tristesse (engraved)

issue six....february 2011

issue two ....

issue # 6

contents****

page 3-8: four questions interviews:page 4-11 - Sarah Hughespage 12-15 - Julia Holter

page 16-17- Michael Pisaro*

page 18-31: balloon & needle - photo essay by Jez riley French*

page 32-39: Francesca Tallone - 3 diptychs & 4 instamatics*

page 40-53: Sabrina Seigal - nature recompositions*

page 54-69: Lihi Kissilevich*

page 70-76: Vincente Arrese*

page 77-83: Derek Ham / nineacre*

page 84-98: Sabina Lucas Garcia*

page 99-105: Tyler Poelle*

page 106-114: Ewan Gordon*

page 115-123: Richard Kamerman

four questions

is a series of interviews, using the same four basic questions, with artists, composers, improvisers etc that seeks to explore the varied ways in which listening to natural & manmade environments, either in situ or in the form of field recordings,

has influenced the subjects work and outlook.

all interviews in the series can be found on the ‘in place‘ blog:

JezrileyFrench-inplace.blogspot.com

four questions # 24 : Sarah Hughes

www.sarahhughesportfolio.blogspot.comwww.compostandheight.com

JrF: when & why did you become aware of listening to natural & man made environments & indeed the art of field recording ?

SH: When I was very young, perhaps four I five, my mother used to take me to a

field of bulls and we’d call them over by placing our hands together and

inhaling, or sucking the air from between them, this would attract the bulls and

they’d come over to say hello. This awareness of a language in nature was not

explicit but I’d say it certainly affected how I approached living and non-living

human systems. I remember this did become more explicit a few years back, I’d

heard a recording of humpback whales and this seemed to trigger something

that has unfolded and implied itself into how I look at things. Around this time I

also met Patrick Farmer and we subsequently worked quite closely- this was my

first insight into the art of field recording, I had heard a lot of field recordings

previous to this, Lee Patterson and Joe Colley in particular, but Patrick and I

would go for a walk and end up putting our ear to fences to hear them filtering

the environment. This really solidified a few things I had been struggling to

articulate. It also made me realize I’d be an awful field recordist, it requires a

certain type of patience that I don’t have, and I’ve have always been deterred, to

my own detriment, by using technology as a primary material.

JrF: how have these two aspects of sound impacted on your own artistic output ?

SH: I’d say the first, listening to natural and man made environments, is my

practice in many ways, only its primary focus is with other senses and to

balance and language. I see Field recording more as a parallel – it’s a

multifaceted art form, and a very social art form, universal in many senses. Its

also mundane, as in belonging to the world, and my practice utilises the

mundane, and reconsiders how we approach what we are familiar to. I think the

element of composition is the invisible thread that ties it all together – whether

it’s the composition of an environment, an installation, a jug, a drawing or a

bird’s call doesn’t matter so much, if one can see the consilience in the everyday

then I believe their lives would be richer for it.

JrF: do you regard 'natural' sounds as a musical element (bearing in mind that the conventional definition of 'music' is rapidly becoming obsolete) or as sound ? is this definition important ? does it matter ?

I think this definition is vital and matters in a much wider context than both

sound and music, and any erasing of boundaries that are perceived within this

field. David Dunn once proposed that music is a way of making sense of the

world that might help us to refashion our relationship to non-human living

systems, and I believe that is true if music can be widely accepted as a means of

acquiring knowledge, not as it is commonly accepted in our culture as a quick

hit form of entertainment, or as a celebrity culture afterthought. Music is found

in all human societies, which implies it is instinctive, and is perhaps the best

example of how far removed we have become from the natural environment in

which we live. If music can again be captured as a means of communication, of

language and of knowledge I think it would signify a shift in society which would

signify something greater than a change in listening habits. The problem with

this is the theological connotations that are carried - knowledge as some kind of

enlightenment, in this sense I don’t mean knowledge as an ultimate

understanding, on the contrary, the more we know, the more questions are asked.

So I guess the answer to whether one regards natural sounds as music depend of

ones definition of music, in my case yes I do, and it matters to me a great deal,

for the reasons given above.

I do wonder what is meant by a ‘conventional definition of music’, if it implies a

traditional musicality then I would disagree that it is becoming obsolete, if

someone unfamiliar with this area of music is played an a-tonal, or near silent

piece they generally struggle to hear it as music for it doesn’t contain any

conventional musical value. Music to the general listener retains an element of

what is generally termed ‘pop’, popular, and it is no coincidence that most

popular music has identifiable rhythm, harmony and expression (and one only

needs to listen to a recording of a pond to find this paralleled in nature). I don’t

believe that the traditional values generally associated with music came from

nowhere – as with other areas of evolution music would have come from a

response to our surroundings, only in relatively recent history has it mutated

into the commodity it commonly is now. The ancient Greek word Mousike was

used to signify the arts and sciences ruled by the Muses and until the middle

ages mathematics was considered musica, although the early middle ages also

saw the distinction between universal, human and instrumental music – this

evidently has slowly been reduced to what it is now.

Within this area of music the term ‘music’ as it is generally understood is

definitely being contested, but the term, on the whole, is still very much in use,

and often considered a marker of cultural identity, although many cultures don’t

have a term for music, and these cultures are generally still living with respect

for the environment.

JrF: has the act of hearing field recordings in various contexts had an effect (positive or negative) on the way you listen to your everyday surroundings and how has it affected the way you listen to other music and sound (if at all) ?

To be of the mind to listen to field recordings suggests to me an awareness of

ones surroundings that is perhaps the progenitor to listening to them. I would be

more inclined to think that they excite the imagination and promote an

awareness that this world is not formed around anthropocentrism. For me field

recording humbles and fascinates in equal measure, and makes one aware also

of how one element affect the next – wind though trees for example.

How one responds to the action of being surrounded (a literal reading of

environmental) does have its down sides. Traffic is the most predominate one,

I’m sure I never used to be so bothered by it, but now I find it noisy and smelly

and obnoxious, I also feel a similar way about most social gatherings – that’s

not to imply that field recording is the ideal art form for the misanthrope - but it

is ideal for one who respond sensitively to their surroundings, and has a bundle

of patience.

four questions # 25 - Julia Holter

juliashammasholter.com

JrF: when & why did you become interested in field recording ?

JH: I can't really remember when or why, but when I was 15 I went on this trip with some friends and I brought this tape recorder. It was actually meant to be used for some classes we were taking, but I started recording our conversations. I was really embarrassed about how much I liked to listen back to them, and my friends thought I was totally creepy for doing so, so I did it in secret. I loved the random sounds that would happen, the words and fragments spurted out of our mouths that seemed ordinary made dramatic by being recorded. These events became written, our stupid jokes and conversations become stories, aided by the sounds in the background. Totally fascinated me.

Also, I started more seriously recording when I started writing songs instead of just notated music, around 2005. (I decided one day it might be nice to make a recording, and so I searched the internet and found a free audio program called Audacity and used that to make songs until about two years ago, when I got a bootleg version of Logic.) That the recordings were really the songs, without much planning, meant that writing and recording were kind of interchangeable for me, which meant I gave up a lot of control and would record things the way they turned out and love the mistakes. I don't know if that really fits the definition of field recording, but I definitely think of field recordings as subjective always, so I don't see why not. I think they are always the voice of the person recording and that it's impossible to get a 'realistic', objective perspective. That is why they are interesting to me. I don't think I see a big difference in putting a microphone on and recording myself playing piano and sitting down in the sand and recording the sea.

JrF: how do you use your field recordings in your own artistic output ?

JH: Once you capture something in a recording, like say the sound of a desert, it is framed and it is not actually the desert-- it is a new created place within a certain bracket of time. I think I see it as an stage complete with props and actors, and a lot of times I like to insert myself in it, whether it's with my voice or with an action that disturbs the energy of that world. So maybe it's like I'm an actor on the stage, and it's a way more exciting stage than a blank one, though I do act on blank stages in a lot of my over-orchestrated 150-track songs, and in those cases I act all the parts myself and play all the props myself, and so that's fun but in a different way. There is something to having no control over the props and actors, and trying to maneuver around them, and maybe even affect them as much as they affect me. A concrete example of this is when I go to the beach and record myself singing along with the waves. Or when I used to record a bird I once lived with, and would play back recordings of himself so that he would keep responding to himself, interacting with him all via recording. Or sometimes I play drum machine outside in the desert (not well). Sometimes I also just put down my recorder and shut up and listen.

JrF: do you regard 'natural' sounds as a musical element (bearing in mind that the conventional definition of 'music' is rapidly becoming obsolete) or as sound ? is this definition important ? does it matter ?

JH: yes

JrF: has the act of making field recording had an effect (positive or negative) on the way you listen to your everyday surroundings and how has it affected the way you listen to other music and sound (if at all) ?

JH: yes. Positive. I pay more attention to the sounds and respect them and am thankful for them. I notice that I analyze them the way I analyze defined pitches in music ("The sound your broken car was making sure produced a beautiful 15th partial!") I try to encourage this approach, this careful listening, in younger people. I don't know if for any other reason than for poetic reasons. But understanding, or at least being aware of, ooorrr just simply appreciating the architecture of things that are out of your control is always important, right?

indeed it is Julia - JrF

Julia's latest release 'celebration' is available on . point engraved

for more information please visit: engravedglass.blogspot.com

four questions # 26 - Michael Pisaro

www.timescraper.de/pisaro/

JrF: when & why did you become interested in field recording ?

MP: I have always been interested in recording. The first (inadvertent) field recordings I made were on a portable cassette recorder (one of those small rectangular ones) when I was around 12 or 13. Before going on long trips, I would play a favorite LP and then make a live mic recording onto cassette which I could listen to in the car and wherever we went. Talk about lo-fi. But there were lots of things on the tape that I got used to (and liked better) than the experience of the album on my record player.

In 1979 I was studying with George Flynn in Chicago. During one of our frequent discussions of John Cage, Flynn said his idea of a performance of 4’33” was to take a tape recorder out to a street corner and simply turn it on (and that this would be more interesting than most contemporary music being written). I’m not entirely sure how serious he was, but I took this seriously.

JrF: how do you use your field recordings in your own artistic output ?

MP: It is not a given that I will use a field recording – most pieces I write in fact do not have them. When I use them I want to make sure there’s a strong concept behind it – that is, a real compositional reason. For me, they offer an access to open spaces, to non-composed sounds, and especially, contact with the real: the invisible, but not inaudible, contingency of the world.

JrF: do you regard 'natural' sounds as a musical element (bearing in mind that the conventional definition of 'music' is rapidly becoming obsolete) or as sound ? is this definition important ? does it matter ?

MP: I have thought a lot about this lately (I recently taught a course on the Soundscape and Acoustic Ecology at CalArts). Because sounds in an environment are always layered and because we are using mechanical means to record them, I have come to the conclusion that for the purposes of field recording there is no meaningful distinction between natural and unnatural sounds.

JrF: has the act of making field recording had an effect (positive or negative) on the way you listen to your everyday surroundings and how has it affected the way you listen to other music and sound (if at all) ?

MP: Sometimes, if I have recorded in a location and used it in a piece, I start to feel that the location is performing.

balloon and needle collectivejanuary 2011

london, uk

www.balloonnneedle.com

photographs by Jez riley French

Francesca Tallone

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three diptychs&

four instamatics

sabrina siegal-

naturerecompositions

Lihi Kissilevich

Vincente Arrese(Chile)

page 4: ‘caballos’ - Holga camera / cross processed page 5: ‘bellas artes’ - Diana camera

page 6: untitled - Holga / cross processedpage 7: ‘car’ - Diana camera

page 8: ‘londres’ - Holga / cross processedpage 9: ‘sector la catolica’ - Diana camera

Derek Ham / nineacre

taken with a lomo LC-A camera

Sabrina Lucas Garcia

Tyler Poelle

The pictures of the horse trailer:These were taken in Los Angeles, in the middle of urban sprawl and

apartments everywhere, in the midst of which I found an open dirt lot. A man was raising and training horses for local rodeos. He was on his way to Reno,

Nevada for a competition and agreed to pose for a photo before leaving.

God and Donuts (the picture of all the statues on the ground):This was taken at the intersection of Santa Monica Blvd and Fountain in Los

Angeles, CA. At night this corner is the main hang-out for transexual prostitutes in Hollywood. They gather and chat and wait for clients. But in the afternoon the same corner is crowded with iconography and statues of

old-world virtue.

The Statue of Liberty and Mother Mary photos were taken at a prop-warehouse in Hollywood. They have a graveyard of abandoned studio props

that sit on the side of the road and greet drivers rushing by.

ewan gordon

blurry jen, christmas 2010

cullercoats station municipal art

tynemouth longsands

gateshead boat wake reflections

tynemouth pier view towards south shields

gateshead riverside keelman’s way

north shields quayside

tynemouth market accumulation

Richard Kamerman

taken with a lomo Diana camera

Reed’s mom’s garden, margate NJ

Stanfordville, NY

Emma Goldman finishing school, seattle, WA

self portrait 2009

Anne - somewhere in Oregon

untitled - 1

Pitt Street, NYC approx 9pm

untitled - 2

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permission from the artists & jrf....thanks