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Voices

Aura Satz: The Trembling Line. Film and multi-channel sound installation, 2015

Richard Bright: Can we begin by you saying something about your background?

Aura Satz: I studied cultural studies and art history in Bologna (Italy) before coming to London to do a PhD by theory/practice at the Slade School of Fine Art. Initially I worked with sculpture and performance but over the last 20 years or so I have become more invested in film and sound. My works operate in constellations, I have a central theme which might manifest in multiple formats, as films, performances, sound works, and so on.

RB: Have there been any particular influences to your art practice?

AS: I was very much influenced by Lis Rhodes who taught me at the Slade, and whom I have since collaborated with. Intergenerational conversations are extremely important to me. I have been teaching for around 20 years now, and I get a lot of inspiration from my students. Teaching also keeps me attuned to practices outside of my own. In my undergraduate studies I was particularly fascinated by iconoclasm and theories of the image based on contact relics. I suppose this has carried through in my later works which attempt to look closely at technologies, prying the apparatus apart, as well as my interest in technologies of sound writing, such as the phonograph – where the groove is a trace and relic of the voice, so to speak. I have always been inspired by female voices, and there are a number of women composers who are key sources of inspiration. I often think of some of the more dialogic works I have made with people such as Lis Rhodes, Laurie Spiegel, Pauline Oliveros, as an opportunity to go deeper into the conversation, not just through the encounter, the film or the recording of a verbal exchange, but even later in the editing process, where I spend a lot of time listening and composing to the cadence of speech or a pause for breath.

Aura Satz: Her Marks a Measure

RB: What is the underlying focus of your work?

AS: I keep returning to the notion of a distributed, expanded and shared notion of voice. Works are made in conversation and use dialogue as both method and subject matter. In my works which draw on historical research I see myself in dialogic exchange with past voices, speaking backwards and forwards, being spoken through. When I have focussed on technologies of sound writing, recording and playback, it is precisely because I am interested in ways in which voices carry through, have been under-heard, and can be ‘listened into speech’. Many previous works focussed on minor histories, using archival research as a starting point, but in recent years I have shifted from the idea of notation of the past towards a logic that is more aligned with a visual or verbal score, an open invitation to think towards possible future manifestations. A score implies a non-hierarchical generosity, suggesting multiple future iterations and no singular privileged way of performing or enacting. Some scores simply suggest a shift in focus, such as Oliveros’ suggestion to listen with the soles of your feet. Many of my works could be read as an invitation to recalibrate attention, ways in which we give it, what is deemed worthy of it, how we might enact a different modality of attention, what we conceive of as foreground and what is background.

Aura Satz: Ventriloqua

RB: You began working with sound, with the piece Ventriloqua, in 2003 when you were pregnant. A number of your later works are to do with acoustic devices and vibration. Can you give some examples of these works?

AS: In Ventriloqua my pregnant belly became an instrument, a medium or antenna of sorts for a thereminist to play the electromagnetic waves. I wore a red outfit that covered all of my body, including my face, and the only visible part was the belly, which looked like an oracular eye or a breast of sorts. Through the trope of ventri-loquism (belly-speaking) I was able to explore the possibility of becoming a conduit for other voices. For me that performance was a powerful manifestation of speaking and being spoken through. In other works such as Automamusic (2008), Sound Seam (2010) Onomatopoeic Alphabet (2010), Vocal Flame (2011) and In and Out of Synch (2012) I focussed on devices such as orchestrions, mechanical music, phonographs, Chladni Plate, Ruben’s tube and optical sound on film as technologies of sound visualisation, some of which manifest sound patterns without quite constituting a notation system or code, and others which encrypt sound in order for it to be read back by a machine rather than a human. All of these enabled me to explore voices that align, interfere, interweave, synchronise, overlap, overwrite, hover between signal and noise, between decipherable meaning and the unfamiliar and as yet unencoded.

Aura Satz: Vocal Flame, 2012

 

Aura Satz: Sound Seam, 2010 (installation view)

In Sound Seam for example we worked with the surface noises of wax cylinders and vinyl glitch, as well as generating many layers of sounds by recording voices over each other.  At the same time there is something about seeing as informed by hearing, and vice versa, a listening that is in tension with the visible, that I find incredibly generative. This became central to In and Out of Synch, the 16mm film co-scripted and co-voiced with Lis Rhodes, where the optical sound on film patterns conveying our voices are ruptured by stroboscopic effects, due to a deliberate subtle misalignment of the monitoring eyepiece. You end up with a kind of Rorschach effect, certain sounds are punctuated or counteracted by the visual, and their respective rhythms generate a friction that is useful in unsettling standardized readings, making us hear or see differently.

Aura Satz: In and Out of Synch

RB: When did you begin to prioritise film-making and why?

AS: Initially I used film to document performances. When I made Automamusic in 2008 I realised that the only way to get inside these multiple mechanical music devices (which were housed in a museum in a small town in Switzerland), the best method of access to open them up and reconfigure them, was through the camera and the juxtaposition of sound patterns with visual rhythms. In other projects I found that there’s a kind of close-up looking and listening that can only be achieved through film. In my films I am keen to foreground sound, often it becomes the driving force, literally the engine driving the visuals or setting the rhythmic pace of the film. This is true of all of the sound visualisation films mentioned above, as well as a more recent project Preemptive Listening (2018), where the voice triggers an emergency rotating light. A film might feature moments of darkness or silence to allow for the senses to cross-pollinate, the eyes to take on the role of the ears or the other way around. I like the idea of an anagrammatic remapping of the senses, a disruption of hierarchies, a destabilizing of relations, of what is perceived, how, where, by who.

Aura Satz: Preemptive Listening (part 1 The Fork in the Road), 2018, installation view (photo Adam Reich)

RB: As well as exploring different techniques for visualizing sound, a number of your works focus on gender and women’s important contributions to technology. I’m thinking particularly of Oramics: Atlantis Anew (2011), Doorway for Natalie Kalmus (2013) and She Recalibrates (2018).  Can you say something about these works?

AS: Part of my commitment to the notion of a distributed voice is an unsettling of which voices are allowed, amplified within the range of the audible, who gets heard, who is written into the canon of history, and how can we destabilise these readings to allow for new voices to emerge. The film about Daphne Oram was central to my thinking on sound writing as a form of instantiating a new language or notation system, a new soundscape and in turn a new kind of listening.

 

Aura Satz: She Recalibrates (Pauline Oliveros), 2018 (photo Thierry Bal)

She Recalibrates follows on from this by focussing on women composers working with electronic music such as Laurie Spiegel, Pauline Oliveros, Eliane Radigue, Maryanne Amacher and others, who are portrayed with their hands on a dial, engaged in an experimental type of listening, modulating electricity, recalibrating what is considered noise or signal, what is worthy of being heard, and what can be understood as music. Their hands and ears are literally partaking in the circuit, tuning and recalibrating the signal. I made series of pencil drawings of hands on dials, framed inside a Fresnel lens which generates a diffractive pattern from the centre. The drawings only appear at a certain angle, due to the silver effect of graphite pencil on black paper, but also because the lens incorporates the interference of light reflections. It’s like looking at a lenticular print, or, more accurately, a CD or vinyl record with a diffractive centre, the image is continually changing according to the position of the viewer and the angle of light.  This is emblematic of what I try to do in all my works, allowing for an entangled space between voices, between signal and noise, for both to appear as method and subject matter.

Aura Satz: Tuning Interference on a Dark Matter Radio, 2019

RB: You are taking part in the Science Gallery, London exhibition ‘Dark Matter: 95% of the Universe is missing’, with a sound work Tuning Interference: Dark Matter Radio. Can you say something about your involvement in this?

AS: The curator Sandra Ross commissioned me to make a sound work responding to the theme of dark matter, under the guidance of the astrophysicist Prof. Malcolm Fairbairn, who invited Prof. David (Doddy) J.E. Marsh into the collaboration. I was really inspired by the way some of the experiments have been described as listening out for a signal that has not yet appeared. In particular I was drawn to the description of ADMX, one of many dark matter research initiatives (and a number of related experiments operating in Korea, Europe, and the USA), as “a radio that looks for a radio station, but we don’t know its frequency. We turn the knob slowly while listening. Ideally we will hear a tone when the frequency is right.[1] I wanted to work with this notion of experimental listening by making a sonic diagram of sorts, which would evoke a tuning experience. Together with Malcom and Doddy, as well as audio engineer/music AI specialist Dr. David Ronan who sonified the data, we made a 10 channel sound installation which renders a current hypothetical simulation of dark matter into sound. Essentially the sound patterns are a set of relations between the data, and we mapped it in such a way so as to generate intense psychoacoustic effects in the listeners, exploring sonic equivalents of interference and collision through beat frequencies and other diffractive qualities which shift according to the listener’s location. The listener becomes a radio dial of sorts, as the ears move through the soundscape, micro-tuning with each adjustment. It’s not dissimilar to the effect I described with the Fresnel lens framed drawings. There is no ideal vantage point or listening sweet spot, the listener is embedded within the sound, effectively generating the sound according to their orientation within the speaker ring.

Doddy showed me some visualisations of the simulation of dark matter in a hypothetical galaxy, and it looked like ripples of water or waves diffracting. This particular model of dark matter simulated contains waves[2], and we used speed and density to generate the shape of the harmonic structure. We chose the spacing of the speakers around the ring to be close to one wavelength, so that the coherence between speakers is audible, and yet varies in an interesting way around the ring. I wanted to create a soundscape that felt like a field of vibration and flux, with clusters of density, moments of tension and relief. Close frequency alignment and interference became a compositional principle, much like a kind of acoustic moiré. The arrangement of the speakers reflects the distribution of dark matter, so what you are hearing is not the sound of dark matter per se, but the hypothetical flux and motion of dark matter as rendered through sound. Each speaker is one point of data in the simulation, and if you listen close-up you will hear a singular slow-changing drone rather than all the beat frequencies that occur in the centre of the ring where the sounds interact with each other. Sometimes the wave shape of one point of data is extremely close to another, changing at a variable rate, and this alignment generates a sense of dense patterning, a pulse which gradually accelerates, intensifies, shifts focus and recedes. The sound is sculpted into a rippling flux which gathers and dissipates in such a way that is hard to hold onto or memorise. You can’t possibly internalise the rhythm of the piece, and each listening session will sound quite different from the previous one as your ears fabricate new acoustic illusions, adjust to the sounds, are de-sensitized or fatigued. I spent months tweaking the composition and by the end of a long session I wasn’t sure what I was hearing anymore, what was in between the speakers and what was between my ears.

RB: In terms of the viewer, what are you trying to communicate in this exhibition?

AS: I am interested in the ways in which scientific research activates or distorts a certain intuitive understanding of the world, and I try to find a way to make this come across on a very physical level, as visual or sonic experience. I wanted people to feel enmeshed within a dynamic rotational flow or current, something that can be sensed but which we don’t necessarily have the theoretical frameworks to account for. I find it fascinating that in current research on dark matter we are at a point of knowing unknowing, so to speak – we don’t know what exactly we are looking for and we haven’t yet identified what it is, all we know for certain is that its presence is somehow implied through the way it interacts or interferes with matter. Without dark matter many previously accepted theories are untenable, and as such it both disrupts and holds together different hypothetical theories.

I think the piece also conveys some of my previous concerns around modes of attention, a continuous retuning and recalibrating of what is heard and where one is positioned in relation to the signal or the noise (or what is understood as which). The idea of acoustic moiré – a morphing non-hierarchical, almost untethered grid – resonates with my interest in a multiplicity of voices which align and interfere with each other, activating the spaces in between. This is the reason I am drawn to work with sound – already at a very basic level it is doing the work as a vibratory in-between, as inherently relational, unsettling boundaries.

In addition to the speaker ring, I wanted a visual marker to provide a distinct sense of oscillation, that you are entering a vibratory sound field, so between each speaker there is a VU metre driven by the sound. The needle trembles to echo the volatile, dynamic and ever-changing frequency fields, though what exactly is being measured remains uncertain (the metres are blank and have no numbers).

Aura Satz, ‘Vera Rubin’s Irrefutable Evidence’, 2019

Nearby hangs a photo of Vera Rubin (1928-2016). Rubin was an American astronomer who discovered the galaxy rotation problem, providing evidence of the existence of dark matter. In the photo she is seen looking through a spectrograph mounted on the end of the telescope, recording an image of the spectrum (colours) of a small section of a galaxy. It’s quite an obscure image, in that she is wearing a hooded coat, so hardly any parts of her face or body are identifiable. Like the series She Recalibrates mentioned earlier, the image is framed inside a Fresnel lens, generating a diffractive pattern emanating from the centre, the point between her eye and the eyepiece of the telescope. The viewer has to somehow tune into the image for it to surface in amidst all the diffractive interferences and light play. It’s not central to the main piece, but I wanted to include Rubin as I think of the artwork as a space for naming, reconfiguring the canon, putting an underacknowledged female scientist into the conversation.

RB: In your view, what are the lines that connect art and science?

AS: I don’t think I could ever provide a definitive answer. The part that interests me from my recent experiences is the way in which both science and art ask questions and destabilise our current understanding of the world. Both are a response to curiosity and uncertainty, and can give us some orientation towards the future. Recalibration is key, an openness to change and a resistance to standardization.

Aura Satz: ‘Listen, Recalibrate’, solo show installation view, Fridman Gallery (photo Adam Reich)

RB: What other projects are you currently working on?

AS: For some years now I have been working on a project entitled Preemptive Listening, which looks at emergency signals and siren sounds. I read the siren as a specific kind of sound, one that requires attention, and demands an action or response. Citizens respond to its call, demonstrating obedience to its authority – it is a sound that commands submission, deflection, dispersion. It attracts in order to dispel, unsettles and resettles. It demands localized attention, and is the sonic architect of social order. It is a sonic marker that structures urban spaces in an emergency, a marker between future danger and dangers past, projecting a trajectory and expelling obstacles along the way. As the primary vocalization of the state, it articulates our relationship to power and civil order. All of which makes it fascinating, complex and in dire need of a re-wiring. My invitation is to pry it apart and recompose the siren, to think of it as a sound signal that requires recalibration. I am attempting to reimagine the siren sound: how can we open and destabilize this overly codified, prescriptive and stable semantic sound by taking a compositional approach, remapping new readings onto new sounds, how can we unlearn the existing code, find ways to listen differently, resist the hypervigilant, predetermined, automated call to obedience and set the intention to be curious, open, receptive, imaginative. If one remaps the sound, explores the possibility of different emotional registers, one can in turn generate distinct affective responses, more varied strategies for crisis management, and attend to a spectrum of different voices in need of our attention. And in our multiple modes of response, we might in turn enact an altered relationships to power.

[1] https://www.futurity.org/dark-matter-axions-detector-1726622/

[2]  Simulations performed at the University of Goettingen by Mr Jan Veltmaat, Dr Bodo Schwabe, and Prof Jens Niemeyer.

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https://www.iamanagram.com/

All images copyright and courtesy of Aura Satz

 

The post Voices appeared first on Interalia Magazine.

Cartoon Logic

Andy Holden: Laws of Motion in a Cartoon Landscape. Print No.4

Richard Bright: Can we begin by you saying something about your background?

Andy Holden: How far back should I go? I’ve just started reading Tristram Shandy and maybe I should go back to before I was born and start there. I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly consider’d how much depended upon what they were then doing;–that not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind… I make art, in various forms, and have done since art-school, and did so before that, and made a few exhibitions in Public Houses. My Grandma collected ceramic cats and that was a big influence, my father is a bird-watcher by trade, which was initially not an influence, but now is crucial to what I do and resulted in us making an exhibition called Natural Selection together. I get my energy and the more social aspects of my personality from my mum, who did all manner of jobs. I also play music with my band the Grubby Mitts which we have been doing for a long term but struggle to get the music heard. I still live in Bedford where I grew up. I once started a failed art-movement called Maximum Irony! Maximum Sincerity, or MI!MS. Some of this sort of information filters into my art work, some of it gets used directly, some sincerely, some ironically, but non of it in itself is that interesting. I feel increasingly silly for having put as much of that information into my work as I have, but all of it informs how I see things and so I had to try and understand that filter that these biographical facts create, so I might know my own umwelt.

Andy Holden: Towards a Unified Thoery of MIMS, Zabludowicz Collection, installation view, 2013

RB: Have there been any particular influences to your art practice?

AH: There are a number of interaction with art works that in hindsight were pivotal. Some of these were seeing friends make things, particularly my group of friends that as teenagers tried with me to make MI!MS, especially the music they were writing. There were bolts of divine inspiration, the clouds parting and rays of light cutting through and the ground below gentle trembling from encounters with Andy Warhol paintings when I was about 14, as I saw a show at Tate and felt totally comfortable; like I understood it immediately, and felt for the first time legitimately like maybe I could be an artist too. I had similar encounters later with an epic Philip Guston painting; I had it peaking once into the microcosm of a Joseph Cornell box, I had it from following a trail of curious objects left behind by Marcel Broodthaers. I for a while idolised Robert Smithson. As a teenager I loved Silvia Plath and memorised some poems. I have complete reverence for Virginia Woolf. I for a time binged only on David Foster Wallace. I bought a Kurt Voneggut screen print that hangs over the Kitchen Table. I bought ever Super Furry Animals record. I had a Pavement phase. I love my friends Ed Atkins and Mark Leckey and Heather Phillipson’s work. The cultural black hole of Bedford keeps me routed as I can’t, as Alan Moore said of Northampton, get the velocity up to escape, and the influence of place can’t be under-estimated. My dad’s influence too, which I explore in Natural Selection. Cartoons maybe the single biggest influence, Wile E. Coyote, Bugs Bunny. Kids TV too. Reading Deleuze at college, reading Mark Fisher after college.  I’m a giant tangle of influences, for a time I feared I was just the total sum of all my influences, but now I have hopefully reached a point that I don’t really rely on them as much as I once clearly used to; or maybe there are now just so many that it’s hard to spot each of the ingredients in the murky brown mixture. Kanye West really kept me going for a while recently, the way he puts things together, but recently I had an allergic reaction and have weened myself off. I’m off to see Bob Dylan this evening at Hyde Park, I always promised myself I’d see him once, as of course at some stage he was an influence. In all honesty like most now my visual diet is weird clips on YouTube or Threads on Twitter and these are what get under my skin.

Andy Holden: Eyes in Space.

RB: What is the underlying focus of your work?

AH: The layer of strata at the bottom of all this, once all the sediment is scraped away? I’m still digging down and down, tunneling, trying to stop the inevitable synchronistic motion of things and enter into a more diachronic movement. However every time the spade strikes something blunt and hard I explain with glee, ‘the bottom, the bottom, the bed-rock’, I’ve arrived! – only to find it is just another rusty old chest or lump of slag from the anthropocene or worse still my memory; and the underlying matter is still deep below and I can still hear it rumbling. If one day I have exhausted the justifications, I have reached bedrock and my spade is turned. Then I am inclined to say: ‘This is simply what I do’. That last lines not mine, I just remembered it, after starting what I thought was an original metaphor, it’s a quote from Wittgenstein.

Andy Holden: Laws of Motion in a Cartoon Landscape, character study.

 

Andy Holden: Laws of Motion in a Cartoon Landscape, promo.

RB: You are taking part in the Science Gallery, London exhibition ‘Dark Matter: 95% of the Universe is missing’, with an immersive new installation ‘Laws of Motion in a Cartoon Landscape’. Can you say something about your involvement in this?

AH: I think in all honesty my involvement is a bit tenuous. Laws of Motion is as much about politics, economic and art as it is physics and really nothing to do with Dark Matter. It looks at Cartoon Logic, and re-writes the rules of the Cartoon World, based on O’Donnells laws of the Cartoon, but to try to explain that the world has now become a cartoon. This requires a quantum entanglement of physics with everything else, and makes claims that forces such as Gravity only take place when we are aware of them and so need to be linked to consciousness, and that all matter in the cartoon world is conscious and sentient.    It took six years to make it, and I finished it in 2016 just at the moment of Trump and Brexit and suddenly the notion the world was a cartoon has a more persuasive validity.

RB: You have stated that “an exploration of cartoon physics might help us understand the world we now inhabit”. Can you say more about this?

AH: If the world is now a cartoon, then the best way to understand it is to examine how physic and logic work in the very cartoons that first created this landscape, and how this new non-logical and physical space was created and able to be visualised. This is a diachronic movement, or Marxist premise; we look at how something was formed in order to understand how it now works. Cartoon physics was created by many things happening simultaneously; changes in theoretical physics – space-time changed, certainly were a major factor, but it wasn’t just a new understanding of the physical world that made this possible; simultaneously photography advanced, it became possible for images to move, Freud discovered the unconscious, Cinema created a new mass spectacle, modernism saw objects being split into artificial pieces as the whole was seemingly dismantled, and as speed increased understanding of the world shifted, and objects seemed to take on a life of their own. Law 1 is –  Any body suspended in space will remain in space until made aware of it situation. This for example, as the film shows, is a good way of explaining both the financial crash of 2008 and the method of the artist to make artwork in the world at the moment.  And in the last two years has been the go-to metaphor to explain almost every political moment from Brexit onwards, it’s an image entirely suited for our times; you won’t fall down until you look down. I wish I had collected every instance in which I had heard this analogy deployed on the news. Those that don’t look down are the only ones who can survive in the current moment. That’s why Bugs Bunny is who we need to aspire to, as he/she can navigate the landscape perfectly.

RB: In terms of the viewer, what are you trying to communicate with this work?

AH: At times the work feels close to the tone of a conspiracy theory video, and it should explain how a view of the world can be created and made plausible through the combination of otherwise unconnected elements, and make us aware of how easy this can be. And how in a space where it seems anything can happen not anything can, rules, or laws, are always being created. The work is 10,000 words spoken at the speed of a cartoon chase sequence, it is a cartoon of a lecture and a lecture on cartoons; it’s very hard to say something about the work that the work doesn’t already say.

Andy Holden: Cartharsis, ceramic cats, grandma collection, 2016

 

Andy Holden: Catharsis, ceramic cats, grandma collection, unboxing video, 2016

RB: In your view, what are the lines that connect art and science?

AH: Imagination and inquisitiveness are two major motorways between the two capital cities, but all lines connect to all other things, they are just more minor roads. We live inside an epic mesh, it’s just some lines become more dominant through more constant use, the ones we build service stations on. In the modern period we tried to make all disciplines appear separate and unconnected but this, even at the very first moment of the creation of the air-pump, as Bruno Latour shows us, was never really the case. Perhaps, to go back to the previous question, it’s to make this interconnectedness more visible that is part of what the work attempt to communicate.

Andy Holden: Pyramid Piece and Return of the Pyramid Piece, (knitted yarns, foam, steel, 3m x 4m x 5m) 2017, installation view Tate Britain, (photo credit: Andy Holden).

RB: What other projects are you currently working on?

AH: I’m actually a bit stuck right now. I’m running a small project space in Bedford, showing an exhibition I’ve curated called The Long Revolution, looking at change in the countryside since the enclosures act – from the poetry of John Clare as explored by Andrew Kotting to Mark Baumers death walking bare foot across America in 2016, however I have not had a single visitor to the show in three weeks. I have written a new pop album with the Grubby Mitts but we can find a record label after I folded the little label I used to run as it was suffering the same fate as the project space now is. My dad and I are collaborating on a project about bird migration routes for a performance in February, and our collaborative exhibition Natural Selection is currently on show at Bristol Museum until September and so that should give me some studio time to scratch around and feel out what the next project might be. I now unfortunately can no longer kid myself how long it takes me to make a large scale new project, four years is a quick one, although other things I can do quicker. So it is just little more digging until I’m able to just say, hopefully; this is simply what I do.

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https://andyholdenartist.com/

All images copyright and courtesy of Andy Holden

The post Cartoon Logic appeared first on Interalia Magazine.

On the Surface

Richard Bright: Can we begin by you saying something about your background?

Rachel Pimm: I have a pretty straightforward background in Fine Art. I studied an undergraduate Fine Art degree at Central Saint Martins in a discipline called 4D which was developed from a blend of Critical Fine Art practice, film studies and then performative and video practice- all the extras to painting and sculpture. Then I started a project space called Auto Italia, which is still going, and went on to a postgraduate MFA programme at Goldsmiths. Those initial feelers into curating, which also included a curatorial internship at the ICA and a short stint after working in the department, have now morphed into more of a collaborative practice, where I invite people to do projects with me.

I wasn’t born in the UK though, my family are white Rhodesian and I came here from Harare, Zimbabwe in 1986- shortly after independence from Britain. This perhaps affects my interests in ways I haven’t yet unpacked, but It certainly gives me plenty to work on and address in terms of my own relationship to the world as a European settler thinking about land management and colonial histories.

Lori E Allen: My background is in social science with a Bachelors in Anthropology, Classical Studies, and Ancient Latin from New York University and a Masters in Archaeology from University College London. I never trained formally in fine art or music but when living in New York began a very low key experimental type of art practice around media archaeology. This began as a method of chopping up broad-casted media in real time to extract concurrent narratives across television networks, and took the form of a weekly public access television series. I then expanded that focus to include field recordings and began focusing more on sound and sound scape than image. My practice is still generally very low key in that I while I do make solo work it’s mostly for my own amusement, and I prefer a collaborative approach in creative work.

RP: when Lori and I work together we are good at thinking about larger scales than I do on my own- humans, animals, time, place. Lori is very technical and I do admin 😉 I’m only half joking. We have made performance together since 2015. You can listen to worming out of shit performed at the Chisenhale Gallery in 2015 here and Disintegration, performed at the Whitechapel Gallery earlier this year, here.

Lori E Allen and Rachel Pimm: Disintegration, Whitechapel Gallery, 2019

Lori E Allen and Rachel Pimm: worming out of shit, 2015, performed at CCA Glasgow, 2016

Lori E Allen and Rachel Pimm: Disintegration, Whitechapel Gallery, 2019

RB: Have there been any particular influences to your art practice?

RP: For a short while I did a full time office job at the Ideal Home Show, designing and specifying the model home village at the show – then building show houses inside Earl’s Court. For me, not only is this display format just as interesting historically as gallery exhibition, its lineage can be traced via British Colonial histories to the Crystal Palace, botanical gardens, raw materials, the industrial revolution and housing after the Garden City movement- really rich (and violent) contexts for the relationship between stuff we take from the ground and the systems of engineering and capitalism that surround its movement and processing.

I’m also influenced by Natural History. I find old books and go to libraries a lot – the Geological Society, Linnean Society, Bournemouth Natural Science Society library, the Teri Institute in New Delhi, and then gardens and greenhouses, physics evening classes, kids science kits, conversations and study days with friends, and strolling around, taking photos of infrastructure space, and ways in which ‘Nature’ is being put to work. I learn a lot from living with houseplants about care, and time and growing.

LEA: For me it’s probably studying archaeology that has influenced me most. I like thinking about and witnessing the ways people, myself included, interact with and build relationships with inanimate objects – of which I would also class mass media. There is so much story-telling in the scars, rips, wear and tear of a thing. Yet the thing is silent while retaining a record of events it’s undergone.  Conversely, mass media is not silent. I think the pull from the mute objects to the noise of constructed narratives led me to think more about noise and silence in internal dialogue, where it comes from, what records it holds  – and I suppose focusing on broad-casted media, especially the way it is told/digested/re-told/re-digested is a way of getting at/excavating the noise and silence of objects embedded in narrative rather than the earth.

RB: What is the underlying focus of your work?

RP: I suppose what things are made of, how things work, and how they change the environment are my primary focuses. I find the idea of the surface of something especially interesting because this is the place where the change visibly happens. Also because everything material comes from the surface of the earth. The theory conversations around materialism where they combine with climate activist, feminist, queer, crip or anti-racist work are part of what engages me in this and the desire to understand the environment through structures other than Cartesian western patriarchal power.

LEA: I’m really interested in mass behaviours, ritual, and taboo how they generate, what they come from, how enduring they are, and what influences rate of change. Rachel and my underlying interests are really different in this way, but her focus on material and the surface of the earth I have found to be a really good way round again to approach such questions. It is literally from the ground up and makes human society kind of less important – which is a relief.

RP: and Lori helps me think of ways to create narratives around images and sound. She’s a good storyteller and while I’ll Wikipedia something or buy something, she’ll just get on and make a test. Lori is very unafraid of trying something even if it sounds hard or stupid, because doing it mechanically almost always works something out.

Rachel Pimm photographing landscape at Dallol in the Afar Triangle, 2019

RB: In 2018 you were involved in the project ‘Experiments in Art & Science’, a collaboration between Kettle’s Yard and The Gurdon Institute in Cambridge. Can you say something about your work in this?

RP: I had a period of around 9 months where I was supported by a stipend and was given fantastic access to the genetics labs run by Eric Miska at the Gurdon Institute who had approached the art partners to be able to make a project with no fixed outcome, refreshingly. I was matched with some scientists whose research I could engage with and rather than being a project, it became more of a change of practice and an opportunity to learn and reflect. I read a lot, and used much of my production time and fee to collate a lovely library of rare and specific books on morphology, geology, biology, and also go on field trips to archives to see the lineage of the research into morphology- through fish and worms. I learnt some amazing things- like that transgenerational traumas are chemical in cells, that from suboptimal exposure to environments that suppress life (and those survived by ancestors) sit in a protein you can dye and actually see under the microscope in the RNi. That’s how life forms become resilient. That is mind blowing. I also now understand that ALL patterns of growth and shapes in nature are connected in a spectrum, and that this is due to chemistry and physics at a cellular level, also completely amazing and an overhaul of my thought process.

Rachel Pimm and Emilia Santos at the Gurdon Institute Cichlid Aquarium, production Morpho Chemical, 2018 (Experiments in Art and Science  residency, Cambridge University and Kettles Yard)

Rachel Pimm at St Andrews University Special Collections library, production for Morpho Chemical, 2018-19 (Experiments in Art and Science residency, Cambridge University and Kettles Yard)

Rachel Pimm at Giants Causeway, Northern Ireland, production for Morpho Chemical, 2018-19 (Experiments in Art and Science  residency, Cambridge University and Kettles Yard)

I’ve since also been lucky enough to do more labwork, including some photomicroscopy, with Radar, in Loughborough at the Chemical Engineering department.

SEM microscope samples from Afar triangle fieldwork, production for S, Lori E Allen and Rachel Pimm, 2019 (Radar residency, Loughborough University)

RB: You are taking part in the Science Gallery, London exhibition ‘Dark Matter: 95% of the Universe is missing’. Can you say something about your involvement in this?

RP: I was approached to work on a set of new elements in the Periodic Table- which is one of my catalogues of collaborations, and I approached Lori E Allen to come on a very amazing field trip to the Afar triangle triple rift junction in Ethiopia and make work together in response to Sulfur. This has since turned into a project about alchemy- we’ll be doing a performance at a late event, and then showing S and Hg at an event on August 7th. I recorded mainly images and Lori recorded mainly sound but we will fully collaborate on the works in the events.

LEA: I was invited by Rachel Pimm to take part in this project, which follows from a previous work we did with the material from Ethiopia, linked above :)!

S, Lori E Allen and Rachel Pimm, 2019 (Dallol)

S, Lori E Allen and Rachel Pimm, 2019 (Lava fields at Erta Ale crater)

RB: In terms of the viewer, what are you trying to communicate in this exhibition?

RP: Art doesn’t have to communicate. That’s one of the great privileges about making it.

LEA: I agree with Rachel’s comment above and would add that in my experience it’s very hard to control that aspect in the first place as well as limiting the opportunity of a work to communicate how it will or won’t with anyone seeking to engage with it.

RP: Maybe you can learn and control some of the tools at your disposal so you can take a didactic political position where needed or get people thinking on a particular track, like when we talk about the use of vocal samples.

LEA: Hmm. yeah. But even so what you want to communicate may not translate the way you expect it to, and that’s kind of the best part about a work becoming organic/non static

RP: But aside from this, we want to show people the images and sounds we experienced when we went off to investigate sulfur as an element important for life forms. We have looked at a lot of Alchemy practices and cultural references of burning hell holes (Sodom and Gomorroh! Volcano Deities!) and tried to incorporate those alongside harder sciences like  geology and chemistry. We think it will be messier than the show itself, perhaps more true to the way matter operates.

RB: In your view, what are the lines that connect art and science?

RP: Both seem to be about trial and error, failure, learning and experiments. Art can change form part way through though, methodologies can be really sloppy compared to the science. In both making and in publishing- peer review matters to both, but I find science a bit of a straight-jacket and would want to work on more things at once, not finish things, do things incorrectly or whatever. I have a lot of respect for the focus of scientists. Artists working with scientists have the pleasure of finding out facts and then ignoring them entirely if they want. I imagine scientists like the lateral thinking opportunity to flex their ideas. Sometimes scientists actually want an illustrator, which is a misunderstanding. Illustration is a whole other, also very interesting thing. But that’s not what artists do well.

LEA: Both are linked by inquiry of the observed or experienced and function in similar ways in the quest for understanding a thing, a relationship, a process, a being. While the scientific method is robust and disciplined this can have limitations. Similarly, so can art.

Lori E Allen making contact microphone and hydroponic sound recordings on a field trip in the Afar triangle, 2019

Rachel Pimm looking at Lava Rock samples, Erta Ale crater, Afar triangle, 2019

Geological samples and AV equipment on a field trip in the Afar triangle Lori E Allen and Rachel Pimm, 2019

RB: What other projects are you currently working on?

RP: I have a performance coming up making some music using cash crops and plants that are domesticated at the Serpentine Gallery and am working on a menu of earth-based food for an event in Lincoln at Mansions of the Future around the practice of Geophagy.

LEA: I have vinyl coming out soon with my band from a piece we did for the Tate Modern a couple of years ago. I am working with another artist producing soundscape compositions for a performance work investigating medical imaging, for which I will also produce the soundtrack for a short film version of the work. Perhaps what I’m currently most excited about is a children’s book.

RP: We have made a start working on a video project about Salt- its geology, history, production, trade and processing. That was an unexpectedly big part of what we saw in the Afar triangle and there are a lot of leads to follow. It was bigger than the elements so it has become its own project.

Lori E Allen making sound recordings on a field trip at Lake Asale in the Afar triangle, 2019

Rachel Pimm sampling lake salt crystals during a field trip at Lake Asale in the Afar triangle, 2019

…………………

All images copyright and courtesy of Rachel Pimm and Lori E Allen

 

The post On the Surface appeared first on Interalia Magazine.

There’s more to this than meets the eye

Yu-Chen Wang at CCCB 2019 Arts at CERN

Richard Bright: Can we begin by you saying something about your background?

Yu-Chen Wang: I’m originally from Taiwan and I’ve lived and worked in the UK for quite some time… actually next week, it would be 19 years exactly. I was trained as a designer, specialising in visual communication. When I moved to London, by chance I went on to study art at Goldsmiths and I’ve worked as a practicing artist ever since.

RB: Have there been any particular influences to your art practice?

Y-CW: One of the major influences is my life experience in and between Taiwan and the UK. For a long time, I try to understand Britain/Britishness – I treat it almost like an ongoing research project. I have travelled extensively and actively undertaken artist-in-residence in different regions as a way to explore local histories and meeting new people. In a way, I’m taking the opportunity to learn more about the country and trying to make up what I don’t know or I haven’t had a chance to experience previously.

Funny enough, I start to think there’s an urge for me to do similar things in Taiwan. Not only I feel like there’s a lot I need to catch up, but also to discover something completely different – because I’ve been away for so long, I would approach things quite differently now. Also with Taiwan’s colonial past and the dictatorship, only in recent years a lot of untold histories begin to merge and being talked about. It’s like getting to know Taiwan in a new way.

Quantum In Search of the Invisible catalogue, 2019 CCCB

RB: What is the underlying focus of your work?

Y-CW: I see my work very much focuses on research and process, experience and relationship. There’s a particular way for developing my work, which often involves a period of time spent in a specific place. I would then undertake extensive research the contextual histories and engage with a group of locally-based people or specialists who would assist my research. Two major components I’d like to explore generally: the archives and archaeology, which form the main source of inspiration for developing my work.

I have spent a lot of time in various archives going through documents, photos and footage. Often I find myself working like a historian trying to interpret documentations – it’s a form of storytelling. I am fascinated by the archival materials, as they are of the past, from another period of time, not now not my time, someone else’s memory… often in this context, the use of technology for documentation becomes particularly interesting.

Sometimes I think I work like an archaeologist exploring various heritage sites (historic landmarks, abandoned places, ruins or sites for regeneration projects…) and objects (remains in historic sites, artifacts in the museum collections, at abandoned places or junk yards…). Not necessary taking part in physical digging or excavations, but I would look for tangible evidence to further expand the missing narratives from interpreting archives.

Often I would engage with a group of people helping with my research. They’re the catalysts for me to connect to places and to unfold stories. It is important to form a relationship with the group; through repeated meetings, a lot of rich materials would naturally come out, they’re original and potentially very inspirational. I guess that’s a very important part of my practice – knowledge exchange. Through this exchange, a new network is formed for connecting people and places and telling (new) stories – that’s how I make work.

Yu-Chen Wang: There’s more to this than meets the eye, 2019 (detail) pencil on paper 2100 x 1310mm

RB: Drawing is central to your practice. How would you define your approach to drawing and its process?

Y-CW: For me, making drawing is very much about the process, various acts of accumulating, rendering, processing and reflecting. Before I make drawings, I collect a lot of images related to whatever project I’m working on, often from the archives, sometimes from my own camera. I don’t make sketches or preparatory drawings – I would just draw as if the pencil lines organically growing and spraying out on the paper. I make drawings on the table, often some part of the paper is rolled up due to the limited studio space and the size of my table. In a way it’s problematic as I’m very close to the paper and I don’t get a chance to see the entire drawing until I finish the work or when the drawing is being exhibited in the gallery. It’s a deliberate decision, as I try to condition the way I work and in the hope of opening up something that is more intuitive and less controlled.

Yu-Chen Wang: We aren’t able to prove that just yet, but we know it’s out there? 2018-19 installation view at CCCB.

Yu-Chen Wang: We aren’t able to prove that just yet, but we know it’s out there? 2018-19 installation view at CCCB.

RB: Can you say something about your work We aren’t able to prove that just yet, but we know it’s out there?

Y-CW: As part of Collide International Awards (2016-18), a partnership between Arts at CERN and FACT, the piece is a direct response to my visit to CERN, conversations I had with physicists there and also the ones in Liverpool.

Inspired by 60’s Bubble Chamber experiment, my work develops a poetic narrative of the histories of recent science: establishing parallel lines between my drawing of apparatus, meetings with physicists and scientific documents found in the archives. Comprising multilayered imageries and voices, We aren’t able to prove that just yet… is a collage of history and fiction, documentation and interpretation.

Over the 2-year EU touring, the work is evolving and has been developed into multiple versions with different languages and spatial arrangements for each venue. The piece have been shown at FACT, Liverpool last year and is currently on show at CCCB, Barcelona and will later travel to iMAL, Brussels and le lieu unique, Nantes. https://arts.cern/artist/yu-chen-wang

Yu-Chen Wang: We aren’t able to prove that just yet, but we know it’s out there? 2018-19 installation view at FACT

RB: You’re taking part in the Science Gallery, London exhibition ‘Dark Matter: 95% of the Universe is missing’. Can you say something about your involvement in this?

Y-CW: The experience of developing CERN-inspired project worked as a foundation for creating this new commission. I was very excited about further expanding what I was researching from quantum to cosmic, from particle physics to astrophysics, a more multi-disciplinary approach. https://london.sciencegallery.com/seasons/dark-matter/exhibition/theres-more-it-meets-eye

Yu-Chen Wang: There’s more to this than meets the eye, 2019 (still)

Yu-Chen Wang: There’s more to this than meets the eye, 2019

I also took part in a panel discussion together with the exhibition adviser and physicist Malcolm Fairbairn (who is also one of the scientists I have interviewed), philosopher Eleanor Knox, chaired by science presenter Helen Arney (also my collaborator, who has delivered the voice over for my piece). It was brilliant that the speakers are from very different fields and to have conversation about scientific truth and the limitation of human knowledge. When we don’t know how to answer the question, turning ourselves to thinking philosophical seems necessary and perhaps helpful. https://london.sciencegallery.com/events/dark-matter-void

RB: In terms of the viewer, what are you trying to communicate in this exhibition?

Y-CW: I wrote the script using a first person’s voice as a reflection of my journey of exploring science – visiting labs, speaking to various physicists, investing scientific images and documentations. The voiceover is delivered by Helen Arney, whose performance was brilliant and humorous, absolutely animates my inner thoughts. Using wireless headphones with music and surround sound effect designed by Capitol K, I’m trying to create an intimate experience of one-to-one moment between the audience and my work. This way of storytelling also shows my approach to science: I almost become a researcher myself adapting certain scientific methods, collecting, analysing and trying to build new experiments and run tests in order to understand more and to make sense of everything.

Yu-Chen Wang: There’s more to this than meets the eye, 2019 (still)

RB: In your view, what are the lines that connect art and science?

Y-CW: Both fields are about asking questions, exploring some unknown territories and looking for something new. These are places where no one has been to or no one knows how to get there. They definitely involve certain level of risk-taking and overcoming endless failures, and most importantly they need to be able to communicate, not just within the community, but to the general public.

In the case of art and physics, it’s interesting that both are trying to make the invisible visible and trying to see differently.

Yu-Chen Wang: There’s more to this than meets the eye, 2019 (still)

RB: What other projects are you currently working on?

Y-CW: I’m continuing to develop the work for Collide International Awards’ touring programme. For the exhibition in Brussels, this evolving piece will have a new life and will be presented in response to the gallery space and local audiences.

I’m working on a couple of projects inspired by the industrial heritage, such as canals in Birmingham and railway in Doncaster. I will work with local community to produce new work in response to the future urban regeneration. Another project in Taipei I will explore the relationship between art and the increasing information-driven technology and the influences on our day to day life.

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www.yuchenwang.com

All images copyright and courtesy of Yu-Chen Wang

The post There’s more to this than meets the eye appeared first on Interalia Magazine.

Imagination in Education

Richard Bright: What do you understand by the word ‘Imagination’?

Sacha, Duchess of Abercorn: Imagination has often been mistrusted in the realm of education as having something more to do with fantasy and the wasting of time, thus, I believe, children in this 21st century are being denied their natural growth path to full potential. The fact is that we live in 2 realities at one and the same time. Our outer reality being linear and time-bound, has more to do with the intellect and the learning of facts and figures and the analytic, whereas our inner reality goes by way of the spiral, is time-less and has the function of making connections and has the ability to synthesise. Imagination is a way of knowing and of being all at the same time. It is the world of And/And rather than Either/Or. It speaks to us by way of images and the symbolic rather than the literal. As a child we are reared on it by way of story-telling and fairy tales and as we grow up we experience it by way of Myth and Legend. It speaks to us also by way of our dreams and day dreams and if we can stay close to the images from within ourselves we can infuse our outer realities with enthusiasm and inspiration bringing the heart back into all that we do. Jung wrote that ‘the imagination is author of all human creation, of all that is greatest in our lives, and that play is its dynamic principle’. It is of vital importance, therefore, that the ‘child’ within us all is given the space to play and find its voice and this can only happen when we ‘still the mind’ and approach the interface between our heads and our hearts. Imagination is ‘seeing with the mind’s eye’ and how helpful it can be at moments to be able ‘to step into someone else’s shoes’ and to imagine how it feels from a different point of view. This is a most vital aspect in social dynamics at this time when the compassion of the heart might solve some otherwise intractable and potentially destructive global problems.

RB: The Pushkin Trust has recently celebrated its 25th birthday, which you are the founder of. What prompted you to do this?

SA: The Pushkin Prizes, as it was called at its inception, came into being in 1987 during the height of the ‘Troubles’ in N Ireland. My daughter, Sophie, had been having nightmares for some time of our home being ‘invaded’ and I realised that she and thousands of other  children were possibly breathing a form of  noxious toxin that suffused the air at that time – that of fear and hatred, of  grief and loss and of huge distrust between the Catholic and Protestant communities. I was at a loss as to what to do to help her until I attended a very special event in England to commemorate the life of my Russian ancestor, the poet, Alexander Pushkin. It was then that I realised how great Art lifts us all beyond the tribal and all that separates us and moves us on to Universal ground, where we share both the light and the dark of life, the joys and the sorrows. It is the ground where we meet as true human beings and where we begin to find and then express our ‘voice’ by more creative means.

RB: Can you say something about The Pushkin’s Schools Programme and why you feel it’s important to be cross-curricular?

SA: The Western Education and Library Board in Omagh, Co. Tyrone, helped us from the beginning to find 8 primary schools – 4 from the Protestant tradition and 4 from the Catholic tradition who would like to take part in a pilot scheme in the form of a creative writing competition. The schools would also be chosen from both sides of the border – 4 from Co Tyrone in Northern Ireland and 4 from Co Donegal in the Republic of Ireland. The schools would then be invited to write short stories or poems on a theme chosen by the Pushkin project. The judges who helped us in the early days were looking for spontaneity, a sense of presence and ‘voice’ in the writing rather than perfect grammar and spelling. The themes we chose  to write about were drawn specifically from one of the 4 elements – Earth,  Air, Fire or  Water –  such as The Tree of Life,  Blowin’ in the Wind,  The Fire Within,  Going with the Flow etc  In this way the theme connected to every subject in the curriculum  and could be  explored and developed in a variety of ways. The Pushkin thematic approach is based on a holistic approach which values the uniqueness of each learner. It also values the contribution made by all subjects in school to the creation of well-rounded, creative and successful students. By placing the environment by way of the 4 elements, at the centre of its thematic approach the Pushkin Trust hopes to instil in children and adults a love and sense of deep connection  firstly to ourselves, and then to the  world in which we live and indeed share with one another. By focussing on a connected and innovative curriculum where learners explore and question, where they create and appreciate, the work of the Trust aims to encourage all learners to develop their fullest potential. The Pushkin logo of the 4 petalled flower is a symbol of the wholeness that we aspire to in our programmes with the 4 functions of Body, Mind, Emotions and Intuition each connecting to one of the 4 elements of Earth, Air, Water and Fire centred on the Creative Spirit at its core.

RB: The programme uses creative writing as its central core, together with other creative art forms. Would science ever be considered to be included in the programme?

SA: The Pushkin Trust works primarily with children aged 9 – 11 years. For that reason the writing of short stories and poems, and now of working in many other art forms is the most appropriate way for them to access their creative spirit. However, just as we are convinced that it’s out of such an integrating approach that children can develop a larger sense of themselves as creative human beings, so we also believe that it can be the source of imaginative activity in all fields of endeavour, including the scientific. Our aim with Pushkin is to develop in children a confident degree of trust in that kind of intuitive creativity which is the source of good work in the sciences as well as in the arts.  The closest we get to scientific work is in our way of studying the environment, which stimulates the powers of observation through the senses and encourages a holistic and imaginative rather than simply analytic sense of the natural world. Science as it is conventionally taught relies on the rational analytic intellect, whereas our Pushkin mode of education tries to bring that faculty into creative relation with the other vitally important human functions of feeling, intuition and the senses.

RB: The Programme concentrates on the environment as an important source of inspiration. Why is this?

SA: The Pushkin Prizes, was conceived, as I have mentioned before, as a creative writing project to enable children in primary school to find their ‘voice’ by way of writing a short story or poem. It became apparent early on in the project that some children found it quite hard to open up to their unique ‘voice’ and connect to the realm of inspiration. It seemed that the most accessible way for a child or indeed a teacher to make contact with the source of their own being would be to take them into the natural world with the help of environmentalists to experience the world around them by way of their senses. After all, so many great artists have drawn upon this universal realm for their most inspired work in order to tap into the creative spirit at its source. We noticed how positively children from both urban and rural back grounds responded to having time in nature – time to regain their senses. It is as if children are in deep need of being re- connected to their ‘birthright’ – to their creative core.

RB: Pushkin’s work has become synonymous with creativity, inspiration and expression of the ‘Voice’. You have talked about encouraging both children and teachers to find their ‘Voice’. What do you mean by this?

SA: The genesis of the Pushkin work began with the ‘voice’ of a child. Realising the fear that was being voiced in my own child in the form of nightmares at that time I searched for a way to enable that fear to be channelled by some means into a more creative expression. I was fully aware that if such negative energy is left to fester it can become self-destructive and equally if it lashes out in self-defence it can destroy the world around it. However, all feelings whether they be positive or negative if they can be contained in some art form then become a kind of gift to life. Inspired by my ancestor, Alexander Pushkin, I realised that the power of the creative spirit, latent within us all, can transform the world we live in by giving a sense of meaning and purpose to ourselves as individuals. We discovered in the early stages of the creative writing programme that if the child in the class-room was to be able to express his or her ‘voice’ fully then the teacher needed to be alongside equally facing the ‘blank page’. We then began an annual November conference for all the teachers who would be taking the Pushkin programme into their class-rooms in the following January. In this way they would experience environmental and arts workshops based on the theme for the year ahead and re-discover the ‘child’ within themselves once more!  The response from teachers to this support enabling them to tap once more into their own creative spirit has been most rewarding. From this has grown our most current programme ‘Inspiring Educators’ which deepens the personal development of a teacher ad helps them to re-discover their own creative voice.

RB: Not only children, but many teachers have described the ‘Pushkin experience’ as life changing, releasing ‘hidden treasures’ that may have otherwise have lain dormant in their normal school lives. Do you think the current systems of education stifle the release of these ‘hidden treasures’?

SA: The ‘Pushkin experience’ has been described by both children and teachers as life changing, releasing  ‘hidden treasures’  that may otherwise have lain dormant in their school lives. Perhaps the most unfortunate aspect of our current education system is its lop-sided nature. There are many positive aspects to learning how to read and write and knowing how to add and subtract and to  getting our sums right but that is only a part of what education is about. The word in Latin educare actually means to draw out and unfortunately our system seems to have failed massively in knowing how to go about this. We cannot have an exam for testing ‘emotional intelligence’ – feelings cannot be marked right or wrong.  Feelings simply ‘are’. So until our education system discovers how to embrace the non-rational side of a child’s nature we will continue to produce youngsters who are not able to cope with the world around them. Our inner landscape is full of hidden treasures – all qualities of the heart and soul. Until we find a way to uncover these treasures our outer landscape will remain severely impoverished.

RB: Educators from all over Ireland have paid tribute to the ability of The Pushkin Trust to inspire. Teachers and pupils alike have described how their contact with this movement has helped them to unlock in them a creative potential which they never knew existed.  When you founded it, did you foresee the Pushkin movement being so influential?

SA: It is most heartening that the Pushkin Trust has been acclaimed by educators from all parts of Ireland to have inspired children and teachers over these past 25 years. I never, for one moment, realised how strong the growth would become of the ‘seed of an idea’ that I had then. But I now realise that the creative spirit, if given the open ground to grow in, will put roots down and  stretch upwards to the light, branching out into new programmes and projects until it flowers and bears fruit. It has been a most rewarding process to have been involved with and we have simply acted as kind of ‘gardeners’ of our inner landscape. To have witnessed the ‘voice’ of so many children and teachers in so many creative ways has been a most humbling experience.

RB: The Pushkin Trust has grown into an all-Ireland educational programme for the creative and personal growth of the individual. What is your vision for its future?

SA: The Pushkin Trust has grown into an all-Ireland educational programme focussed on the creative potential in both the child and the teacher.  I would now like to see this work deeply embedded in and embraced by our education systems.  I would like to see every child in every classroom in primary schools and on through secondary and tertiary level claiming their ‘birthright’ to become whole human beings, fully alive.

The time is now.

…………………..

www.pushkintrust.com

 

The post Imagination in Education appeared first on Interalia Magazine.

The Alchemy of Oblique Topography

Imaginary Echo Chamber. Mixed Media, 2016, 68cm x 74cm

Speculation regarding global-scale catastrophe has heightened exponentially in this current age of socio-economic pandemonium and the algorithmic governance that has seen the dissolution of previously dominant socio-cultural value systems built on Taylor’s scientific management of the capitalist society.

While the transhumanism of crypto cloudminds, recent advances in synthetic biotechnology, and the politics of biometric surveillance are taken into consideration when crafting measures to counteract techno-economic disruption, the complex urban apparatus demands innovative reconfiguration to address the spatial dynamics of rapid and unregulated urban growth.

The speculative visualization approach reflects the acceleration of the human-influenced geological epoch and eventually fosters critical thinking in relation to the underlying agendas of the increasingly dominant anthropocentric biophysical processes and subsequent dystopia.

Recursive Topography of Uncertainty. Mixed Media, 2017, 81cm x 67cm

 

Surviving in the Multidimensional Space of Cognitive Dissonance. Mixed Media, 2014, 80cm x 110cm

All the layers of lines, forms, and colors merge to create a holistic vision whereby the morpho-semantic representations of prototyping to post-processing in the substructure of state machine are exposed through symptomatic reading. In the meantime, each layer of accumulated images represents a post-human agency of epistemological perceptions in sociological imaginaries. These multimodal visual narratives are employed to document and assimilate the urban metamorphosis to maximum effect in a syntactic context. The cluster-oriented genetic algorithm optimizes the subtle movement of each phase-shifted layer to enact and improvise the ever-evolving ethereal visions of epistemological reflection.

The Biometric Ephemera of Positronic Variation within Transient Bounds. Mixed Media, 2016, 80cm x 100cm

As it relates to the imaginaries of transhuman urbanism, the optimum design of cities is determined through the flow, exchange, and interbreeding of organic and non-organic beings in place of nested binary zoning codes. These hybrid sentient entities interact through neurobiological means, embracing the biosynthetic technologies of symbiotic and autonomous multi-agent system.

They have the capacity to self-organize during assembly and optimize themselves as the multiplicity of biocomputing intelligence based on environmentally responsive particle morphology. Furthermore, the inter-communal dynamic and accelerated interdependency between living, non-living, and hybrid agents facilitate the sustainable development of the urban assemblage.

Swirling Effects and Their Wayside Phenomena. Mixed Media, 2016, 67cm x 72cm

While allowing for multiple possible scenarios of ecological configurations, the collective intelligence of the post-anthropocene is prototyped and  planetary-scale networks are hypothetically formulated at  molecular level. Consequently, the dynamic interplay between the biomorphic protocols of advanced hybrid technologies and existing obsolete infrastructures is considered to be the catalyst behind establishing the conjectural approach towards visionary urban cosmologies.

The Frozen Air Evoked the Analogical Still of Ephemeral Swarms. Mixed Media, 2015, 53cm x 83cm

 

The Extensity of Sferics Counterpoint. Mixed Media, 2017, 79cm x 114cm

Artist Statement

Matsumoto’s work reflects the morphological transformations of our ever-evolving urban and ecological milieus, which could be attributed to a multitude of spatio-temporal phenomena influenced by social, economic, and cultural factors. These works are created as visual commentaries on speculative changes in notions of societies, cultures, and ecosystems in the transient nature of constantly shifting topography and geology.

The artworks explore the hybrid technique, combining both traditional (ink, acrylic, and graphite) and digital medias (algorithmic processing, data transcoding, and image compositing through customized software).

The varying scale, juxtaposition of biomorphic forms, intertwined textures, oblique projections, and visual metamorphoses are employed as multi-layered drawing methodologies to question and investigate the ubiquitous nature of urban meta-morphology, emerging realities of post-human dystopia, and their visual representation in the context of non-Euclidean configuration. The application of these techniques allows the work to transcend the boundaries between analog and digital media as well as between two- and multi-dimensional domains.

Matsumoto’s process-oriented compositional techniques imbue the work with what we see as the very essence of our socio-cultural environments, beyond the conventional protocols of architectural and artistic formalities; they conjure up the synthetic possibilities within which the spatial and temporal variations of existing spatial semiotics emerge as the potential products of alchemical procedures.

The Reverberant Ambience of Interpretative Codes for an Ancient Artifact. Mixed Media, 2015, 68cm x 93cm

 

Transient Field in the Air. Mixed Media, 2014, 85cm x 57cm

 

Those Who Affirm the Spontaneity of Every Event. Mixed Media, 2014, 84cm x 119cm

 

Water, Hinge, Field. Mixed Media, 2014, 42cm x 59cm

 

Waves and Particles. Mixed Media, 2014, 85cm x 59cm

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www.ryotamatsumoto.com

All images copyright and courtesy of Ryota Matsumoto

The post The Alchemy of Oblique Topography appeared first on Interalia Magazine.

Contained

CONTAINED

The act of containing is always an act of restraining—holding something or someone in place.

Keeping proper control. Limiting expansion.

Preventing advancement.

When an infectious disease presents itself, we act to contain it.

An act that can be both liberating and traumatic.

Contained is an exhibition of installations that encompasses both these possibilities.

In 1944, my mother Louise Poulin, contracted Tuberculosis (TB) while caring for her stricken brother and sister-in-law. She was sent to a sanatorium in rural Quebec for treatments that were current at the time – rest therapy and artificial pneumothorax. These treatments involved almost constant bed rest, a healthy diet, hours and hours of fresh air (at times, covered in blankets on a porch in the middle of a Canadian winter), and collapsing of the lungs to cut off oxygen flow to the TB bacteria. For over two years, day-in day-out, she lay there wondering if she would survive while many around her succumbed to the disease. She often dreamed of escaping, flying past the surrounding farmlands, over the grand forests, and into the hopeful sky. My mother’s experience of contracting TB, and the fragility of all life, is the narrative that informs Contained.

Contained Installation view 2018 (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

 

Contained Installation view 2018 (Photo credit: David Williams)

Illness as a young person, especially traumatic illness, embeds itself deep inside the psyche. It festers and often manifests itself as overwhelming fear. My mother was haunted by such fears and it shaped her identity in the world for the rest of her life. This was apparent in her reactions every time either I or my brothers became ill, and her adamant concerns for proper inoculations and medical tests. Her ever present fear that we might contract TB or another equally terrifying infectious disease made me aware that there was a world of invisible microbes with a potential to suddenly infect or even cause death. It was only later, when conducting research for my art practice, did I become aware that most microbes are not infectious, are more harmless than harmful, and our symbiotic relationship with them is part of our own well-being. This knowledge – of this necessity and danger – of microorganisms that form our natural and human ecology is a constant in my artwork.

Contained, first shown at the Red Head Gallery in Toronto in 2018, is composed of a series of mixed media installations, monoprints, drawings and sculptures. With these works I abstract and transform my mother’s experience of living in a TB sanatorium, to create a gallery atmosphere that is clinical, fantastical, immersive. Drawing on my ongoing artist residency at the Pelling Laboratory for Augmented Biology (University of Ottawa), I combine medical tools and scientific processes into a series of installations and sculptures encapsulating biomaterial, feathers, salt crystals, avian lungs and plant fibre containing human lung cells.

She Hungered for the Sky, 2018. Bed, bedside table, chair, crocheted shawl by Louise while in sanitorium, her books and music piano music sheets, personal items, table cloth, petri dishes with ink drawing and X-ray of lungs with TB (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker).

 

She Hungered for the Sky (detail) (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

The centrepiece installation, She Hungered for the Sky, recreates the atmosphere of the sanitorium – a white chair with the shawl she crocheted while living there; a bedside table with her books and personal items; and  an empty skeletal 1940s hospital bed with attached dangling petri dishes containing TB X-rays and drawings of lungs. In the centre of the bed frame, laid across the bare floor, lies her favourite crocheted table cloth, metaphorically emphasizing her fragility and confinement. Directly across from the bed is a wall installation entitled Fragile Forest. Representing the forest that captured my mother’s dreams and fantasies of escaping her illness and containment in the sanatorium, it is composed of white alveolar-like branches (waxed grape stems) that are adhered to cell culture plates. Above them, partially decellularized maple leaves, fragile and spotted like infected lungs, are precariously attached to the wall, fluttering from passing air currents. Decellularization means the plant cells have been dissolved leaving only a cellulose scaffold. This results in draining their colour, leaving them ghost-like and ephemeral. Lit from below, their silhouettes and that of the forest become even more heightened apparitions.

Fragile Forest (detail 1) 120”x 6”x 4”, 2017. Grape stems, wax, partially decellularized maple leaves, pipette tips, cell culture plates (Photo credit: David Williams)

 

Fragile Forest (detail 2) (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

As one moves through the exhibition space, a series of framed monoprints and drawings of leaves and lungs, as well as small sculptures on pedestals, are encountered. These works continue to draw on the metaphors of forest and flight. They include test tubes inserted with partially decellularized maple keys (seeds) held in place by cell culture plates and stacked on synthetic maple leaves; sections of avian lung tissue displayed in tiny petri dishes; feathers in vials; miniature nests constructed from medical tubing; and a crow skull. All these objects are carefully placed and contained on clear acrylic bed-like trays.

Airborne 1, 12”x9” 2017. Ink monotype on paper (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

 

At Rest: Dwelling, 6”x12”x3”, 2018. Plastic tubing, sparrow feathers, test tubes, acrylic trays (Photo credit: David Williams)

 

At Rest: Flight, 6”x12”x3”, 2018. Sparrow feathers, test tubes, Common Raven skull, acrylic trays (Photo credit: David Williams)

 

At Rest: Breath (detail) 6”x12”x3” 2018. Petri dishes, avian lung tissue encased in salt crystals, display & acrylic trays (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

 

Quiescent Growth (detail) 36”x22”x6” 2018. Partially decellularized maple keys, test tubes, cell culture plates, synthetic leaves (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

 

Vestigial 2 11”x14” 2017. Ink monotype on paper (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

The notion of a confined bird on the edge of expiration and a fantastical forest that heals and provides hope is woven through the artworks. But the reality is that TB is still an infectious disease ravaging the world. A wall installation of over fifty eerie beautiful oxygen masks lined up with cascading tubes gives prominence to this continuing – even resurgent – plague. These empty ominous masks, entitled Fraught Air, starkly remind us that TB may be out of mind for many people but it is yet to be defeated, known too well by the marginalized in our communities and over the world.

Fraught Air (detail) 150”x 96”x 3”, 2018. Oxygen masks (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

 

Lungs of the Earth 22”x 8”x 1”, 2018. Petri dishes, decellularized maple leaves with human lung epithelial cells (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

 

Lungs of the Earth (detail) (Photo credit: Elaine Whittaker)

The final artwork in the exhibition is entitled Lungs of the Earth*. Three large petri dishes with four decellularized maple leaves are elegantly displayed in acrylic holders. Again the decellularization process of removing the leaves’ plant cells has left a ghostly cellulose scaffold, but this time the scaffold has been re-cultured with human epithelial lung cells. Merging human cells within a plant matrix, this artwork is a convergence of science and technology; a hybridization of human and plant; and a possibility that human and plant can merge. There is a core message of persistence, struggle and hope. Contained is an exhibit that finds hope when faced with a life curtailed by disease. With its blend of current scientific processes and past medical practices, it becomes, ultimately, a contemplation on past histories and possible futures.

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* Lungs of the Earth was made possible through my artist-in-residence collaboration with Andrew Pelling and Ryan Hickey at the Pelling Laboratory for Augmented Biology at the University of Ottawa. It was shown in the 2019 exhibit La Fabrique du Vivant at the Centre Pompidou, curated by Marie-Ange Brayer and Olivier Zeitoun as part of the Mutations/Creations platform.

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www.elainewhittaker.ca

All images copyright and courtesy of Elaine Whittaker

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Notes on an Aphantasic Artist

There are aspects of experience that vary between individual humans, and that contribute to the way individuals think and behave differently to others – aspects that, in other words, make up personal identity.

One of these is the degree to which people experience mental imagery, or picturing with the ‘mind’s eye’. The strength or vividness of mental imagery differs across the population. This is known due to psychologists using a standardised questionnaire, called the Vividness of Visual Imagery Questionnaire (VVIQ), where participants are asked to visualise something then rate the vividness of what they picture, from ‘1’ for no image, to ‘5’ for an image ‘as vivid as real seeing’.

When this test is given to a group of people the results form a bell curve of normal distribution (leaning slightly towards higher scores, because of the social desirability of a ‘vivid imagination’). Most people’s scores fall around the middle of the curve, experiencing some degree of imagery, but at one edge of the curve are those report to lack visual mental imagery entirely, giving ‘1’ for every task in the VVIQ.

Fig. 1 Distribution of Vividness of Visual Imagery Questionnaire (VVIQ) scores in participants with aphantasia and control participants (VVIQ range extends from 16, lowest imagery score to 80, highest imagery score). [Zeman et al 2015, p2]

The phenomenon – that some people do not experience visual mental imagery – had been given little scientific attention until it was given a name in 2015 by the British neurologist Adam Zeman and colleagues: aphantasia.

This was publicised in the popular science press, and very soon, and for the ensuing years, thousands of people contacted Zeman to say that they had ‘aphantasia’. Among these, to the researchers’ surprise, were many artists – and designers, architects, and writers – who could not visualise. To investigate this phenomenon of creativity without visualisation the researchers, co-curating with artist Susan Aldworth, developed an exhibition of ‘aphantasic’ artwork.

While the resulting exhibition included 19 visual artists, I want to focus here on the work and procedural narrative of one in particular, which, I think, is particularly representative of the way that aphantasic artists tend to work. This is the British artist Michael Chance, who paints detailed figurative scenes. Rather than being a barrier to creativity, as one might expect, Chance views his aphantasia as a stimulus, because he cannot personally entertain images other than by creating them in paint:

The lack of ability to visualise images in my mind is a great motivation; I must physically work on a drawing or painting in order for my imagination to become visually manifest. I often start a picture with no intention and certainly no end goal; it materialises in an improvisatory way. This sense of stepping out into the unknown is thrilling and the subsequent discovery of latent imagery fascinating. Largely bypassing conscious decision making, the way images (usually figures) emerge from my subconscious is akin to dreaming, and the resulting work is often just as strange, surprising and revealing as that would suggest. However (yet, somewhat like dreams) these visions are informed by my everyday experience and observational drawing practice, and structured by my artistic understanding of illusionistic space, light, form and anatomy.’  (MacKisack & Aldworth, 2018, p35]

What is immediately noticeable is the way that Chance describes ‘physical’ work replacing mental work: painting takes the place of visualising or dreaming. This would be a good example of ‘extended cognition’ (Clark & Chalmers 1998): the brain delegating operations that it finds hard, or even impossible, to physical manipulations of external media. Also, by making the images the artist discovers something that they did not or could not ‘foresee’. This process of search, discovery and ‘materialisation’ is revealed by a time-lapse video Chance made of himself working.

Fig 2. Michael Chance, ‘Painting from Imagination (Bacchus Walk)’ 2016. Courtesy of the artist.

The completed painting shows how a reclining, prone, figure emerged – not, if Chance and our interpretation are correct, from the artist’s deliberations, but from the canvas itself and the two faces in profile, suggested by the negative space between them.

Michael Chance, Bacchus Walk, 2016 Oil on board, 92×122cm . Courtesy of the artist

What Chance and his work demonstrates is that the lack of conscious imagery has multiple implications for artistic practice – but none for the creativity of the artist. Imagery ability is not equal to ’imaginativeness’. It seems that aphantasia instead can have a more holistic’ affect on artistic identity, influencing the decisions one makes about how to work and what to do. For example, having no plan’ as such, you just start making marks and see where they lead – in Chance’s case, fed by his training and knowledge of anatomy, figures emerge. Of course, artists without aphantasia also do all these things. And one couldn’t know if a picture had been made by an artist with imagery or without. But that is what the phenomenon of aphantasic art forces us to realise: the diversity of the hidden routes to creation.

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MacKisack, M. and Aldworth, S. (eds.) Extreme Imagination – Inside the Mind’s Eye. Exeter: The Eye’s Mind Press. (2018)

Zeman, A., Dewar, M., & Della Sala, S. (2015). Lives without imagery: Congenital aphantasia. Cortex, 73, 378e380.

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