Introduction

The title of this blog refers to a collection of essays by French theorist Roland Barthes, 'Image, music, text', which includes the seminal 'Death of the Author', upon the relevance of which I shall later dwell. At this point I shall only note, that the transition from reader to perceiver to author, is of the utmost importance in my further writings.
The focus of this blog will lie primarily in the field of sound arts practice, but by no means exclude art in any media, should its content be of interest to me. Therefore, within these pages you may expect to find everything from experimental music and noise to sculpture and installation, and essays and books to visual art and video art, alongside such sound arts as acousmatic music, interactive instruments, soundscape composition, sound performance and installation, visual and conceptual scores, and all that lies between and beyond.
Its purpose is to document art that I encounter, and describe my experience of it. The importance lies within the concept, and how I as an individual perceive it, in the hope of building wider discussions with any of my readers, who may interact differently, or similarly, and to ultimately assess the level of which our backgrounds, education or experience affect our viewing and listening.
As I begin this journey, I will be reviewing and rewriting previous notes I have made on this topic, posting a variety of essays I have written in the past, and my own ventures in sound. Due to the quantity of this, it is impractical for me to post chronologically. However, once this task of sorting through my past relationship with art dwindles, my posts to this blog will be regular, discuss projects, which are current, and will be chronological to the date when I discover the topic in question.
I include a search bar, where exhibitions, artists, and key words may be searched for within this blog, to simplify the process for the blogee.Please do not hesitate to contact me with any comments or enquiries, I would be most curious to hear them.

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Part 3 of 6, The active listener: Fluxus experience and the recent rebirth of interactive music

 Fluxus in Protest

La Monte Young produced an Event score simply named Composition 1960 # 2, which invites the performer to build a small fire in front of the audience and listen to the sounds it produces until it burns out, with or without amplification. In Composition 1960 # 5 (fig. 10) a butterfly is the only intentional sound producer. The audibility of this piece is entirely dependent on chance happenings determined by situations in and outside the performance area. This piece is particularly original as it focuses on the intricate workings of nature, and the value of each sound produced, however small; it alerts the listener to the sounds of movement. Young asserts: ‘I felt certain the butterfly made sounds, (…) unless one was going to dictate how loud or soft the sounds had to be before they could be allowed into the realms of music… the butterfly piece was music as much as the fire piece’[1]. This simplification of the concept of music demonstrates the Fluxus opposition to rigid Viennese traditions.
Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951) was the innovator of atonality in an era of Romanticism. He created a new musical language where all notes remain equally important and there is no dominant key. In 1921, Schoenberg developed the twelve-tone technique, a method of composition using tone rows, where all twelve notes of the chromatic scale are repeated in a pre-determined sequence. This sequence can be reversed, inverted, or inverted and reversed, but a note can only sound after the remaining eleven have been played. This can be transposed to different octaves, and any instrument may play each note. Karlheinz Stockhausen (1928-2007) built on these techniques: in his serialist compositions all music components, such as timbre and dynamics, are determined by these rules. Stockhausen began to include other parameters into this form such as the spatial location of a sound.
At the 1964 New York Festival for the Avant-Garde, a conflict arose amongst Fluxus artists. Stockhausen was to premiere his experimental theatrical piece Originale: in this piece we see cameramen filming one of Stockhausen's earlier compositions Kontakte, amongst models, poets and painters who are 'acting' as themselves. There is a Flux-like use of irony here, however, the timings of each action are governed by serialist rules. The performers included George Brecht, Dick Higgins, Allan Kaprow, Alison Knowles, Jackson Mac Low and Nam June Paik, all playing themselves.
George Maciunas fronted a protest against this concert, supported by Henry Flynt and Ben Vautier, distributing flyers (fig. 11) proclaiming Stockhausen to epitomize 'cultural imperialism'. Maciunas objected to any mathematical approach to composition, as his vision of music is described by the movement he named: the word Fluxus derives from the Latin to 'flow'. The picketers were opposed to all European high culture, which they felt to be constrictive and elitist. However, they were soon to be joined by Dick Higgins, Alison Knowles and Allan Kaprow, who each performed, and protested against Originale.
Fluxus poked fun at the notion of the composer's grandeur, and made games of the artist's exaggerated status. The concept of art being encompassed within the individual’s perception of it, each person's equally important and valid, is prominent in many works. Ben Vautier questioned the authority of art critics by exhibiting certificates which proclaimed 'BY THE PRESENT CERTIFICATE I BEN DECLARE AUTHENTIC WORK OF ART ....... DATE ....... (I DONT SIGN)'[2]. In Dick Higgins' Anger Song # 6 of 1966, busts of Wagner are destroyed to declare an end to Viennese traditions in music; the Fluxists condemned all Western pre twentieth century composition as classist and racist. Further than rejecting the structural format of themes, developments and expositions in Romanticism, Fluxists were in contempt of the whole nature of the composition, opposing moralistic themes in classical music. The Fluxist Henry Flynt believed that all art and culture should have exclusively communist values and his political writings, particularly On Social Recognition, are demonstrative of this[3], however, this view was shared only by Maciunas and generally seen as one of his many eccentricities. In 1973 Maciunas outrageously advertised a concert with a poster reading '12 Big Names!' and a lists of artists, including Andy Warhol and minimalist Philip Glass, - when the recital hall was packed the famous surnames simply appeared projected onto a screen[4]. Subversively, Maciunas relished opportunities to play pranks on his audience, in one instance leading a group into a forest on the outskirts of New York in the darkest night, under the pretence of organising a happening. After confiscating the torch belonging to each of his guests, Maciunas inexplicably disappeared, taking with him not only the sole source of light, but driving the several miles home in the vehicle in which they had all arrived.
  Absurd scenarios and impossible predicaments often featured in Fluxus Events. The humour employed by Fluxus artists was of a playful nature, decidedly more light-hearted than the farces and dark satires of Dada or Futurist theatre. A shining example is La Monte Young’s Piano Piece for David Tudor #1, 1960, where the performer is invited to feed the piano with hay and water, and ends when the piano decides whether or not to eat (fig 12). George Brecht also poked fun at the rituals of concert performers, in Concerto for Clarinet, Fluxversion 1 (1962) a clarinet is suspended from above, and the performer must leap into the air in an attempt to play the dangling instrument, aiming to catch the reed between his lips. Both in the fantasy world of the former piece, and in the game element of the later, a youthful indulgence is present, and upon examination this becomes apparent in all Fluxus works. Even in the demolition of objects as a protest form, the Fluxus artist embodies the role of a naughty child.
The material value of an instrument or object is unimportant within Fluxus, as it is the experience of music and art that is valuable, not the artwork or instrument itself. Al Hansen famously pushed a piano off a five storey building, which was then to be repeated as an Event in 1959 entitled Yoko Ono’s Piano Drop. The colossal sound of wood smashing to pieces on a hard concrete pavement with the last jolts of the strings, hammers, ivory keys and brass pedals, became a composition. The destruction of a classical instrument also occurs in Nam June Paik’s One for Violin (1962), where the performer is invited to lift a violin as slowly as possible and, when they feel ready, smash it upon a surface. The anti-art statement is clear in such Fluxus works but, more importantly, in demolishing a traditional instrument Paik demonstrates the Fluxus belief in ‘real’ sound. To Fluxus artists sounds, which you can see happening are more interesting than those, which are not obvious. Paik reveals the mechanics of instruments in his Exposition of Music (1963). Five television sets are placed on top of an upright piano. Inside the piano is a series of cameras recording and documenting the mechanics and manoeuvres inside as each key is pressed and the hammer touches the string. The television screens show the audience what is happening inside the piano as it is electronically played, revealing what is hidden and therefore making the sound of more value in the Fluxus attitude.
The artist Rirkrit Tiravanija began to deconstruct the role of the curator by inviting the audience to install Fluxus paraphernalia and a miscellany of associated articles into Hallwall's Contemporary Art Centre’s gallery during a 1992 exhibition. As the audience entered, they were handed an Event card inviting them to pick up some white gloves and move an object to where they felt was appropriate. This idea epitomises the spirit of Fluxus, where the role of the audience is to participate in the creation of the product. For this exhibition Christian Marclay provided an artwork called Tape Fall which consisted of clear bin liners filled with cassette tape commenting on the disposability of mass marketed music. Marclay pays tribute to Nam June Paik in Guitar Drag (2000): an electric guitar is trawled along the street, producing a diverse variety of creaks, twangs and other noise, as the pickup on the bridge amplifies the strings as they are rubbed, irritated, and eventually snapped, accompanied by monumental amounts of feedback.




[1] Quote taken from page 106 In the Spirit of Fluxus, Elizabeth Armstrong and Joan Rothfuss,  (Walker Arts Centre, Minneapolis, 1993)

[2] Catalogued in Happening and Fluxus, Sohm, H. (ed), (Koelnischer Kunstverein,
Cologne, 1970), pages unnumbered.

[3] Flynt summarises his findings in an article printed in Fluxshoe, David Mayor, Ken Friedman and Mike Weaver (eds) (Beau Geste Press, Langford Court South, 1972) page 33.

[4] Poster catalogued in Fluxus: Selections from the Gilbert and Lila Silverman Collection, Clive Phillpot and John Hendricks (eds), (Museum of Modern Art, New York), 1988, page 32.





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