Electronic stuff . . .

I have finally broken into the Arduino boards I ferried back from Europe. Here is the micro-switch Kalmiba with four thumb-activated switches (to trigger samples, or whatever) and an index finger switch on the right side, currently acting as a register switch to transpose the triggered samples up an octave, or whatever you wish. I need to expand this to include a few more thumb switches, some accelerameters and a few vibrating solenoids. Eventually it will look something like this artist's rendering (below right).
This is all fallout from my Camargo Foundation Fellowship -- moving to the next stage actually. Perhaps I can produce a working prototype in the next six weeks? This way I can schedule a performance soon, which I really need to do before I go nuts -- glitchy stuff perhaps? Then I need to work out all the wireless stuff: bluetooth, wifi, or perhaps some other proprietary spectrum? Here are a few thoughts for a paper I plan to write in the next month or so:

What is a performance system? What does it do and how does it correspond to the artists' intentions? Is the system a constraint, curtailing the performer's improvisations; or, perhaps, is the system the creative force, molded by the actions of the performing artist. Is it, and at what point does/might it become, a collaboration . . . how do we establish this? Finally, what are our requirements for collaboration?

What are our limitations and how do we deploy/employ these limitations? (Stravinsky). How do we attain the 'dichotomy' that Earle Brown speaks of, a point where, as creators, we are both in control as well as out of control. Who, or what, is guiding this journey?

Grid.

Microphone Porn

Here are some recent electronics projects. Simple things really, but one should always improve one's arsenal, no? The upper configuration is the generic contact microphone -- all good for plastering to the window or onto a creaky floor. New sounds, new works, etc. The lower configuration is your standard 'air' mic, plans ripped from Nic Collins' Hardware Hacking handouts (taken from a workshop I attended before the book.) Last night I planted one of these babies outside the window as the snow began to fall. It had enough resolution to pull in the train which is at least half a mile away. It is actually quite sensitive -- not bad for a Radio Shack (it's a Tandy Company) afternoon. If anyone in the Chicago are is interested in playing with various microphone placements, creations, etc., feel free to contact me. I believe this post also shows the need for proper lighting and documentation of one's electronic outings. You never know when you may need to have the perfect 'look'. Unfortunately, I have been ill the past few days. It's that Chicago illness that I get every year (which I have been luckily free of for the past five years.) I had forgotten the Chicago grunge which arrives every year during the February thaw. Or, perhaps I've been breathing too much solder? Feeling much better today though . . .

jg

Interim Statement

Whether working in an acoustic or electroacoustic medium, each composition begins with vocalization. This process, these quirky mouth sounds, have apparently evolved into the single most indespensible part of my creative behavior -- an act which I perform with an amazing unconsciousness. [1] This step -- perhaps the unifying factor amongst my works -- again sits at the core of my present activities, an electroacoustic composition. But why the voice? A few observations:

First, the voice is the so-called 'natural' instrument, the first instrument we master: with some exceptions, we all have one and know how to use it. [2] For myself, vocalization helps me to get a handle on my initial intentions. I can sort of make that sound that I am attempting to create. It is a verbal shorthand for what could happen, an aural brainstorming. This is why I always ask my students, "Do you sing to yourself?" If not, I encourage they begin immediately.

Secondly, vocalization is an empathic act: both physically and emotionally. Communally, there is an understanding of what it feels like to utter "shoo-bop-a-re-bop", whether one reads it on the page or actually hears the phrase. We can visualize how the tongue moves, the constrictions of the vocal chords, the movement of the lips differentiating between the "P" and the "B". In a similar fashion, certain vocalizations make us feel in other ways. Utterances are capable of touching off reactions which are hard wired into our consciousness. A baby crying or a similar sound might cause a myriad of emotions to arise. [3]

Thirdly, the voice, by its nature and use, implies a communication, thus a dialogue. [4] I would posit that the listener, the observer, becomes more involved and more attentive when listening to such an evocative stream of vocalizations. All one needs to do is find a foreign language talk station on the radio or internet to confirm that, even though the utternaces are incomprehesible, there is a steam of intent coming from the speaker that can, in a sense, be understood. [5] So, there is a liguistic element in play here . . .

So, I will leave this here for now and add more later. Though, this line of thought is eventually going to move into gesture, a subject close to my thoughts as of late.


[1] Many times I am brought back to reality when during an impassioned act of vocalise I catch myself in the gaze of others on the city bus, walking down the street, in the elevator, at the urinal, etc. [2] Some more than others. [3] Trevor Wishart and others have gone into this in much greater detail. See Wishart, T. On sonic art. [4] Though a monologue or decalogue (any N-alogue) is equally valid. [5] This is how I passed most nights during the first year of my doctoral studies.