Monthly Archives: October 2005

The Image and the Wanderer

“By architecture, I don’t just mean the city’s visible image and the whole of its architectures. It is rather about the architecture as a construction; I want to speak of the city’s construction throughout time.”1

crédit photo : Alfonso Arzapalo

crédit photo : Alfonso Arzapalo

Alfonso Arzapalo’s work Déjà fait proposes, through a synchronic image (an image made up of simultaneous events), to experience an artwork already in place but in constant transformation. In this work, the photographed location and the photography of this location are presented at the same time on the different planes of the shooting site. The artist has put together a course throughout the city punctuated by photographic fragments. Thus photographs act simultaneously in specific areas of the city. Arzàpalo pays special attention to the architecture in his work, which highlights the relationship between the individual memory of our experience and the collective memory of the monuments left by history.

Roaming the trace

In the course proposed by Arzapalo, I first went to the Champs-de-Bataille Park near the Quebec Citadel.

When I arrived I notice an object standing in the landscape; a rectangle on a metal rod. I approach it and notice on one of its planes, houses on Saint-Denis street, located behind the object. Strange impression of similarity and difference between the plans. Slight nuances between the luminosities. I move around the photo. Following the series of dwellings, the view opens on the scope of the St. Lawrence River and the South Shore, and then on the Citadel and later on a bird’s-eye view of the city, and finally, back to the homes and the picture placed in front of me. I look at it again, a man and a woman walk by, then I make my way to the next stop.

This place offers a strategic point of view on the river and the surrounding area, thus the presence of the Citadel built two centuries ago on the heights of the Cap-aux Diamants to defend the city. In that location, Arzapalo photographed a series of neoclassical houses located on Saint-Denis street. The photography planted in the turf creates a direct relationship with the subject. Thus, the photographic fragment opens on its environment in parallelism between the temporalities. The present coexists with the past, the fragment with the whole, and the instant with the duration of the course experienced in the urban fabric.

The artist confronts us with a conceptual photography which oscillates between the picture of the site, the site itself and the route that connects the various points. He offers an experience that takes place between the photographic, the “performative” and the architectural, while using photography as a time-based location to focus on fragments of architecture in a course within the city. The artwork already exists. Arzapalo marks locations and proposes stopovers. His course becomes our own. Each photographic fragment faces the whole of what was photographed and refers to the displacing that contains them.

Its increased attention to the urban space is transferred to us and leads to imagine the location we inhabit. The specificity of the site and the spatial arrangement of each photography influence our relationship with it as an object. The photography located the Champs-de-Bataille park creates a circular relationship and the steel rod acts as a pivot in the landscape while the photography placed in Square d’Youville installs a front-end rapport by an accumulation of successive layers. In Alfonso Arzàpalo’s work, the image is built up in the relationship between the photography, the photographed location and the course, to bring us to a different experience of photography. Thus his photographs of concepts and ideas as well as his increased attention to the urban fabric bring on an intensification of the daily routine. Through the journey, he inserts in the photographic moment a time in which the image is transformed. He works with the idea of landscape while a swaying occurs from one place to another in the proposed course. The souvenir of the visited locations lingers on to the next one. The landscape is fixed in the photography but is forever being transformed in the reality and in our memory. In this way, the mark that is the landscape acts as an eraser of the medium and provides a change of scenery. Time, movement, duration… To see the residents’ urban intervention as a component of the artwork. To think and document the ephemeral action because what remains is in the document and in the memory as an intention to break the boundaries between the art world and the living environment so that they cohabit.

I keep on walking. At the bend of a main roan, I again come across a photograph perched on a steel rod. Planted in a green lawn, it borders a wall of grey stones that carve up a blue sky. I’m thinking. My memory plays a trick on me. Temporalities get mixed up. Now I remember, the green lawn inhabits the photography, while the actual ground is covered with snow. That day, the pale grey sky, the dark grey wall and the white ground rather suggest a black and white photo. Thus, when I pass by, this colour photograph is etched in a black and white environment but recalls the warm and sunny day when it was shot. Fragment of the wall projects the materiality of the age of this stone, part of a wall of fortification which was built as early as 1608.

Thus, Arzapalo sets up a device that reveals a temporality of wandering in the sedimentation of layers of time. This accumulation finds itself concretely in the presentation of the photography on the site of its shooting and virtually in the path where we build the image. The wandering in the city etches the photography in a duration that lends to the image the possibility to build itself in time. This intimate rapport with the locations in the heart of the city and with the pieces of architecture reveals a story. The collective past meets the individual present of the experience. The image is shaped from a frame of personal and collective memories. The roaming in the city becomes the location of the event that exposes the architecture of the image and allows the visitor to inhabit it and to meet its time. In that place, there is access to the metaphorical structure of the image.

At the end of the pilgrimage proposed by the artist, I find myself in a white room, in an empty space where anything can happen. Somehow, the area becomes a metaphor of my experience facing the work and my interiority. Few elements make up the space: volumes of white walls and plywood floors, a beam and a wooden column. There is nothing and everything is there. I become aware of myself in this place, of my verticality compared to the axes of the transformation of the spatiality in relationship with my roaming the course. Then, I see a photograph hanging on a wall of the exhibition space. It redoubles the location and increases the awareness of my position in this space. The room is empty in the picture but fills up with presence as I stand facing my absence. Now, I inhabit this place that offers me a sensation of time and I become the difference.

The work of Alfonso Arzàpalo makes us face our life span.

Time surrounds us on all sides.

  1. Rossi, Aldo. 1984, The Architecture of the City. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology, p. 7.

Verstrijken

From Duchamp to Korzybski, from Magritte to Heidegger, many 20th Century artists and thinkers have sought to demonstrate that the act of attributing fixed definitions to things is reductive. When a pipe is painted on a canvas, it becomes a painting. When a urinal is titled, signed and then exhibited in a museum, it takes on the status of a work of art. Each thing has multiple possible definitions, according to the context in which it is placed. And so the work of the Dutch artist William Engelen, at the intersection of visual art, architecture and music, involves displacing the semantic charge of diverse structures by “recontextualizing” them. Thanks to models, architecture becomes installation; by means of a key, calligraphy becomes musical notation. The structures that Engelen uses often come from the substrate of his own daily life: calligraphy from a book in his library, an electro-retinogram of his right eye, a diary from his time in a foreign city, etc. As well as being integral parts of his work, these forms of substrate constitute the basis of his extrapolations and of the core ideas at the heart of his multidisciplinary practice. For example, certain verses written in Arab in the Book of Suleika, as well as graphics representing the electrical responses of the artist’s eye to stimulation by light (an electroretinogram) constitute visual structures within a symbolic system that transmutes them into musical notation. In 2003, this neumatic1 musical notation resulted in the works Suleika and Augenblick. One might say that these works are a form of sound journey shaped by visual structures.

crédit photo: Ivan Binet

crédit photo: Ivan Binet

In the early days of his residency at LA CHAMBRE BLANCHE, Engelen hung two versions of Augenblick on opposing walls in the space. The first version was reproduced in clay, and the second printed on paper. For this work, Engelen had used the 61 graphics resulting from the eye examination mentioned above (the electroretinogram). Each graphic became a neume, intended to convey the character of a melody to a trombonist. The vertical axis of the graphic represented the sound register of the instrument (high/low=high-pitch/low-pitch) and the horizontal axis, the time signature (and so the rhythm). The artist had adjusted the thickness of the lines of the graphics in certain sections, in such a way as to indicate variations in volume to the trombonist. The artist had also written terms relating to ways of seeing the world on each of the graphics, for example “happy”, “crazy” and “desireful”. These ways of seeing the world indicated to the trombonist the spirit in which to play each of the graphics. Once he had defined his system, Engelen recorded a version of the 61 sections of trombone sounds, which he edited together in a studio. Whilst the first version of the visual component of the work, in clay, emphasized the 61 graphics, the second, printed on paper, depicted this sound collage in the form of a table. A nearby sound system enabled any visitors to LA CHAMBRE BLANCHE who so desired, to listen to the acoustic component of the work. Augenblick is typical of Engelen’s practice in that it proceeds from a single element, which he uses as the basis of a matrix, from which he “telescopes” possible outcomes. And so, a semantic layer is added to the graphics representing the electrical responses of his retina to stimulation by light: these optical symbols also become musical symbols. Moreover, the theme of the eye becomes a metaphoric field, given that each graphic is linked to a means of seeing the world. In turn, these ways of seeing the world become forms of musical notation. The viewer has to find their way around a form of network, using a grid that consists of visual elements, sounds, anecdotes and art.

However, the real war-horses of this residency were the two Verstrijken. Verstrijken is a word that, in Dutch, means the passing of time or a play that is badly acted. For this work Engelen wrote two pieces of music whose structure was based on the contents of his diary. And so this work consisted of an autobiographical substrate. Undoubtedly, autobiography, self-fiction and even confession play a central role in the era in which we live. However, the autobiographical aspect of Engelen’s work functioned on the level of anecdote and play, further to its central role in the structure of the project.

crédit photo: Ivan Binet

crédit photo: Ivan Binet

In his Verstrijken Pour Solo Violin Engelen kept a diary from the time of his arrival in Québec, on the 10th October at 19.00, to the time of making the work, on the 11th Novermber at 20.00. He then elaborated a graphic score from the diary, on the walls of the space. At the beginning of the score, he wrote: “I arrived in Quebec City on the 10th of October 2005, from that point Verstrijken starts”. And at the end: “Start of the concert at LA CHAMBRE BLANCHE on 11th of November 2005.” The score consisted of boxes marking sections of time, in a range of colours. According to the key that visitors could consult on the wall, these colours represented four categories of activity: blue for sleeping, red for eating, yellow for working, and green for free time. A number of recurrent sounds corresponded to each colour: the blue predominantly consisted of sustained sounds, the red of pizzicati (pinched chords), the yellow of bowing and melodic sounds, and the green of sounds of bow-strokes, and forms of pastiche. The day and the hour corresponding to each box was marked beneath it, and the duration of each was written above it. Engelen’s diary, which spanned a month, had been scaled down into four seconds of music for each hour of the day. Thus, the work lasted 51mins and 20 secs. Visitors could see that on the 14th day following his arrival, at 02.30, or 19mins and 42secs in to the work, Engelen had had “no problem to sleep after all those beers.” This example illustrates well the anecdotal and playful tone of the autobiographical aspect of the work (the tone of which was much less “engaged” than, for example, the romantic I…) Each of the boxes allocated to a section of time contained a range of notation addressed to violinists. Some of this notation was neumatic ( a pizzicato followed by a vibrato was indicated with a full-stop followed by a zigzag), and other parts were textual (“play fading tones”, “different pressure on bow”). There were also terms relating to the tradition of classical music in the West, for example “un poco agitato”, whilst names of composers could be interpreted as an indication to imitate their style (“Ligeti”). At certain points, viewers could read extracts from his diary (a green box read “walking on Mount Royal”, whilst a yellow box read “pasting letters on the wall”). On the evening of the concert, the violinist Clemens Merkel, who was to interpret the work, had a condensed version of the score, whilst behind him the public could view the larger score on the wall. Given that Engelen’s system of notation included no precise indications about volume or rhythm, but constituted instead a form of global mapping of a morphological journey, it is important to underline the importance of Merkel’s role in the Verstrijken for solo violin.

Engelen used an almost identical system for his Verstrijken for a trio of strings. However, in this case, a diary was kept, for a week, by the three interpreters of the piece (Caroline Béchard, Anne Morier and Suzanne Villeneuve, from the Quatuor Cartier). Naturally, their diary contained references to numerous hours of rehearsal, dedicated to the works of composers such as Handel, Puccini and Gougeon. Consquently, this Verstrijken contained several musical extracts, selected by the musicians, which they had listed and memorized (the musical extracts were identified only by means of the title, or the name of a composer, for example Madame Butterfly or Gougeon). Once again, it is important to stress the significant contribution made by the musicians interpreting the work. For this piece, which was much shorter at 8mins 24secs, no score was on view to the public, although an extract was displayed on the wall at the entrance to the space.

crédit photo: Ivan Binet

crédit photo: Ivan Binet

The notion of using a succession of boxes marking time, with sounds that convey fairly distinct categories, is reminiscent of the work Momente (1962-1969) by Karlheinz Stockhausen. In this piece – with a score that includes boxes filled with drawings that represent sound – Stockhausen explored his theory of Momentform, or forms that sculpt time based on certain distinct features of sound, that alternate according to a diverse range of juxtapositions and timespans (the conductor can choose the formal schema, based on certain rules). However, above all, Engelen’s work evokes John Cage’s compositions, for example Roaratorio: an Irish Circus on Finnegans Wake (1979). For this work Cage read aloud James Joyce’s novel Finnegan’s Wake, whilst musicians interpreted Irish folk music, and loud-speakers broadcast, at random, 2293 noises and names of places mentioned in the book (these 2293 samples were pre-recorded by Cage and entered randomly into a computer program.) Cage employed, as Engelen employs, a substrate (in Cage’s case, Joyce’s novel), as the basis for extracting a range of possible sounds. The approach towards composition in the work is essentially conceptual, removed from traditional composition and craft (for example musical theory, orchestration, and harmony). The works by Stockhausen and Cage include an element of chance in terms of the order in which the sounds occur, which is not the case with Engelen’s Verstrijken. That said, the notation system used by Engelen is based more on suggestion than definition (particularly in terms of pitch), indicating a “decentralized” approach to composition that increases the creative role played by the interpreter of the music. (Engelen requires musicians of a very high calibre). Furthermore, his notation system can lead to significant differences in the piece from one version to another. It is therefore appropriate to refer to the Verstrijken as open works, despite the fact that this statement does not apply to all the parameters of the works.

William Engelen’s Verstrijken project is shaped by a range of disciplines (writing, visual art, music) and numerous problematics in art (conceptual art, multidisciplinary art, site-specific work, open works, inter-textuality, self-fiction). To these is added the structural role played in this project by several aspects of daily life (leisure, mealtimes, work, sleep). As in the majority of Engelen’s works, the two Verstrijken create the impression in the viewer of intersections within a network of clearly defined categories. These intersections propel the spectator into a comparative form of reflection, which may bring about a reconsideration of the grids and definitions involved. Is such a reflection itself an electro-retinogram?

  1. Neumatic notation, neumes: neumes are graphic symbols that inform the musical interpreter of the character of a melody. In the West, neumatic notation is mainly connected with early manuscripts of liturgical chants from a number of Christian monasteries, from the 9th Century onwards. Neumes give no precise indications of pitch or rhythm. Originally there were used as a memory-aid for musicians who learned to play by means of the oral tradition at the time. In the course of the 20th Century, a number of composers took an interest in neumatic notation, and devised a range of sign systems to give indications relating to melody or, more often, ornaments and sound variations, to complement the traditional musical score.