My Remix a Thesis Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Master of Fine Arts in the Graduate School

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My Remix

A Thesis

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the

Degree Master of Fine Arts

in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

Mark Gunderson

Graduate Program in Art

The Ohio State University

2015

Master’s Examination Committee:

Kenneth Rinaldo, Advisor

Todd Slaughter

Marc Ainger

CC BY SA

Mark Gunderson

2015

Abstract

Before my graduate studies began I had already established myself as an artist of the remix, with dozens of albums and hundreds of performances worldwide. This was always in the context of a band: works were musical and usually performative. This changed during my graduate studies as I explored ways to remix my practice of remixing. Some works were musical but not exclusively performative, such as the Fruit

Looper. Then musicality faded in later works such as the sonified Pillow Fight and ultimately went silent for the video-only installation Bird/Wings. Yet while the use of music and performance ebbed, the remix flowed: the flexibility of this strategy enabled the expansion of my artistic practice from one of remixing music to one of remixing sight, sound, interface, context, and even my dreams, culminating in my thesis exhibition installation Birdless / Wingless.

Dedication

To Christy, for steadfastly supporting my art and loving me throughout

To my parents Ann and Gayne, for fostering my independent mind

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Vita

1987 ...... B. S., DeVry Institute of Technology

2012 - present ...... Graduate Teaching Associate,

The Ohio State University

Field of Study

Major Field: Art

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii

Dedication ...... iii

Vita ...... iv

Field of Study ...... iv

List of Figures ...... vi

Chapter 1: And Now, Let’s Go Back Into History A Little Bit ...... 1

Chapter 2: My Structure, Deconstructed ...... 8

Chapter 3: Do It ('Til You're Satisfied) ...... 13

Object Turntable ...... 15

Fruit Looper ...... 17

Pillow Fight ...... 20

Bird / Wings ...... 21

Other Delights ...... 23

AutoTuned Door ...... 25

Chapter 4: Showtime ...... 27

Chapter 5: Over And Out ...... 40

References ...... 42

List of Figures

Figure 1.1: The Evolution Control Committee, Gunderphonic ...... 3

Figure 1.2: The Thimbletron ...... 4

Figure 1.3: Cease & Desist Letter from CBS...... 5

Figure 2.1: Artist Statement ...... 8

Figure 3.1: Object Turntable ...... 15

Figure 3.2: Object Turntable ...... 16

Figure 3.4: Fruit Looper MaxMSP programming view ...... 18

Figure 3.3: Fruit Looper at the Bay Area Maker Faire 2015 ...... 18

Figure 3.5: Fruit Looper 3D rendering ...... 19

Figure 3.6: Fruit Looper 3D rendering ...... 19

Figure 3.8: Pillow Fight in use ...... 21

Figure 3.7: Pillow Fight ...... 21

Figure 3.9: Bird/Wings video still ...... 22

Figure 3.10: Bird/Wings video still ...... 23

Figure 3.11: Other Delights ...... 24

Figure 3.12: Other Delights detail ...... 24

Figure 3.13: AutoTuned Door ...... 25

Figure 4.1: Thesis Exhibition (first version) 3D rendering ...... 27

Figure 4.2: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds installation entrance ...... 28

Figure 4.3: Whipped Cream Wall ...... 29

Figure 4.4: Bird/Wings video sequence ...... 30

Figure 4.5: Janet Cardiff & George Bures Miller, Opera For A Small Room ...... 31

Figure 4.6: Janet Cardiff & George Bures Miller, The Dark Pool ...... 32

Figure 4.7: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds ...... 32

Figure 4.8: Whole Jackdaw In Heavy Syrup and Wren Paste jar lamps ...... 33

Figure 4.9: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds microphone listener ...... 34

Figure 4.10: Dialogue script for microphone voices ...... 35

Figure 4.11: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds detail ...... 36

Figure 4.12: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds detail ...... 36

Figure 4.13: Birdless / Wingless technology diagram #1 ...... 37

Figure 4.14: Birdless / Wingless technology diagram #2 ...... 38

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Chapter 1:

And Now, Let’s Go Back Into History A Little Bit

"What we're gonna do right here is go back Way back Back into time..."

Jimmy Castor Bunch, "Troglodyte (Cave Man)" (1972)

“And now, let's go back into history a little bit. (click)”

Negativland, “Time Zones” (1987)

In 1972 the Jimmy Castor Bunch recorded that lyric at the beginning of their song

“Troglodyte (Cave Man)”, a fictitious history of mating habits and the Butt sisters.

Although it peaked at only #6 on the charts, that recorded line has been sampled in over

75 songs. Fifteen years later, Negativland released their album Escape From Noise, my personal favorite in their repertoire. Although it did not sample the Jimmy Castor Bunch, it did sample at least 75 other bands.

I am a big fan of both.

Before arriving at The Ohio

State University to begin graduate studies in art (and technology) I had spent a couple decades building up a reputation as a creative copyright violator as The Evolution Control Committee. Under that band name I released over twenty albums, most of which were collaged from samples which I never secured clearance or permission to use. This was a trick I learned from Negativland, especially from their Escape From Noise album quoted above. It was also a habit that got me seeking and appreciating the original sound sources of the various samples I heard -- not just in Negativland’s avant-garde music, but in hip-hop and other genres.

Initially the motivation was competitive, but later the motivation was true appreciation for the originals and my personal discovery of them. This was true regardless of what the original sound source was -- song, speech, sound effect; they were often equally enjoyable, especially since my joy was also in the achievement of my discovery, as if I’d located a rare manuscript in a forgotten library, a fragment of which was known and renowned, yet unidentified or thought lost as a whole.

Collage and reappropriation are fairly venerable terms in art, but at the time they were largely unknown in popular music. The mid-1980’s saw the emergence of the sampling keyboard, an instrument which unleashed the concept of sound sampling to popular culture through bands from The Art Of Noise to Public Enemy. It was also a fertile time for independent bands and labels of all genres riding a wave of tolerance in a generation

of listeners primed by punk but tired of it coupled with an age of invention in electronic instruments (not just samplers but synthesizers and drum machines as well).

In spite of, or perhaps thanks to,

Figure 1.1: The Evolution Control Committee, Gunderphonic my lack of art schooling (my bachelor’s degree is in computer systems) I dove very deep into this new cut-and-paste world. Initially just in music, releasing my first all-sampled album Gunderphonic in 1994 even though I could only create 5% of that digitally, with the remainder done through laborious analog techniques. That album also saw my usage of the collage aesthetic widen, packaging that cassette album inside emptied 8-track tape shells. Each was hinged to open like a clam, revealing my album of sampled, “stolen” music inside -- media within media, both physically and musically. A later album, Double The Phat (And

Still Tasteless) (1996), was similarly a CD packaged in emptied 5¼“ floppy disk casings.

I have always been a big proponent of live performance, even with music that doesn’t easily lend itself to stage. This problem was especially prevalent in the 80’s and 90’s as electronic music automated roles of the traditional band, for example replacing the drummer with a drum machine. Sampling increased this problem geometrically -- now instead of automating just one role, you’re automating entire bands (or at least their

fragmented recordings). What is the “appropriate” instrument to perform that live? And who, in terms of band roles, is the player of that instrument?

To answer both questions, I created my first performance-only sampling instrument in

1999. The Thimbletron combined ten sewing thimbles, two cloth gloves, and recycled electronics and wires. Tethered precariously to other stationary electronic equipment, the Thimbletron allowed me to move around a stage with at least the freedom of an electric guitarist and perform my music, each touch of a fingertip triggering a sample.

1999 was a hallmark year for another reason. The Evolution Control

Committee released Rocked By Figure 1.2: The Thimbletron

Rape, a single that was The ECC’s second release on the San Francisco-based Eerie

Materials label. The first Eerie Materials release, The ECC’s The Whipped Cream Mixes

(1996), had made an impact as a noteworthy sample-based release and later (in the late

2000’s) would be recognized as the first of the “mash-up” genre. The second single was intended to up the ante, using new digital sampling technology to construct cut-up yet highly syncopated vocal tracks of newscaster Dan Rather over sliced AC/DC instrumental riffs. With the ante upped, the copyright holders called the bluff: Dan

Rather’s network CBS sent cease & desist legal threats to the label and the band.

Figure 1.3: Cease & Desist Letter from CBS

The legal threats only served to cement what was already in place, which was coalescing into a unified collage aesthetic: one where the music was sampled and collaged with an experienced and mature style, performed on custom-created instruments built for the purpose of performing such music, out of electronic parts repurposed from other non-musical appliances, released on albums packaged in unique recontextualized containers.

This aesthetic has continued and (true to the band name) evolved; with The Evolution

(2011) album requiring a Listener License

Agreement. Much like the incomprehensible

license” covering the CD as well as a recorded version beginning the album. Of the ten requirements, the first is the most important: the listener is prohibited from listening to the album. Since the album samples nearly 200 other bands and musicians without permission, this agreement would ideally force a party, wishing to sue for copyright violation, to admit in court that they have heard the album and broken the agreement, for which I could countersue. While this legal strategy remains untested, it was almost because the album wasn’t released: both the pressing plant and distributor initially refused to handle it, fearing potential legal and/or business threats for merely being associated with it.

Perhaps now the reader can understand how I got the nickname “TradeMark”.

To this day, I feel I did no wrong. While I feel comfortable taking samples for use, still, I personally would draw a line as “having gone too far” if I somehow caused another musician or label to lose a sale. Of the hundreds of songs I released as The Evolution

Control Committee, nobody would ever purchase one in replacement of the original song it samples from. My hope for a more likely outcome is the original song would receive renewed interest after listeners enjoy hearing it sampled in my work and then discover its origins. Our modern world is one where music (and video) are frequently experienced in a fragmented format as works are excerpted, remixed, and uploaded online for viewers who likely won’t even have the patience to watch or listen to the abridged remix, let alone the full-length original, of time-based works. Music sampled in other music may well be a modern equivalent of music heard on the radio.

Chapter 2:

My Structure, Deconstructed

Artist Statement (serves one to many)

INGREDIENTS METHODS

Music Play Media Misuse Interface Collage Installation Hacking Technology Interaction Performance Subversion Found Sound Cut & Paste Appropriation Reimagination

DIRECTIONS:

1. Combine two or more ingredients using one or more methods. 2. Mix well. 3. Remix.

Figure 2.1: Artist Statement

This artist statement is one I wrote just after the middle of my graduate studies and now, one year later, I’m still very comfortable with it. Earlier versions were “standard” artist

statements of a few paragraphs explaining influences and motivations, and while they were accurate I felt they lacked something. After writing the recipe version it was obvious: the old version lacked interaction with the viewer. Linear, narrative text invokes little participation as the reader plods through the text and, at the end, stops -- reading, as well as thinking. With so much of my work built for interaction with performers and visitors, my artist statement needed to do the same. The recipe format solves this elegantly. Even when one follows a recipe the meal they cook is still infused with some essence of the cook. My artist statement provides the ingredients. The reader and I, together, cooks the meal from them.

Since the ingredients and methods listed in my recipe are so important in my work, I would like to take some time to explain each:

INGREDIENTS

Music. While making music has been very important to my practice it also comes with a huge amount of listening, not just for appreciation but also with an ear for reuse in my own work. I often describe myself as a music junkie. The suggestion of a physiological need for music in my life may sound like an exaggeration, but my tens of thousands of vinyl records, thousands of CDs, thousands of cassettes, and hundreds of thousands of

MP3s may well point to a pathological condition.

Media. The turntable and the vinyl record it plays has gone fundamentally unchanged for a century. Both remain in demand for professional DJs. Such media formats have given us a tangible connection with music that is disintegrating rapidly as we embrace a world where music is increasingly created and heard digitally. I also use the word

“media” in the context of radio, television, the internet, and other mass media that aren’t exclusive to music or even sound.

Interface. Inventors such as Leon Theremin and Raymond Scott experimented with unique ways for human musicians to interact with electronic music devices and systems.

What instrument does one perform digital music on? A major interest of mine has been the increasing disconnection of the physical experience of music. For music listeners this is increasing with the embrace of MP3s over CDs and LPs; for music makers this is increasing with the embrace of laptops and other digital instruments with interfaces that bear no relation to the music being made.

Installation. Stand-alone, non-performative art installations are a relatively new pursuit for me. Including “installation” in my statement is my embrace of that new realm.

Technology. I am fascinated with technology and use it freely. Even when using

“antiquated” elements such as vinyl records or turntables they still invoke the concept of technology as symbols of former invention.

Performance. Potentially at odds with installation, performance has been a major drive in my art and will no doubt continue to be a pursuit. Although an artistic statement is rarely seen in connection with a performance, I felt it was nonetheless important for me to include performance since I consider this an expressive space I continue to work in.

Found Sound. Found sound has inspired me for decades as a raw material that influences my art. This has largely been in music composition, but even in the installations created during graduate studies (see AutoTuned Door) found sound has still proven inspirational.

METHODS

Play. In the context of entertainment, but also in the context of pressing a Play button on a musical device.

Misuse. Another artist once observed that I have a knack for misusing digital tools -- for testing their limits; for discovering unknown usefulness. I have no doubt that this is a habit developed during my days as a teenage computer hacker, testing computer systems for their weak points and finding where things break the best.

Collage. The word collage has well-defined meaning in the history of visual art but it also describes music’s emerging sample-based genres, from tape music to mashups.

The method of collage is one that I’ve explored thoroughly in music, but now am exploring in other physical and non-musical contexts.

Hacking. During my teenage hacker days as an outlaw in the wild west of the 1980’s pre-internet computer world, the word hacker was almost always used in a negative context. Decades later the term has enjoyed a more positive tone and is frequently used in a “think outside of the box” context.

Interaction. Technology is extremely good for creating interactive artwork. Interactive installations are related to the performative devices I have created in the past.

Subversion. Subversion might well be described as conceptual hacking. The term culture jamming was more in vogue a decade or two ago, but it also describes this idea.

Cut & Paste. My art stems from a long history in music where I pioneered the collage style now known as mash-up. Since the technology didn’t exist to perform such music in the early days, I created my own. Like the music itself, these devices were often collages, hacked together from electronic parts scavenged from other found devices.

Appropriation. More than just the collage aesthetic, appropriation describes the symbolic aspects of collage and recontextualization. In music this might be sampling music from different eras or bands, allowing their combination to say something that neither could on their own.

Reimagination. Remixing our perceptions.

Chapter 3:

Do It ('Til You're Satisfied)

“Come on and do it, do it Do it 'til you're satisfied (Whatever it is)...”

B. T. Express, "Do It ('Til You're Satisfied)" (1974)

By the beginning of my graduate studies there were several aspects of my practice I was dissatisfied with. Many dissatisfactory elements involved the nature of performing music, especially in the USA.

I have always enjoyed both hearing and making music that skirts the line between non- commercial and pop. By definition, non-commercial music is not popular. Music that is unusual and unexpected yet could be a worldwide smash seems an impossible combination, so that balancing point between both, seem an especially fertile ground.

My music career had earned me a number of tours and performances in Europe,

Australia, and elsewhere that revealed an environment that appeared much more open to the unusual. Granted, some of it was my privileged viewpoint as a selected artist.

Beyond that, it was at least apparent that arts funding outside the USA was much more

generous and made possible festivals and events that I could never conceive of seeing within the USA. These were places where, at least from my viewpoint, that impossible balancing point of non-commercial and pop was not only replicable but celebrated.

I had also seen that the festivals I was booked in would host an evening roster of bands that was very much separate from their daytime roster of art installations and workshops, and I wanted to start doing both. Initially this was just a scheme for more festival bookings, but there was a nagging feeling building that I was stunting my artistic growth limiting myself to performance. I was growing older and more mature, and performance venues -- bars and nightclubs, often -- didn’t fit my lifestyle and art as well as they used to. Creating installations and teaching workshops felt like a promising new direction.

One change from this transition I did not consider was the metamorphosis from band to individual artist. Although my music was almost always performed and composed solo I had always used a band name. I had chosen “The Evolution Control Committee” in part because of the collective or organization it implies, and had enjoyed creating fictional personas of additional committee members. All text connected with The ECC was written in the collective in the first person plural -- always “we”, never “I”. Shifting to an artistic practice that wasn’t limited to musical performance led me to feel that I shouldn’t limit myself to my music performance band name either. Although I never seriously attempted to remain anonymous behind the band name, crediting artwork to my personal name puts me in a different frame of mind in how I approach that artwork.

During my graduate studies I began expanding my practice of remix culture in musical as well as non-musical works.

Object Turntable

The Object Turntable starts with the classic turntable favored by decades of vinyl record disc jockeys (DJs) but replaces the spinning records with colorful objects -- DJing by eye, not by ear.

Each object triggers a unique sound when placed on the rotating turntable.

The shapes and colors of each object are scanned by the sensor above and determine the timbre, volume, and sequence of musical tones. By arranging Figure 3.1: Object Turntable patterns of objects visitors can create musical loops, or even whole songs if they are dexterous enough to rearrange objects while the turntable spins.

The replacement of records with objects changes the rules of how to be a DJ and who might be best at it. After a few minutes’ playtime one learns the distinct timbres of sound

for each color; that objects placed closer to the middle of the turntable are higher in pitch; that taller objects are louder. These rules govern the sound of any object placed on the turntable, including objects constructed from the nearby Lego bricks or even other found objects.

Turntables, records, and the disc jockeys that play them have existed for over a century.

The first two have changed little; the latter has evolved from a passive equipment operator into an active improvisational musician in recent decades. The

DJ, now a member of the band, also elevates the role of the turntable as a viable musical instrument alongside the electric guitar, although the plucked strings of the Figure 3.2: Object Turntable guitar are far more intuitive and easily understood than the turntable’s mysterious translation of tiny, yet tactile, record grooves transmitting needle vibration into sound.

That mechanical sense of touch through vibratation is replaced with vision in The Object

Turntable. The turntable’s interface and function are still the same -- place something on a rotating turntable to make music -- but now the turntable does it by sight instead of touch. The visual aspect also permits a visual and sonic collaboration of multiple DJs on

the same turntable -- all but impossible with the traditional version. Since the Object

Turntable’s sonification of colors and shapes is arbitrary, one can change the sound made by each object, shape, or placement. This elevates the turntable from a reproductive machine to an interpretive one. The DJ can remix objects in sound as well as in space.

My practice frequently explores the concept of interface in the digital music world in contexts ranging from solo performance to collaborative installation, and many previous works have used the iconic record turntable as their starting point. I was greatly inspired by Harry Partch and his unique musical instruments, invented as a necessity to realize music composed well beyond the abilities of traditional instruments. A more specific historical influence (but little known or documented) that inspired the Object Turntable is the Circle Machine invented by cartoon-jazz composer Raymond Scott, a predecessor to the now-ubiquitous synthesizer sequencer.

Fruit Looper

The Fruit Looper is a dinner table that turns food into music. The table is tall, round, and set with plates and silverware for three or four people. In the middle of the table is a

“lazy susan” turntable rotating continuously under an overhead lamp. A variety of fruits and vegetables are on the plates. When one is placed on the turntable a sounds is heard, repeating once for each full rotation of the turntable. Each additional food placed on the turntable adds a new sound to the loop.

Figure 3.4: Fruit Looper at the Bay Area Maker Faire 2015

Figure 3.3: Fruit Looper MaxMSP programming view

The Fruit Looper is an updated version of the Object Turntable. Functionally it is much the same: a turntable, which is scanned for colored shapes which activates sounds and/or music.

Whereas the colored shapes were painted 3D printed geometric shapes with the Object Turntable, the Fruit

Looper uses fruits and vegetables. Figure 3.5: Fruit Looper 3D rendering Extending the food theme further, the turntable and Kinect sensor are built into a dining setting in the form of a tall round

“cocktail” table with tablecloth and place settings.

It was the suggestion of my advisor Ken Rinaldo that I select an existing work and refine it. The Object Turntable fit the bill nicely: functional, but aesthetically incomplete. My original notes about the Object

Turntable concept even included a thought that the objects could be fruits and vegetables. Constructing a unifying aesthetic for the piece gave me the insight that this is a process I have often avoided -- not because I dislike it, but because my past performance aesthetic often used the imagery of an Figure 3.6: Fruit Looper 3D rendering

experimental lab or a mad scientist where incomplete devices would be expected. Since the table would be custom modified with a big hole in the middle for the turntable anyway, it could hide the computer, speakers, and other technology as well. Creating artwork where the technology is unseen is a new experience for me, but I’m beginning to see the benefits. One major impulse for the Fruit Looper and the Object Turntable was to offer people with no experience DJing an alternative interface with which to do so.

Even still, the unhidden technical nature of the Object Turntable carries certain associations to particular form that can color the experience of someone interacting with the piece. Hiding the technology and replacing the manmade 3D forms with the organic forms of natural foods I felt reduced the associations and these expectations much further.

The new form also invites collaboration with others. This is partly explained by the enlarged turntable platter, but more so with the individual place settings. The table is clearly set for three, and people will naturally choose a plate to interact from. The dinner table is traditionally a social space where people share conversation and food. As with dinner, the Fruit Looper invites people to select raw ingredients to combine, producing new combinations for everyone at the table to enjoy using a domestic setting of the cocktail table and remixing it with interactive technology

Pillow Fight

The Pillow Fight offers two prepared pillows for visitors to wage a pillow fight with. Each time one pillow hits another person a cartoonish sound effect is heard. The sound

effects change each time, and the wide variety of sounds, especially in quick succession, is quite humorous.

Combined with the chance to have a childish, innocent fight with a friend, the result has been very successful.

The sound effects were ones I had Figure 3.8: Pillow Fight gathered for a previous humor-related assignment. Each pillow contains a

Nintendo Wii video game controller

(Wiimote) which can sense movement, or rather the sudden stoppage of movement. It is also satisfying to see controllers often used for violent video games rescued and placed in a more Figure 3.7: Pillow Fight in use innocent context.

Bird / Wings

Alternately titled Wings Of Desire this video installation is a mostly-faithful realization of a dream I had. Birds appear one at a time, flapping their wings gracefully in flight yet staying still on screen. After a few flaps the wings separate, flying up and away from the bird. The bird, wingless, falls away. The wings fly up to join a flock of birdless wings all flying free.

My dream was extremely detailed, and at the time I was actively keeping a dream log and transcribed the full vision immediately. Interestingly the dream was not just birds losing their wings, but the images of birds losing their wings in the context of a video installation. The birds appear and lose their wings on a video monitor positioned a few feet above the floor but mounted left of the center point in a larger screen or projection area. As the wings fly away from the bird, they leave the video monitor and join the projection surrounding it. The wingless bird falls, leaving the video monitor and briefly tracing an accelerating path down the projection and into a floor video monitor lying flat Figure 3.9: Bird/Wings video still in a metal washbasin. The video shows the collection of wingless birds with 7 or 8 at a time appearing on screen, wiggling around as if alive but unable to fly without their wings.

Created as the main project for Amy Youngs’ seminar “Telepresent Animal” this project was unique for me in many ways. I rarely begin a project with such a clear vision of the end result. Often I begin a project that changes incrementally and then drastically, often barely resembling the original plan. This project felt like it had been dictated to me and although I did not have the video skills to create wingless birds and birdless wings it was clear that I needed to learn them. This is rare for me -- I am someone who tends to have a wide variety of technical skill and project plans are often hatched based on the skills I

already know. Working to realize a vision no matter what the route to it is a rare and scary way of working, yet ultimately satisfying. Down to the wire, my first view of the installation properly constructed with videos in place and in sync was during Figure 3.10: Bird/Wings video still the class critique and I was stunned at how fully the realization had been achieved. There it was, my dream, but in real life.

Another unique aspect for this project is that it was silent. My dream was very specific, that the installation would make no sound. Considering my audio-centric background this is notable; of the many works I created during my graduate studies very few were visual only, and this project stands alone as a solely visual work created to realize an inner vision. In my love for sound I frequently overlook the visual; for me, the ears come before the eyes. This project gave me the great reward of knowing that I can not only conceive a rich visual artwork but fully realize it as well.

Other Delights

A record player sits on a podium in a corner, its needle cued on a copy of the Herb Alpert album Whipped Cream And Other Delights. Surrounding the podium are dozens of

copies of the same album constructed in a card-castle style barrier preventing the viewer from approaching the record player. The record does not play until someone approaches. The closer they get, the faster the record plays.

Figure 3.11: Other Delights The urge is to get as close as one can and see how fast the record will go. The stacked albums do not appear sturdy; their structure looks as unstable as a real card castle. The album wall presents an obstruction and point of risk: one can lean over the wall to a degree to speed the record a little more, but even this gesture is not enough to reach top speed. One is lured closer by the record player’s response to their presence, but they risk the embarrassment of being the one to topple the delicate album castle.

As with the Object Turntable and

Fruit Looper I have been exploring the use of the record album in my art. Most of my music-oriented works have involved tangible interfaces that invite visitors to Figure 3.12: Other Delights detail interact through touch. With Other

Delights the visitor interacts intangibly, prevented from touching or even getting close enough to get a good look. Historical inspiration no doubt comes from the theremin, an electronic instrument played by hovering ones hands near antennas without touching them. Invented in 1919 the theremin was the world’s first purely electronic musical instrument and remains one of the few that is played gesturally, without touch. Nearly a century later, the theremin is still popular among electronic musicians and commands a mystique of otherworldliness, partly because of the eerie sounds it makes but especially because of how it is played. Hovering ones hands with poised intention and delicate movements, the theremin player appears more like a conjurer or priest than a musician.

While my installation doesn’t invite such delicate gestures, the realization that one’s presence and proximity can trigger and shape a sound brings an awareness of one’s presence and how that presence can cause a real effect.

AutoTuned Door

A full-sized door stands in the middle of a room, disconnected from any wall. Opening the door one hears the sound of a squeaky door hinge. Closing the door one hears a similar yet different sound, somewhat like a string quartet performing the same tonal sequence as the door hinge. Partially opening and closing the door allows one to hear the juxtaposition of both sounds, which are Figure 3.13: AutoTuned Door

similar in every position of the door swinging motion. In fact, the door closing sound is the same squeaky door hinge heard while opening -- just AutoTuned.

AutoTune, an audio software plugin, forces a sound to conform to the pitches of a scale.

It is frequently used for vocalists, correcting a slightly off-key singer to sound natural and on-key. Pop musicians have famously used the plugin to give a computer-like sound to their voice, most famously in Cher’s 1998 hit Believe. This is essentially how the

AutoTuned Door sounds were made, with a few exceptions:

1. Instead of Antares’ AutoTune software I used Celemony’s Melodyne which can

handle more complex sounds sources

2. Instead of a vocalist I used the squeaky door hinge of the Hopkins Hall men’s

bathroom

3. Instead of a familiar western diatonic musical scale I used the Chinese Yu scale

My first AutoTuned Door appeared in the Art & Technology student art show Fall 2014. I later built three additional AutoTuned Doors, which were used in my thesis exhibition

(see next chapter).

Chapter 4:

Showtime

Phase Shift: Department of Art, Master of Fine Arts Thesis Exhibition, Urban Arts Space,

February 21, 2015, Saturday, 5pm. Showtime.

Figure 4.1: Thesis Exhibition (first version) 3D rendering

In planning my thesis exhibition I had a show in mind primarily based around musical devices. A faux apartment setting would be filled with interactive sound-making artwork in the guise of typical apartment contents: the dining table would be my Fruit Looper in

disguise; the bed would be the arena for my Pillow Fight. Plans were written in detail including 3D renderings of my exhibition. The proposal was submitted and approved.

Then, at a relative last minute, I changed everything: the setting, the artwork in it, the whole look and feel, all scrapped for another plan. A plan for an installation that looked more like an attic than art & tech. An installation that, compared to my previous graduate studies works, relied markedly more on the visual, and largely sought to hide the technical.

What happened?

Figure 4.2: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds installation entrance

My original plan was a natural one for me: an apartment full of electronic sound-making gadgets definitely feels like an authentic expression of who I am. Some works would

have been remixed versions of previous works: the Pillow Fight would end up as the two pillows on the bed; the Whipped Cream Wall (right) would reuse the Whipped Cream albums from Other Delights adding versions where the cover artwork had been remixed.

Other works would be wholly new interactive works that were music or sound oriented, such as the Human Turntable. Considering the arc of my works while at The Ohio State

University, this installation would have made sense.

Figure 4.3: Whipped Cream Wall

But I could see that this installation would come off as something of an arcade or a fun house rather than a work of art. It would also be the “kind of thing” I might be expected to do for my MFA show by people familiar with my work. More importantly than either of those outcomes, I realized that this original plan would confirm my failure in doing something that I’ve been struggling to achieve during school: embracing ambiguity. My

past has been an analytical one: both of my parents were mathematicians and then computer programmers; for years,

I was too. Even my creative output could be considered analytical as technical trickery is often a part of my work and my audience tends to be an analytical and geeky crowd.

While I don’t wish to undo that entirely, I started to see how the ability to embrace ambiguity would be important to my growth as an artist. I had to find a new plan where I could show that.

Very near the midway point in my graduate studies I had a dream. Birds would appear, one at a time, each one flapping their wings in flight but fixed in space. After a second or two, the wings would separate from the bird, flying up and away.

The bird, wingless, falls to the ground. Another bird appears and the separation repeats. Birdless wings start to fill the sky, all flying freely, happy to be free from the encumberance of a body. Meanwhile the birds pile up on the ground, alive and unharmed, wingless and wriggling, waiting for their wings to return.

This dream became the seed of my new plan which would ultimately become Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds, my thesis exhibition. A few months after the dream I created a three-channel video installation depicting the cycle of birds

Figure 4.4: Bird/Wings video sequence 30

separating into birdless wings and wingless birds. Shortly after its completion and showing in December 2013 I fortuitously discovered the work of Janet Cardiff and

George Bures Miller. Their work was instantly influential for me.

Figure 4.5: Janet Cardiff & George Bures Miller, Opera For A Small Room (Cardiff, p. 184)

I first saw their installations at the San Diego Museum of Contemporary Art (at La Jolla) in December 2013 and was immediately enthralled. Opera For A Small Room (above) was the first installation I experienced, which unfolded a narrative told by a gruff-voiced character through a loudspeaker surrounded by thousands of his beloved opera albums, some of which appear to automatically play as the narrative progresses. At first it was my fetish for the vinyl album that caught my attention, but that quickly led me to an appreciation for their aesthetic decisions on how to combine technology with a thrift- store style. From the vintage audio gear to the makeshift lamps made of light sockets in coffee cans, I started to see something I could relate to.

In another gallery room I found a dimly-lit room full of musty books, speakers, antiques, and artifacts -- many found, some invented; the two are often hard to distinguish. It was in this room I started to see some of the common elements that define their style such as bare speakers (sans cabinet/case) with exposed wiring, allowing technology to appear unapologetically in a raw, yet aged, form. The room was Cardiff

& Miller’s The Dark Pool and while it was clear to me that there was still technology that we weren’t seeing (such as the audio players heard through the speakers), the visible technology was deceivingly retro yet still potent, like a Figure 4.7: Janet Cardiff & George Bures Miller, The Dark Pool (Cardiff, p.90) grandfather with a magic trick nobody can figure out.

“A grandparent’s attic” is a good description of this overall look, or perhaps that of an overstuffed antique store. Decades ago I made a small living by frequenting Figure 4.7: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds estate auctions and tag sales to buy and resell some choice items. Rummaging around in the homes and attics one stumbles across the occasional reminders that a real person once lived there: an addressed envelope holding a love letter; a photograph used as a

bookmark; even whole photo albums. Suddenly there’s a conflict of space: the public space of a shopping trip versus the private space of someone’s home and someone’s

[former?] personal space. Who is/was this person? What can I learn about them based on what’s in this room? Why is their stuff here but they are not? Perhaps one reason that antique stores can charge more for antiques than an estate sale is because they are manufacturers of anonymity.

Another influential element was Cardiff and Miller’s creation of “fake artifacts”; elements that appear to be as vintage as the rest of the items but are in fact newly-created to help support the narrative of the installation. I’ve always found a guilty pleasure in convincing fakes, from art forgeries to computer hacks. Their discovery drives people to reevaluate their understanding of the world.

They’re daring and bold gestures that subvert authority. My musical mashups could be seen in this light as I’m subverting the authority of the rock star, forcing them to do my bidding and perform in my music.

I created a number of fakes for Birdless

Wings / Wingless Birds, two of which are the jars to the right. The original dream of the birds losing their wings had an underlying statement born of my Figure 4.8: Whole Jackdaw In Heavy Syrup and vegetarianism. While I wanted to avoid Wren Paste jar lamps

any overt moralizing about this, I did want the artwork to not only show birds as pretty creatures but also as food and consumables. Empty food jars, reappropriated as lamps, seemed a good way to show that. After a hilarious evening brainstorming types of edible bird goo (“curlew butter”, “mallard marmalade”, etc.) I settled on Wren Paste and Whole

Jackdaw in Heavy Syrup as titles for fictitious food products that weren’t immediately dismissible as phony and potentially carried an uneasy interpretation if one gave it the consideration.

The installation also featured four microphones mounted on the horizontal door that served as the table in the main space. Interestingly, microphones can also play sound

(not just record it); similarly, speakers can also record. Visiting the installation on a quiet gallery day one would lightly hear some speech like you might hear while someone else makes a phone call. Closer inspection leads the visitor to the four microphones as the

Figure 4.9: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds microphone listener

source of the speech: two dialogues, which visitors could hear by leaning in between a microphone pair. Each dialogue is of a man and woman discussing the phenomenon of these birds losing their wings in their neighborhood:

I think they like to fly over where that old hotel was...

What old hotel?

Y'know the place a few blocks north? I think it was the Tides Inn or something like that...

Sometimes I see kids throwing things at the wings. I think they've made a game out of it.

Of hitting the wings?

No, of -not- hitting the wings. They're trying to throw things between the wings, where the bodies should be. It's like they're trying to hit the bird, if the bird was still there.

Or maybe they still see the bird. Maybe to them they just look like normal birds.

Why wouldn't they just see the wings like we do?

(miffed) I dunno, why do the wings fly off the birds?? How should I know!

Well anyway the kids do know the flying wings are just wings 'cuz I've seen them picking up the bird bodies when they separate.

Figure 4.10: Dialogue script for microphone voices

Figure 4.11: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds detail

Figure 4.12: Birdless Wings / Wingless Birds detail

Figure 4.13: Birdless / Wingless technology diagram #1

Figure 4.14: Birdless / Wingless technology diagram #2

The risky change of plan paid off: reaction to my thesis exhibition was overwhelmingly positive. The mismatched doors and darkness beyond set the right mood for the installation space, and the combination of found and constructed elements proved an effective vehicle to deliver the overall narrative of the work. One unexpected compliment was that the work could have been mistaken for that of a sculptural artist, which surprised me since I tend not to think of myself as a visual artist. With the technological elements largely hidden or obscured, the visual elements were able to balance the whole in a way I hadn’t experienced before.

Chapter 5:

Over And Out

I started my graduate studies as a performer of electronic music. I conclude them now as a multi- disciplinary installation artist. The broader scope reflects some lessons that

I’ve learned along the way:

I am a visual artist as well as a sound artist. While my drawing skills have improved a little, I am not what many would call “good”. Regardless, I have realized my capacity for creating works of visual art and now can comfortably think of myself as more than merely a sound artist.

I am more than a performer. Performance is a very different way of expressing and sharing art. On stage bodily presence and the real-time nature of performance can prevent the artist from getting a distanced viewpoint of the work and reinforces public perception that the artwork incorporates the artist as well. Creating installation work has been a rewarding change from this, although I am sure to return to performance as well.

I can cut and paste more than sounds. My sense of collage is largely based on my experience collaging sound, coupled with some collage of electronics and a little

imagery. I have now expanded this lust for collage well beyond that, cutting and pasting found objects, concepts, and even my previous works into new larger works. This form of collage is at once familiar yet excitingly new and I feel bodes well for my future.

My musical output has been largely dormant during my graduate studies, and I am looking forward to rediscovering and incorporating that past into my recent artist practice. I can see already that my expanded understanding of art and art making will have a major impact on my music, which I might have feared would be too entrenched in my old habits to change significantly. I am also imagining how this musical legacy can be more significantly incorporated into my installations.

I am emerging from school back into the world, but now the world feels bigger.

References

The Evolution Control Committee. Gunderphonic. Columbus: Evolution Controlled Creations, 1994. Cassette.

The Evolution Control Committee. Double The Phat (And Still Tasteless). Columbus: Evolution Controlled Creations, 1996. Compact disc.

The Evolution Control Committee. Rocked By Rape. San Francisco: Eerie Materials, 1999. Phonograph.

The Evolution Control Committee. The Whipped Cream Mixes. San Francisco: Eerie Materials, 1996. Phonograph.

Cardiff, Janet, and George B. Miller. The Killing Machine and Other stories 1995 - 2007. Barcelona: MACBA Barcelona, 2007. Print.