Kerry loaned me before traveling told of savage open conflict until around the time of the US Civil War which is quite recent. Though no longer in direct living memory, it is still quite close. It’s is obvious, from the clear-cut timbering alone, seen from the air, that there is an ongoing and deep conflict over land-use, with powerful development and/or exploitation forces. On the other hand, there are definitely strong voices for nurturing the environment (and human lives on the island) back to something more sustainable.

We take a visit to the waka (canoe) boathouse to check on things — there is a crew of young gals who are practicing waka racing for the national championship. A group of absolutely charming young women.

Mike, our main Maori host comes by, what a expansive and powerful spirit he has! Julian has really cultivated some amazing connections with people here. Everyone met so far has been friendly, open, welcoming, relaxed, ready with a smile, along with some challenging/enLightening conversations.

Hardly time to make any entries now that the road has come up to meet my feet, so to say. Prepping mentally for the symposium coming up in a few days. But there is still so much indeterminacy that I will really have to improvise, and simply go with the available and auspicious energies of the moment. Many stories are already told about energy and informatics.

Towards sunset, an impromptu picnic on river turns out to be a neighborhood gathering, yet another example of a relaxed bunch of folks. Such a (WELCOME!) contrast to Sydney!

down on this

Einstein’s relativity and Heisenberg’s uncertainty have become our own. Even if we do not understand the science, we experience the reality.

Steve Dietz, Dreams of an (Un)Certain Future, in the “Sarai Reader 03,” p. 202

Part of the reminder that the map is not the territory, and the model is not the thing itself. We have the territory, we hold the thing itself, and it is a matter of finding our voice to describe both to those who are most immediately around us.

schizophonia

Originally all sounds were originals. They occurred at one time and in one place only. Sounds were then indissolubly tied to the mechanisms which produced them. The human voice traveled only as far as one could shout. …

We have split the sound from the maker of the sound. Sounds have been torn from their natural sockets and given an amplified and independent existence. Vocal sound, for instance, is no longer tied to a hole in the head but is free to issue from anywhere in the landscape. In the same instant it may issue from millions of holes in millions of public and private places around the world.

Schafer, R. Murray. (2006). The Music of the Environment in “Audio Culture.” New York: Continuum International Publishers.

This Julian Treasure talk is a very short (seven minute) but provocative dance around some issues of sound and hearing (and listening).

By substituting the concept ‘energy’ for ‘sound’ the issue expands and finds some wider principles. Action, activity, creative and destructive both, releases energy. Many times this energy is in the form of sound. Techno-social systems generate massive amounts of waste energy in this form of sonic vibrations. Living organisms tend not to generate waste sounds as any wasted energy possibly compromises the life-form (life being a negentropic energy-optimizing process). On an evolutionary scale, waste energy (in the form of adaptive experimentation by the life-form) is incrementally minimal when considered in juxtaposition to the total energy expenditure of the life-form itself. However, en masse life clearly plays a role in accelerating the production of entropy of the Terran system when considered in comparison to a planetary system without life.

Humans, in their superficially intelligent pursuit of technological solutions, especially in the recent era, have created the means to generate tremendous amounts of waste energy. While engineering is about solving problems in the most efficient manner possible, the vast majority of devices created are clearly inefficient. This is especially apparent when the entire process necessary to bring a device to a completed configuration is considered, ensemble — that is, the extraction of earth materials, transport, processing, and manufacturing.

Whenever one has a technological process, it is likely that at one or more points in the process, sonic waste energy is being spewed out into the surroundings. This plethora of waste energy impinges on the body system with (un)certain results. (Remember the experiments of playing heavy metal or classical music at plants? It’s easier to understand the effects when you consider the energy content of the two different sonic manifestations.) In a typical urban environment, a tremendous amounts of (sonic) waste energy is, literally, reverberating everywhere. Any flux of (waste) energy will change that which it encounters. It will change the energy state of everything along its pathway to eventual almost-dissolution in the un-stellar void.

Using your ears to guide you, find a place where you can comfortably be for an hour. If eyes desire — sight falling between night sky stars tracing on the retina — could carry the ears to a same-such place, life would have different potential.

about time

as quoted in Katinka Ridderbos’ book on time:

Carson, Northern Irish writer and poet, opens his book Fishing For Amber (1999) like this: It was long ago, and long ago it was; and if I’d been there, I wouldn’t be here now; if I were here, and then was now, I’d be an old storyteller, whose story might have been improved by time, could he remember it.

Time, Ridderbos, Katinka (Editor), West Nyack, NY, USA: Cambridge University Press, 2002.

So what about this fragment gleaned from my notes? I suppose it is about how to tell a story, how to give it voice and perhaps humor.

inconsistency

The language is based on joining and dis-joining, you see. That is, it’s a perfectly good language if we could use it properly. It has to be used as an artistic form and not as a rigid tool which is supposed to reflect reality exactly — reflect what is exactly. It’s like the notes in music. They look quite separate, but when they’re played, they’re not separate. — David Bohm, dialogue with E.Nada

A necessary feature of the thesis project is inconsistency. For it to be a rich learning experience, it should be variable or stochastic. How to achieve a creative inconsistency, then? Where changing perspectives and voices and models and worn pathways exists in profusion that is at the same time, not overwhelming. A sequence of statements (each a consistent sound-bite), with threads of difference demarcating their extent, applicability, and style.

affects and intentions

The idea comes that I can place different narratives and sonifications in the aporee context, making a global mapping of ideas mixed with sounds mixed with voices. But somehow this seems flat. Not that the platform lacks some aesthetic appeal, but the tendency would be to continue the same old process of archive-building (with the same old criteria of acquisition of material). Or, I thought about making a performative series in the Speakers Corner in the Domain. Still, the best idea to this moment is the one where I would simply engage with this material with one Other, expanding on it, presenting it in a dialogic setting, and reproducing that. Or this dialogic situation as a live performative undertaking with an audience.
more “affects and intentions”

Proxemics

I would prefer that this whole thesis stay out of the regime imposed by semiotics — that is, the approach to social inquiry as an expression of how the dominant worldview is itself dominated by abstracted elements, rather than focusing on the flows of energy themselves. The abstracted systems do, of course, have a heavy bearing on the regime of flows within the social, as they do govern the pathways along which energy flows. However, in order to understand the dynamics of the flows which underlie the abstractions, one has to clear away the abstraction. I hope to frame the issue of language and protocol only to the degree that makes it possible to subtract it from the picture.

Consider the difference as framed following: when two people are speaking to each other, one can make a fundamental structural observation that breaks down the process into the movement of sonic energy and the presence of language-as-protocol. What is the sonic element? It is the movement of embodied energy, energy arising from the embodied presence of one person, arising from the complex negentropic life-processes of one’s self. This particular energy ‘form’ arises through the precise evolutionary configuration of body that allows for that particular expression: the lungs, the throat, the voice box, the mouth, and so on. It is projected through the ‘medium of substances’ from the Self to the Other, into the embodied presence of the second. Into the ear canal to energize the neural system that is hearing. This is a fundamental. This phenomena exists independent of the language being used, and regardless whether that language is shared by the two people.

Proxemics then becomes a question of potentialities and possibilities of flow or not-flow as proffered by the arrangement of energized bodies (at all scales!) — not simply a systematic coding of the arrangements and orientations of bodies in a Cartesian space. Hall does include body-heat (thermal code) in his list of proxemic behavior along with other sensory “codes,” but stays away from the actuality and implications of energetics (as illustrated by the previous paragraph. (A System for the Notation of Proxemic Behavior, Edward T. Hall, American Anthropologist, New Series, Vol. 65, No. 5, Selected Papers in Method and Technique (Oct., 1963), pp. 1003-1026)

The presence of language, then, is a formulator of meaning. Language does not carry energy itself. What one says is different than how one says it. The use of language (merely) imposes a modulation (amplitude, frequency, in time), a protocol on the energy movement. This modulation is a learned social function. And of that imposed modulation: when examined closely, it loses some of its monumental qualities (semiotics-as-deterministic-abstraction-of-abstraction):

There is no language in itself, nor any universality of language, but a concourse of dialectics, patois, slangs, special languages. There exists no ideal “competent” speaker-hearer of language, any more that there exists a homogeneous linguistic community … there is no mother tongue, but a seizure of power by a dominant tongue within a political multiplicity. — Deleuze and Guattari (Rhizome)

scripting

it seems that a script with multi-modal inclusions, or extrusions could be the most profitable direction to move into. (a (tran)scripted dialogue, the optimal). with permutations, expansions, digressions, voice changes, multiple (modal) versions of the same content.

I want to tell a story, my story. not just my story, but I want to bring a world into being by naming it, one fragment at a time until it fills out like a balloon, until it feels suggestive, full, expansive, textured, and real. not that this world is any more special or force-full than that inhabited by the Other humans out there, but it is in this coming-to-be process of a world(view) as seen by the Self, it is deep in this process, that value comes to life. the intersection of that world-coming-to-be and the world that is out there, the construct that is the social system, the human-influenced world: as the Self is a cross product of the idiosyncratic individual (coming-to-be) and that social world.

so, scripting in the widest sense, circumscribing via once-removed reduction, yet pointing at that-which-cannot-be-named from as many vantages as possible.

lunch with Norie

Chinese noodles, splattered on my black Nike top, staining it, it seems, permanently — what are they using in that food? too jet-lagged and displaced to make much sense about my ideas on ways to proceed. but surface my primary issues around Voice in writing, whether to do a straight thesis or a hybrid/experimental.

I want these encounters with Norie and Andrew to be mapped into the work itself, considering that perhaps they should be recorded.

Ice Land

Wow, the lid is blowing off the formerly staid and sheep-like Icelandic society. Following the collapse of their entire economy from top to bottom, side to side, Icelanders are finally making a vocal and physically critical look at the excesses of the political and business leaders who they have supported without question over the last couple decades.

News from Iceland usually centers around glaciers, volcanoes, whaling, tourism, or in more recent years, music. But all that has been displaced by the spectacular fall from fifth highest on the world’s standard of living index to International Monetary Fund-ed pauper-hood, all in a couple months.

And of those same government officials, politicians, and business people, not one has paid any public price for their despotic (nepotistic!) greed (aside from some of their Empires collapsing, surely, though, after they have secreted away the cream). The Chairman of the Central Bank and former Prime Minister David Oddsson — nicknamed in the 1990s Little Hitler by the few who saw his rule as one based on enormous reserves of ego rather than economic expertise — has refused to resign or even admit any errors in judgment while the entire national economy has collapsed.

Not prone to display dirty national laundry in the international arena, Iceland has been ridiculed with an unprecedented vehemence in British and other international press outlets, often at the hands of expat Icelanders who are so fed up with the whole scandal that they are breaking the public self-critical taboo. Several leading international economists, familiar with the Icelandic situation are reminding the public of the warnings that were proffered months ago of the possibility of impending crisis, all which were ignored by a government who, in the run-up to the crisis, repeatedly claimed the economy was sound.

In private conversations, I frequently pointed out the deep nepotism in the architecture of power that suffused Icelandic society as well as the reciprocal sheep-like obedience of the general populace; especially among the government politicos but really everywhere in a system that sustains perhaps only three of the possible six degrees of separation. Everybody knows everybody.

At any rate, I had wanted to post some links to pertinent resources in this fast-developing situation if only that it might be an object lesson on the excesses of a system that Iceland was very talented in upholding — that of consumer capitalism in all its vain-glory.

There’s the Iceland Weather Report by native, Alda Sigmundsdóttir. She has taken some major strides over the history of her blog, most recently doing interviews with voices critical of the current regime including one with the Icelandic economist Thorvaldur Gylfason.

Another voice which I concur with strongly based on my long experience with Icelandic culture is voiced by New Zealand economist Robert Wade. Small dribbles of news in the more traditional style of Icelandic media (passive echoing of officials) may be found in English at the Morgunbladid (the main national newspaper). They have been absolute supporters of the Oddsson regime and the reactionary Independence Party that he represents.

I could relate many stories from Iceland, and, indeed, have done that here over the last 14 years, but these days, my attitude is that they deserve what has happened. The broader population accepted uncritically the fiscal direction of the Independence Party and the incredibly greedy business elite (very very large fish in a very very small pond). Some Icelandic voices have recently pointed out this very sheep-like behavior on behalf of the public — as something that hopefully is in the process of being purged through increasingly violent protest actions that are both long overdue and at the same time completely not disturbing the equilibrium of the ruling elite.

Networked: a (networked_book) about (networked_art)

PROPOSAL :: Networked: a (networked_book) about (networked_art)

(a) Name, address, URL, email and one page CV of author.

John Hopkins

https://neoscenes.net/

John Hopkins is a networker, artist, and educator occupied across a wide swath of techno-social systems with an extensive global network presence. He is active in numerous global creative networks beginning with the Cassette Underground and the Mail Art networks in the 1980’s and merging seamlessly into the propagating telecommunications networks of the present. He has engaged in many individual and collective dialogues concerning the facilitation of collaborative creative situations, and has facilitated or participated in numerous distributed projects.

https://neoscenes.net/blog/cv-resume

(b) A 1000 word proposal that should be accompanied by an abstract of no more than 250 words and a list of keywords to indicate the subject area of the chapter. [Each of the commissioned chapters will contain text, images, videos, and/or audio.]

ABSTRACT more “Networked: a (networked_book) about (networked_art)”

thesis proposal :: A Note on Trans-disciplinarity

Trans-disciplinarity is a popular expression for the need for thinking (and expressing!) outside the cubic space defined by any limited social system or sub-system. Innovative solutions are often found by combining many possible strands of thought from disparate disciplines and points of view. Critical engagement of a plurality of voices is essential when moving in trans-disciplinary spaces, and this will constantly be kept in mind to the degree possible. The use of language in a trans-disciplinary space is a particular challenge which, to a significant degree, determines the successful outcome of the attempt to bridge disciplinary spaces. Indeed, disciplinarity is often defined by the cumulative social use of a specific linguistic system that is exclusive to the discipline. As a former engineer, and now as an educator and artist for the past two decades, I have significant experience in coherently bridging the somewhat isolated linguistic spaces that define those different ‘worlds.’

It is clear that there is a solid need for this kind of inquiry in the trans-disciplinary space of techno-social systems given the intensity of technological development and the complexity of globalized human presence. It is my desire to contribute to the search for sustainable principles and systems that honor first the need for a healthy continuum of human relation instead of placing technological solutions at the forefront. This, at the same time as acknowledging the fundamentally symbiotic inter-relationship of the two concepts.

Navaho voices

up at 0600, toss the last items in the truck, 0640 departure. head north-by-northeast. one of the five or six route options for traveling between Prescott and Boulder. gas relatively cheap. clear, dry roads. modest traffic. migraine ensues. why? still no answers. face frozen by the icy landscape shape-shifting outside glass cocoon. travel-day migraine.

Navajo voices in my head.

a roadblock for a funeral cortege winding in to a ragged and desolate cemetery near Naschitti. a couple Navajo guys hit me up for change at the gas station in Farmington. tens of F350 Ford pickups streaming back in towards Farmington from the gas fields that have raped the region in the last six years since the Bush regime opened up the area to uncontrolled drilling. more “Navaho voices”

oblivion

month’s ending. All Hallows. images accruing in a form to share — 1996 (of this travelog) will be augmented first. complications with Berlin logistics, may throw off the November trip. and force a cancellation of Transmediale collaboration, hmmm. recalls the cafe9.net debacle in 1999.

end of the month, Friday.

finished with the DFW immersion. Oblivion is a brilliant set of stories, each one containing numerous positions, layers, points-of-view, (what to call the vantage of his voice/eye?). maybe the term channels applies. he has a multi-tasking eye, picking up information not just at the focal point of optics, but instead, immaculate macular generation. he has the recall, along with synthesis. imagination? springing from impression and spreading out through spaces which have not been mapped in that exact way. an example of voice-declaiming-self’s-model-of-cosmos. with a pivotal crux for the entire collection coming on page 326:

‘Who?’ She had ten weeks to live.

Wallace, D.F., 2005. Oblivion: stories, New York: Back Bay.

the deeply buried oblivion of our situation, now. everywhere. whenever. a weepy sad sketch of the human conditions. here, now. whenever. and a stiff finger punched into the chest of gloating cultural superiority. it all falls down.

how to push shaped impulse charges out, through the gate of psyche. and while pushing out, receive direct all the more.

Hearts, Lungs and Minds

A half-hour ‘composed documentary’ for radio by John Wynne on Between the Ears, BBC Radio 3, June 21 at 8:30pm BST. the original broadcast is over, but until 28 June you can listen to this very fine mix somewhere between documentary and sonic art.

Sound artist John Wynne and photographer Tim Wainwright were artists-in-residence for one year at Harefield Hospital, one of the world’s leading centers for heart and lung transplants. They listened to patients, to the devices they’re attached to or have implanted in them, and to the hospital itself.

Hearts, Lungs and Minds explores the experiences of transplant patients and the extraordinary issues raised by this invasive, last-option medical procedure. It weaves intensely personal narratives, often recorded at the bedside, with the sounds of the hospital environment, which can have an enormous effect on patients, shifting unpredictably from comforting to irritating, from reassuring to alarming.

All of the people whose voices you will hear have had a heart or lung transplant — or both — or else were waiting for one when they were recorded. Some have died, most are doing well. All of the sounds originated in the hospital; sometimes they are abstracted as the piece explores the boundaries between documentary and radio art.

To listen online https://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/betweentheears/

dkfrf review

Rinus makes some nice notes on the Amurikan evening at das kleine field recording festival last week in Kreuzberg.

Rinus is one of those intelligent and grounded souls who facilitate events that are the polar opposite of pretentious. informal, humane, and best, they include a collection of found artists. artists who are connected by their desire to connect with others in an open way. my impression of the evening of performances was largely the comfort with which it proceeded. for example, I had not intended doing a visual set, thinking conservatively it was about field recording. but when Brandon got the video-projector set up, I thought, yeah, why not. so I started the evening with a slowly-building barrage. guilty, sure, of a phat mix. Rinus noted that it divided the crowd — it’s that polarizing influence that I seem to have. hmmm. it’s partly the software, got to explore how to slow it down for a more meditative mix. density. (going back to the thoughts about levity and density a few weeks ago). Brandon’s set was a perfect counterpoint to mine with the levity and Light of his life.
more “dkfrf review”

sound constructions

Jodi sends an announcement about one of her curatorial efforts, Sound Constructions, in collaboration with Program: Initiative for Art and Architectural Collaborations. it’ll be good to see this crew all together!

Sound surrounds us, moves through us and affects our perception and experience to place and space in more ways than we usually imagine. The sound of knowledge being produced in scientific labs, the sound created by the ears themselves, the vibrations of the city playing a new kind of music, wavelengths of the wall coming from the front line in Sarajevo, the secret voice of bridges transmitted across the globe, the sound of radio waves in the ether, sound as intervention back into the street, and creating an imaginary city with sound, all come together in a fascinating weekend forum.

tendencies

(00:09:14, stereo audio, 17.8 mb)

Tending to my own symbolic annihilation. Making agreements with distant others to be there then. When being here now remains contested and thin in execution, and, still, a warm hand-shake and I feel like crying; gracias, gracias por todos, gracias, gracias to the guitar-playing Latino guy (is he my age?), a tenor singing in the L station. His spirit-voice shakes the rusted iron foundations of the city. It quickens autonomous space and heart in the urban subterranean and pushes everyone to the electric forefront of be-ing. The sustained highs transform the state of all things until suddenly I am here now. The I-beams shudder as the train pulls in. My head hangs as I enter the car and slump onto the fiberglass bench. Peak experience, and the inevitable deflation.

The Funny Farm

catch a Dorit Chrysler gig at The Funny Farm East in the Präter Biergarten with Mari, Mika, and Jodi — nice to see this configuration of folks around again — same as in March in Helsinki, and a number of other times in other places. Chrysler’s work is a slowly and spacefully generated hybrid of Blondie (Deborah Harry) and deep Lounge, or so. she is seductively innocent in appearance, movement, and voice. the sound system consists of one speaker sitting on the bar at one end of a long, narrow room under a low ceiling, with Dorit at the far end in a small niche with her Theramin and mike. the bar is crowded to the point of being claustrophobic and I thought a couple times what the scenario would be if there was a fire. ugly. the audio recordings are pretty good (to come later), but otherwise the performance was only a curiosity, along with the experience of being in the Funny Farm which is an independent phenomena itself.

more travelog material is in the preparation stages — including audio mixes that will someday appear here. this becomes a retrospective blog, I simply can’t digest all the material and get into a form that is usable on the site without hours and hours of free time. too busy doing things. and in the doing, making some documentary steps outside of the doing more frequently than normal. so, archival accumulation (and drowning).

RAUM

Zorka, from way back in the Muthesius times and IFKIK, comes by for brunch.

finally meeting the RAUM crew: Karsten, Matze, Jork, and some others. dinner, some openings, and a party at the Humboldt University. hard to imagine being there after walking through that neighborhood before the wall came down — the party was around the corner from the Pergammon Museum. Berlin. spread out. not so densely populated. 1.5 million people shy of it’s pre-WWII population. rents are low, but everybody complains about a lack of jobs, funding, and money in general.

exhibition by Diana Moro — who says about her paintings: as we move towards a new world order — spread your love like a fever and before that, another opening — pixel paintings by Enda O’Donoghue at Gallery Hunchentoot, not particularly interesting.

a skewed palette, perhaps with the idea to match interior design colors. galleries and art events fight for an audience not for the reason of lack of audience, but for the plethora of events and openings. too much going on and not enough people to actually be the audience.

and this

sotto voce: A thought voice-spoken into the ear is released only for a moment from embodied presence as the sonic energy passes from the Self to the Other. In the Other it manifests for ever as a changed energy state of be-ing.

African Feedback

Through a process of listening and speaking, African Feedback documents an exchange between artist Alessandro Bosetti and residents of villages throughout West Africa. Playing music by various experimental and avant-garde composers to people met in villages, Bosetti records their responses, asking them what they are hearing, and how they relate to the music and sounds. Composing their responses, with field recordings made throughout his travels, African Feedback is a musical portrait of cultural translations, misunderstandings, different voices and languages. Including an audio CD and the transcriptions of the listening sessions, along with an introduction by the artist, African Feedback is a beautiful and beguiling work cutting across the ongoing questions of cultural difference.

Alessandro Bosetti was born in Milan, Italy in 1973. He is a composer and sound artist working on the musicality of spoken words and unusual aspects of spoken communication, producing text-sound compositions featured in live performances, radio broadcasts and published recordings. In his work he moves across the line between sound anthropology and composition, often including translation and misunderstanding in the creative process. Field research and interviews build the basis for abstract compositions, along with electro-acoustic and acoustic collages, relational strategies, trained and untrained instrumental practices, vocal explorations and digital manipulations.

and the Dworak’s are off to Brussels for the weekend for Milena’s daughter Karla’s baptism.

flush

I recall this sign from each visit to the University in Bremen.

Bitte das Spülen nicht vergessen, Danke! — Please don’t forget to flush, thanks!

and there is another sign:

instead of saying, in that annoying Big Brother voice:

From Knowledge comes Economy

it says:

From Knowledge comes Resistance Against the Logic of Exploitation

stories

I break down and have (huh?) to buy Loki a copy of the Harry Potter book (uff, even writing the name here is annoying). Why? Because each summer for the past however many that have been a target for the marketing of Rowling’s tale, someone — me on several occasions — has gotten him the latest installment for an early birthday present for the first of his usual two or three birthday parties. He always has one party in Amurika, sometimes with cousin Lexie, though she’s not here now; used to be that Amma Lillian would make him a nice cake, too. Then, when he gets back to Iceland there is one party for his friends and then another one for the adults in his family. more “stories”

seeing hearing feeling

spend the morning with Sally Jane, checking out some of the exhibitions including a personal walk-through of the Animalia project with producers Angela Main and Caroline McCaw (more kiwis!). then on to the ART MUSEUM to see THE SHOW curated by Steve Deitz. some amazing works, leading off with the elegant live-chat-based piece.

lunch with Ken at La Victoria Taqueria, better burritos than Macho Taco which was inexplicably closed at lunch-time.

also happen upon the npr (neighborhood public radio) broadcast studio at the downtown cineplex in an unused ticket booth. was wondering where they were broadcasting from — last night I happened to tune them in at 88.9 on the car radio on the commute back to the ‘burbs. so, met Jon Brumit and

hard to begin and end the day with a rattling vibrating swervy commute that lasts about an hour, door-to-door.

some overviews on the conference:

yadda-yadda-yadda; blah-blah-blah.

so many words, so many moving images, so much sound, talking heads, and spectacle. along with nice personal encounters. the monumental, the hierarchic voices along with the personal, networked, and confidential/private.

San Jose is interesting clash of urban-renewal towers of glass and corrosion-resistant metals: ringed some hard-core barrio Victorian bungalow scene, interlaced with the chronic homeless scattered between the shining spaces and conventioneers.

organized networks are interested in new institutional forms. tactical media has come to a stage of confronting itself. question of scalar transformation, (vs) networked organizations. democracy and networks are antithetical. bunk.

prototypes: sarai, iDC, srishdi school of art and media, indy media, etc

end up going to see a Mike Figgis remix of his film Time Code. a pseudo-press guy is giving away a couple tickets, so I snag one. he explains that he’s not really press, but a writer, and is trying to write a history of media art starting with the worldview of Gertrude Stein. I didn’t quite understand what he was trying to tell me. I suppose he very well might be a better writer that explainer. the film is a disappointment — the subject of the narrative is hermetically sealed in Hollywood and lacks any compelling visual or story elements. Mike is there, verily, and does a live “remix” which consists of rewinding the tape(!) and fading in/out the 4 different screen audio tracks. in form — the four frames which simultaneously inhabit the main screen that were recorded in four single simultaneous takes starting at the same time — there is an extremely interesting potential, especially as the overall resolution of video systems for shooting, recording, editing, and playback are gradually increasing. but the possibilities of the form seem completely wasted by the insipid narrative and visual void. is it a joke maybe?

head back to Livermore on the 87-280-680-84 pilgrimage route. not really liking that violent traverse of the land. though one segment moves across the Calaveras Valley which is still unpopulated and sports the rolling amber hills with huge live oaks scattered at stellar intervals.

H5N1

there is no privacy at the speed of Light is a project hosted on ORF Kunstradio and authored by Bernhard Loibner and Tom Sherman aka Nerve Theory. It explores contemporary be-ing and the impact of social and biological entities on that being. Fragment No. 23 is the latest installment:

We live in a world of strangers. Because more and more of us choose to live in cities, we find ourselves living in a world of strangers. We find privacy in the city, and loneliness. As we gain autonomy and our sense of individualism grows, it is more and more difficult to convince others that we are trustworthy. There are two ways we can prove our worth, with credentials and through ordeals. Credentials include credit cards and drivers licenses, and educational certificates. We have identity tags like social security and passport numbers. To supplement our credentials we must submit our physical bodies for measurement and examination. We must establish our reputations through ordeals. Photographs are taken. We are asked to take drug tests for certain jobs, say a hair strand drug test or a simple saliva test. We are asked to place our hands on devices that verify our identity through hand geometry analysis. We are instructed to stare into video cameras for iris scans. These ordeals have become common in many aspects of our personal lives. We live in a world of strangers and it has become increasingly difficult to establish and maintain our reputations. In this world we still rely on personal, instinctive judgment — the way a person looks and smells, the sound of their voice, and if they can look us in the eye. The way a person moves or responds to our touch still tells us a lot. But our intuitive skills only tell us so much. What kind of music does this stranger like? What are her favorite movies? Does he eat meat? Before we have sex or exchange body fluids we must determine the probability of various kinds of infections. Credentials are important, but ordeals are usually necessary to close the deal.

John Francis Wester 1958 – 2006

John Wester Learn sorrowfully from the network (from Karen (T.)) of another passing. John Wester was a great friend from junior and senior high days. we maintained contact after the college diaspora and when we were both living in Los Angeles after college (he doing his law degree, me finishing my tenure with corporate oil) and later through email, thinking that at one point we would cross paths. an obituary is a terse framework that little shows the life, only the social situation. I’ll add some words and, if I can find some, photos soon. Karen calls — the first time we have spoken in, what, maybe 30 years? nah, a few less than that. it is strange and nice to hear a voice that slowly stirs older memories — of those humid summer days down at the North Shore dock of what was a not very large lake in one of the first planned communities of the 1970’s, Montgomery Village. I would cycle down Brink Road from home to the Village on occasional summer days before a drivers license made more of the world available. At the dock, John, Richard, Taryn, Karen, Mark, Gary, Bruce, Sharon, and others would hang out — some of them working (boat rentals), some like myself, just hunting for summer friendship. more “John Francis Wester 1958 – 2006”

VisitorStudio

Furtherfield subset Furthernoise VisitorsStudio is the place. A Flash-based live-online visual-sonic collaborative platform developed at furtherstudio by Neil Jenkins. Roger Mills organized a test run with nine artists from Europe and US to come together today for a sequence of individual and collaborative performances in preparation for events later in June. Somehow, in the juggling of files in preparation, there are grim traces of current states of mind: in extremis.

Furthernoise is an online platform for the creation, promotion, criticism and archiving of innovative cross genre music and sound art for the information & interaction of the public and artists alike.

Furthernoise encourages new methodologies and practices in creating adventurous music and sound that is not bound by the constraints of historically experimental genres. We showcase artists work through critical reviews & features as well organising performances and events on the internet as well as public venues and galleries.

&

Furtherfield creates imaginative strategies that actively communicate ideas and issues in a range of digital & terrestrial media contexts; featuring works online and organising global, contributory projects, simultaneously on the Internet, the streets and public venues. Furtherfield focuses on network related projects that explore new social contexts that transcend the digital, or offer a subjective voice that communicates beyond the medium. Furtherfield is the collaborative work of artists, programmers, writers, activists, musicians and thinkers who explore beyond traditional remits.

security please

full days and nights. at the airport, feeling quite good, back not a problem. with a week off exercise. when the architecture of social relations break down. flight 473 waits for a part coming from Washington. some passengers become irate even though the flight isn’t technically late yet. one shouts really loud when the gate attendant is making a public announcement describing the situation. he does it again during the next announcement, with a stentorian voice that drowns out the announcement, so she storms over to him and they exchange words, he demanding to see a supervisor. she goes back to her desk and calls security. making connections. I should be in line to change my Denver – Phoenix flight, but what’s the point? the line is at least 30 minutes long at this point. later, security finally comes. they take him away. he broke the accepted relational barriers that exist in a public place — or the accepted protocols of relation, projecting his stored (pent-up) bio-energy into the space and at the agent. she, a spokes-person for the social institution of the airlines. an individual speaking for a mass.

Beckett

en route from Grand Central to Bedford Hills. lunch with Anthony at the Empire Diner, we walk down there from meeting at Penn Station in the morning. an eatery where I used to go on occasion when working in Chelsea. long time passed. groups of tourists stop on the corner and take photos of the diner. it’s a land mark. marking the land which can’t actually be seen — it’s all paved over and dug up. so, the city as one big land mark, and nothing else. no land left to mark. we mark time with dialogue. conversations which are continuous registrations, trajectories from the past. launching into an immediate and present future. stopping at way-points to register the locus, then rocketing onward. upward. bouncing through some Beckett. ah, Beckett — when the privilege of having a conversation about Beckett? rare. to explore the textures of a literate vision of such elemental power, circumscribing the moment, being, and the perfect intertwining of both to create life. hmmmm, been in the country too long. though the sight of stars is nothing to feel inferior about. they leave different traces in the self than the traces of known and historied voicefull lives.

while the infrastructure labors along. trains slow and imprecise. although arriving in the same places from day to day, the time of arriving changes the place to another, given the slowness. barely able to stay on the track.

through Harlem with hardly a look into the structures of the past years, the rennaisance, onward, northward. up the Hudson, on the Hudson River Line. I’m inna New York state of mind-full-ness. greasy face from lunch of fried veggie lintelburger.

back to thinking about Kevin. what to say on Wednesday, the memorial. thinking how that maxim of avoiding any pre-tension. that is to be remarked. as well, the power of being to invoke collective presence.