# data[].attributes.body
My first choice for the "I do, I Undo, I Redo" project was the "Sound & Vision" since it was one of the projects that I felt most engaged to and I also wanted to experiment with this brief with the colaborators of my choice instead of a pre-organized group and develop it the way I found was best parting from my own view of music and visuals. But, after having the assesment and discussing the options with my tutor, she convinced me to try and finish "The End of the World" project since it was one that I was absent most of the time and weren't able to finish in the way that followed the brief.

# data[].attributes.body
Went to see the brief's suggested website for illustrations and when searching for apocalipse found an article on Sculptures of the four horseman of the Bible's apocalipse chapter

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Sculptures of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have been placed in London's Thames river, but are visible only twice a day at low tide. The pieces were created by artist Jason deCaires Taylor, who created the underwater sculpture park in Cancun, Mexico, in 2009. Entitled The Rising Tide, the new London work is sited near Vauxhall bridge and aims to tackle issues of climate change. Four life-sized horses with riders are shown, though horse heads have been replaced with oil pumps to reference pollution and destruction from fossil fuels. The work was commissioned as part of the Totally Thames festival, which takes place at various London venues throughout September.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse sculptures appear in the River Thames

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Sculptures of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have been placed in London's Thames river, but are visible only twice a day at low tide. The pieces were created by artist Jason deCaires Taylor, who created the underwater "sculpture park":http://www.itsnicethat.com/articles/claudia-legge-mexico in Cancun, Mexico, in 2009.

# data[].attributes.body
"The simplest sense of the phrase narrative environment is that it is an environment with some narrative elements(...) between the essential and the accidental, a narrative has two necessary features, as well as an additional, dynamic and variable cluster of optional characteristics:
- The first is a double temporality: the chronology of the events; and the sequence in which they are presented in the text.
-The second is a transmitting or mediating agency. A narrative tells or narrates or is an act of mediation or transmission. A narrative does not necessarily have a narrator.
Among the optional characteristics mentioned:

beginnings, middles and ends;

closure;

coherence;

causality; and

addressees."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Narrative environment - Praxis and Poiesis

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A site dedicated to the many aspects of thought-in-action.

# data[].attributes.headline
Sound Code (Graphic Scores or Graphic Notation)

# data[].attributes.subject
Sound Code (Graphic Scores or Graphic Notation)

# data[].attributes.body
Graphic Scores basic concepts.
Unlike the more traditional five-lined musical stave, with each line and each space represent a different pitch, a graphic score is a different way of notating a piece of music.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Score-writing is a powerful form of visual communication that reaches across the barriers of language, space and time, writes John L. Walters. The mark-making of western musical notation has an intrinsic aesthetic appeal generated by elements that are simpler - more primeval perhaps - than the Roman alphabet: a rhythmic procession of thick and thin lines, open and closed ellipses, Arabic numerals, commands and ornaments scattered along a rigid grid. A score assumes shared knowledge, a body of skilled expertise - it is a diagram, a recipe, a route-map and an exhortation to perform.

Yet something in the design of a score reaches beyond the private codes of a trained musician. Whether composers write conventionally functional scores, play visual tricks (the staves of a ballad twisted into a heart shape or the face of a loved one traced in black and white piano notation) or scatter circles and wavy lines across their score paper, they are translating non-visual ideas into visual codes. The craft involved in preparing scores requires a link between ear, eye and hand.

The stave can be thought of as a two-dimensional graph, the horizontal x-axis for time and the y-axis - the vertical location of the note-head on the horizontal lines that make up the stave - for pitch. The score is an arrangement of several staves in parallel, synchronised in time: each note has a time co-ordinate plus several other parameters, including pitch, duration, timbre and intensity. Since the passage of time can be followed by reading from left to right, so simultaneous musical events are directly above and beneath each other in the score. One of the most important functions of this coded graph is to keep musicians silent at certain times - the musical equivalent of white space.

The graphical organisation of music in this way made it possible for more complex, large-scale music to be made and performed, with the attendant emergence of new roles and hierarchies. The graphic effectiveness of the musical score was central to the development of western Classical music. Playing from individual parts copied down from the score, each musician is part of a vast system whose aural architecture can be appreciated as the music unfolds in time.

Give or take a few written instructions, a Classical score by Mozart or Mahler uses the same language as, say, Stephen Montague's new piano concerto, a film score by Michael Gibbs or Rachel Portman, say, or the string arrangements Jocelyn Pook wrote for The Stranglers' anniversary gig at the Albert Hall. As an international language of signs, conventional notation is hard to beat. Yet for a couple of decades, from the 1950s to the early 1970s, composers questioned every convention to produce an extravagant body of exuberant, ornate and sometimes totally baffling "graphic scores".

Cage infects the art schools
The first rumblings of the graphic explosion that was to peak in the 1960s were in early twentieth-century scores that incorporated percussion. Non-pitched instruments require only single-line staves, so Edgard Varèse's Ionisation (1931), scored for percussion, looks as graphically stark and brutal as the music sounds. This century's fascination for non-pitched noise - continued in alternative music to the present day - was predicted by the Futurist activist Luigi Russolo, whose written music for his "intonarumori" noise instruments (1916) has similarities with experimental scores of the 1960s.

John Cage was known initially as a "percussion composer", who gained a reputation in the 1930s for his modern dance scores. His simplest pieces combine graphic directness (he had worked for architect Erno Goldfinger) with a decorative charm that may be inspired by Erik Satie, whose hand-written scores contained decorative illustrations and an imaginative, eccentric use of lettering and white space. Cage's need for a low-cost percussion unit that would fit into a small performance space led to his invention of the "prepared piano", where the strings are damped or otherwise modified by the addition of metal screws, erasers and small objects carefully listed on the opening page of the score. With this system, written music takes a leap into the dark. It is impossible to read a prepared piano work such as Sonatas and Interludes (1946-48) and deduce the sound: when the piece is played on a correctly prepared instrument it produces an extraordinary sequence of percussive sounds, vaguely oriental and quite beautiful.

Here, the written music is a series of instructions for a sequence of events in time. Later scores by Cage, or others spurred on by his example, take this idea to the point where there is little correlation between what one sees and hears. The "score" to Ligeti's Poème Symphonique (1962), intended as a Fluxus event, is merely a command to wind up 100 metronomes and set them going.

By the 1950s graphic scores were becoming one of the dominant forces in "serious" music, with radical, visually stunning work by Earle Brown, La Monte Young, Christian Wolff and the energetic British composer Cornelius Cardew, who absorbed much by assisting (at different times) both Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen. Earle Brown's December 1952 is one of the more celebrated graphic scores - an ambiguous, Mondrian-like construction that has resulted in quite different performances. Yet the visual aesthetic of this work evokes an imagined music in the observer's mind, an invisible music perhaps more ascetic, beautiful and formally Modern than any earthly ensemble could produce with real instruments.

For a time, graphic notation was the Big Idea of mainstream contemporary music: in 1959 at Darmstadt (the great annual meeting place of the European avant-garde) Stockhausen lectured on "Musik und Graphik", where he spoke of the "emancipation of the graphic from the music element". Conversely, the late 1950s and 1960s saw an emerging interest in sound and performance from visual artists: Jean Tinguely's jangling "metaméchanique" sculptures; Bruce Lacey's events and films; and the Happenings of Allan Kaprow, who had studied with Cage at an impressionable age. Composers collaborated with visual artists, or exploited their own graphic skills: Toru Takemitsu worked with a graphic designer for Le Son-Calligraphie no. 1 (31 bars for string quartet) in 1958, as did Cathy Berberian for Stripsody (1966); Louis Andriessen collaborated with Dick Elffers on a Kleur Partituur [colour score] in 1967. Tom Phillips produced work that could be performed, or exhibited, or both. Some scores began to look more like poetry: Stockhausen's From The Seven Days (1968) is a slim booklet of written instructions. The entire score for Intensity, for ensemble, comprises the words:

play single sounds / with such dedication / until you feel the warmth / that radiates from you
play on and sustain it / as long as you can

This blurring of boundaries between visual, written and musical languages had many long-term effects in the postmodern culture of later decades, from the British art-school influence on Anglo-American pop and rock to the performance art of the 1970s and 1980s. Experimental composers, such as Philip Glass and Michael Nyman, who rejected graphic excesses for more functional notation (together with the Modernist aesthetic) still found a warmer reception performing in art galleries and contemporary dance venues than in conventional concert halls and music colleges. For a time, composer-lecturers such as Gavin Bryars, Michael Parsons and Nyman found employment in visual art departments. Parsons has written that "a close study of the visual arts can bring renewed awareness of the medium of sound and of the autonomous character of its formal and relational properties". The audible legacy of the art school experimentalists (whose most famous recruit is Brian Eno) can be heard in installations and CDs by soundsmiths with no traditional musical training - people who can sculpt recorded sound in much the same way that visual artists work with materials.

The big image
Graphic scores raise some thorny issues: does the composer have a duty to specify every note, dynamic, articulation and then demand an equivalent degree of accuracy and fidelity in the resulting performance? Should the composer delegate certain roles to specialists (conductors, drummers, say) who bring new knowledge and traditions to bear upon the work? Should they merely set musical actions in progress and sit back to hear the result? These questions address issues of autocratic power versus democratic organisation and individual creative expression: the political stirrings of the 1960s were not lost on contemporary composers, who wrestled with such implications in the music they made. Cornelius Cardew wrote: "Graphic notation is a perfectly justifiable expansion of normal notation in cases where the composer has an imprecise conception . . . his conception maybe quite precise as to its overall characteristics but imprecise as to the minutiae. For example, if a composer wants a string orchestra to sound like a shower of sparks, he can interrupt his five-line staves and scatter a host of dots in the relevant spaces, give a rough estimate of the proportion of plucked notes to harmonics, and let the players get on with it."

The most prolific era for graphic scores was celebrated by the now out-of-print Notations (1969) edited by Cage and Alison Knowles, which showed manuscripts by Louis Andriessen, Franco Donatoni, Ton de Leeuw, Dick Higgins, Anestis Logothetis, Frederic Rzewski and James Tenney alongside minimal, text-based scraps by Mauricio Kagel, Allan Kaprow and Yoko Ono, conventional sketch scores by Leonard Bernstein and Gunther Schuller and a decorated lyric sheet for 'The Word' by The Beatles. Notations, which also contains composers' responses to a questionnaire about the subject matter, is a typographical curiosity: the text was edited and set using chance operations, so that letter size, weight and font change in mid-word.

Perhaps the greatest graphic score to emerge from this time was Cardew's Treatise (1963-67) a monumental work that continues to inspire musicians - improvisers, electronic soundsmiths, even DJs - to turn his inscrutable marks into sound. Treatise is beautifully made, baffling and 193 pages long. "The whole piece is a critique of notation," says John Tilbury, a colleague of Cardew's in the legendary group AMM. "The most profound aspect of the piece . . . is the way it makes people think. It's a very precise score, but sometimes precision in notation results in an imprecise sound."

Roberto Gerhard wrote: "Notation's ambiguities are its saving grace. Fundamentally, notation is a serviceable device for coping with imponderables. Precision is never of the essence in creative work. Subliminal man (the real creative boss) gets along famously with material of such low definition that any self-respecting computer would have to reject it as unprogrammable."

Composer John Woolrich comments: "There is no clear dividing line between standard notation and graphic scores - there are always things in notation that are indeterminate - you might specify the notes, but not the instrument or the acoustic, for example.

"Unless you're Brian Ferneyhough (and you think you can notate everything), notation is to do with hints rather than absolute instruction. You are trying to convey the big image."

Treatise, which is purely graphic, containing no clues or explanations for the performer(s), may have marked the end of an era. In the 1970s the graphic score activity subsided and Cardew made several dramatic, politically inspired repudiations of the notion, and began writing simple, Maoist songs "for the workers". Cage moved further into the visual realm, discovering a new vocation in fine art print-making, while his scores became more graphically simple. And many composers rejected graphic scores along with other youthful excesses such as taking drugs or wearing flowered shirts.

Phonographic design
Yet the visual excitement remains seductive for later generations of composers and performers, some of whom are prepared to interpret the work with far more enthusiasm and creativity than their counterparts of the previous generation. The Brood, a loose ensemble based around Susan Stenger's Band of Susans, Scanner and Sonic Boom, with members of Wire, Elastica and the Scapegoats, recently performed scores by Cage, Wolff and Phil Niblock at London's South Bank. "We rehearsed quite a lot to sort out the language," said the Scapegoats' Terry Edwards. "It helped a lot that Susan had worked with the composers in the past."

Neil Ardley's Charade for the Bard (1974) used a simple graphic language for a practical purpose - to organise a piece for jazz improvisers at very short notice. John White's machine pieces (including the notorious Drinking and Hooting Machine (1969), which requires the musicians to drink each other under the table) are still published and performed while George Crumb's graphic, spacious Ancient Voices of Children (1970) has acquired the status of a contemporary classic. The work's large-format score looks and sounds equally rich, strange and beautiful.

"The look of the score is not irrelevant," says Howard Skempton, whose hand-drawn scores are famous for their stripped-down elegance. "A score has a life of its own: its look has a lot to do with the power of the piece. When I look at a Classical score (Mozart, Beethoven and so on) you can't actually see at a glance why it works. If you look at a Modernist postwar score by Boulez or Ligeti, say, you get a much clearer idea of what it sounds like. Graphic scores turn this around.

"It might have something to do with the Constructivist aesthetic of the 1950s - the scores by Bussotti and Stockhausen look stunning in their own right. And when I look at Morton Feldman pieces from that time I get the sort of pleasure I get from looking at a painting - I can get a feel of the piece . . . it's only one small step from that to playing around with notation. Bussotti is the one who made the tail wag the dog."

"I don't think graphic scoring is a dead issue," says composer Christopher Fox. "There's much to be done there, but it's deeply unfashionable among musical establishment . . . as new music got more 'professional', London ensembles just wanted to have dots they could play and get done with in a three-hour rehearsal." Christopher Fox participated in many performances of graphic notation outside London with like-minded friends who were interested in playing Cardew and Wolff. "By the end," he says, "Stevie Wishart couldn't see any reason for having anything on the music stand."

Practical matters
The orchestral score, graphical or otherwise, is a remarkably efficient way of organising and producing a large quantity and variety of musical events in a short time. This fact is not lost on Hollywood producers and music supervisors, who still prefer to commission a film score that can be completed in days rather than months. Film and pop scores are rarely published and sometimes discarded, much to the chagrin of film music record companies attempting to re-record classic film soundtracks.

In the 1960s, Kenneth Payne, a music educator and composer, developed Tonescript, a graphical system of colours, squiggles and shapes that would help listeners understand pieces from the Classical repertoire. A descriptive score that relates to an electronic piece has to make up some new rules. The "diffusion score" to Trevor Wishart's Vox 5 (1979-86) is really a conductor's part for the sound engineer who mans the mixing desk and multi-speaker sound system through which the tape is diffused. But this is not a score in the Classical sense. As in most kinds of tape-based work, any need for a conventional score has been eclipsed by the recording.

Recent music by Tom Phillips brings some of the issues of graphic notation full circle. Six of Hearts (1991), commissioned for Woolrich's Composers Ensemble, comprises six songs framed by thick staves. Further comments caution musicians against using electronics (in VI) or request that they play a "favourite operatic aria . . . transposed to D maj or min" (II). "Most graphic scores I know that are any good are very precise," says Phillips. "They don't leave you any more freedom than conventional pieces."

For many composers the time for graphic scores has come and gone. In several different respects, new technology has overshadowed traditional methods. Score-writing programs such as Sibelius and Finale are popular with publishers, professional composers and students alike: the output looks much like professional engraving - a revelation to some older composers. And in many areas of commercial, functional and creative music, the definitive original work is not the score, but the recording: a tape or a sound file saved to disk. The printed output of a computer editing system (such as ProTools) makes an immediate graphic impression of signal amplitude against time - on screen, the dynamics of a recording (whether Stravinsky or Prince) have a clear outline that helps the mastering engineer find his way through a long piece.

Geoff Smith, an academically trained composer (and an authority on John Cage) sees written scores as no more than a means to an end - that can be discarded once the music has been committed to tape. In the recording studio, written music may have no more significance than a track sheet or cue sheet used by non-musicians. At a recent exhibition of graphic scores at the Workfortheeyetodo gallery in London, a contemporary dance "score" by Bruce Gilbert was a sketch, a blueprint for the recording process with comments, shapes and shadings that organised the composer's creative thoughts within a timeline specified by the choreographer. As a score, it spoke in a hybrid language of Gilbert's making.

Graphic scores have increasing importance in education. Tom Deveson, advisory teacher for music at Southwark Education in London, says: "Graphic scores manage the trick of being free, and fun, yet precise. A class of kids of mixed abilities soon agree what a red line or a green squiggle means, and by the end of the lesson they have made a piece out of it. Children love to sort out the rules and then follow them conscientiously."

"Cardew said something interesting," recalls composer Howard Skempton. "Graphic scores are designed for people who have avoided a musical education but somehow acquired a visual education."

Fading manuscripts
Frank Zappa warned against the fetishisation of musical scores by pointing out that "you don't eat the recipe". In some senses, the postwar avant-garde's obsession with graphic notation is a critical commentary on the redundant conventions of European art music. Yet, although such graphic excesses may have little lasting impact on "serious" music itself - Cardew repudiated such "squiggly lines" as bourgeois nonsense before his death in 1981 - they enrich the culture, and continue to reverberate in electronic studios, where a few scribbles can be more expressive, or accurate, than conventional note-heads, sharps and flats. The functional use of graphic scores as an aid to understanding (in education or entertainment) or as a way of communication between people without formal musical training (DJs and engineers, for example) is still in its infancy.

Graphic scores have an aesthetic immediacy that music can never have - the instant visuality of a well-drawn manuscript liberates the composition from the tyranny of time. In the digital domain, music has acquired some visual attributes. At one extreme we have the short, retriggered samples from which much commercial music is constructed; at the other, the on-screen analysis provided by a sound editing program such as ProTools, which can zoom out from the dynamic shape of a symphony, a pop album or a drum'n'bass opus to turn 80 minutes of music into a single image.

Like the "Eye music" of sixteenth-century Italian Mannerists, many graphic scores are now relics of a vanished era, fading manuscripts with little meaning to present-day musicians. But the seductive complexity of work by Cardew and Bussotti continues to fascinate both musicians and non-musicians, and recent work by Phillips and Skempton shows the resilience of such ideas. Each score is a chest of treasures that can be unlocked by performers and interpreters not yet born, a code or puzzle to be solved in time.

John L. Walters, composer, Unknown Public editor and co-founder.

First published in Eye no. 26 vol. 7, 1997

Eye is the world's most beautiful and collectable graphic design journal, published quarterly for professional designers, students and anyone interested in critical, informed writing about graphic design and visual culture. It is available from all good design bookshops and online at the Eye shop, where you can buy subscriptions, back issues and single copies of the latest issue. You can also browse visual samples of recent issues at Eye before You Buy.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Score-writing is a powerful form of visual communication that reaches across the barriers of language, space and time, writes John L. Walters. The mark-making of western musical notation has an intrinsic aesthetic appeal generated by elements that are simpler - more primeval perhaps - than the Roman alphabet: a rhythmic procession of thick and thin lines, open and closed ellipses, Arabic numerals, commands and ornaments scattered along a rigid grid.

# data[].attributes.headline
How to read and write graphic Scores - Michael Plourde

# data[].attributes.subject
How to read and write graphic Scores - Michael Plourde

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How to Read & Write Graphic Notation (part 2) - Music Stuff With Spock #9

# data[].attributes.body
3. John Cage´s "Aria" graphic scores reminds me the kind of marks I have in my sketchbook. Simple, fine, black lines representing an idea among with bright colors and a little righting.

20. Phillips's "Ornamentik" is a smart way to chalange musicians (in this case actually made for trombone) to try and develop new sounds parting from a viasual lenguage/feeling.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Composer Brian Schorn is as much a visual artist and graphic designer as he is an expert in eletroacoustic music - that is, music using electronic sounds. Nebula is written for three instruments, with each player taking inspiration from one of the three interlinked dark clouds.

# data[].attributes.body
One of the first Sound Record Systems

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Moog System 55 Modular Synth Demo — Daniel Fisher

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The history of sound recording - which has progressed in waves, driven by the invention and commercial introduction of new technologies - can be roughly divided into four main periods:

The Acoustic era (1877-1925)

The Electrical era (1925-1945)

The Magnetic era (1945-1975)

The Digital era (1975-present)

Experiments in capturing sound on a recording medium for preservation and reproduction began in earnest during the Industrial Revolution of the 1800s. Many pioneering attempts to record and reproduce sound were made during the latter half of the 19th century - notably Édouard-Léon Scott de Martinville's phonautograph of 1857 - and these efforts culminated in the invention of the phonograph by Thomas Edison in 1877. Digital recording emerged in the late 20th century and has since flourished with the popularity of digital music and online streaming services.

Edward Elgar and Beatrice Harrison during recording sessions for his Cello Concerto in 1920. Note the recording horns placed before soloist and orchestra

These early recordings were necessarily of low fidelity and volume and captured only a narrow segment of the audible sound spectrum - typically only from around 250 Hz up to about 2,500 Hz - so musicians and engineers were forced to adapt to these sonic limitations. Musical ensembles of the period often favoured louder instruments such as trumpet, cornet, and trombone; lower-register brass instruments such as the tuba and the euphonium doubled or replaced the double bass, and blocks of wood stood in for bass drums. Performers also had to arrange themselves strategically around the horn to balance the sound, and to play as loudly as possible. The reproduction of domestic phonographs was similarly limited in both frequency-range and volume.

By the end of the acoustic era, the disc had become the standard medium for sound recording, and its dominance in the domestic audio market lasted until the end of the 20th century.

Ring-and-spring microphones, such as this Western Electric microphone, were common during the electrical age of sound recording c. 1925-45.

The 'second wave' of sound recording history was ushered in by the introduction of Western Electric's integrated system of electrical microphones, electronic signal amplifiers and electromechanical recorders, which was adopted by major US record labels in 1925. Sound recording now became a hybrid process - sound could now be captured, amplified, filtered, and balanced electronically, and the disc-cutting head was now electrically powered, but the actual recording process remained essentially mechanical - the signal was still physically inscribed into a wax 'master' disc, and consumer discs were mass-produced mechanically by stamping a metal electroform made from the wax master into a suitable substance, originally a shellac-based compound and later polyvinyl plastic.

Contemporaneous with these developments, several inventors were engaged in a race to develop practical methods of providing synchronised sound with films. Some early sound films - such as the landmark 1927 film The Jazz Singer - used large soundtrack records which were played on a turntable mechanically interlocked with the projector. By the early 1930s, the movie industry had almost universally adopted sound-on-film technology, in which the audio signal to be recorded was used to modulate a light source that was imaged onto the moving film through a narrow slit, allowing it to be photographed as variations in the density or width of a "soundtrack" running along a dedicated area of the film. The projector used a steady light and a photoelectric cell to convert the variations back into an electrical signal, which was amplified and sent to loudspeakers behind the screen.

Although there have been numerous refinements to the technology, and other related technologies have been introduced (e.g. the electrostatic loudspeaker), the basic design and function of the dynamic loudspeaker has not changed substantially in 90 years, and it remains overwhelmingly the most common, sonically accurate and reliable means of converting electronic audio signals back into audible sound.

The third wave of development in audio recording began in 1945 when the allied nations gained access to a new German invention: magnetic tape recording. The technology was invented in the 1930s but remained restricted to Germany (where it was widely used in broadcasting) until the end of World War II. Magnetic tape provided another dramatic leap in audio fidelity-indeed, Allied observers first became aware of the existence of the new technology because they noticed that the audio quality of obviously pre-recorded programs was practically indistinguishable from live broadcasts.

From 1950 onwards, magnetic tape quickly became the standard medium of audio master recording in the radio and music industries, and led to the development of the first hi-fi stereo recordings for the domestic market, the development of multi-track tape recording for music, and the demise of the disc as the primary mastering medium for sound. Magnetic tape also brought about a radical reshaping of the recording process-it made possible recordings of far longer duration and much higher fidelity than ever before, and it offered recording engineers the same exceptional plasticity that film gave to cinema editors-sounds captured on tape could now easily be manipulated sonically, edited, and combined in ways that were simply impossible with disc recordings.

These experiments reached an early peak in the 1950s with the recordings of Les Paul and Mary Ford, who pioneered the use of tape editing and multi-tracking to create large 'virtual' ensembles of voices and instruments, constructed entirely from multiple taped recordings of their own voices and instruments. Magnetic tape fueled a rapid and radical expansion in the sophistication of popular music and other genres, allowing composers, producers, engineers and performers to realize previously unattainable levels of complexity. Other concurrent advances in audio technology led to the introduction of a range of new consumer audio formats and devices, on both disc and tape, including the development full-frequency-range disc reproduction, the change from shellac to polyvinyl plastic for disc manufacture, the invention of the 33rpm, 12-inch long-playing (LP) disc and the 45rpm 7-inch "single", the introduction of domestic and professional portable tape recorders (which enabled high-fidelity recordings of live performances), the popular 4-track cartridge and compact cassette formats, and even the world's first " sampling keyboards", the pioneering tape-based keyboard instrument the Chamberlin, and its more famous successor, the Mellotron.

In the digital era, audio recording becomes increasingly dominated by digital audio workstations (DAW).

The fourth and current "phase", the "digital" era, has seen the most rapid, dramatic and far-reaching series of changes in the history of audio recording. In a period of fewer than 20 years, all previous recording technologies were rapidly superseded by digital sound encoding, and the Japanese electronics corporation Sony in the 1970s was instrumental with the first consumer (well-heeled) PCM encoder PCM-F1, introduced in 1981 https://www.kenrockwell.com/audio/sony/pcm-f1.htm.[citation needed ] Unlike all previous technologies, which captured a continuous analogue of the sounds being recorded, digital recording captured sound by means of a very dense and rapid series of discrete samples of the sound. When played back through a digital-to-analogue converter, these audio samples are recombined to form a continuous flow of sound. The first all-digitally-recorded popular music album, Ry Cooder's Bop 'Til You Drop, was released in 1979, and from that point, digital sound recording and reproduction quickly became the new standard at every level, from the professional recording studio to the home hi-fi.

Although a number of short-lived "hybrid" studio and consumer technologies appeared in this period (e.g. Digital Audio Tape or DAT, which recorded digital signal samples onto standard magnetic tape), Sony assured the preeminence of its new digital recording system by introducing, together with Philips, the digital compact disc (CD). The compact disc rapidly replaced both the 12" album and the 7" single as the new standard consumer format, and ushered in a new era of high-fidelity consumer audio.

Dutch inventor and Philips chief engineer Kees Schouhamer Immink was part of the team that produced the standard compact disc in 1980.

CDs are small, portable and durable, and they could reproduce the entire audible sound spectrum, with a large dynamic range (~96 dB), perfect clarity and no distortion. Because CDs were encoded and read optically, using a laser beam, there was no physical contact between the disc and the playback mechanism, so a well-cared-for CD could be played over and over, with absolutely no degradation or loss of fidelity. CDs also represented a considerable advance in both the physical size of the medium, and its storage capacity. LPs could only practically hold about 20-25 minutes of audio per side because they were physically limited by the size of the disc itself and the density of the grooves that could be cut into it - the longer the recording, the closer together the grooves and thus the lower the overall fidelity. CDs, on the other hand, were less than half the overall size of the old 12" LP format, but offered about double the duration of the average LP, with up to 80 minutes of audio.

Although infringement remains a significant issue for copyright owners, the development of digital audio has had considerable benefits for consumers and labels. In addition to facilitating the high-volume, low-cost transfer and storage of digital audio files, this new technology has also powered an explosion in the availability of so-called "back-catalogue" titles stored in the archives of recording labels, thanks to the fact that labels can now convert old recordings and distribute them digitally at a fraction of the cost of physically reissuing albums on LP or CD. Digital audio has also enabled dramatic improvements in the restoration and remastering of acoustic and pre-digital electric recordings, and even freeware consumer-level digital software can very effectively eliminate scratches, surface noise and other unwanted sonic artefacts from old 78rpm and vinyl recordings and greatly enhance the sound quality of all but the most badly damaged records. In the field of consumer-level digital data storage, the continuing trend towards increasing capacity and falling costs means that consumers can now acquire and store vast quantities of high-quality digital media (audio, video, games and other applications), and build up media libraries consisting of tens or even hundreds of thousands of songs, albums, or videos - collections which, for all but the wealthiest, would have been both physically and financially impossible to amass in such quantities if they were on 78 or LP, yet which can now be contained on storage devices no larger than the average hardcover book.

The digital audio file marked the end of one era in recording and the beginning of another. Digital files effectively eliminated the need to create or use a discrete, purpose-made physical recording medium (a disc, or a reel of tape, etc.) as the primary means of capturing, manufacturing and distributing commercial sound recordings. Concurrent with the development of these digital file formats, dramatic advances in home computing and the rapid expansion of the Internet mean that digital sound recordings can now be captured, processed, reproduced, distributed and stored entirely electronically, on a range of magnetic and optical recording media, and these can be distributed anywhere in the world, with no loss of fidelity, and crucially, without the need to first transfer these files to some form of permanent recording medium for shipment and sale.

Music streaming services have gained popularity since the late 2000s. Streaming audio does not require the listener to own the audio files. Instead, they listen over the internet. Streaming services offer an alternative method of consuming music and some follow a freemium business model. The freemium model many music streaming services use, such as Spotify and Apple Music, provide a limited amount of content for free, and then premium services for payment. There are two categories in which streaming services are categorized, radio or on-demand. Streaming services such as Pandora use the radio model, allowing users to select playlists but not specific songs to listen to, while services such as Apple Music allow users to listen to both individual songs and pre-made playlists.

The earliest method of sound recording and reproduction involved the live recording of a performance directly to a recording medium by an entirely mechanical process, often called "acoustical recording". In the standard procedure used until the mid-1920s, the sounds generated by the performance vibrated a diaphragm with a recording stylus connected to it while the stylus cut a groove into a soft recording medium rotating beneath it. To make this process as efficient as possible, the diaphragm was located at the apex of a hollow cone that served to collect and focus the acoustical energy, with the performers crowded around the other end. Recording balance was achieved empirically. A performer who recorded too strongly or not strongly enough would be moved away from or nearer to the mouth of the cone. The number and kind of instruments that could be recorded were limited. Brass instruments, which recorded well, often substituted instruments such as cellos and bass fiddles, which did not. In some early jazz recordings, a block of wood was used in place of the snare drum, which could easily overload the recording diaphragm.

Scott's early recordings languished in French archives until 2008 when scholars keen to resurrect the sounds captured in these and other types of early experimental recordings tracked them down. Rather than using rough 19th-century technology to create playable versions, they were scanned into a computer and software was used to convert their sound-modulated traces into digital audio files. Brief excerpts from two French songs and a recitation in Italian, all recorded in 1860, are the most substantial results.

The phonograph, invented by Thomas Edison in 1877, could both record sound and play it back. The earliest type of phonograph sold recorded on a thin sheet of tinfoil wrapped around a grooved metal cylinder. A stylus connected to a sound-vibrated diaphragm indented the foil into the groove as the cylinder rotated. The stylus vibration was at a right angle to the recording surface, so the depth of the indentation varied with the audio-frequency changes in air pressure that carried the sound. This arrangement is known as vertical or "hill-and-dale" recording. The sound could be played back by tracing the stylus along the recorded groove and acoustically coupling its resulting vibrations to the surrounding air through the diaphragm and a so-called "amplifying" horn.

The crude tinfoil phonograph proved to be of little use except as a novelty. It was not until the late 1880s that an improved and much more useful form of the phonograph was marketed. The new machines recorded on easily removable hollow wax cylinders and the groove was engraved into the surface rather than indented. The targeted use was business communication, and in that context, the cylinder format had some advantages. When entertainment use proved to be the real source of profits, one seemingly negligible disadvantage became a major problem: the difficulty of making copies of a recorded cylinder in large quantities.

At first, cylinders were copied by acoustically connecting a playback machine to one or more recording machines through flexible tubing, an arrangement that degraded the audio quality of the copies. Later, a pantograph mechanism was used, but it could only produce about 25 fair copies before the original was too worn down. During a recording session, as many as a dozen machines could be arrayed in front of the performers to record multiple originals. Still, a single "take" would ultimately yield only a few hundred copies at best, so performers were booked for marathon recording sessions in which they had to repeat their most popular numbers over and over again. By 1902, successful molding processes for manufacturing prerecorded cylinders had been developed.

Not all cylinder records are alike. They were made of various soft or hard waxy formulations or early plastics, sometimes in unusual sizes; did not all use the same groove pitch; and were not all recorded at the same speed. Early brown wax cylinders were usually cut at about 120 rpm, whereas later cylinders ran at 160 rpm for clearer and louder sound at the cost of reduced maximum playing time. As a medium for entertainment, the cylinder was already losing the format war with the disc by 1910, but the production of entertainment cylinders did not entirely cease until 1929 and use of the format for business dictation purposes persisted into the 1950s.

Disc records, too, were sometimes made in unusual sizes, or from unusual materials, or otherwise deviated from the format norms of their eras in some substantial way. The speed at which disc records were rotated was eventually standardized at about 78 rpm, but other speeds were sometimes used. Around 1950, slower speeds became standard: 45, 33⅓, and the rarely used 16⅔ rpm. The standard material for discs changed from shellac to vinyl, although vinyl had been used for some special-purpose records since the early 1930s and some 78 rpm shellac records were still being made in the late 1950s.

Until the mid-1920s records were played on purely mechanical record players usually powered by a wind-up spring motor. The sound was "amplified" by an external or internal horn that was coupled to the diaphragm and stylus, although there was no real amplification: the horn simply improved the efficiency with which the diaphragm's vibrations were transmitted into the open air. The recording process was, in essence, the same non-electronic setup operating in reverse, but with a recording, stylus engraving a groove into a soft waxy master disc and carried slowly inward across it by a feed mechanism.

The advent of electrical recording in 1925 made it possible to use sensitive microphones to capture the sound and greatly improved the audio quality of records. A much wider range of frequencies could be recorded, the balance of high and low frequencies could be controlled by elementary electronic filters, and the signal could be amplified to the optimum level for driving the recording stylus. The leading record labels switched to the electrical process in 1925 and the rest soon followed, although one straggler in the US held out until 1929.

Electrical recording increased the flexibility of the process, but the performance was still cut directly to the recording medium, so if a mistake was made the whole recording was spoiled. Disc-to-disc editing was possible, by using multiple turntables to play parts of different "takes" and recording them to a new master disc, but switching sources with split-second accuracy was difficult and lower sound quality was inevitable, so except for use in editing some early sound films and radio recordings it was rarely done.

Electrical recording made it more feasible to record one part to disc and then play that back while playing another part, recording both parts to a second disc. This and conceptually related techniques, known as overdubbing, enabled studios to create recorded "performances" that feature one or more artists each singing multiple parts or playing multiple instrument parts and that therefore could not be duplicated by the same artist or artists performing live. The first commercially issued records using overdubbing were released by the Victor Talking Machine Company in the late 1920s. However, overdubbing was of limited use until the advent of audio tape. Use of tape overdubbing was pioneered by Les Paul in the 1940s.

Wire recording or magnetic wire recording is an analog type of audio storage in which a magnetic recording is made on thin steel or stainless steel wire.

The wire is pulled rapidly across a recording head, which magnetizes each point along the wire in accordance with the intensity and polarity of the electrical audio signal being supplied to the recording head at that instant. By later drawing the wire across the same or a similar head while the head is not being supplied with an electrical signal, the varying magnetic field presented by the passing wire induces a similarly varying electric current in the head, recreating the original signal at a reduced level.

Magnetic wire recording was replaced by magnetic tape recording, but devices employing one or the other of these media had been more or less simultaneously under development for many years before either came into widespread use. The principles and electronics involved are nearly identical. Wire recording initially had the advantage that the recording medium itself was already fully developed, while tape recording was held back by the need to improve the materials and methods used to manufacture the tape.

With the addition of electronic amplification developed by Curt Stille in the 1920s, the telegraphone evolved into wire recorders which were popular for voice recording and dictation during the 1940s and into the 1950s. The reproduction quality of wire recorders was significantly lower than that achievable with phonograph disk recording technology. There were also practical difficulties, such as the tendency of the wire to become tangled or snarled. Splicing could be performed by knotting together the cut wire ends, but the results were not very satisfactory.

On Christmas Day, 1932 the British Broadcasting Corporation first used a steel tape recorder for their broadcasts. The device used was a Marconi-Stille recorder, a huge and dangerous machine which used steel tape that had sharp edges. The tape was 0.1 inches (2.5 mm) wide and 0.003 inches (0.076 mm) thick running at 5 feet per second (1.5 m/s) past the recording and reproducing heads. This meant that the length of tape required for a half-hour programme was nearly 1.8 miles (2.9 km) and a full reel weighed 55 pounds (25 kg).

Mullin was given two suitcase-sized AEG 'Magnetophon' high-fidelity recorders and fifty reels of recording tape. He had them shipped home and over the next two years, he worked on the machines constantly, modifying them and improving their performance. His major aim was to interest Hollywood studios in using magnetic tape for movie soundtrack recording.

Mullin's tape recorder came along at precisely the right moment. Crosby realized that the new technology would enable him to pre-record his radio show with a sound quality that equalled live broadcasts and that these tapes could be replayed many times with no appreciable loss of quality. Mullin was asked to tape one show as a test and was immediately hired as Crosby's chief engineer to pre-record the rest of the series.

Crosby became the first major American music star to use tape to pre-record radio broadcasts and the first to master commercial recordings on tape. The taped Crosby radio shows were painstakingly edited through tape-splicing to give them a pace and flow that was wholly unprecedented in radio. Mullin even claims to have been the first to use " canned laughter"; at the insistence of Crosby's head writer, Bill Morrow, he inserted a segment of raucous laughter from an earlier show into a joke in a later show that had not worked well.

Keen to make use of the new recorders as soon as possible, Crosby invested $50,000 of his own money into Ampex, and the tiny six-man concern soon became the world leader in the development of tape recording, revolutionizing radio and recording with its famous Ampex Model 200 tape deck, issued in 1948 and developed directly from Mullin's modified Magnetophones.

All of the Beatles classic mid-1960s recordings, including the albums and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, were recorded in this way. There were limitations, however, because of the build-up of noise during the bouncing-down process, and the Abbey Road engineers are still famed for their ability to create dense multitrack recordings while keeping background noise to a minimum.

4-track tape also enabled the development of quadraphonic sound, in which each of the four tracks was used to simulate a complete 360-degree surround sound. A number of albums were released both in stereo and quadrophonic format in the 1970s, but 'quad' failed to gain wide commercial acceptance. Although it is now considered a gimmick, it was the direct precursor of the surround sound technology that has become standard in many modern home theatre systems.

In a professional setting today, such as a studio, audio engineers may use 24 tracks or more for their recordings, using one or more tracks for each instrument played.

The combination of the ability to edit via tape splicing and the ability to record multiple tracks revolutionized studio recording. It became common studio recording practice to record on multiple tracks, and bounce down afterward. The convenience of tape editing and multitrack recording led to the rapid adoption of magnetic tape as the primary technology for commercial musical recordings. Although 33⅓ rpm and 45 rpm vinyl records were the dominant consumer format, recordings were customarily made first on tape, then transferred to disc, with Bing Crosby leading the way in the adoption of this method in the United States.

Analog magnetic tape recording introduces noise, usually called " tape hiss", caused by the finite size of the magnetic particles in the tape. There is a direct tradeoff between noise and economics. Signal-to-noise ratio is increased at higher speeds and with wider tracks, and decreased at lower speeds and with narrower tracks.

By the late 1960s, disk reproducing equipment became so good that audiophiles soon became aware that some of the noise audible on recordings was not surface noise or deficiencies in their equipment, but reproduced tape hiss. A few specialist companies started making " direct to disc recordings", made by feeding microphone signals directly to a disk cutter (after amplification and mixing), in essence reverting to the pre-War direct method of recording. These recordings never became popular, but they dramatically demonstrated the magnitude and importance of the tape hiss problem.

Most Police forces in the United Kingdom (and possibly elsewhere) still use analogue compact cassette systems to record Police Interviews as it provides a medium less prone to accusations of tampering.

The first attempts to record sound to an optical medium occurred around 1900. Prior to the use of recorded sound in film, theatres would have live orchestras present during silent films. The musicians would sit in the pit below the screen and would provide the background noise and set the mood for whatever was occurring in the movie. In 1906, Eugene Augustin Lauste applied for a patent to record Sound-on-film, but was ahead of his time. In 1923, Lee de Forest applied for a patent to record to film; he also made a number of short experimental films, mostly of vaudeville performers. William Fox began releasing sound-on-film newsreels in 1926, the same year that Warner Bros. released with music and sound effects recorded on discs, as well as a series of short films with fully- synchronized sound on discs. In 1927, the sound film The Jazz Singer was released; while not the first sound film, it made a tremendous hit and made the public and the film industry realize that sound film was more than a mere novelty.

The Jazz Singer used a process called Vitaphone that involved synchronizing the projected film to sound recorded on a disc. It essentially amounted to playing a phonograph record, but one that was recorded with the best electrical technology of the time. Audiences used to acoustic phonographs and recordings would, in the theatre, have heard something resembling 1950s " high fidelity".

There are two types of a synchronised film soundtrack, optical and magnetic. Optical soundtracks are visual renditions of sound wave forms and provide sound through a light beam and optical sensor within the projector. Magnetic soundtracks are essentially the same as used in conventional analog tape recording.

Magnetic soundtracks can be joined with the moving image but it creates an abrupt discontinuity because of the offset of the audio track relative to the picture. Whether optical or magnetic, the audio pickup must be located several inches ahead of the projection lamp, shutter and drive sprockets. There is usually a flywheel as well to smooth out the film moves to eliminate the flutter that would otherwise result from the negative pulldown mechanism. If you have films with a magnetic track, you should keep them away from strong magnetic sources, such as televisions. These can weaken or wipe the magnetic sound signal. Magnetic sound on a cellulose acetate film base is also more prone to vinegar syndrome than a film with just the image.[why? ][citation needed ]

For optical recording on film there are two methods utilized. Variable density recording uses changes in the darkness of the soundtrack side of the film to represent the soundwave. Variable area recording uses changes in the width of a dark strip to represent the soundwave.

In both cases, a light that is sent through the part of the film that corresponds to the soundtrack changes in intensity, proportional to the original sound, and that light is not projected on the screen but converted into an electrical signal by a light-sensitive device.

Optical soundtracks are prone to the same sorts of degradation that affect the picture, such as scratching and copying.

Unlike the film image that creates the illusion of continuity, soundtracks are continuous. This means that if film with a combined soundtrack is cut and spliced, the image will cut cleanly but the soundtrack will most likely produce a cracking sound. Fingerprints on the film may also produce cracking or interference.

In the late 1950s, the cinema industry, desperate to provide a theatre experience that would be overwhelmingly superior to television, introduced widescreen processes such as Cinerama, Todd-AO and CinemaScope. These processes at the same time introduced technical improvements in sound, generally involving the use of multitrack magnetic sound, recorded on an oxide stripe laminated onto the film. In subsequent decades, a gradual evolution occurred with more and more theatres installing various forms of magnetic-sound equipment.

In the 1990s, digital audio systems were introduced and began to prevail. In some of them the sound recording is again recorded on a separate disk, as in Vitaphone; others use a digital, optical sound track on the film itself. Digital processes can now achieve reliable and perfect synchronization.

Vinyl records, or long playing (LP) records, have become popular again as a way to consume music despite the rise of digital media. Over 15 thousand units were sold between 2008 and 2012, their sales reaching the highest level in 2012 since 1993. Popular artists have begun releasing their albums on vinyl, and stores such as Urban Outfitters and Whole Foods have started selling them. Popular music corporations, such as Sony, have started manufacturing LP for the first time since 1989 as this medium becomes more popular. However, some companies are facing production problems as there are only 16 record plants currently functioning in the United States.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The history of sound recording - which has progressed in waves, driven by the invention and commercial introduction of new technologies - can be roughly divided into four main periods: The Acoustic era (1877-1925) The Electrical era (1925-1945) The Magnetic era (1945-1975) The Digital era (1975-present) Experiments in capturing sound on a recording medium for preservation and reproduction began in earnest during the Industrial Revolution of the 1800s.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
A brief timeline of key breakthroughs in recorded sound

Universal History Archive/Getty Images2/24

Microphone (1877)

Thomas Edison scored the patent (as he was wont to do), but British telegraph pioneer David Edward Hughes is commonly recognized as the auteur of our first functioning microphone. By loosely packing carbon granules in a confined space, Hughes discovered that sound vibrations resulted in varying electrical currents and a more balanced reproduction. His first demonstration involved broadcasting scratching insects, a clear forerunner for nü-metal frontmen of the late 20th century.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A brief timeline of key breakthroughs in recorded sound Thomas Edison scored the patent (as he was wont to do), but British telegraph pioneer David Edward Hughes is commonly recognized as the auteur of our first functioning microphone. By loosely packing carbon granules in a confined space, Hughes discovered that sound vibrations resulted in varying electrical currents and a more balanced reproduction.

# data[].attributes.headline
"Homemade" musical Instruments that are actually quite professional

# data[].attributes.subject
"Homemade" musical Instruments that are actually quite professional

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Flickriver: Most interesting photos from Homemade Musical Instruments pool

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Flickriver - view images as a 'river of photos' and more...

# data[].attributes.body
actually possible to do

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Homemade Musical Instruments: Creating music is always fun, but making it with your own homemade musical instrument is much better. Luckily making your own instrument is easy and many can be made in an afternoon with little more than everyday items found around your house. ...

# data[].attributes.body
The App for itself is a instrument in the form of a beautiful Graphic Score, which for me, as a visual person, makes much easier to understand the musical process and create a more fluid sound.
The sound is based in a major scale pattern disposed in a rectangular landscape in which the notes follow their natural pattern of sequence in the horizontal and vertical imaginary lines. The Colors - Pink to Blue are indicators of low, mid and high notes according to the harmonic sequence of the scale.

# data[].attributes.body
A really eficient and cheap alternative to normal chords.
The dental floss can be bended several times to create a lower note in the chord

# data[].attributes.body
Tony built this instrument called Gatorra by himself "to speak, to express, to protest". He has many different models, and sells it till today.
The band "Franz Ferdinand" has one.

# data[].attributes.body
Videoclip where the viewer feels like seeing a landscape from inside a moving train. The aspects of the landscape represent different sounds and repeat accroding to the beat.

# data[].attributes.body
The Graphics of the video appear and disappear according to the beat of the song.

# data[].attributes.body
This is an app that turns the drawing into sounds.It has a very intuitive interface, making it funs and easy to create.

# data[].attributes.body
How it works.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Sonic Wire Sculptor is based on a musical instrument by Amit Pitaru which has been shown in museums and galleries world wide. A great effort has been placed in reworking the app to take advantage of the the iPhone's unique audio and input capabilities.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
An avant-garde piece produced by Len Lye, colours and shapes accompany the popular 1930s tune ‘Swinging the Lambeth Walk’.

Find out more information about this title at britishcouncil.org/film.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know? (Official Video)

# data[].attributes.headline
The White Stripes-Hardest Button To Button

# data[].attributes.subject
The White Stripes-Hardest Button To Button

# data[].attributes.body
Videoclip that follows the format of the song according t the beat

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The White Stripes - The Hardest Button To Button (Official Music Video)

# data[].attributes.headline
A Riot is the Language of the Unheard - Kathryn Kemmis

# data[].attributes.subject
A Riot is the Language of the Unheard - Kathryn Kemmis

# data[].attributes.body
idk

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The Audio Almanac is released in a limited edition of 300 copies on white vinyl with 32-page 12" booklet and free CD version.

Like all Black Dogs products the Audio Almanac is sold at cost price.

Includes unlimited streaming of Audio Almanac via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

about

The Audio Almanac is a compilation of songs, music, recordings, collages and aural oddities produced by individuals with varying degrees of affinity with the epithet 'artist,' compiled and produced by Leeds-based artist collective Black Dogs.

Whilst not every contributor can be said to be wholly comfortable with their individual works framing as a piece of art, Black Dogs are keen to point out that the enjoyment and attention spent in the close-listening to and immersion in this product could be considered an artistic act. Whereas in the past they have described the books produced by the collective as an exhibition between covers, in this instance you are invited to imagine the record as an exhibition on a turntable.

credits

released June 18, 2010

produced by Black Dogs 2010

This product and it's contents are published under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License except track one and associated artwork copyright David Steans and track thirteen and associated artwork copyright James Islip. Track two was written by John Lennon (copyright 1971) and may not be copied, distributed or broadcast to the public in any way whatsoever.

Mastered by James Islip. Contact jimmythemags@gmail.com.

With thanks to Aston at Key Productions www.keyproductions.co.uk and all at Footprint Workers Co-op www.footprinters.co.uk

www.black-dogs.org

blackdogsleeds@yahoo.com

license

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Audio Almanac by Black Dogs, released 18 June 2010 1. My Fellow Artists III 2. Imagine All The People (1969) 3. Fish Ejaculate Escapes the Net 4. Turtosimian 5. Baby, Come Home 6. Seven Part Fanfare 7. Role-Play Exercise for Courtroom Interpreters Part 1: Refusal 8. Are You Who You Think You Are?

# data[].attributes.body
Book Image, Music, Text- Pdf.
*Main chapters-

Musica Practica & The Grain of The Voice.

# data[].attributes.body
An exhibition I went in The National Gallery where "Soundscapes commissioned musicians and sound artists to select a painting from the collection and compose a new piece of music or sound art in response. Immersive and site-specific, the exhibition encouraged visitors to experience these masterpieces in a new way, by ‘hearing’ the paintings and ‘seeing’ the sound."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Soundscapes: Paintings | Exhibitions and displays | National Gallery, London

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
View the paintings featuring in 'Soundscapes'

# data[].attributes.body
powerpoint

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
An exhibition of contemporary approaches to graphic scores to mark the 50th Anniversary of the British Music Collection. Curated by Jacob Thompson-Bell

Introduction (ctd.)
This exhibition is divided into four parts, each exploring different approaches, to celebrate just some of the ways in which British artists are working with graphic scores today.
Part 1: Storytelling Part 2: Composition as Performance Part 3: Place and Landscape Part 4: Listening
The artists featured use graphic scores to tell stories, to map or document the sounds of a specific geographical location, to encourage people to listen again to their surroundings, and to examine issues of authorship and compositional process.

The church of St Digain, Llangernyw.

Folklore tells of a local man, John Ap Robert, who challenged the truth of this story.

One Halloween night, he goes to the churchyard to disprove the legend.

Anyone can take Legard's illustrated pages and use them as the basis for a musical improvisation. At the same time, Angelystor records something of the feel and heritage of the location on which it is based.

Legard's score is also partnered with an extended sound work weaving together music and field recordings from the location, with the score acting as a kind of map for listeners.

The instructions tell us the score is to be realised by "2 vacuum cleaners/vocalist in foetal position on a sofa/'daemon' voice/sample of a cat purr".

The inevitable distance between the musical interpretation and the physical features of the box itself is perhaps analogous to the fuzzy recollection of nightmares and past cinematic encounters that inspired this work.
Listen on SoundCloud

This piece is an example of how the combined media inherent within graphic scores can allow composers to communicate on a variety of levels.

The work reveals its origins through the imagery, speaking directly to the young people who provided its narratives, whilst allowing any performing musician the license to bring their own musical experiences to bear on the interpretation.

Claudia Molitor says: "Uncontrolled markings enter the score, setting the unintentional alongside the intentional.

The (de)formed score testifies to a failed authorship and flawed rationalism of an initial compositional intention.

The work resonates against the historicity of the score as the primary site for musical meaning."

Architect and composer Emma-Kate Matthews' score, created for the London Graduate Orchestra, seems to explode out of the confines of traditional stave-based notation.

This page is both an instruction to performers and a self-contained visual piece, performed on the page.

Matthews still considers "any score and/or drawing produced to facilitate the performance of a musical composition, as a means to an end and not an end in itself."

However, the use of open-ended graphic elements acts something like a compositional signature, embedding the composer's presence within the score.

(Read the full New Voices interview)

Walshe (Verens), further complicating (or satirising) the distance between these sticks and the resultant music, tells us that the various shapes created by the formations of the bamboo are inspired by pictures taken by satellites orbiting the earth in space.

What might be called an artistic "work", in homage to a seriousness of intent, has become a "play ground", a fluctuating centre for activity on or around the composer's own acts of listening and notating.
Listen on SoundCloud

Part 3: Place and Landscape

The meeting of sonic and visual dimensions that graphic scores explore can create powerful geographical connections. Artists can use them to map and document the sounds of a specific location. Once performed, these scores can become site-specific meditations, or give rise to fresh musical responses that encourage people to reappraise the landscape around them.

Mapping Yorkshire
In 2016, I commissioned a series of new graphic scores from artists based in Yorkshire, as part of a project called Fresh Yorkshire Aires. The scores were exhibited and published as a book compilation.

The brief was to create a score that drew inspiration from the landscape of the region.

Fresh Yorkshire Aires also includes an online showcase of graphic score work and sound-visualising media by Yorkshire-based artists.

freshyorkshireaires.wordpress.com

This view shows the skyline around Bradford Old Rd, Halifax, England.

Katie English used her score to map features like these to create a sequence of graphic notation.

Katie says: "I decided to make my piece about my surroundings in Halifax. The town has a rich industrial history but is also surrounded by rolling hillsides and moorland and I felt that this visually dramatic landscape lent itself perfectly to a musical score...

Jobina Tinnemans says: "Rugged wild landscapes with their hills and mountains read like music to me.

The Icelandic use the work fjallasyn to describe a distant view, especially in clear weather and from a point where you can see a big part of a highland area - a panorama with many peaks."

Jez riley French says: "The works invite musicians, audiences and individuals in their locales, to reflect on the sounds around them and pause for a time, allowing the sounds that we, as a species, often filter out to become present again in our perception."

A (silent) teapot-music box suddenly giving rise to an internal rendition of Two For Tea.

Much of my own work engages with listening, using graphic score transcription to map the sounds of specific places.

This score was created in response to sounds in Tom's Deli at Somerset House, London, on 20 February 2014.

The ear at the centre represents my listening, with the notation travelling outwards in a spiral, transcribing the recording between 16:05 - 16:06 that day. The scribbling pencil denotes the sound of my sketching, caught on the microphone as I noted down what I heard.

This score is part of a collection created as part of a Sound and Music Embedded residency at Somerset House, 2013-15.

Created for the British Music Collection, with thanks to Sound and Music.

Special thanks to Harry Cooper at Sound and Music and to the artists whose work is featured in this exhibition.

The story featured may in some cases have been created by an independent third party and may not always represent the views of the institutions, listed below, who have supplied the content.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
An exhibition of contemporary approaches to graphic scores to mark the 50th Anniversary of the British Music Collection. Curated by Jacob Thompson-Bell Introduction (ctd.) This exhibition is divided into four parts, each exploring different approaches, to celebrate just some of the ways in which British artists are working with graphic scores today.

# data[].attributes.headline
Iannis Xenakis - Pithoprakta (w/ graphical score)

# data[].attributes.subject
Iannis Xenakis - Pithoprakta (w/ graphical score)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Iannis Xenakis - Pithoprakta (w/ graphical score)

# data[].attributes.body
The Graphic Notation used to represent the techno experimentation was developed in a “frame notation” or “field notation”; which presents the sonic spectrum in a rectangle or some other shape were notes or symbles are read from left to right (flow of time). Usually higher symbles represents the higher notes and lower symbles represents the lower notes (pitch).

# data[].attributes.body
Ligeti's "Artikulation" has this name because an artificial language is articulated: question and answer, high and low voices, polyglot speaking and interruptions, impulsive outbreaks, humor and whispering..

First time seeing the graphic scores I got the feeling that the song was a smooth jazz from the 50's from the vintage color pallette and geometric forms used in the interior home design of the time. But the song is actually a tech ambientation music. It is from 1958, as I thought, and was recorded in magnetic tape.

# data[].attributes.body
Notes are frequently represented by simple shapes: dots, circles, squares, triangles, drops and combinations of those.

Lines are also used a lot to represent ligatos from one note to other and whenever extended from a basic note shape it emphasizes the duration and rhythm. The thichkness of the lines represent the dynamic in the intensity of the note and volume.

# data[].attributes.body
The man who gave the ideia to the piece "Ornamentik" by Tom Phillips.

# data[].attributes.body
Ornamentik is a piece created in 1968 with screenprint on paper by Tom Phillips at the request of an experimental american player, Stuart Dempster. It was originally made for trombone, but can be played with any instrument and is actually a creative challenge to corner him into inventing new sounds or techniques.

The graphic score comes with instructions and is a cell notation as it breaks the piece down in small sections that are perfomed one at a time, and as stated, read from left to rightI, with vertical alignment indicating simultaneity. In it, there are several different symbols that assemble road signs,. They are formed by basic geometric forms such as rectangles, circles, archs and arrows, arranged in different compositions  and painted in bright orange as suggested by William Gardiner (The Music of Nature, London 1832) to signify the trombone playing.

# data[].attributes.body
This Graphic Notation very differently from the most didn’t have (yet) specific sounds attached to it when created and is a very creative way to provoke insights in musicians through visual language.

# data[].attributes.body
Soundscapes is an exhibition that took place in London’s National Gallery in 2015, in which six musicians and sound artists were asked to create original content based in paintings from the collection of the museum. The artworks were used as Graphic Scores and musics were made according to the mood the visual provides and interpreting the shapes themselves as musical material.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Soundscapes exhibition teaser | The National Gallery, London

# data[].attributes.body
Jamie XX, produced a composition called “Ultramarine” in response to the painting “Coastal Scene” by Théo van Rysselbergue.The painting which represents a Seascape was created using French pointillist style and it’s complimentary colours follows a cool tone.

# data[].attributes.body
Based on the optical effects of the pointillism that dissipates and dissolves the painting if seen from up close the music difuses and breaks up, because of the environment in which directional speakers encourage you to see the work and listen to the music from different vantage points. As standing furthest from the painting you can hear the music as it is intended to sound, just as the brushworks appears to give the work a unified form.

# data[].attributes.headline
How to make a tongue drum using a gas tank 

# data[].attributes.subject
How to make a tongue drum using a gas tank 

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Revelação de Jesus Cristo, a qual Deus lhe deu, para mostrar aos seus servos as coisas que brevemente devem acontecer; e pelo seu anjo as enviou, e as notificou a João seu servo; O qual testificou da palavra de Deus, e do testemunho de Jesus Cristo,... - Apocalipse 1 acf

# data[].attributes.headline
"A selection of pages from an eighteenth-century demonology book comprised of more than thirty exquisite watercolours showing various demon figures, as well as magic and cabbalistic signs."

# data[].attributes.subject
"A selection of pages from an eighteenth-century demonology book comprised of more than thirty exquisite watercolours showing various demon figures, as well as magic and cabbalistic signs."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
A selection of pages from an eighteenth-century demonology book comprised of more than thirty exquisite watercolours showing various demon figures, as well as magic and cabbalistic signs. The full Latin title of Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros, roughly translates to "A rare summary of the entire Magical Art by the most famous Masters of this Art". With a title page adorned with skeletons and the warning of Noli me tangere (Do not touch me), one quickly gets a sense of the dark oddities lurking inside its pages. The bulk of the illustrations depict a varied bestiary of grotesque demonic creatures up to all sorts of appropriately demonic activities, such as chewing down on severed legs, spitting fire and snakes from genitalia, and parading around decapitated heads on sticks. In additon there seem also to be pictures relating to necromancy, the act of communicating with the dead in order to gain information about, and possibly control, the future. Written in German and Latin the book has been dated to around 1775, although it seems the unknown author tried to pass it off as an older relic, mentioning the year 1057 in the title page.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Compendium Of Demonology and Magic (ca. 1775)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A selection of pages from an eighteenth-century demonology book comprised of more than thirty exquisite watercolours showing various demon figures, as well as magic and cabbalistic signs. The full Latin title of Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros, roughly translates to "A rare summary of the entire Magical Art by the most famous Masters of this Art".

# data[].attributes.body
Modern view on ancient demons.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Inspiration Grid is a daily-updated gallery celebrating creative talent from around the world. Get your daily fix of design, art, illustration, typography, photography, architecture, fashion and more.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Illustration | Art and design | The Guardian

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
After receiving 450 entries, here are the 24 finalists competing to illustrate a new edition of Arthur Conan Doyle's The Selected Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, in a competition run by The Folio Society and House of Illustration

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
...As part of a reference photoshoot for an illustration project by Warsaw-based creative studio Ars Thanea, a bouquet of roses was set on fire and photographed as they smoldered in the dark. The glow of the dying embers is strangely evocative, it would be amazing to see an entire series of different flowers photographed like this. You can see the final illustration and how they caught the images over on Behance. (via Boing Boing)...

...Over the last year, Polish designer and illustrator Janusz Jurek has been exploring different forms of generative illustration as it relates to the human form. Some of my favorites are collected into a series title Papilarnie where bundled lines that look like lightning or roadways on maps converge into 3D arms, feet, and other incomplete bodies. You can see more of his generative illustration work over on Behance....

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
As part of a reference photoshoot for an illustration project by Warsaw-based creative studio Ars Thanea, a bouquet of roses was set on fire and photographed as they smoldered in the dark. The glow of the dying embers is strangely evocative, it would be amazing to see an entire series of different flowers photographed like this.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
A vida Das Abelhas - Parte I - Documentário

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
In this intriguing sculptural series spanning 2005 to 2014, LA-based artist Walead Beshty packaged his artworks in FedEx boxes and shipped them across the country to exhibitions and galleries. But unlike most artists who utilize every bit of care to protect and pad their artwork from the inevitable rough handling of mail carriers, Beshty designed his pieces to break. For his famous FedEx works he constructed laminate glass objects that fit seamlessly within the dimensions of standard size shipping boxes. Through the "normal" handling the objects would inevitably crack and shatter and it was up to curators and gallerists to carefully remove each piece for display. The fragile volumes were then given titles that specifically mention the date, tracking number, and box size of shipment.

Not only was Beshty fascinated by obtaining a "fingerprint" of sorts that documented the journey of each package to its destination, but he also found it curious that a corporation has the ability to copyright the exact dimensions of a box, essentially owning an empty shape. He shares in a 2011 interview with Mikkel Carl:

The FedEx works [...] initially interested me because they're defined by a corporate entity in legal terms. There's a copyright designating the design of each FedEx box, but there's also the corporate ownership over that very shape. It's a proprietary volume of space, distinct from the design of the box, which is identified through what's called a SSCC #, a Serial Shipping Container Code. I considered this volume as my starting point; the
perversity of a corporation owning a shape-not just the design of the object-and
also the fact that the volume is actually separate from the box. They're owned
independently from one another.

Furthermore, I was interested in how art objects acquire meaning through their context and through travel, what Buren called, something like, "the unbearable compromise of the portable work of art". So, I wanted to make a work that was specifically organized around its traffic, becoming materially manifest through its movement from one place to another.

Here's a brief video of Beshty explaining the project during the 2008 Whitney Biennial. (via BoingBoing)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Artist Walead Beshty Shipped Glass Boxes Inside FedEx Boxes to Produce Shattered Sculptures

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
In this intriguing sculptural series spanning 2005 to 2014, LA-based artist Walead Beshty packaged his artworks in FedEx boxes and shipped them across the country to exhibitions and galleries. But unlike most artists who utilize every bit of care to protect and pad their artwork from the inevitable

# data[].attributes.headline
Exquisite Corpse - Victor Brauner, Jacques Herold, Violette Herold, Yves Tanguy, Raoul Ubac 

# data[].attributes.subject
Exquisite Corpse - Victor Brauner, Jacques Herold, Violette Herold, Yves Tanguy, Raoul Ubac 

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
MoMA | Cadavre Exquis (Exquisite Corpse) with Yves Tanguy, Joan Miró, Max Morise, and Man Ray. Nude. 1926-27

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Painel de azulejos, Aeroporto Internacional Juscelino Kubitschek, 1993. Brasília - DF, Brasil Arquiteto Sérgio Parada Foto Edgar César Dimensões 343 x 2820 cm Painel de azulejos, Aeroporto Internacional Juscelino Kubitschek, 1993. Brasília - DF, Brasil Arquiteto Sérgio Parada Foto Edgar César Dimensões 343 x 2840 cm

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A typeface that is pre-cut into paper. Then put above a bed of seeds. The seeds start growing through the paper and the name of the restaurant emerged.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Fractal Drawing Game | Online Abstract Art Maker | Draw Abstract Art and Save

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The Fractal Drawing Game, make abstract art using an online fractal tool and save the image for yourself.

# data[].attributes.body
Help Georgia O'Keeffe transform Skulls into flowers.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Georgia O'Keeffe's Art Transformation | Arcade style Art Games for Kids

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Art-inspired arcade game where Georgia O'Keeffe turns skulls into flowers.

# data[].attributes.body
In this game you have to walk the streets of Montmartre to find Picasso's Studio.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Art Game about Pablo Picasso | Looking for Picasso's Studio | Virtual Tour of Montmartre

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Art game where you start at Sacre Coeur in Paris and look for Picasso's studio in Montmartre

# data[].attributes.body
Test your recognition abalities trying to guess who painted each image without it's respectives main subjects.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Who Painted That? | Guess the name of the painter | Famous artworks without their subject

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Who painted that? An arts Game for kids, figure out who painted each masterpiece without its subject

# data[].attributes.body
"Picasso will show you one of his paintings and you need to guess the word that best describes it(...) But as Picasso stands there next to his painting, if you choose a wrong letter, you'll see Picasso start to disappear from the feet up to his head ."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Picasso Hangman Game | Art Game featuring Picasso | Free online games for teenagers | Arts games online

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Play the Picasso Hangman game, and guess things from his art career

# data[].attributes.body
Mix famous portraits to create diffent faces.
From all the games of this artistic games website this was the one that influenced my work the most. I decided to also make a game using different paintings and artworks all cuted out to form endless different combinations but not only portraits and using more organic shapes.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Art History Portrait Game | Famous Portraits in Art | Mix and Match Game

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Create a new face by mixing and matching art history portraits

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
interactive installations - Interactive installations are works of art that, on their own, are brilliant-but with the help of the viewers, interactive art becomes someth...

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Art Machines Machine Art at Museum Tinguely part 1

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Art Machines Machine Art at Museum Tinguely part 2

# data[].attributes.headline
On Loging - Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic,the Souvenir, the Collection

# data[].attributes.subject
On Loging - Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic,the Souvenir, the Collection

# data[].attributes.headline
Cornelia Parker on five works and the pieces that inspered them

# data[].attributes.subject
Cornelia Parker on five works and the pieces that inspered them

# data[].attributes.body
Cornelia talks about some of her inspirations for specific art pieces and how violence is often intrincincate on her works, crystalized and formalized into the unexpected.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
For this interview, I invited her to talk about five works of art representing the breadth of her output that were at least partly inspired by other artists.

Landscape with Gun and Tree (2010)

Inspired by Thomas Gainsborough's 'Mr and Mrs Andrews' (c.1750)

"In 2009, I spent a few weeks at Jupiter Artland, a sculpture park outside Edinburgh owned by my friends Nicky and Robert Wilson. They would go shooting, and somehow, with their land and their dogs, they reminded me of Gainsborough's Mr and Mrs Andrews (c.1750). So when they commissioned me to make something for the park, I found myself thinking of Gainsborough, and created a 9m-tall shotgun leaning against a tree. I wanted the gun to hang out of a tree, just as the gun is draped over the arm of Mr Andrews in Gainsborough's painting, but it looked clunky. So instead, the gun barely touches the tree - it kisses it, and lies between this cleft in the branches, this phallic object with a beautiful tree. I said to Nicky, I don't think I can call this 'Mr and Mrs Wilson', because it's too naughty."

Breath of a Librarian (1998)

Inspired by Piero Manzoni's 'Artist's Breath' (1960)

"This work was a bit of a joke. The Italian artist Piero Manzoni made a series known as Artist's Breath, in which he inflated balloons and put them on plinths. They're all deflated now, but every time I see one, it really does something for me - perhaps it's the distressed nature of the perished rubber, which isn't easy to conserve. I thought of Manzoni when I found a burst balloon in the Reading Room at the British Museum shortly before the British Library moved out - I guess it must have been from the final party. I decided to memorialise the breath of a librarian, because librarians are unsung: we all want the breath of an artist, but the poor old librarian never gets a look-in. It's funny, but it's also meant to be tragicomic, like the writing of Samuel Beckett. His work is minimal in movement and structure, but emotionally it is so near the knuckle it's untrue - and yet it's also incredibly funny. More recently I showed a piece called Breath of a Politician featuring a balloon printed with the words "Jeffrey for Mayor" - it was made for Jeffrey Archer when he was going to stand for Mayor of London before he was sent to jail. I thought it was perfect: the balloon hadn't been inflated, whereas Archer's inflated ego had just been popped."

The Distance (A Kiss with String Attached) (2003)

Inspired by Auguste Rodin's 'The Kiss' (1901-04)

"I love Rodin - he's so sensual and erotic. But sometimes I feel he's too lyrical and beautiful. The Kiss, which used to sit in the rotunda of the Tate Gallery is probably the most popular sculpture in Britain. As a romantic idea, though, it feels simplistic: it's about love, but not about the complications of love. So when I was invited to participate in the 2003 Tate Triennial, I decided to wrap it in string, to add some complexity to the sculpture. I was also referring to the artist Marcel Duchamp, who draped a mile of string over a Surrealist exhibition in New York in 1942, as an act of sabotage. The string in my work was a punk gesture - a deliberately provocative act. I started by wrapping it tightly around the heads of Rodin's lovers, so that the kiss itself was obscured. It became a piece about the complexity of relationships - about how the things that bind people together can also suffocate them. When it was shown, someone chopped off the string with a pair of shears. He got arrested and the Tate wanted to prosecute. But the police said it would be hard to prosecute cutting a piece of string. I didn't want it to go to court. It would have been silly, and I hadn't set out to make a frivolous piece."

The Maybe (1995)

Inspired by Henry Wallis's 'Chatterton' (1856)

"The actress Tilda Swinton wanted to do a performance piece called The Maybe in which she appeared as Snow White asleep in a glass coffin. I immediately thought of Wallis's painting, partly because Tilda looks so Pre-Raphaelite. I thought that performing in costume would make it a piece of theatre, not art, so in the end Tilda wore her own clothes and lay there for eight hours a day asleep, or at least seeming to be. Sometimes people would whisper obscenities to her through the glass. It made Tilda feel vulnerable, and by the end she had shingles because of the stress. I felt bad because that wouldn't have happened if she had been in costume. Because she was just being herself, people could project much more onto her. But that was the whole point."

Thirty Pieces of Silver (1988)

Inspired by Richard Long's 'A Line Made by Walking' (1967)

"One day, while thinking about what I could make for my first major one-person show, at the Ikon Gallery in Birmingham, I went to a scrap merchant where I saw a skip full of mangled pewter and silver objects including a whole load of damaged teapots. I thought: that's nice. Here were these flawed objects with pretensions to grandeur, but something horrible had happened to them, so they were brought down to earth. At the same time, I was interested in photographs released by HM Customs and Excise that showed fake Rolex watches being squashed by a steamroller. They reminded me of Tom and Jerry cartoons, when a steamroller would come along and squash something flat. So I decided to hire a steamroller and squash some silver plate. I laid out the silver in a long line as a little nod to Richard Long's A Line Made by Walking, a black-and-white photograph in the Tate of a line he had made by walking across a field full of daisies. I loved the idea that you could make an artwork just by having your feet in some daisies. Since Thirty Pieces of Silver, I have squashed lots of objects, including brass musical instruments. I suppose I must get some perverse pleasure out of seeing things flattened. I like the idea of taking three-dimensional objects and making them two-dimensional, so that they look like cartoons."

Cornelia Parker will appear at the Telegraph Hay Festival at 8.30pm on Saturday, May 25.

'Cornelia Parker' by Iwona Blazwick, with an introduction by Bruce Ferguson, a preface by Yoko Ono, and extensive commentaries by the artist, is published by Thames & Hudson (£35, thamesandhudson.com).

An exhibition of new work by Cornelia Parker is at Frith Street Gallery, London from June 7 - July 27 2013 (frithstreetgallery.com).

A new BBC Four programme on Cornelia Parker will be aired at 8pm on June 4.

You can download a free digital version of The Hayly Telegraph, the daily paper of the Hay Festival, each day of the festival from the iBookstore. Visit iTunes.com/HayFestival or search 'Hayly Telegraph' on the iBookstore.

Keep up to date with the Telegraph's coverage of the Hay Festival 2013

Follow Telegraph Art on Twitter

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Hay 2013: Artist Cornelia Parker on five works and the pieces that inspired them

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
For this interview, I invited her to talk about five works of art representing the breadth of her output that were at least partly inspired by other artists. Landscape with Gun and Tree (2010) Inspired by Thomas Gainsborough's 'Mr and Mrs Andrews' (c.1750) "In 2009, I spent a few weeks at Jupiter Artland, a sculpture park outside Edinburgh owned by my friends Nicky and Robert Wilson.

# data[].attributes.headline
The Doors of Perception- Vision and Innovation in Alternative Processes 

# data[].attributes.subject
The Doors of Perception- Vision and Innovation in Alternative Processes 

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Doors of Perception - Jesseca Ferguson

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The Doors of Perception: Vision and Innovation in Alternative Processes at Photographic Resource Center Boston February 5 - March 23, 2013

# data[].attributes.headline
John Baldessari -  The Cremation Project

# data[].attributes.subject
John Baldessari -  The Cremation Project

# data[].attributes.body
John Baldessari Burned Down all of his paintings done between 1953 and 1966. He than collected the ashes and made a cookie recipe with them, creating a connection between human life process and death acception.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Cremation Project, 1970 - John Baldessari - WikiArt.org

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The Cremation Project, 1970 by John Baldessari. Conceptual Art. performance

# data[].attributes.headline
Susan Hiller - Painting Books & Painting Blocks

# data[].attributes.subject
Susan Hiller - Painting Books & Painting Blocks

# data[].attributes.body
Susan Goes Back ito previously done paintings and reformats them into books and sculptures - Perhaps recreate the illustration project in 3d.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Painting Books & Painting Blocks, 1972-84: Two series of previously-exhibited paintings reconfigured in sculptural formats, various dates and sizes.(Top: Big Blue,1976,open. Bottom: Three Painting Blocks,dated with size of originating works).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
'Who', asks artist Marc Camille Chaimowicz, 'would want to revisit all of their earlier work?'. This question, which is proposed and pondered although not definitively answered, recently appeared in Chaimowicz's personal account of remaking his groundbreaking 1972 installation 'Celebration? Realife' for his 2009 show at Artists Space, New York. What is compelling about Chaimowicz's discussion of the remake, and so intriguing about artists who choose to remake their own art works, is the literalness employed in reflecting on one's own practice.

The consideration of the remake is something that initially seems slippery, and which finds itself unhelpfully sprawling into categories of retrospectives, reimaginings, reappropriations and replicas. Even when attempting to designate clear parameters for the criteria of a remake-work remade by the original artist rather than any other party; work not remade as a consequence of damage or editioning of an original; work purposefully authored as a remake even if the remake exists 'in the spirit' of the original-the conditions for the remake circumscribes questions of reuse, authority and agency.

To turn first to Chaimowicz's work in question, then: 'Enough Tiranny Recalled, 1972-2009' was a title specifically conceived for the Artist Space remake of 'Celebration? Realife'. Encapsulating seductive elements of disco, drugs and social exchange, the original work provided an expansive suggestion of what installation art could be, and rejected the then-monochromatic seriousness of postminimalism. An immersive environment, Chaimowicz's work was set against the ambient backdrop of Velvet Underground records, the gallery space filled with glitter balls and dozens of floor-based items including roses, sequins and fairy lights. The curatorial interest in remaking this work was clear: the date of 'Celebration? Realife' neatly coincided with the founding of Artists Space. And seen now, Chaimowicz's radical interpretation of the vocabulary of installation remains vital, potent and clearly resonates in a host of younger practices, such as those of artists Cathy Wilkes, Nairy Baghramian, Giles Bailey and Haegue Yang, to name but a few.

More specifically, however, Chaimowicz's remake is a nostalgic personal reflection that enables the 'return' of early work elements into the relevance of the artist's current practice. And while this is by no means the first time that Chaimowicz has remade 'Celebration? Realife', it is nonetheless significant that the timing of his Artists Space show immediately preceded the presentation of a substantial amount of new work at Vienna's Secession. The relationship between these two shows opened up a path between past and present, like a carefully placed trigger primed to spark dialogue about the conception of an artist's practice, rather than simply a discussion on the discrete occurrence of objects over time. Certainly, when remarking on his intention behind the remade installation and its quality of then-and-now-ness, Chaimowicz stated that 'the future will, in all probability, fold itself into the past to better accommodate itself in the present'.

The remake's ability to straddle radically different periods is perhaps one its most attractive properties one that allows an artistic acknowledgement of the passing of time through a career, while also embracing the fluctuating nature of artistic intentionality that occurs over the elapsed period. Such an appeal is evident in Joan Jonas' 'Good Night Good Morning', a video originally made in 1976 and recently remade in 2009. The original 11-minute film, shot in portrait and depicting the artist repetitiously saying 'good night' or 'good morning' at respective times of day, was a diaristic ritual that collapsed the idea of real-time video and immediacy. Her latest remake, which has accumulated material since its initial showing in 2006, displays the artist visibly aged, with her salutations more relaxed in comparison to the systematic seriousness of the original. With a hint of gentle self-parody, Jonas appears to reflect on her change and, in doing so, illuminates how the revivalist character of the remake allows the artist to slip into the role of audience while also acquiring critical distance from one's work .

Although less evident in the aforementioned works of Chaimowicz and Jonas, the remake is also able to create a contemporary political charge that may not be found in the original. In 1975, for example, Carl Andre refused permission for the Whitney's display of '29th Copper Cardinal', made in the same year-a work in the museum's collection. When Andre's request to remove the work and buy it back for its original value plus 10% was ignored by the gallery, the artist declared the work a 'corpse', and remade a work by the same name to be exhibited on his own terms in a space off West Broadway, Manhattan. Although Andre's move was extreme, his dramatic action underscores the potential of the remake to inject the authority and vitality of the artist into both past and present forms of work. It undermines the valorization of the uncontextualised autonomous object and asserts an uncommon level of artistic control. Other forms of political commentary on the historicisation of the remake are also remarkable. Ed Ruscha's 2009 Hayward exhibition, for instance, grouped both the artist's original 'Blue Collar' 1992 painting series alongside 'Course of Empire', a series of paintings that reassessed the sites of the 'Blue Collar' paintings as they existed in 2005. Similarly, James Benning took his 1977 film 'One Way Boogie Woogie' as the basis for a shot-for-shot remake in 'One Way Boogie Woogie/27 Years Later', 2005. Comprising of 60 one-minute static shots of areas around Milwaukee's industrial valley, the remake used the same soundtrack as the original, rupturing the clean line between past and present, while also informing Benning's shrewd statement that 'place is a function of time'.

Remaking a work relies on the intention and inclination of the artist-that much is clear. But there are nonetheless a number of conditions that make this choice possible. I would characterise these conditions as follows: that the artist has produced a body of work over a significant period of time, otherwise the remake would simply be an unreflected repetition; that the artist has maintained a successful or, at the very least, a viable and visible career in that time, one which shows development rather than reiteration; and that the original work chosen to be remade still holds relevance to the current state of the artist's practice not only for the artist, but also for the curator and, by extension, the perceived audience. Thus the process of the remake is something available to the limited few. And even with these aforementioned factors, there is of course the narrowing effect of the art market to consider-an entity with an insatiable appetite for the 'new', both in terms of an interest in 'young' artistic practices as well as the constant production of new work by artists at all levels of their career.

I discussed these criteria with an artist friend who might indeed fall into the category of 'emerging practice'. Her response, self-admittedly cynical, was that she viewed my positive understanding of the remake as a mere engagement with 'reproduction', and an artist's knee-jerk reaction to market demand for seminal work reduced to the repeatable edition or, even more dubious, the 'version'. We were agreed about the problematic ability of the remake to fall into the gesture of self-historicisation. But somehow, her argument against the validity of remake seems to me ultimately fatalistic. The remake admits, with a certain sense of inevitability perhaps, that some art works have the ability to shape the character of an entire practice. These works, the ones that 'follow' the artist around, are not always seminal in the eyes of the artist. But some works-the ones artists deem worthy of remaking -are emblematic of an unresolved or open-ended quality that maintains a relevance or urgency to the present moment. At the heart of the remake then, is the rather human acknowledgement that one's previous work may possess a sensibility that is unavailable to one's current forms of making. And for that reason alone, the original must be remade.

Isla Leaver-Yap was formally MAP's editor-at-large

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
'Who', asks artist Marc Camille Chaimowicz, 'would want to revisit all of their earlier work?'. This question, which is proposed and pondered although not definitively answered, recently appeared in Chaimowicz's personal account of remaking his groundbreaking 1972 installation 'Celebration? Realife' for his 2009 show at Artists Space, New York.

# data[].attributes.headline
Interview with Chaimowicz about Enough Tiranny Recalled, 1972-2009

# data[].attributes.subject
Interview with Chaimowicz about Enough Tiranny Recalled, 1972-2009

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The artist Marc Camille Chaimowicz, based in London and Burgundy, France, is well known for numerous works made during the 1960s and '70s that collapse distinctions between performance and installation, as well as art and life. For the reopening of Artists Space in New York on September 26, Chaimowicz will present Enough Tiranny Recalled, 1972-2009. Here he discusses the work.

I WASN'T FAMILIAR with Artists Space. I don't know too much about the contemporary New York art scene at all, really. My decision to do this show had everything to do with the institution's new director, Stefan Kalmár, who I've worked with before in Munich and London. When he called me with a request to exhibit this piece, I felt as though I couldn't turn him down, even though this particular work takes a while to put into place.

This exhibition is as much about me showing this work as it is about Artists Space inaugurating a new era. It was when we agreed on the show that we also realized that Enough Tiranny originated in 1972, the year Artists Space opened. It was last shown in 2007 at the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London, in the context of "The Secret Public," and there it had a dedicated space upstairs. At Artists Space, it will appear in a room that is much more open, as there is now a certain transparency to the gallery.

I never imagined that I'd have to deal with issues of storage or longevity. Everything I made back then was based on the ephemeral. Who would want to revisit all of their earlier work? But in a sense, this show concurs with my skepticism of the forced presumption that time is linear. Perhaps time operates in a different way--a warping that can fold in on itself. Hopefully, given the specificity of the venue, it's like a new work. But it also has a shared protocol, a footprint that returns to its origin.

This exhibition will provide a nice foil to my forthcoming show at the Secession in Vienna, which will comprise new work. There's a comfort in dealing with the known at Artists Space, and it frees me to deal with the unknown at Secession. It's a reversal of George W. Bush's comment in which he said something like "There's new work happening in the old world, and old work happening in the new world."

Enough Tiranny was first shown in the west gallery of the Serpentine in London, which at the time seemed like a posh establishment to young artists. Only weeks before I had exhibited Celebration? Real Life at Gallery House. These venues were located close to each other in Kensington, so it felt like I was easily transferring issues and sensibilities from one venue to the other, although that wasn't necessarily the case.

Gallery House was a much darker, clublike environment compared with Serpentine, which had traditional hours, a regular staff, and daylight filtering in. But they were opposite sides of the same coin, really. I compensated for the middle-class values inherent in the Serpentine's program. It was tougher, but I had to pare my ideas down.

In terms of reception, the way I was working was alien to an audience that was still presuming to see work on the walls to be negotiated at eye level. Mine was floor-based, scattered. At the Serpentine on a sunny day, people walking through the park might stop by, and they were bemused, shocked, by the work.

In many ways, the young hippie crowd was the most relaxed. They would linger. The drug culture then was charming, more gentle. They spoke to their friends about the work and came back. It became a haven, which I was courting. I was critical of the alienating distance between the work and the viewer, and this is a gap I've continued to review.

One thing I wonder about is whether the work still has a degree of radicality. It was shown several years ago in Zurich, where no one had heard of me. It was interesting because art students were asking about this "new young artist." They presumed youth behind the work, which implies, perhaps, that there is still a critical urgency.

- As told to Lauren O'Neill-Butler

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The artist Marc Camille Chaimowicz, based in London and Burgundy, France, is well known for numerous works made during the 1960s and '70s that collapse distinctions between performance and installation, as well as art and life. For the reopening of Artists Space in New York on September 26, Chaimowicz will present Enough Tiranny Recalled, 1972-2009.

# data[].attributes.headline
Joan Jonas - Good Night Good Morning (1976)

# data[].attributes.subject
Joan Jonas - Good Night Good Morning (1976)

# data[].attributes.body
Quoted in the interview for the article of MAP magazine #21, Joan Jonas uses video as a diaristic construct to chart the passing of personal time through quotidian ritual. It was recently remade in 2009.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Electronic Arts Intermix: Good Night Good Morning, Joan Jonas

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
In Good Night Good Morning, Jonas uses video as a diaristic construct to chart the passing of personal time through quotidian ritual. Over three different periods in New York and Nova Scotia, she videotaped herself every day, briefly addressing the camera upon waking in the morning and bef...

# data[].attributes.headline
Joan Jonas - Good Night Good Morning (2009)

# data[].attributes.subject
Joan Jonas - Good Night Good Morning (2009)

# data[].attributes.body
"Her latest remake, which has accumulated material since its initial showing in 2006, displays the artist visibly aged, with her salutations more relaxed in comparison to the systematic seriousness of the original. With a hint of gentle self-parody, Jonas appears to reflect on her change and, in doing so, illuminates how the revivalist character of the remake allows the artist to slip into the role of audience while also acquiring critical distance from one’s work."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Joan Jonas (American, born 1936) is best known for her unique combination of installation, performance, drawing, photography, and film. Jonas characteristically develops her wide-ranging works by continually supplementing and refining them over the course of several years. Often, she will repeat a performance only to then transform it into an installation when she feels that the narrative has reached completion. This exhibition will debut two works by Jonas that the museum recently acquired. Despite the thirty years between their creations, they are expressly connected.

The two works presented in this exhibition- Good Night Good Morning, 1976, and My New Theater VI, Good Night Good Morning '06, 2006-contemplate the passage of time, the process of ageing, and the artist's self-identity. To create the 1976 video, Jonas spoke directly to the camera, as if it was a mirror, and wished it a "good morning" and a "good night" each day over the course of three weeks. In 1997, Jonas began a new series entitled "My New Theater," 1997-2006, as a means to make public her creative process via small, portable theaters she calls "worlds in miniature." The integration of sculpture and performance in these works is drawn from aspects of her studio practice. In My New Theater VI, Good Night Good Morning '06, Jonas observes herself just as the viewer might observe her. Now aged seventy, she revisits her 1976 work. In this later version, however, she looks indirectly into the camera via a mirror, demonstrating a more playful side of herself in contrast to the stoicism of her performance many years prior. Together, these two works form a powerful self-portrait of the artist, as well as an illustration of the changes her work has undergone during the past three decades.
This exhibition is organized by Godin-Spaulding Curator & Curator for the Collection Holly E. Hughes. Admission to this exhibition is free during M&T FIRST FRIDAYS @ THE GALLERY.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Joan Jonas (American, born 1936) is best known for her unique combination of installation, performance, drawing, photography, and film. Jonas characteristically develops her wide-ranging works by continually supplementing and refining them over the course of several years. Often, she will repeat a performance only to then transform it into an installation when she feels that the narrative has reached completion.

# data[].attributes.body
Carl Andre's Copper Coener was instakllked in a way the work would be seen differently from what the artist originally intended when he made the piece. After trying to buy it back from the museum unsuccesfully, the artist proclaimed the work a corpse and remade a work by the same name to be exhibited on his own terms.

# data[].attributes.headline
Natalya Zrazhevskaya & Umario Diallo - Roxanne

# data[].attributes.subject
Natalya Zrazhevskaya & Umario Diallo - Roxanne

# data[].attributes.body
Marcela's reference

# data[].attributes.body
Marcela's reference

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Down @marianhillmusic | Choreography by @IaMEmiliodosal & @erica_klein

# data[].attributes.body
Marcela's reference

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
SLIP | @PhillipChbeeb & Renee Kester | @ElliotMossMusic

# data[].attributes.headline
Chaz Buzan & Courtney Schwartz - Let it go (a breakup story)

# data[].attributes.subject
Chaz Buzan & Courtney Schwartz - Let it go (a breakup story)

# data[].attributes.body
Marcela's reference

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
James Bay - Let It Go - Dance | A Breakup Story #DanceOnJamesBay

# data[].attributes.body
Marcela's Reference
coreography - Tyce Diorio

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
X Ambassadors - UNSTEADY | Official Dance Video #LoveisLove

# data[].attributes.headline
Ryan Hanson & Jaslyn Reader - El Tango de Roxanne

# data[].attributes.subject
Ryan Hanson & Jaslyn Reader - El Tango de Roxanne

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
El Tango De Roxanne Dance- Featuring Ryan Hanson & Jaslyn Reader

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Sergei Polunin, "Take Me to Church" by Hozier, Directed by David LaChapelle

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Sia - Elastic Heart feat. Shia LaBeouf & Maddie Ziegler (Official Video)

# data[].attributes.body
German performer of modern dance, choreographer, dance teacher and ballet director. With her unique style, a blend of movement, sound, and prominent stage sets, and with her elaborate collaboration with performers during the development of a piece (a style now known as Tanztheater), she became a leading influence in the field of modern dance from the 1970s on. (Died in 2009 with 68)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
"A Sagração da Primavera", por Pina Bausch

# data[].attributes.body
"In her early dances, Rainer focused on sounds and movements and often juxtaposed the two in arbitrary combinations. Inspired by the chance procedures favored by Cage and Cunningham, Rainer’s choreography was a combination of classical dance steps contrasted with pedestrian movement. She used a great deal of repetition and employed spoken language and oral noises (including squeaks, and shrieks, etc.) within the body of her dances."

"Rainer sometimes included filmed sequences in her dances, and in 1972 she began to turn her attention to directing feature-length films.[10] The feminist tone of her films, characterized by an interest in how the female body was being viewed or objectified by male directors, would have resonated with emerging feminist film theory of the time period"

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Robert Rauschenberg - Pop Art Pioneer Full BBC Documentary 2016

# data[].attributes.headline
60's New York Art Scene   - Dance Revolution

# data[].attributes.subject
60's New York Art Scene   - Dance Revolution

# data[].attributes.body
Bea's reference

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
It's a sweltering September day in New York and Yvonne Rainer, one of the most iconoclastic choreographers of her generation, is having lunch in a SoHo restaurant that offers, among other mysterious and expensive things, "teenage lettuce". It's a world away from the bohemian SoHo that Rainer inhabited back in the 1960s, when the area's lofts were home to artists of every hue.

Yet Rainer, straight-backed, fiercely cogent and still creating work, remains true to the decade when downtown Manhattan was a pressure cooker of creativity and experimentation. It was a time, likened by some to 1920s Paris, when choreographers, painters, writers and musicians went on a collective mission to reinvent their art forms. And it was a time, in particular, when choreographers and visual artists formed a new bond, collaborating and influencing each other. The results changed both stage and gallery for ever.

"The art world was so much smaller then," Rainer says. "The same group of people were involved in music concerts, art events and dance concerts. It was an exhilarating time, a very heady time."

One of the key venues in this cultural explosion was a large Baptist church, presided over by a former-marine-turned-minister called Howard Moody, who had unusually hip, libertarian views of what his ministry involved. Impressed by the creative buzz emanating from Greenwich Village and beyond, Moody opened up Judson Memorial Church to local artists who needed space to exhibit, rehearse or perform but couldn't pay rent.

The minister astonished everyone with his tolerance of what went on in his church - as long as it didn't happen on a Sunday. Rainer once staged a work with naked dancers. "There was a huge scandal," she says. "I think the church was threatened with excommunication from the main Baptist organisation. But Howard didn't care."

In 1962, Rainer and a small group of passionately experimental choreographers founded the Judson Dance Theatre - but it was never just about dance. Musicians, poets and, above all, visual artists gave in to its pull, all of them participating in collective workshops and many, despite having no training, performing in works choreographed there. The most famous participant was Robert Rauschenberg. "He loved being around dancers," Rainer says. Others included sculptors and conceptual artists Robert Morris and Alex Hay. "We were a community of people who partied together, ate together, travelled together and worked together," says Hay. "I don't see anything like that today." It felt, he adds, like a family.
Pelicans and parachutes
Ideas were transmitted between dancers and artists almost by osmosis. Rauschenberg - fascinated by the idea of extending visual art into performance - was one of the first artists to try choreography. He made his debut with Pelican, in which he rollerskates dangerously around Carolyn Brown, the serene, exquisite Merce Cunningham dancer. Both are wearing parachutes that billow behind them like giant dragonfly wings. Some film of the 1963 piece survives, confirming Rainer's memory of it as an "extraordinary work".

This fascinating footage is one of the highlights of Move: Choreographing You, a new show that opens today at London's Southbank Centre. Its aim is to capture and celebrate that vital moment in the 1960s when, as curator Stephanie Rosenthal puts it, "artists began exploring the world through their bodies as well as through their eyes". As well as dance inspired by Morris's minimalist sculpture and a re-creation of an early "happening" by master assemblagist Allan Kaprow, Move boasts The Fact of the Matter, an installation by William Forsythe that makes its spectators become dancers by having them swing and clamber through a forest of gymnast rings.

Morris performed in many Judson works but also choreographed four of his own. Rainer remembers these as "beautiful pieces" in which Morris's dance language evolved through an unusual method: the performers shunting and shoving huge, free-standing wooden structures about the stage.

But the choreographers were just as fascinated by the visual artists. Rainer tried to find the dance equivalent of Morris's sculpture, his simple objects and pared-down forms. In We Shall Run, she created a seven-minute piece from 12 dancers running in patterns around the floor.

"There were just so many ideas floating around," says Lucinda Childs, another Judson choreographer. "I grabbed on to Bob Morris's minimalism but pop art was fascinating to me, too." Her solo work Carnation was the performance equivalent of one of Rauschenberg's "combines", or works assembled from seemingly random images and objects. Childs, a meticulously beautiful dancer, enacted a grave but nonsensical ritual that involved assembling a hat out of hair curlers and a colander, and making a weeping assault on a blue plastic bag.

"I was always trying to shock the others at Judson," says Deborah Hay, another choreographer. "Trying to make them go, 'Is that really dance?' It was a blast." But, despite the free trafficking of ideas and opportunities, there was one sense in which the dancers felt inferior to the artists. "They had so much more pull than us," says Rainer, "because of their contacts with powerful galleries and critics. Bob Rauschenberg was the most powerful. In fact, it was through him that we began to get invitations to perform elsewhere. In a sense, we were the dancing girls who were brought in at the tail of the meteor."

It didn't last. In the mid 60s, as pivotal members began to go off to explore their own projects, the Judson collective unravelled. But the conceptual links that were forged between them have proved much more durable. Move not only includes work from the Judson era but a huge variety of material built on its foundation in the decades that followed.
Backwards and in the nude
All the issues that so preoccupied Rauschenberg, Rainer and their peers, such as the blurred divide between artist and performer, the relationship between body and space, the possibility of turning gesture into art, remain provocatively alive in the contributions to Move - including the latest work from Spanish performance artist La Ribot, which provides a detailed list of instructions to the spectators, suggesting actions to perform as they watch.

But one of the most telling examples of the power that Judson has wielded over the contemporary art world is Trio A, a work Rainer choreographed in 1966. The piece, which will be danced at the Hayward once a week, involves a four-and-a-half-minute phrase of movement, performed in a studiedly neutral fashion with dancer or dancers averting their eyes from the audience. Over the years, it has been staged in many ways: nude, backwards, as an hour-long solo. Even at its first showing it acquired a degree of notoriety. Rainer had made the decision to have wooden slats thrown loudly on to the side of the stage throughout, causing one irritated viewer to grab a slat, tie a white hankie to it, and signal his surrender.

"Now," Rainer says, "Trio A has become a kind of fetish," and she has started keeping a catalogue of how it has been used in other people's work: there was a collection of paintings by a Norwegian artist, each one inspired by its moves; and a piece of New York performance art in which a film of Rainer dancing was screened alongside four hip-hoppers from Harlem attempting the choreography. "That was a disaster," she grins.

But Rainer also has plans of her own. Soon to turn 76, she is going to dance the work again herself, live. "It will involve a new kind of effort with grunts and groans attached," she says. "It will be a whole new form. I'm going to call it Geriatric Trio A."
Topics

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How the 60s New York arts scene revolutionised dance

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
It's a sweltering September day in New York and Yvonne Rainer, one of the most iconoclastic choreographers of her generation, is having lunch in a SoHo restaurant that offers, among other mysterious and expensive things, "teenage lettuce". It's a world away from the bohemian SoHo that Rainer inhabited back in the 1960s, when the area's lofts were home to artists of every hue.

# data[].attributes.body
Ohad Naharin

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Gaga is a new way of gaining knowledge and self-awareness through your body. Gaga provides a framework for discovering and strengthening your body and adding flexibility, stamina, and agility while lightening the senses and imagination. Gaga raises awareness of physical weaknesses, awakens numb areas, exposes physical fixations, and offers ways for their elimination. The work improves instinctive movement and connects conscious and unconscious movement, and it allows for an experience of freedom and pleasure in a simple way, in a pleasant space, in comfortable clothes, accompanied by music, each person with himself and others.

"We become more aware of our form. We connect to the sense of the endlessness of possibilities. We explore multi-dimensional movement; we enjoy the burning sensation in our muscles, we are ready to snap, we are aware of our explosive power and sometimes we use it. We change our movement habits by finding new ones. We go beyond our familiar limits. We can be calm and alert at once." - Ohad Naharin

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Gaga is a new way of gaining knowledge and self-awareness through your body. Gaga provides a framework for discovering and strengthening your body and adding flexibility, stamina, and agility while lightening the senses and imagination. Gaga raises awareness of physical weaknesses, awakens numb areas, exposes physical fixations, and offers ways for their elimination.

# data[].attributes.headline
 10 Radical Artists who use dance as a medium

# data[].attributes.subject
 10 Radical Artists who use dance as a medium

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Dance entered the realm of visual art in a big way in the 1950s and '60s: a response to social alienation, widespread uncertainty, and anxious feelings brought on by the Cold War and the spread of mass media and communication systems (and to think: they didn't even have the internet, smartphones, or a reality show host as the president). To reconcile these emerging anxieties, many artists embraced the body-the meeting point between the public and the personal-specifically in the form of choreographed and improvised movement. Says curator Nelly Richard: "It is at the level of what we understand as everyday life, namely the intersubjective microcircuits existing within the couple or the family, work, domestic organization, urban movements, etc., that the division between the public (the sphere of social productivity) and the private (everything outside that sphere) can be traced. The body is the stage on which this division primarily leaves its mark."

The major distinction between traditional dance (such as ballet) and the emergence of dance as an artistic medium is dance-as-art's reference to all corporeally-bound beings. Introducing dance as a facet of visual art opens up the conversation of movement: including mundane daily rituals as a deliberate, explorative act. Liberating dance from the realm of solely elite, highly-skilled and trained athletes, the medium holds the potential to act as a form of subversion against oppressive regimes and capitalistic ideals-so it's not surprising that movement became a primary facet of artistic practice at the height of counterculture in the '60s. However, after the 1960s, dance-as-art fell out of the mainstream, most likely because it couldn't sustain itself financially. How do you put a price on a fleeting performative act?

Fast-forward to now: still anxious, still at war, still confused, we are subject to a modern world that increasingly attempts to divide us whilst our physical proximity to eachother increases. With the aid of smartphones and social media, bodies that are unjustly mistreated, violated, or violently killed are not only becoming publicly available and easily seen, but also politicized. Today we constantly face the question: what does it mean to exist as a body in the modern world? Thus performative dance seems a more necessary expression than ever.

The past few years have marked a drastic turn toward re-embracing dance in the realm of art museums as opposed to a form of entertainment performed in theaters. Shifting the venue may seem insignificant, but getting rid of the stage aspect of dance breaks down the distinction between performer and audience. The experience is intimate, cathartic, ephemeral, and also simultaneously challenging and confusing to viewers. There are no seats, so viewers stand at different angles and move around to view the performance as they would a sculpture or installation. It raises a lot of questions: is this a publicity stunt, or is this a re-evaluation of the lexicon of art in the current socio-political climate?

The body exists despite the corporate, virtual world: ripe with its vulnerability; its neediness; its excretion; and desire. It can't be bought and sold so easily. Each moment, interaction, movement, or reaction is an improvisatory act, and so by extension, all experience within the body is a facet of art; a reminder that we exist beyond our Twitter handles as actual living, breathing people in the world. These ten artists, spanning from the founders of modern dance to contemporary artists, have and continue to wrestle with this notion, using dance to explore what it means to be a body in the world.

---

MODERN DANCE AS VISUAL ART
Yvonne Rainer
Yvonne Rainer (b. 1934) was one of the preliminary figures in the merging of dance and art. Her choreography, dance, film, and writing were postured in direct conversation with an array of artistic movements including minimalism , postmodernism, conceptualism , and feminism . Rainer was an integral member of the Judson Dance Theater movement, which was founded in 1962 to blur the lines between dancer and non-dancer. Her works utilized everyday, ritual movements and gestures, emphasizing the body as a living, breathing entity. In her piece Trio A: The Mind is a Muscle , the dancers perform a series of "performance demonstrations" without looking at the audience. She strayed from the theatricality and emotional narrative of traditional dance, rather engaging with theoretical ideas of power and inequality.
Merce Cunningham and John Cage
Artist Merce Cunningham radicalized dance, focusing primarily on the movement itself, rather than a narrative or the accompanying music. Cunningham's collaborative work with his partner, artist John Cage , was wildly innovative, disintegrating the corresponding time structures between music and dance. Often the dancers would learn the routine in silence, only hearing the music at the first performance. Narrative conventions such as climax, conflict, resolution, and cause and effect were disregarded and dismantled, reflecting the reality of the human condition and the element of chance. Cunningham additionally collaborated with artist Robert Rauschenberg , who created his signature combines using scrap materials such as wood, metal, and fabric as freestanding stage elements. Cunningham and Rauschenberg were both insterested in the relationship of art, technology, and daily life, often assembling disparate elements of found objects and improvised movement.
Trisha Brown
Choreographer Trisha Brown was an integral figure of the American postmodern dance movement, and the influence of her works still prevails today. She bridged the worlds of art and dance, collaborating both with renowned choreographer Mikhael Baryshnikov for the Paris Opera Ballet, as well as with visual artists Robert Rauschenberg, Donald Judd , and Nancy Graves . Brown moved to New York City in 1961, when she joined the avante-garde Judson Dance Group. She dismantled academia and musicality from her work, inspired by John Cage's radical changes to music. In 1970 she founded the Grand Union, and then the Trisha Brown Dance Company. She made radical gestures in response to the history of dance, and practiced in unconventional spaces without any music. Her style was often referred to as "release technique." Her later works, beginning in the '80s, incorporated a more aesthetic element, as in Set and Resent, Newark , and Astral Convertible . Her work continually challenged the norms of dance, and made an event out of simple, ritual actions.

CONTEMPORARY DANCE AS VISUAL ART
Ralph Lemon
Ralph Lemon (b. 1952) is a contemporary choreographer, dancer, writer, and artist, in no particular order. Each of his practices lends to and informs the other. For him, there is no boundary between spectator and experience. Says Lemon, "I am thinking around performance , the stage, the museum or gallery, visual art, video , film, writing... active contemplation and how I would like to be able to live in and between these particular forms (perceived medium landscapes) as organically as possible, banishing any hierarchy... A principal question to this process is: how can an intensive artistic research and immediate art-making practice translate to the staged realm of the spectator? This ongoing struggle between process and production creates a tension that is a vital element in all of my artistic work." His work has been exhibited at a number of museums including the Studio Museum in Harlem, the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and the Contemporary Art Center in New Orleans.
Trajal Harrell
Choreographer and dancer Trajal Harrell (b. 1973) mixes elements from historical dance with contemporary perceptions of the medium. For example, h is work Twenty Looks or Paris is Burning at the Judson Church integrates post-modern dance techniques and theories with "voguing," a stylized dance emerging from Black American drag culture originating in the Harlem ballrooms of the '80s; along with the Japanese dance form "butoh," a surrealist, abject art that emerged as a refutation of conservative ideals in postwar Japan. Harrell re-investigates the influence of rhythm and blues, jazz and funk music on post-modern dance, and creates a social dialogue between contemporary dance and historical context and concept. He has collaborated with sculptor Sarah Sze in creating a dance performed in a gallery setting, in which two dancers are connected by thread. Harrell has exhibited at The Walker Art Center, the Bronx Museum of Fine Art, New Museum, MoMA, and more.
Okwui Okpokwasili
Okwui Okpokwasili (b. 1972) is a dancer of Nigerian descent, born and raised in the Bronx. Her work addresses the body's inherent political history. Her performances are highly personal and draw from her own experiences. In her piece Bronx Gothic , for example, the artist incorporated letters shared between two young girls in the Bronx, who contemplated their place in a world that systematically oppresses women of color and who cultivated strength through community and dialogue. Her work Poor People's TV Room speaks to the history of women in Nigeria, specifically the Boko Haram kidnappings and the Women's War against colonialism in 1929. She breaches the boundaries between an intimate and unsettling atmosphere. She has collaborated with dancer/choreographer Ralph Lemon on numerous works including Scaffold Room and Performance 14: On Line .
Sarah Michelson
Sarah Michelson (b. 1964) is a choreographer living and working in New York. She asks, "where does dance reside in the dancer's body?," and, "what is the dancer's relationship to performance?" For Michelson, dance is an act of devotion -a sentiment that spurred her series of the same name. Place and aesthetic is highly important to Michelson's work. For her piece Dance 4 , performed at the new Whitney Museum , Michelson collaborated with curators Jay Sanders and Greta Hartenstein to create a dance floor made of 220 paintings, inspired by the architecture of the Whitney's previous building on Madison Avenue, now the Met Breuer. In an interview with Michelson, choreographer Ralph Lemon writes for Bomb Magazine, "I don't really know Sarah Michelson, not really. We see each other at shows, occasionally; we had tea together once. She has been a downtown myth to me for a number of years, a dancer and choreographer whom I admire. The few (important) works I've seen of hers have made me tremble, have scared me a little-in a good way. Something about their odd imagination, their severe rigor, and precise stage world. Something about what she does that I don't know, can't know, and don't want to know. I've enjoyed this shaky and indeterminate exchange very much...." Michelson is deliberately unknowable, reveling in what is unpopular and rejected.
Phoebe Berglund
Phoebe Berglund is an emerging artist, ceramacist, and choreographer based in New York City. After studying at both the Martha Graham School, as well as Movement Research in downtown Manhattan, she quit dance for a period because the stage performance environment no longer resonated with her. Her work combines dance with installation and constructed dance spaces incorporating ceramics as "documents" and arranging them in ways that reflects various disciplines including the dancer's stage, the librarian's organization, and the archeologist's arrangement of artifacts and relics. She refers to the body as "a technological tool...(an) instrument that notates the dance. It is important to (Berglund) that the body operate between music made with contemporary machines and clay tablets, the oldest material used for writing." She has performed in a number of spaces and museums including MoMA PS1, where she collaborated with Hannah Levy in the show Night at the Museum: Past Skin, a series of performances, immersive installations and soundscapes.
Brennan Gerard and Ryan Kelly
Brennan Gerard and Ryan Kelly collaboratively make dance performance installations in museum settings to investigate the relation of a couple, and critically evaluate modes of intimacy. Their choreographed performances use video , language, and sculpture to start a conversation about intamacy, in public, and in the context of contemporary art. Their work incites a "queer consciousness" using sexuality, memory, and habitual action. Their work Modern Living (2016) deals with themes of domestic space, taking place in a modernist home. They ask the question "what would a home have to look and feel like today to protect and produce intimacies and relations that don't fit within dominant narratives of family, marriage, or domesticity?" In their ongoing project P.O.L.E. (People, Objects, Language, Exchange) they incite conversation through a series of performances and public events in gallery spaces. The performers in the piece are New-York based dancers from a variety of backgrounds and disciplines, from street dance to subway pole dancing. The work addresses the Black Lives Matter Movement, including a video of the aftermath of the shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, M.O., and offers a way of fostering community and intimacy amongst a community of diverse people.
FlucT
FlucT is a collaborative project of artists Sigrid Lauren and Monica Mirable. Their work is characterized by "violent intimacy" and expresses the psychosis of modern American culture and societal regimes. FlucT's choreographed dances are both intoxicating and unsettling, depicting modes of obedience both societally and self-inflicted. Lauren and Mirable grab at each other desperately between moments of flailing as though possessed by an unseen puppet-master, and call to mind Plato's cave allegory, evaluating what it means to be a body whilst trapped in a virtual world. FlucT has performed at a number of museums and venues including the Queens Museum; MoMA PS1; Secret Project Robot in Brooklyn; and Platform Gallery in Baltimore. They also founded and run a performance space called Otion Front Studio in Bushwick, Brooklyn.

RELATED ARTICLES
Carolee Schneemann on Embodying the "Movement from Interior Thought to External Signification" "New York Made Me Sick at Heart": Performance Artist Zhang Huan Reflects on How American Made Him More Chinese
[related-works-module]

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Body Politic: 10 Radical Artists Who Use Dance as a Medium

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
With the rise of socio-political anxieties, ephemeral forms of art incorporating the physical body are more vital than ever.