some things made...

i tend not to like to self promote on the blog (even though the last post was announcing upcomings...), but since i don't have my "library" with me, and my time here in texas is pretty much at its end, i figured i would post some of the works from the residency in chinati. all of the work was made in conversation with the studio space (an old meat smoking and storing facility), and its history - specifically some of the buildings architecture, the vowel structure of a judd text, some sticks found on site, rubbings of an old judd bench in the space, etc. most of this came from a long text related to judd and irwin and their ideas of site specificity, which i became interested in relation to making, rather than placement. these works do not need to be seen within the sit they were created, but they could never have been created in a different site...i'll post a long text on my website in the near, as well as images of all of the work. next week i should get back to the usual old stuff: quotes, images, sounds, etc.

some goings on...

1. i will be giving a talk on my work and other things at the marfa book co at 7:30, wednesday evening (tonight), in marfa.

2. i will have an opening Thursday, February 25 from 6:00 to 8:00 PM at the Locker Plant on East Oak Street. i will be exhibiting the makings from my residency at chinati, in marfa.

3. i will be performing at the redcat for the ceait festival this friday march 5, in los angeles(using some video and audio recordings from chinati as well).

when the tintinnabulation rides upon the dust...

"with the onset of summer the cross-marked sheep were herded higher into the mountains. a babbling metallic tinkling, of unknown origin and from an unknown direction, would gradually become audible. floating nearer, it enveloped the listener, giving him an odd tickling sensation in the mouth. then, in a cloud of dust, came flowing a gray, curly, tightly packed mass of sheep rubbing against each other, and the most, hollow tinkle of the bells, which delighted all of one's senses, mounted, swelled so mysteriously that the dust itself seemed to be ringing as it billowed above the moving backs of the sheep. from time to time one of them would get separated from the rest and trot past, whereupon a shaggy dog would drive it back to the flock; and behind, gently treading, walked the shepherd. then the tintinnabulation would change timber, and once more grow hollower and softer, but for a long time it would hang in the air together with the dust..."

vladimir nabokov, podvig, 1932

when good photos find you even in texas...

two of the best recent music photo finds, which i had sent to me here in texas, because i could not wait until i arrive home. they now adorn my little residence.

the top picture is the second tintype i've found of a guy playing a broom like a guitar, but this one is a zillion times nicer. the image of the guy with a victrola horn and birdcages, might be my favorite image i own. i would assume he is either playing them songs, in an attempt to teach them to sing, or recording their songs... either way, i've never seen anything like it...

when sokurov speaks of music...

"yes it is true: it happens so
that sound is soul
and image is legs
image guides us.
image allows one to walk and sound allows one to fly.
i would say so
sound is more universal than image,
it is more human.
sound is free.
this freedom,
universality and humanity
make sound
such an extraordinary factor.
i think that
in this case we are all the heirs
of the huge emotional shock
that each of us experiences when intensely listening
to great music.
without great music there is no great literature
or great playwriting
if that harmony didn't exist.
because music music is simply
a harmony of sounds: ambient noise cannot be a harmony
music is a harmony.
it anticipates
what the rest of the arts created
absorbs it and expresses it.
architecture, painting, literature, playwriting and poetry
music absorbs it all,
comprehends and generalizes all to fit...
music is indeed
the grande dame of the arts...
music
is something
everyone comes to bow to
indeed."

subtitles from an interview with director alexander sokurov speaking about sound and music, as an extra on the dvd of his film elegy of a voyage. some of what he says about film and sound is quite wonderful, while some of what he says about contemporary art, and painting in general, are quite closed minded and difficult to take. he's a classicist surely, but it seems quite sad to exclude the entirety of modernism as having value... nonetheless, elegy is a beautiful poetic film (which would have been wholly impossible to make without reference to modern filmmaking...)

when one is in need of a take up reel for a 16mm projector...

i was lucky enough to find someone who could lend me a 16mm projector here in marfa, so i could work on a drawing film. i won't get into the numerous problematic situations that occurred, but suffice to say that the case of the missing take up reel was solved with a cardboard box, some glue, and the center core of a roll of tape...

when one hears that which is scarcely the echo of an echo...

"and here:

watch from the crackling mattress how the stars, through the roof, though strong, are yet so tired.

the night has dried.

...

outside, from near, there is a new sound. it happens every night, and it is most sorrowful. it is the voice of a blond, fat, and craven rooster, a creature half-frightened of his own wives; and in this poor voice of his, lugubrious, almost surreptitious, he is making a statement he so misbelieves that it is rather a question that expects no answer save the utter scorn and denial of silence; and it gets none: but serves only to remind one of the noises of the night, which perhaps have not at any time ceased.

they have perhaps at no time ceased, but that will never be surely known, they are, after a while, so easily lost: and one hears them once again with a quiet sort of surprise, that only slowly becomes the realization, or near certainty, that they have been there awhile:

they are still there, they still convey to one no merely intimate vicinity, but the whole blind earth dispread: they chainlike stream like water violins, a straight and upward rain extracted from the world: yet they are i this hour so profoundly retired upon themselves, they are scarcely the echo of an echo, music's remembrance in a dying dream, lashed through with weltering whippoorwill, the mourner and genius of great summer night: and even that weeping bird now twice has faltered, and on blurred bark-hued flight has taken his song more deeply among the groves..."

james agee, from "let us now praise famous men"

when subtitles suggest buildings...

"the architectural setting
is a box to hold light and shade,
bright sunrays
and grey winter twilight"



"in the natural death of a building
there is no ugliness,
only sorrow.
the most simple,
and therefore accessible
for everyone.
the ruins...
one can look at them endlessly.
and this undoubtably
cures one of arrogance."

text: subtitles from alexander sokurov's film, hubert robert: a fortunate life
photos: chinati at sunrise, abandoned small shack with radio tower on top, taken both with my phone.

some collage scores...

sara clark at drunken boat was kind enough to invite me to publish something in their recent issue, which has a sound art section... i submitted a small group from around 250 recently completed small collage "scores"... you can see 15 of them on their website, along with a short statement... suffice to say some can be realized in the real world, while some perhaps only in one's mind...click here to see them... p.s. note i am the only artist whose name is written entirely in lowercase letters... i did not ask for this, but was quite happy to find it...

when a box is full of inspiration...