Μορφή καθημερινότητας
10 Δεκεμβρίου 2013
9 Δεκεμβρίου 2013
τα Ρούχα
ρούχαπλυμμέναρούχααπλωμέναρούχαπουγυρίζουνρούχαπουμυρίζουνρούχαπουβρωμούσανρούχαπουφορούσαρούχαπουφορούσεςρούχα
ρούχασυνθετικάρούχαποιοτικάρούχαγιανακρύψειςτηγύμνιασουρούχα
ρούχακίτριναγαλάζιαροζρούχα
ρούχανασετυλίγουνκαινασεπνίγουνρούχα
ρούχαπουανδενήτανρούχαθαήσουνγυμνός
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ο κύκλος
Η ζωή είναι ένας γραμμικός κύκλος. Η καθημερινότητα κινείται γραμμικά σε ένα κύκλο.
Βάζω τα ρούχα στο πλυντήριο γυρνάνε σε μια κυκλική πορεία και μετά τα απλώνω σε ευθείες γραμμές.
Αφού στεγνώσουν, τα μαζεύω, τα διπλώνω, τα φοράω.
Βρωμάνε, τα βγάζω, τα πετάω και μετά τα ξαναπλένω.
Αλλά όταν θα τα ξαναφορέσω θα ναι διαφορετικά γιατί τα έχω φορέσει μια φορά παραπάνω από την προηγούμενη.
Βάζω τα ρούχα στο πλυντήριο γυρνάνε σε μια κυκλική πορεία και μετά τα απλώνω σε ευθείες γραμμές.
Αφού στεγνώσουν, τα μαζεύω, τα διπλώνω, τα φοράω.
Βρωμάνε, τα βγάζω, τα πετάω και μετά τα ξαναπλένω.
Αλλά όταν θα τα ξαναφορέσω θα ναι διαφορετικά γιατί τα έχω φορέσει μια φορά παραπάνω από την προηγούμενη.
καθημερινότητα
– από τον κύκλο στη γραμμή και μετά στην επανάληψη +1 –
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο τα Ρούχα
6 Δεκεμβρίου 2013
5 Δεκεμβρίου 2013
OBJECT THEATER, LOFT PERFORMANCE, AND THE NEW PSYCHODRAMA
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο OBJECT THEATER, LOFT PERFORMANCE, AND THE NEW PSYCHODRAMA
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lM32TL7VnOw]
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUrwdqwzqMU]
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο
3 Ιουνίου 2013
20 Μαΐου 2013
v-r-o-ch-i
[ένα ψηφιακό δείγμα βασισμένο στην έρευνα μου πανω στη δομή και τα όρια της γλώσσας]
+ 2 link απο το site του TED [http://www.ted.com/talks/mark_pagel_how_language_transformed_humanity.html]
[http://www.ted.com/talks/deb_roy_the_birth_of_a_word.html]
+ 2 link απο το site του TED [http://www.ted.com/talks/mark_pagel_how_language_transformed_humanity.html]
[http://www.ted.com/talks/deb_roy_the_birth_of_a_word.html]
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlATVg0D43w]
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο v-r-o-ch-i
3 Μαΐου 2013
kino der kunst
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο kino der kunst
2 Μαΐου 2013
23 Απριλίου 2013
graphic design-illustrations-public art- graphiti/ sem 3 4 5 9
fonts and graphic design- types- books
θέματα: collage/ greg επίσκεψη για γραφιστική
θέματα: collage/ greg επίσκεψη για γραφιστική
illustration
http://virtualsoreal.blogspot.gr/
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο graphic design-illustrations-public art- graphiti/ sem 3 4 5 9
18 Απριλίου 2013
8 Απριλίου 2013
7 Απριλίου 2013
6 Απριλίου 2013
5 Απριλίου 2013
4 Απριλίου 2013
gal-guardian-arch-ef-activix
http://magazine.saatchionline.com/
http://magazine.saatchionline.com/
In his article in The Guardian, Olly Wainwright rather hopefully questioned: “might this year-long study result in an innovative new piece of legislative guidance – perhaps along the lines of Denmark’s architecture policy, introduced in 2007?” While Wainwright somewhat flatly concludes, “somehow, that seems unlikely,” there’s no doubt that the UK could only stand to gain from learning from Denmark’s innovative policy.
So what lessons could the UK (and the world) learn from the Danes? Read on after the break…
Lesson #1: High Quality Design Makes Economic Sense
A key facet of the Danish Policy is an insistence that high quality design is not only admirable on its own terms, but makes economic sense as well. In a section on public sector construction, the document asserts:
“Public construction development should continue to place major priority on the long term economic gains of high architectural quality – and not the short term financial gains that can be achieved if the owner compromises on demands for architectural quality.”
The Danish Policy also focuses on generating a demand for quality in the private sector. With a much larger private sector than in Denmark, the UK could learn from its aims to encourage an increase in education and awareness of architecture for citizens, thus forcing private developers to up the ante with regards to design quality. This education is spearheaded by the Danish Architecture Centre (DAC), which both runs exhibitions and events at its home in Copenhagen, and maintains an informative online presence.
Lesson #2: Architecture is a Matter of National Pride
This issue is particularly pertinent for the UK at a time when the government is enacting what BD’s Editor-in-Chief Amanda Baillieu called ”an almost McCarthy-like witch-hunt against anyone who believes design can improve people’s lives.” In contrast, the Danish Policy continually stresses pride in the country’s architects, and aims to cultivate an “environment of architectural ambition”.
Lesson #3: Regulation Can Work With, not Against, Architecture
Another keyword for the Danish Policy is ‘innovation’. In the UK it can seem that architectural ideas have stagnated recently, with news such as influential think tank Policy Exchange recommending a return to terraced streets instead of high-rise housing. Proposals like this present a false choice between two set options, whereas in Denmark the emphasis is on developing new ideas and better options.
To achieve innovation, Denmark has actually relaxed building regulations. After ensuring that regulations on sustainability, accessibility and health and safety are kept, a relaxation in other regulations provides architects and construction companies with more flexibility in the design and more room to innovate.
Lesson #4: Architecture is a Collaborative Effort
The final lesson to be taken from the Danish example is that a commitment to improve architecture requires agreement from a number of governmental departments and non-governmental organizations: the policy cites “ministries of Culture, Economic and Business Affairs, Social Affairs, Foreign Affairs, the Environment and Transport and Energy as well as the Danish University and Property Agency, the Danish Defence Estates and Infrastructure Organisation, and the Palaces and Property Agency” as key players in the legislation, with organizations such as the DAC being instrumental to help them engage the public.
Vaizey is similarly aware of the need to engage other departments, pledging to deliver the report to “all four corners of Whitehall.” However, with what appears to be strong opposition from the likes of Michael Gove, and with Communities Secretary Eric Pickles dismissing Vaizey’s request to call in David Chipperfield‘s Elizabeth House design for a public enquiry, Ellis Woodman of BD argued that ”it takes a considerable leap of faith to believe that Ed Vaizey’s latest initiative to elevate the importance of design at government level is going to have any effect.”
The four focus areas of the UK report are certainly enough to successfully cover the same issues as Denmark’s architecture policy, but with the rest of the government seemingly ambivalent towards issues of good design, and Vaizey himself admitting that “I haven’t anticipated that the report will result in any changes to legislation”, it remains to be seen whether the review will generate any noticeable changes at all.
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Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο gal-guardian-arch-ef-activix
29 Μαρτίου 2013
ear-bach-hyper texts-sounds aethetics-
http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/embed/sFHXWoawnt0
In some quarters of academia, aesthetics is a dirty word. It calls to mind aspects of Western intellectual history that some feel are best left abandoned, such as ivory-tower professors who spout theories about the good and the beautiful without having had much contact with either. For skeptics, aesthetics is synonymous with ungrounded theorizing about the value of artworks. The discipline seems unforgivably suspect because so many works of aesthetics over the years have considered a small subset of artworks, inev- itably residing in the Western canon, as standard bearers for the quality of art made anywhere, by anyone, and at any time. While claiming to be an objective measure of what it is that artworks do, aesthetic theory seems irreconcilably ideological, an instrument for reinforcing the values and prej- udices that have kept a few artists and art consumers in comfort, while making sure that many more artworks and artistic practices lurk in obscu- rity and comparative poverty.
Aesthetics is, then, an unpopular pastime, although a few brave souls still write aesthetic theory (Danto 1997; Kraut 2007; Kuspit 2004; Levinson 2006). Many other scholars have critiqued aesthetics by means of cultural studies and sociology, disciplines that start not with theories about artistic merit but rather with empirical data concerning artistic practice. Cultural studies and sociology seem methodologically sound because they rely on ethnography and case studies, techniques that presume to minimize the author’s prejudices about a subject and empower practitioners and specta- tors to speak for themselves. With multicultural, feminist, gay and lesbian, and postcolonial studies continuing to flourish and generate torrents of
Aesthetics is, then, an unpopular pastime, although a few brave souls still write aesthetic theory (Danto 1997; Kraut 2007; Kuspit 2004; Levinson 2006). Many other scholars have critiqued aesthetics by means of cultural studies and sociology, disciplines that start not with theories about artistic merit but rather with empirical data concerning artistic practice. Cultural studies and sociology seem methodologically sound because they rely on ethnography and case studies, techniques that presume to minimize the author’s prejudices about a subject and empower practitioners and specta- tors to speak for themselves. With multicultural, feminist, gay and lesbian, and postcolonial studies continuing to flourish and generate torrents of
Sociologies of cultural expression tend to report and document behavior rather than interpret it. Some of the questions sociological research attempts to answer are: How do participants (i.e., musicians and listeners) derive pleasure and meaning from their music? How do participants acquire and
share knowledge about their music? As such, the sociological method focuses on participants rather than observers. An aesthetics, on the other hand, involves more subjective intervention. An aesthetic theorist must interpret forms of expression to yield insights that might not necessarily be apparent to participants. The questions that this book attempts to answer include those basic to philosophy, questions that sociology would not neces- sarily be best equipped to tackle: What is electronic music? What about it is experimental? What distinguishes it from nonelectronic music? What is specific to electronic music that is absent in other artistic practices and media? These are not the sorts of subjects that usually drive the discourse of electronic-music communities, because participants tend to assume that the reasons for creating and enjoying their art are self-evident. Electronic musi- cians have little time for contemplating why their music is ontologically dif- ferent from nonelectronic music; they may well be more interested in the traits that make a particular work unique in and of itself.
While ethnographic methods are intrinsic to disciplines like anthro- pology and cultural studies, aesthetic theory brings something to electronic music that ethnography cannot. Electronic music is not one single genre but rather a nexus of numerous genres, styles, and subgenres, divided not only geographically but also institutionally, culturally, technologically, and eco- nomically. Because of this breadth of activity, no one single participant or informant can speak about all of electronic music with equal facility. This is where the aesthetic interpretive subject comes in, an observer who reflects critically, albeit imperfectly, about what these disparate communities share. Aesthetic theory cannot and should not claim a truth content that comes easily to ethnography. It is intractably a product of interpretation but, for this reason, challenges and empowers the observer to see the forest where participants might see only individual trees.
So, to address the questions above: Electronic music is any type of music that makes primary, if not exclusive, use of electronic instruments or equip- ment. It encompasses electroacoustic music, which often enlists acoustic instruments along with electronics, as well as purely electronically produced sounds. Electronic music thus inhabits a large expanse of genres, styles, and practices. This book does not qualify as a survey, a cultural history, or any- thing approaching a comprehensive study of these different genres. Rather, I consider a few genres selectively, including musique concrète, post- Schaefferian electroacoustic music, techno, house, microsound, glitch, ambient, drone, dub techno, noise, chill-out, soundscape, and field recording. From these individual examples, I extract a set of principles that can answer the second question of how electronic music differs from nonelectronic music (more on this appears below). The traits that distinguish these genres from one another are indispensable for understanding electronic music as a
While ethnographic methods are intrinsic to disciplines like anthro- pology and cultural studies, aesthetic theory brings something to electronic music that ethnography cannot. Electronic music is not one single genre but rather a nexus of numerous genres, styles, and subgenres, divided not only geographically but also institutionally, culturally, technologically, and eco- nomically. Because of this breadth of activity, no one single participant or informant can speak about all of electronic music with equal facility. This is where the aesthetic interpretive subject comes in, an observer who reflects critically, albeit imperfectly, about what these disparate communities share. Aesthetic theory cannot and should not claim a truth content that comes easily to ethnography. It is intractably a product of interpretation but, for this reason, challenges and empowers the observer to see the forest where participants might see only individual trees.
So, to address the questions above: Electronic music is any type of music that makes primary, if not exclusive, use of electronic instruments or equip- ment. It encompasses electroacoustic music, which often enlists acoustic instruments along with electronics, as well as purely electronically produced sounds. Electronic music thus inhabits a large expanse of genres, styles, and practices. This book does not qualify as a survey, a cultural history, or any- thing approaching a comprehensive study of these different genres. Rather, I consider a few genres selectively, including musique concrète, post- Schaefferian electroacoustic music, techno, house, microsound, glitch, ambient, drone, dub techno, noise, chill-out, soundscape, and field recording. From these individual examples, I extract a set of principles that can answer the second question of how electronic music differs from nonelectronic music (more on this appears below). The traits that distinguish these genres from one another are indispensable for understanding electronic music as a
whole. Still, throughout this book, I refer to “metagenres,” larger groupings of genres. I argue that participants often claim allegiance to one of three metagenres as a means of claiming high-art credibility. These metagenres are institutional electroacoustic music, electronica, and sound art. Institu- tional electroacoustic music functions thanks to the support of governments, private industry, and educational centers like universities. Electronica means different things in different contexts but normally applies to commercial electronic music that is nominally popular, although little electronica sells any great volume of recordings.
Sound art describes works that use nonnar- rative sound (either in combination with or to the exclusion of visual elements), often in a site-specific context in which sounds interact with their venue.
Not all sound-art works contain electronics.
At the start of the twenty-first century, a good deal of the world’s music contains electronic sounds that come from instruments such as synthesizers, samplers, or laptops. Few would be so inclusive as to argue that any work featuring a synthesizer should automatically count as electronic music, but approaching an adequately descriptive definition of electronic music proves challenging nonetheless. One reason for this is that electronic music has had several definitions during the twentieth century. In academia, electronic music has referred to works composed in or near universities (e.g., the Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics, CCRMA, at Stan- ford) or governmental institutions (public radio stations in Germany and France or research centers like the Institut de Recherche et Coordination Acoustique/Musique [IRCAM] and the Groupe de Recherches Musicales [GRM]). During its infancy, this music was produced chiefly in France, Ger- many, Italy, and the United States, and its creators traced its lineage from European avant-garde composers like Edgard Varèse and Karlheinz Stock- hausen. Institutional electronic music initially encompassed musique con- crète (French tape composition using everyday or natural sounds), and elek- tronische Musik (German synthesized electronic music). Today, institutional electroacoustic music includes works featuring sampled and synthesized materials as well as those involving traditional instruments subjected to sig- nal processing. The audiences for institutional electroacoustic music consist of small communities of academics and practitioners. Participants in these communities tend to view their music as elite and intellectual rather than popular or accessible.
Electronic music has traditionally meant something very different in the sphere of popular music, which itself is, of course, not one homogeneous entity but rather a loose conglomeration of rock, psychedelic, ambient, and EDM genres, along with film music. Many gain their first exposure to pop- ular electronic music or electronica by listening to mainstream pop radio,
Sound art describes works that use nonnar- rative sound (either in combination with or to the exclusion of visual elements), often in a site-specific context in which sounds interact with their venue.
Not all sound-art works contain electronics.
At the start of the twenty-first century, a good deal of the world’s music contains electronic sounds that come from instruments such as synthesizers, samplers, or laptops. Few would be so inclusive as to argue that any work featuring a synthesizer should automatically count as electronic music, but approaching an adequately descriptive definition of electronic music proves challenging nonetheless. One reason for this is that electronic music has had several definitions during the twentieth century. In academia, electronic music has referred to works composed in or near universities (e.g., the Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics, CCRMA, at Stan- ford) or governmental institutions (public radio stations in Germany and France or research centers like the Institut de Recherche et Coordination Acoustique/Musique [IRCAM] and the Groupe de Recherches Musicales [GRM]). During its infancy, this music was produced chiefly in France, Ger- many, Italy, and the United States, and its creators traced its lineage from European avant-garde composers like Edgard Varèse and Karlheinz Stock- hausen. Institutional electronic music initially encompassed musique con- crète (French tape composition using everyday or natural sounds), and elek- tronische Musik (German synthesized electronic music). Today, institutional electroacoustic music includes works featuring sampled and synthesized materials as well as those involving traditional instruments subjected to sig- nal processing. The audiences for institutional electroacoustic music consist of small communities of academics and practitioners. Participants in these communities tend to view their music as elite and intellectual rather than popular or accessible.
Electronic music has traditionally meant something very different in the sphere of popular music, which itself is, of course, not one homogeneous entity but rather a loose conglomeration of rock, psychedelic, ambient, and EDM genres, along with film music. Many gain their first exposure to pop- ular electronic music or electronica by listening to mainstream pop radio,
which has canonized songs by acts ranging from Depeche Mode to Radio- head. Others discover electronica while watching science fiction films like Forbidden Planet (1956) or A Clockwork Orange (1971), whose soundtracks feature instruments such as oscillators and synthesizers. Still others first hear electronic music while listening to seminal pop albums such as the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds (1966) or underground successes such as Tangerine Dream’s Phaedra (1974) or Kraftwerk’s Trans-Europe Express (1977). Elec- tronica generally spurns institutional affiliations and revolves instead around pioneering individuals such as Wendy Carlos, Robert Moog, or Brian Wilson, or else the instruments themselves, such as the theremin or the Moog or Korg synthesizers.
The qualifier experimental might initially promise to narrow the field of electronic music, but this adjective is itself far from clear. Beal (2006) contrasts the institutional avant-garde, bookended by Schoenberg and Stravinsky, against experimental composers who rejected both serialism and neoclassicism to develop idiosyncratic styles.
For Nyman (1999), the term experimental music refers specifically to the mid-twentieth-century indeter- minacy movement headed by John Cage, Christian Wolff, and Fluxus artists, a movement he distinguishes from the mainstream avant-garde of com- posers like Boulez and Stockhausen. This notion of experimental is contin- gent on unusual notational systems enfranchising performers to interpret anything from tempi to pitch, as well as whether or not to create sounds at all. Nyman’s experimental music includes mostly acoustic pieces, although some electronic works are mentioned. Nyman’s vision is anticipated by Benitez (1978), who contrasts experimental music’s disposition toward indeterminacy with avant-garde music’s intentionality. Yet in general usage, experimental music is any music that rejects tradition and takes risks through running counter to musical conventions; the term pertains equally to jazz, dub, and hip-hop.
As Piekut (2008) notes, experimentalism is not a meta- physical essence but a series of unusual practices whose strangeness stands out in relation to whatever the mainstream happens to be.
We could con- clude from this that experimental electronic music is anything that chal- lenges the conventions of electronic music. Yet this leaves us with a moving target, since conventions in electronic-music history have usually been short-lived. I therefore define experimental as anything that has departed significantly from norms of the time, but with the understanding that some- thing experimental in 1985 could have inspired what was conventional by 1990.
Any notion of recent experimental music is bound to overlap with sound art, which draws from many of the same influences as mid-century experimentalism. Varèse’s call (2007) for a new means of expression based on the principle of “organized sound” was an early affirmation that
The qualifier experimental might initially promise to narrow the field of electronic music, but this adjective is itself far from clear. Beal (2006) contrasts the institutional avant-garde, bookended by Schoenberg and Stravinsky, against experimental composers who rejected both serialism and neoclassicism to develop idiosyncratic styles.
For Nyman (1999), the term experimental music refers specifically to the mid-twentieth-century indeter- minacy movement headed by John Cage, Christian Wolff, and Fluxus artists, a movement he distinguishes from the mainstream avant-garde of com- posers like Boulez and Stockhausen. This notion of experimental is contin- gent on unusual notational systems enfranchising performers to interpret anything from tempi to pitch, as well as whether or not to create sounds at all. Nyman’s experimental music includes mostly acoustic pieces, although some electronic works are mentioned. Nyman’s vision is anticipated by Benitez (1978), who contrasts experimental music’s disposition toward indeterminacy with avant-garde music’s intentionality. Yet in general usage, experimental music is any music that rejects tradition and takes risks through running counter to musical conventions; the term pertains equally to jazz, dub, and hip-hop.
As Piekut (2008) notes, experimentalism is not a meta- physical essence but a series of unusual practices whose strangeness stands out in relation to whatever the mainstream happens to be.
We could con- clude from this that experimental electronic music is anything that chal- lenges the conventions of electronic music. Yet this leaves us with a moving target, since conventions in electronic-music history have usually been short-lived. I therefore define experimental as anything that has departed significantly from norms of the time, but with the understanding that some- thing experimental in 1985 could have inspired what was conventional by 1990.
Any notion of recent experimental music is bound to overlap with sound art, which draws from many of the same influences as mid-century experimentalism. Varèse’s call (2007) for a new means of expression based on the principle of “organized sound” was an early affirmation that
……………………………….
Although I agree with Licht that sound art and experimental music are not interchangeable, many participants do treat them as sim- ilar, if not synonymous. For this reason, sound art figures throughout this book, especially in discussions of site.
Although I agree with Licht that sound art and experimental music are not interchangeable, many participants do treat them as sim- ilar, if not synonymous. For this reason, sound art figures throughout this book, especially in discussions of site.
There remains perhaps the most contentious issue: How can this book simultaneously consider academic and popular forms of electronic music along with electronic sound art? Most people don’t tend to think of experi- mental music as popular or commercially successful. Yet there are innu- merable examples of miscegenation between supposedly “high” and “mass” culture, enough so that to keep the spheres separate is proving to be an increasingly untenable choice. Witness, for instance, the experimental forays of Vince Clarke, Radiohead, or Frank Zappa, artists who have made names for themselves as popular musicians. One of the more impressive music-industry successes of the last twenty years was to persuade listeners to buy EDM for contemplative, sedentary home listening—a genre known as intelligent dance music (IDM). And as for sound art, even those who are sympathetic to it may hesitate to include it within discussions of music, let alone dance music that features a steady rhythm or pulse. Yet the inno- vations of artists such as Björk and Aphex Twin somehow straddle these divisions comfortably, drawing attention as much from pop-music jour- nalists as from gallery curators and academics.
METHODOLOGY AND ORGANIZATION
METHODOLOGY AND ORGANIZATION
My methodology takes its cue from Wolff ’s work on aesthetics and the soci- ology of art (1993), specifically her argument that the two are codependent. Aesthetics must attune itself to the culture, history, and social context of art and its practitioners and consumers. If not, aesthetics ends up working as a tool of ideology, emphasizing certain aspects of selected works that happen to agree with the writer’s values. On the other hand, aesthetics cannot reduce artworks to their cultural, historical, or social backgrounds; otherwise, there would be nothing to distinguish art from nonartistic activities. Aesthetic theory, for Wolff and for me, must be sensitive to sociology while also being courageous enough to offer statements about why art is specific to itself and distinct from other activities.
This book relies to the greatest extent possible on statements from elec- tronic-music artists, listeners, and theorists to ground its observations in empirical data. However, I admit freely that I draw a number of subjective conclusions about the nature of electronic music. I do so without claiming some purchase on the definitive truth about electronic music, for clearly there is no one truth about it. And although no one individual can be right about everything in music (or life in general), I want to avoid a paralyzing sort of relativism that sometimes impedes scholars from making any sort of conclusive interpretive statements about music. No one individual can ever hope to get everything right, but that is no reason to believe that an indi- vidual can get nothing right. By carefully studying the subject, the genres, the recordings, and the critical literature, we can get some things right.
Part of the key to getting things right in electronic music involves under- standing genre, and here I rely on the invaluable work on the subject by Frow (2005), Kronengold (2008), and McLeod (2001). It’s helpful to think of genre as a sort of social contract between musicians and listeners, a set of conventions that can more or less guide the listening experience. With enough experience, a listener comes to know what to expect in a techno track and why techno generally behaves differently from, say, house, even though both are fundamentally similar forms of EDM. The interesting moments in any genre occur, of course, when expectations are in some way thwarted, when a work does something it is not “supposed” to do according to the rules of its genre. My strategy throughout this book is to listen with two minds simultaneously, attending to how genre situates individual works amid larger groups of works, while also attending to what stylistic features otherwise distinct genres might share. Genre is of the utmost importance to any discussion of electronic music, because genre rules electronic music, dividing participants into camps that often perceive themselves as incom- mensurate with one another.
This book relies to the greatest extent possible on statements from elec- tronic-music artists, listeners, and theorists to ground its observations in empirical data. However, I admit freely that I draw a number of subjective conclusions about the nature of electronic music. I do so without claiming some purchase on the definitive truth about electronic music, for clearly there is no one truth about it. And although no one individual can be right about everything in music (or life in general), I want to avoid a paralyzing sort of relativism that sometimes impedes scholars from making any sort of conclusive interpretive statements about music. No one individual can ever hope to get everything right, but that is no reason to believe that an indi- vidual can get nothing right. By carefully studying the subject, the genres, the recordings, and the critical literature, we can get some things right.
Part of the key to getting things right in electronic music involves under- standing genre, and here I rely on the invaluable work on the subject by Frow (2005), Kronengold (2008), and McLeod (2001). It’s helpful to think of genre as a sort of social contract between musicians and listeners, a set of conventions that can more or less guide the listening experience. With enough experience, a listener comes to know what to expect in a techno track and why techno generally behaves differently from, say, house, even though both are fundamentally similar forms of EDM. The interesting moments in any genre occur, of course, when expectations are in some way thwarted, when a work does something it is not “supposed” to do according to the rules of its genre. My strategy throughout this book is to listen with two minds simultaneously, attending to how genre situates individual works amid larger groups of works, while also attending to what stylistic features otherwise distinct genres might share. Genre is of the utmost importance to any discussion of electronic music, because genre rules electronic music, dividing participants into camps that often perceive themselves as incom- mensurate with one another.
Now for the sticky subject: aesthetic value. Some readers might question the motivations behind this book, and with justification, since aesthetics used to be the discipline of choice for those wishing to push their artistic agenda in praising certain works while disparaging others. Even among aes- thetic theorists today, there is no agreement on whether the very project of aesthetics can carry on without pronouncements about the quality of artworks. Hamilton (2007) and Kraut (2007) approach aesthetics from their backgrounds in analytic philosophy and therefore avoid asserting the supe- riority of the works they discuss. Rather, the two questions that interest these writers are: What is music, and what distinguishes it from nonmusic art forms? Kraut, in particular, insists on the distinction between aesthetic theory and art criticism, the latter belonging to art-world practice rather than metaphysics. Hamilton and Kraut seem to occupy the minority among many other aesthetic theorists who openly judge art quality. Adorno (1997), Scruton (1997), and Wolff (1993) all view value criteria as intrinsic to understanding art: we cannot understand art completely unless we take into account whether we feel an artwork has succeeded or failed and how it com- petes with other works. Wolff also points out that the very act of formulating aesthetic theory necessarily entails questions of artistic value, of what to dis- cuss and what not to mention. An author who claims complete objectivity and value-free neutrality is thus being disingenuous, since every observer has a point of view.
This book takes a position much in line with Wolff’s. The relative aesthetic value of one work over another is not my central concern here, and I try to avoid making statements about my personal likes and dislikes. How- ever, I reject assertions that we can thoroughly bracket out the subject of aesthetic value or that anyone can represent electronic-music aesthetics objectively and comprehensively. Aesthetics and criticism overlap, but they are not identical.
As for the methodology of analysis itself, this book proposes that we ask of electronic music some of the same sorts of questions that Adorno and some post-1950 art critics have fruitfully posed. Adorno’s Aesthetic Theory (1997) has exerted a powerful and positive influence on my writing through its premise that musical material engages in a dialectic with surrounding society, never completely reflective while never completely autonomous, either. I disagree with Adorno on many of his judgments about musical value, but I admire his ability to identify the tension between subjectivity and objec- tivity in the artwork. I point to an analogous tension in many electronic works that conceive of sound as a literal object, material supposedly lacking authorial bias or personal expression. As art critic Michael Fried (1998) con- troversially argues, minimalist sculpture of the 1960s conceived of a similar type of material, three-dimensional objects that were intended not as artistic creations but rather as mute, physically imposing objects. Fried’s formulation of “objecthood” and its reception in writings by Hal Foster (1996), Miwon Kwon (2002), and other art critics can help us contextualize tendencies in electronic music and sound art amid larger doubts in late-twentieth-century art about the continued relevance of art as an autonomous enterprise removed from real life. We can trace the search for nonreferential materials from Dada to John Cage, from Fluxus to minimalist sculpture, and from musique concrète to drone music and microsound. Indeed, this search inherits many anxieties from nineteenth-century art music and musicology over whether music should be absolute or programmatic.
This book takes a position much in line with Wolff’s. The relative aesthetic value of one work over another is not my central concern here, and I try to avoid making statements about my personal likes and dislikes. How- ever, I reject assertions that we can thoroughly bracket out the subject of aesthetic value or that anyone can represent electronic-music aesthetics objectively and comprehensively. Aesthetics and criticism overlap, but they are not identical.
As for the methodology of analysis itself, this book proposes that we ask of electronic music some of the same sorts of questions that Adorno and some post-1950 art critics have fruitfully posed. Adorno’s Aesthetic Theory (1997) has exerted a powerful and positive influence on my writing through its premise that musical material engages in a dialectic with surrounding society, never completely reflective while never completely autonomous, either. I disagree with Adorno on many of his judgments about musical value, but I admire his ability to identify the tension between subjectivity and objec- tivity in the artwork. I point to an analogous tension in many electronic works that conceive of sound as a literal object, material supposedly lacking authorial bias or personal expression. As art critic Michael Fried (1998) con- troversially argues, minimalist sculpture of the 1960s conceived of a similar type of material, three-dimensional objects that were intended not as artistic creations but rather as mute, physically imposing objects. Fried’s formulation of “objecthood” and its reception in writings by Hal Foster (1996), Miwon Kwon (2002), and other art critics can help us contextualize tendencies in electronic music and sound art amid larger doubts in late-twentieth-century art about the continued relevance of art as an autonomous enterprise removed from real life. We can trace the search for nonreferential materials from Dada to John Cage, from Fluxus to minimalist sculpture, and from musique concrète to drone music and microsound. Indeed, this search inherits many anxieties from nineteenth-century art music and musicology over whether music should be absolute or programmatic.
Remembering music from previous centuries is in fact a useful tech- nique, since this book’s premise is that electronic music is fundamentally different in character and in aspiration from any music that preceded it.
Consider that before the advent of electronic music, the sound of almost any instrument or singing voice would alert listeners within a short amount of time that they were hearing a musical sound and not, say, a sound of nature, chance, or a nonartistic machine. The timbres, attacks, structure, and syntax of preelectronic music all work together to underscore music’s status as a special type of organized sound that is separate from the sounds of everyday life.
It goes without saying that not all listeners bring the same sort of expe- rience or musical expertise to the sounds they hear, and listening experi- ences clearly vary according to history, culture, and the music itself. Still, we can be relatively certain that most people who have grown up in a particular culture can recognize its music as music even if they know nothing else about its production or meaning.
Until the electronic era, such qualities set apart music from everyday life.
They functioned as framing devices in a manner analogous to how a picture frame demarcates a painting from the wall on which it is mounted and, by extension, the outside world.
And frames of all sorts are important, for although we might be used to ignoring them and focusing instead on the materials they contain, frames serve the valuable function of identifying art as art.
When the framing devices of Western art music—tools such as tonality, dance rhythms, predictable forms, standard orchestration, and concert venues—began to disappear or undergo critique, so, too, vanished many reasons for regarding music as separate from the outside world.
Not coincidentally, electronics and the discourse surrounding electronic music were critical in the dismantling of the musical frame.
When Pierre Schaeffer began to lug his turntable engraver around Paris to record the sounds of trains, he permanently transformed musical aesthetics, introducing the possibility that the sounds of the outside world could be considered as aes- thetic objects.
But here lies the dilemma. Once electronic musicians took apart the musical frame, what did they do with the Pandora’s box of sounds
Consider that before the advent of electronic music, the sound of almost any instrument or singing voice would alert listeners within a short amount of time that they were hearing a musical sound and not, say, a sound of nature, chance, or a nonartistic machine. The timbres, attacks, structure, and syntax of preelectronic music all work together to underscore music’s status as a special type of organized sound that is separate from the sounds of everyday life.
It goes without saying that not all listeners bring the same sort of expe- rience or musical expertise to the sounds they hear, and listening experi- ences clearly vary according to history, culture, and the music itself. Still, we can be relatively certain that most people who have grown up in a particular culture can recognize its music as music even if they know nothing else about its production or meaning.
Until the electronic era, such qualities set apart music from everyday life.
They functioned as framing devices in a manner analogous to how a picture frame demarcates a painting from the wall on which it is mounted and, by extension, the outside world.
And frames of all sorts are important, for although we might be used to ignoring them and focusing instead on the materials they contain, frames serve the valuable function of identifying art as art.
When the framing devices of Western art music—tools such as tonality, dance rhythms, predictable forms, standard orchestration, and concert venues—began to disappear or undergo critique, so, too, vanished many reasons for regarding music as separate from the outside world.
Not coincidentally, electronics and the discourse surrounding electronic music were critical in the dismantling of the musical frame.
When Pierre Schaeffer began to lug his turntable engraver around Paris to record the sounds of trains, he permanently transformed musical aesthetics, introducing the possibility that the sounds of the outside world could be considered as aes- thetic objects.
But here lies the dilemma. Once electronic musicians took apart the musical frame, what did they do with the Pandora’s box of sounds
unleashed into the concert hall? How does one listen to unmusical, every- day sounds?
The ways in which we listen to unmusical sounds hinge on whether we believe that sounds signify or possess meaning. And this very topic consti- tutes the essence of recent electronic-music aesthetics. In response to the earlier question of what distinguishes recent electronic music from other media, I argue that it is a concern with the meaningfulness of sound. To an extent unrivaled in all previous forms of music, recent electronic music is obsessed with the question of whether sound, in itself, bears meaning. And while participants are unanimous in their curiosity about sound’s meaning- fulness, they are very much divided in their opinions about the matter. For some, it is impossible to hear sound separately from the contexts that lead to its creation and consumption. For others, successful electronic music purifies sound to its most basic materials, elements that possess no residual associations to the outside world. This book derives its three-part structure according to three discernible conceptions of the meaningfulness of sound: as sign, object, and situation. I divide each part into two chapters, each of which addresses one or a few genres and their strategies for eliciting (or avoiding) signification. (I should also mention that chapters 1 through 5 are case studies of specific genres, while chapter 6 presents a more general dis- cussion of the three metagenres in tandem. Readers looking for the red thread may find that the introduction, chapter 6, and the conclusion provide an adequate overview, while the five intervening chapters furnish more detailed analyses.)
Part I examines genres that operate on the assumption that sound func- tions as a sign, a relationship between some signified thought and some sig- nifier sound. Chapter 1 begins with post-Schaefferian electroacoustic music and its efforts to control the listening process. Preelectronic Western art music fueled extensive debates and polemics concerning the semiotic prop- erties of music, specifically concerning whether music can be heard or read as a language. And at many instances in that history, audiences heard, read, and understood musical utterances with exactitude. In certain styles, for instance, a descending bass line communicated lamentation, a strident 4/4 rhythm conveyed militancy or horses, and a chromatic melody described sensuality. But in electronic music, especially the post-Schaefferian electro- acoustic music that chapter 1 considers, the absence of musical parameters such as tonality or regular rhythm pitches music into a no-man’s-land. With the absence of musical syntax, should we hear nonmusical sounds as abstract utterances or as representative of their origins in the outside world? Should we hear a recording of a rising tide lapping on a beach as music? As non- music? And what would be the difference between two such experiences? Post-Schaefferian electroacoustic music is especially conflicted about such questions, in part because of the ease with which it abstracts sounds from the outside world. Schaeffer’s own approach in using such materials was to advocate that listeners practice “reduced listening,” a bracketing out of the cognitive associations that would normally accompany recognizable mate- rials. But many post-Schaefferians, even those who might have studied with Schaeffer himself, reject this manner of imposing a discipline on listeners. Instead, they think that it is incumbent on composers to work with, rather than ignore or repress, external associations of sounds as integral aspects of their works. Post-Schaefferian music can thus be characterized as a debate about the extent to which the semantic content of a sound can be manipulated. Running parallel with this is an anxiety over how much post-Schaefferian music should leave the discourse of music behind. With seemingly unlimited technical abilities for incorporating the sounds of the outside world, some electroacoustic composers create works that bear little, if any, affinities to music as it has been known. Yet others use the rhythms and syntax of post- tonal serialism. The choice of whether to retain or reject the trappings of music and whether to use mimetic or abstract sounds tells a great deal about whether composers see in their materials purely iconic representations of the outside world or more metaphoric, distanced referents.
The ways in which we listen to unmusical sounds hinge on whether we believe that sounds signify or possess meaning. And this very topic consti- tutes the essence of recent electronic-music aesthetics. In response to the earlier question of what distinguishes recent electronic music from other media, I argue that it is a concern with the meaningfulness of sound. To an extent unrivaled in all previous forms of music, recent electronic music is obsessed with the question of whether sound, in itself, bears meaning. And while participants are unanimous in their curiosity about sound’s meaning- fulness, they are very much divided in their opinions about the matter. For some, it is impossible to hear sound separately from the contexts that lead to its creation and consumption. For others, successful electronic music purifies sound to its most basic materials, elements that possess no residual associations to the outside world. This book derives its three-part structure according to three discernible conceptions of the meaningfulness of sound: as sign, object, and situation. I divide each part into two chapters, each of which addresses one or a few genres and their strategies for eliciting (or avoiding) signification. (I should also mention that chapters 1 through 5 are case studies of specific genres, while chapter 6 presents a more general dis- cussion of the three metagenres in tandem. Readers looking for the red thread may find that the introduction, chapter 6, and the conclusion provide an adequate overview, while the five intervening chapters furnish more detailed analyses.)
Part I examines genres that operate on the assumption that sound func- tions as a sign, a relationship between some signified thought and some sig- nifier sound. Chapter 1 begins with post-Schaefferian electroacoustic music and its efforts to control the listening process. Preelectronic Western art music fueled extensive debates and polemics concerning the semiotic prop- erties of music, specifically concerning whether music can be heard or read as a language. And at many instances in that history, audiences heard, read, and understood musical utterances with exactitude. In certain styles, for instance, a descending bass line communicated lamentation, a strident 4/4 rhythm conveyed militancy or horses, and a chromatic melody described sensuality. But in electronic music, especially the post-Schaefferian electro- acoustic music that chapter 1 considers, the absence of musical parameters such as tonality or regular rhythm pitches music into a no-man’s-land. With the absence of musical syntax, should we hear nonmusical sounds as abstract utterances or as representative of their origins in the outside world? Should we hear a recording of a rising tide lapping on a beach as music? As non- music? And what would be the difference between two such experiences? Post-Schaefferian electroacoustic music is especially conflicted about such questions, in part because of the ease with which it abstracts sounds from the outside world. Schaeffer’s own approach in using such materials was to advocate that listeners practice “reduced listening,” a bracketing out of the cognitive associations that would normally accompany recognizable mate- rials. But many post-Schaefferians, even those who might have studied with Schaeffer himself, reject this manner of imposing a discipline on listeners. Instead, they think that it is incumbent on composers to work with, rather than ignore or repress, external associations of sounds as integral aspects of their works. Post-Schaefferian music can thus be characterized as a debate about the extent to which the semantic content of a sound can be manipulated. Running parallel with this is an anxiety over how much post-Schaefferian music should leave the discourse of music behind. With seemingly unlimited technical abilities for incorporating the sounds of the outside world, some electroacoustic composers create works that bear little, if any, affinities to music as it has been known. Yet others use the rhythms and syntax of post- tonal serialism. The choice of whether to retain or reject the trappings of music and whether to use mimetic or abstract sounds tells a great deal about whether composers see in their materials purely iconic representations of the outside world or more metaphoric, distanced referents.
Chapter 2 explores how electronica conceives of sound material as a metaphor. Compared with post-Schaefferian electroacoustic music, elec- tronica spends less time dictating listeners’ responses. Sounds of the outside world, sounds of other works, and sounds newly created all figure in elec- tronica. What matter in electronica are not the origins of sound so much as the metaphors that portray sound as malleable material, the product of con- struction, reproduction, or destruction. Frequently, though not always, these metaphors go hand-in-hand with actual sound-production techniques. Construction is often synonymous with sound synthesis, reproduction with sound sampling, and destruction with the defacement of the phonographic medium. But of course, the most interesting moments in electronica occur when the metaphor describing sound does not correspond with the actual means of producing it. When digital-signal processing hides or disguises the provenance of a sound, listeners can hear in an old sound something sup- posedly new.
Part II assumes a position antithetical to the genres discussed in part I. Here, sound is not a sign but rather an object, an entity with no preexisting semantic content. And although the genres that part II profiles are nomi- nally minimalist, they closely approach Schaeffer’s ideal for reduced lis- tening, because they contend that listeners can disregard whatever external associations sounds might have. As such, the genres in chapters 3 and 4 are the modern-day answers to absolute music, music that spurns narrative, explanation, or other references beyond itself. Chapter 3 looks at the
Part II assumes a position antithetical to the genres discussed in part I. Here, sound is not a sign but rather an object, an entity with no preexisting semantic content. And although the genres that part II profiles are nomi- nally minimalist, they closely approach Schaeffer’s ideal for reduced lis- tening, because they contend that listeners can disregard whatever external associations sounds might have. As such, the genres in chapters 3 and 4 are the modern-day answers to absolute music, music that spurns narrative, explanation, or other references beyond itself. Chapter 3 looks at the
minimal objects in microsound, a form of electronic music that utilizes brief, usually quiet particles of sound. Microsound artists exhibit surprising consistency in their search for sounds that are supposedly expressionless, and I connect this predilection to a similar desire among minimalist visual artists of the 1960s for “objecthood,” where sculpture appropriates discrete objects for their physical rather than referential attributes. Chapter 4 explores maximal objects in drone music, dub techno, and noise music, subgenres that test the physical limitations of listeners through excessive durations and volumes. These various manifestations of excess all purport to transcend meaning, to push sound beyond semiosis to a state in which it communi- cates directly to listeners’ bodies.
In part III, the pendulum swings back toward forms of electronic music that conceive of sound as meaningful but hear that meaning deriving not so much from the sound’s innate characteristics as from the ways in which sound reflects its situation, its placement both within the physical world and within networks of cultures and other musics. Chapter 5 discusses ambient and chill-out, soundscape, field recordings, and sound art for widely dif- fering tacks on how sound can communicate space, place, and location. Chapter 6 takes a step back to consider the three metagenres of institutional electroacoustic, electronica, and sound art. Participants in each metagenre describe their music in terms borrowing from the discourse of experimen- talism, a discourse that pits a distinguished minority against a commercial mainstream and an indifferent public. Despite the fact that the three meta- genres insist on their difference from one another, however, all three encourage a type of listening that resembles less what we think to be tradi- tional musical listening (at least in Western art music) than a move toward a new type of attention, which I call aesthetic listening.
In part III, the pendulum swings back toward forms of electronic music that conceive of sound as meaningful but hear that meaning deriving not so much from the sound’s innate characteristics as from the ways in which sound reflects its situation, its placement both within the physical world and within networks of cultures and other musics. Chapter 5 discusses ambient and chill-out, soundscape, field recordings, and sound art for widely dif- fering tacks on how sound can communicate space, place, and location. Chapter 6 takes a step back to consider the three metagenres of institutional electroacoustic, electronica, and sound art. Participants in each metagenre describe their music in terms borrowing from the discourse of experimen- talism, a discourse that pits a distinguished minority against a commercial mainstream and an indifferent public. Despite the fact that the three meta- genres insist on their difference from one another, however, all three encourage a type of listening that resembles less what we think to be tradi- tional musical listening (at least in Western art music) than a move toward a new type of attention, which I call aesthetic listening.
It is not my intention to democratize electronic music by imposing a solidarity that would not otherwise come naturally. Part of the pleasure in listening to this music involves giving in to this rhetoric of distinction. First-time electronic-music listeners are rightly fascinated by what they hear and frequently conclude that some works are “edgier,” “more sophisticated,” or “more demanding” than whatever they might define as the mainstream. Yet I do want to expose the shared tendencies on all sides of the high/popular divide, because they point to something unmistakable and crucial: a growing sense that listening to electronic music constitutes an act that is fundamen- tally different from how listeners have been used to hearing Western art music for the previous five centuries.
This new experience, which I dub aesthetic listening as opposed to conventional music listening. Aesthetic listening resembles the way many listeners hear popular and some non-Western musics. In listening aesthetically as opposed to musically, we may choose to attend to development, or else we may pay only intermittent attention to sound while also attending to other sensory phenomena. Aesthetic listening also acknowledges that nonmusical sounds, the sounds of the outside world, can have aesthetic interest and that we can listen to them for more than simply their informational value. That aesthetic listening has arisen in electronic music is nothing short of revolu- tionary. Electronic music in its three metagenres pits itself as a high-art form yet, unlike previous forms of Western art music, does not demand attention to form or development. The experience that electronic music affords reflects more accurately the ways in which humans actually do hear the world and is thus less dogmatic about how we should hear it.
The art critic and philosopher Arthur Danto (1997) has spoken of the “end of art,” the moment in twentieth-century art when ready-mades, objets trouvés, and commercial advertising so permeated high-art scenes that they destroyed any remaining justification for differentiating between “art” and “nonart.”
Danto naturally refers to John Cage, who similarly urged listeners to open their ears and minds enough to consider all sounds as music.
Throughout the following chapters, and above all in the conclusion, I want to apply some of Danto’s and Cage’s conclusions to electronic music, but with some important exceptions. For all of the enthusiasm that Cage’s philosophy has generated, it did not succeed in making listeners hear every sound as music, nor did it make listeners approach the other extreme in hearing all sounds, even those of the concert hall, as sounds outside the musical frame.
I agree with Danto insofar as electronic music has precipitated an “end of music” or, rather, the end of practices and philosophies that took for granted the separation of Western art music from the sounds of the outside world.
The subliminal pulsations in a work by microsound com- poser Kim Cascone or the ferry shuttling captured in a field recording by Toshiya Tsunoda may sound foreign, industrial, or simply mundane, but they do not sound conventionally musical. Yet the fact that listeners submit to certain rituals in hearing these sounds, whether by putting on headphones or going to a performance space to hear a live rendering, demonstrates that we still hear these sounds in artworks differently from how we would if we encountered them in everyday life.
The customs governing how we listen to electronic music do not demand the same sort of continuous discipline as concert-hall attendance, with listeners sitting in silence and attending to a piece from start to finish. Listening to electronic music is intermittent and interrupted; listeners may leave a venue and then return (or not), press pause on their iPods but restart several hours later, or
The art critic and philosopher Arthur Danto (1997) has spoken of the “end of art,” the moment in twentieth-century art when ready-mades, objets trouvés, and commercial advertising so permeated high-art scenes that they destroyed any remaining justification for differentiating between “art” and “nonart.”
Danto naturally refers to John Cage, who similarly urged listeners to open their ears and minds enough to consider all sounds as music.
Throughout the following chapters, and above all in the conclusion, I want to apply some of Danto’s and Cage’s conclusions to electronic music, but with some important exceptions. For all of the enthusiasm that Cage’s philosophy has generated, it did not succeed in making listeners hear every sound as music, nor did it make listeners approach the other extreme in hearing all sounds, even those of the concert hall, as sounds outside the musical frame.
I agree with Danto insofar as electronic music has precipitated an “end of music” or, rather, the end of practices and philosophies that took for granted the separation of Western art music from the sounds of the outside world.
The subliminal pulsations in a work by microsound com- poser Kim Cascone or the ferry shuttling captured in a field recording by Toshiya Tsunoda may sound foreign, industrial, or simply mundane, but they do not sound conventionally musical. Yet the fact that listeners submit to certain rituals in hearing these sounds, whether by putting on headphones or going to a performance space to hear a live rendering, demonstrates that we still hear these sounds in artworks differently from how we would if we encountered them in everyday life.
The customs governing how we listen to electronic music do not demand the same sort of continuous discipline as concert-hall attendance, with listeners sitting in silence and attending to a piece from start to finish. Listening to electronic music is intermittent and interrupted; listeners may leave a venue and then return (or not), press pause on their iPods but restart several hours later, or
transfer their attention from the repetitive beats of the dance floor to a conversation they are overhearing at the bar of the club. All of these activ- ities constitute listening that is aware of the aesthetic value of sounds, not strictly as conveyors of meaning but not strictly as musical utterance, either.
But I am getting ahead of myself now. Before we can consider the end of music and other grand subjects, we need to unpack my claim from above, that electronic music’s primary concern is with the meaningfulness of sound. Let me explain what that means.
But I am getting ahead of myself now. Before we can consider the end of music and other grand subjects, we need to unpack my claim from above, that electronic music’s primary concern is with the meaningfulness of sound. Let me explain what that means.
…………………………..
http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/V42EyFHNdkw?hl=en_US&version=3
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο ear-bach-hyper texts-sounds aethetics-
21 Μαρτίου 2013
kipouros nikos
http://www.ert.gr/webtv/et1/item/11801-Moysikh-paradosh-A%CE%84Meros-20-03-2013#.UUr5jxcaOaZ
Μία διαφορετική μουσική εκπομπή με τον Νίκο Κυπουργό
Τι σημαίνει σήμερα η μουσική; Ποιά τα πρόσωπα και τα προσωπεία της; Πού ζει η αληθινή μουσική στις μέρες μας; Ο Νίκος Κυπουργός ακολουθεί τα ίχνη των ήχων σε μία εποχή, που η μουσική είναι ταυτοχρόνως εκκωφαντικά παρούσα και καλά κρυμμένη.
Η νέα εκπομπή της ΕΤ1 είναι ένα ταξίδι στα μυστικά της μουσικής από τη δημιουργία και την ερμηνεία, μέχρι την τεχνολογία και την εκπαίδευση, από τις αίθουσες, όπου παράγεται και παίζεται η μουσική, μέχρι τους δρόμους και τα σχολεία. Μία διαδρομή με οδηγό όχι τη διδασκαλία, αλλά το βίωμα και το αίσθημα.
Η κάμερα ακολουθεί τον Νίκο Κυπουργό, ενώ εκείνος κρατάει το φακό και φωτίζει τα σημεία, όπου το θαύμα μίας νότας, αντέχει ακόμη. Μέσα από τις συζητήσεις με επιλεγμένους καλεσμένους συνομιλητές, μέσα από τα λόγια και τις σιωπές, οι αναζητήσεις γύρω από τη μουσική βρίσκουν απαντήσεις, παραμένοντας συγχρόνως αναπάντητες, στο τέλος κάθε επεισοδίου.
Δείτε σήμερα: “Μουσική παράδοση – Α΄Μέρος“
Eπεισόδιο 11
Τι είναι σήμερα η μουσική παράδοση; Κάτι που το μιμείσαι ή κάτι που το ανατρέπεις; Πώς τραγουδούσαν τα χωριά πριν φτάσει σε αυτά τη τηλεόραση; Πώς αποκαλύπτεται η Ιστορία ενός τόπου μέσα από τη μουσική; Με ποιο βλέμμα κοιτούν οι νέοι το μουσικό παρελθόν;
Στο δέκατο επεισόδιο της εκπομπής της ΕΤ1 «Τα μυστικά της μουσικής» με τον Νίκο Κυπουργό, δίνουν απαντήσεις στα ερωτήματα οι:
• Μαρία Ζουμπούλη – καθηγήτρια εφαρμογών του Τμήματος Λαϊκής & Παραδοσιακής Μουσικής ΤΕΙ Ηπείρου
• Γιώργος Κοκκώνης – καθηγητής εφαρμογών του Τμήματος Λαϊκής και Παραδοσιακής Μουσικής ΤΕΙ Ηπείρου
• Χρόνης Αηδονίδης – τραγουδιστής
• Μάρθα Μαυροειδή – μουσικός, συνθέτρια, τραγουδίστρια
• Αντώνης Απέργης – συνθέτης, μουσικός
• Μάνος Αχαλινωτόπουλος – μουσικός
Ευγένιος Βούλγαρης – μουσικός, καθηγητής Τμήματος Λαϊκής και Παραδοσιακής Μουσικής ΤΕΙ Ηπείρου
Σκηνοθέτης: Λουίζος Ασλανίδης, Χριστίνα Ιωακειμίδη, Γιώργος Νούσιας
Αρχισυνταξία: Νίκος Μωραίτης
Καλλιτεχνικός Σύμβουλος: Κώστας Καρτελιάς, Μαρία Ματέ
Φωτογραφία: Φάνης Καραγιώργος, Αλέξης Ιωσηφίδης
Ηχοληψία: Πάνος Τζελέκης, Ξενοφώντας Κοντόπουλος
Διεύθυνση Παραγωγής: Δήμητρα Κύργιου
Μουσική Τίτλων: Νίκος Κυπουργός
Παρουσιαστής: Νίκος Κυπουργός
Μία διαφορετική μουσική εκπομπή με τον Νίκο Κυπουργό
Τι σημαίνει σήμερα η μουσική; Ποιά τα πρόσωπα και τα προσωπεία της; Πού ζει η αληθινή μουσική στις μέρες μας; Ο Νίκος Κυπουργός ακολουθεί τα ίχνη των ήχων σε μία εποχή, που η μουσική είναι ταυτοχρόνως εκκωφαντικά παρούσα και καλά κρυμμένη.
Η νέα εκπομπή της ΕΤ1 είναι ένα ταξίδι στα μυστικά της μουσικής από τη δημιουργία και την ερμηνεία, μέχρι την τεχνολογία και την εκπαίδευση, από τις αίθουσες, όπου παράγεται και παίζεται η μουσική, μέχρι τους δρόμους και τα σχολεία. Μία διαδρομή με οδηγό όχι τη διδασκαλία, αλλά το βίωμα και το αίσθημα.
Η κάμερα ακολουθεί τον Νίκο Κυπουργό, ενώ εκείνος κρατάει το φακό και φωτίζει τα σημεία, όπου το θαύμα μίας νότας, αντέχει ακόμη. Μέσα από τις συζητήσεις με επιλεγμένους καλεσμένους συνομιλητές, μέσα από τα λόγια και τις σιωπές, οι αναζητήσεις γύρω από τη μουσική βρίσκουν απαντήσεις, παραμένοντας συγχρόνως αναπάντητες, στο τέλος κάθε επεισοδίου.
Δείτε σήμερα: “Μουσική παράδοση – Α΄Μέρος“
Eπεισόδιο 11
Τι είναι σήμερα η μουσική παράδοση; Κάτι που το μιμείσαι ή κάτι που το ανατρέπεις; Πώς τραγουδούσαν τα χωριά πριν φτάσει σε αυτά τη τηλεόραση; Πώς αποκαλύπτεται η Ιστορία ενός τόπου μέσα από τη μουσική; Με ποιο βλέμμα κοιτούν οι νέοι το μουσικό παρελθόν;
Στο δέκατο επεισόδιο της εκπομπής της ΕΤ1 «Τα μυστικά της μουσικής» με τον Νίκο Κυπουργό, δίνουν απαντήσεις στα ερωτήματα οι:
• Μαρία Ζουμπούλη – καθηγήτρια εφαρμογών του Τμήματος Λαϊκής & Παραδοσιακής Μουσικής ΤΕΙ Ηπείρου
• Γιώργος Κοκκώνης – καθηγητής εφαρμογών του Τμήματος Λαϊκής και Παραδοσιακής Μουσικής ΤΕΙ Ηπείρου
• Χρόνης Αηδονίδης – τραγουδιστής
• Μάρθα Μαυροειδή – μουσικός, συνθέτρια, τραγουδίστρια
• Αντώνης Απέργης – συνθέτης, μουσικός
• Μάνος Αχαλινωτόπουλος – μουσικός
Ευγένιος Βούλγαρης – μουσικός, καθηγητής Τμήματος Λαϊκής και Παραδοσιακής Μουσικής ΤΕΙ Ηπείρου
Σκηνοθέτης: Λουίζος Ασλανίδης, Χριστίνα Ιωακειμίδη, Γιώργος Νούσιας
Αρχισυνταξία: Νίκος Μωραίτης
Καλλιτεχνικός Σύμβουλος: Κώστας Καρτελιάς, Μαρία Ματέ
Φωτογραφία: Φάνης Καραγιώργος, Αλέξης Ιωσηφίδης
Ηχοληψία: Πάνος Τζελέκης, Ξενοφώντας Κοντόπουλος
Διεύθυνση Παραγωγής: Δήμητρα Κύργιου
Μουσική Τίτλων: Νίκος Κυπουργός
Παρουσιαστής: Νίκος Κυπουργός
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο kipouros nikos
7 Μαρτίου 2013
eric sate-gnossienne
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο eric sate-gnossienne
5 Μαρτίου 2013
utopia-requirments
_______ΧΕΙΜΕΡΙΝΟ ΕΞΑΜΗΝΟ 2012-12
______________________________________________________________________________
“περιλαμβάνει” *
1.Προσωπικές παρουσιάσεις υλικού.
Με κείμενα- φωτογραφίες- βίντεο- ήχους- κ.λπ. και αφού αποφασίστε πως / (………..) κάντε μας μια σύντομη παρουσίαση από 7 έως 14 λεπτά πάνω στη/στις θεματική/ες που επεξεργαστήκατε στη διάρκεια του εξαμήνου η την πρόοδο της διπλωματικής σας
Σύντομη και συνοπτική παρουσίαση του/των θεμάτων επεξεργασίας που περιέχει απαντήσεις για το :
-ποιο/α ήταν τα θέματα η το θέμα επεξεργασίας-
-ποια τα συμπεράσματα…
-ποια τα αποτελέσματα..
2 Παράδοση -επιλεγμένου υλικού από τη θεματική του εξαμήνου (Α4*) 3.- Αναρτήσεις επιλεγμένου υλικού στο blog
* Α4 word (>>>>)ελάχιστη περιγραφή της μεθοδολογίας της έρευνας σας που έγινε στη διάρκεια της επεξεργασίας των θεματικών του εξαμήνου με το απαραίτητο οπτικό υλικό.
*POWER POINT η PDF
3. Ανάρτηση στο blog υλικού
3. Ανάρτηση στο blog υλικού
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο utopia-requirments
20 Φεβρουαρίου 2013
3 Φεβρουαρίου 2013
30 Σεπτεμβρίου 2012
Δελτίο τύπου
Πανεπιστήμιο Δυτικής Μακεδονίας
Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών
Δελτίο τύπου
Το Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών του Πανεπιστημίου Δυτικής Μακεδονίας συμμετέχει στην έκθεση Transform 2012,στην οποία παρουσιάζονται έργα φοιτητών των Σχολών Καλών Τεχνών από τις βαλκανικές χώρες. Η φετινή διοργάνωση γίνεται στη Θεσσαλονίκη από το Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών του Α.Π.Θ. και έχει ως θέμα «Το κουτί της Πανδώρας». Οι φοιτητές του Τ.Ε.Ε.Τ. του Π.Δ.Μ. παρουσιάζουν έργα τους στο Κέντρο Χαρακτικής Νεάπολης (5-23.9.2012) και στους Κοιτώνες του πρώην Στρατοπέδου Κόδρα (27.9.2012-6.10.2012).
Συμμετέχοντες φοιτητές: Νικόλας Αντωνίου, Λεωνίδας Γκέλος,
Ορέστης-Αντώνιος Δημόπουλος, Φαίδρα Εγγλέζου, Κατερίνα
Ελευθεράκη, Άννα Καραγιάννη, Βασίλειος Καραμπίνης, Ευαγγελία
Καραστέργιου, Αντιγόνη Καψάλη, Μίνως Κεφαλάς, Πένυ Κορρέ,
Ηλέκτρα Μάιπα, Θωμάς Μακινατζής, Νατάσσα Μηλιτσοπούλου,
Όλγα Μπογδάνου, Μαρία Μπούμπουκα, Αλέξης Ξενίας, Νίκος
Παναγιωτόπουλος, Βασιλική Παπαηλίου, Μαρία Παπαλεξίου, Μερόπη
Παύλου, Μαρία Σελησίου, Χρήστος Σκούρτης, Κική Στούμπου,
Ράνια Σχορετσανίτη, Χριστίνα Τζάνη, Μυρτώ Τζούφρα, Αλεξάνδρα
Τσιντσιντά, Γαβριήλ Φτελκόπουλος, Φωτεινή Χαμπάκη, Νικόλαος
Χαραλάμπους- Κωνσταντίνου, Γεσθημανή Χατζή.
Επιβλέποντες καθηγητές: Αγγελική Αυγητίδου, Ingo Dünnebier, Γιάννης Ζιώγας, Φίλιππος Καλαμάρας, Χάρης Κοντοσφύρης, Βασίλης Μπούζας, Δήμητρα Σιατερλή.
Πληροφορίες για τις εκθέσεις και τις δράσεις της διοργάνωσης:
http://pandorasbox2012.blogspot.com.
Αλλαγή στο χώρο και το χρόνο έκθεσης:
Η έκθεση που θα γινόταν στον πολυχώρο τέχνης Remezzo
στις 21.9.12 πραγματοποιείται στους Κοιτώνες του πρώην
Στρατοπέδου
Κόδρα
(Καλαμαριά,
Καραμπουρνάκι,
Τέρμα
Σοφούλη).
Διάρκεια έκθεσης: 27.9.12-6.10.12
Ώρες λειτουργίας της έκθεσης στους Κοιτώνες του πρώην
Στρατοπέδου Κόδρα: Δευτέρα – Κυριακή, 6.00 – 10.00 μ.μ.
Yλικό από τη συμμετοχή του Τ.Ε.Ε.Τ. του Π.Δ.Μ.:
http://www.eetf.uowm.gr
http://pandorasnous.blogspot.gr/
http://floroieikastikoi.blogspot.com
Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών
Δελτίο τύπου
Το Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών του Πανεπιστημίου Δυτικής Μακεδονίας συμμετέχει στην έκθεση Transform 2012,στην οποία παρουσιάζονται έργα φοιτητών των Σχολών Καλών Τεχνών από τις βαλκανικές χώρες. Η φετινή διοργάνωση γίνεται στη Θεσσαλονίκη από το Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών του Α.Π.Θ. και έχει ως θέμα «Το κουτί της Πανδώρας». Οι φοιτητές του Τ.Ε.Ε.Τ. του Π.Δ.Μ. παρουσιάζουν έργα τους στο Κέντρο Χαρακτικής Νεάπολης (5-23.9.2012) και στους Κοιτώνες του πρώην Στρατοπέδου Κόδρα (27.9.2012-6.10.2012).
Συμμετέχοντες φοιτητές: Νικόλας Αντωνίου, Λεωνίδας Γκέλος,
Ορέστης-Αντώνιος Δημόπουλος, Φαίδρα Εγγλέζου, Κατερίνα
Ελευθεράκη, Άννα Καραγιάννη, Βασίλειος Καραμπίνης, Ευαγγελία
Καραστέργιου, Αντιγόνη Καψάλη, Μίνως Κεφαλάς, Πένυ Κορρέ,
Ηλέκτρα Μάιπα, Θωμάς Μακινατζής, Νατάσσα Μηλιτσοπούλου,
Όλγα Μπογδάνου, Μαρία Μπούμπουκα, Αλέξης Ξενίας, Νίκος
Παναγιωτόπουλος, Βασιλική Παπαηλίου, Μαρία Παπαλεξίου, Μερόπη
Παύλου, Μαρία Σελησίου, Χρήστος Σκούρτης, Κική Στούμπου,
Ράνια Σχορετσανίτη, Χριστίνα Τζάνη, Μυρτώ Τζούφρα, Αλεξάνδρα
Τσιντσιντά, Γαβριήλ Φτελκόπουλος, Φωτεινή Χαμπάκη, Νικόλαος
Χαραλάμπους- Κωνσταντίνου, Γεσθημανή Χατζή.
Επιβλέποντες καθηγητές: Αγγελική Αυγητίδου, Ingo Dünnebier, Γιάννης Ζιώγας, Φίλιππος Καλαμάρας, Χάρης Κοντοσφύρης, Βασίλης Μπούζας, Δήμητρα Σιατερλή.
Πληροφορίες για τις εκθέσεις και τις δράσεις της διοργάνωσης:
http://pandorasbox2012.blogspot.com.
Αλλαγή στο χώρο και το χρόνο έκθεσης:
Η έκθεση που θα γινόταν στον πολυχώρο τέχνης Remezzo
στις 21.9.12 πραγματοποιείται στους Κοιτώνες του πρώην
Στρατοπέδου
Κόδρα
(Καλαμαριά,
Καραμπουρνάκι,
Τέρμα
Σοφούλη).
Διάρκεια έκθεσης: 27.9.12-6.10.12
Ώρες λειτουργίας της έκθεσης στους Κοιτώνες του πρώην
Στρατοπέδου Κόδρα: Δευτέρα – Κυριακή, 6.00 – 10.00 μ.μ.
Yλικό από τη συμμετοχή του Τ.Ε.Ε.Τ. του Π.Δ.Μ.:
http://www.eetf.uowm.gr
http://pandorasnous.blogspot.gr/
http://floroieikastikoi.blogspot.com
Αλλαγή στο χώρο και το χρόνο έκθεσης:
Η έκθεση που θα γινόταν στον πολυχώρο τέχνης Remezzo στις 21.9.12 θα πραγματοποιηθεί στους Κοιτώνες του Στρατοπέδου Κόδρα. Εγκαίνια έκθεσης: 27.9.12 στις 8.00 το βράδυ. Διάρκεια έκθεσης: 27.9.12-6.10.12
1. τόπος έκθεσης : ΚΟΙΤΏΝΕΣ ΣΤΡΑΤΟΠΕΔΟΥ ΚΟΔΡΑ
2. ημερομηνία στησίματος: ΤΡΙΤΗ,ΤΕΤΑΡΤΗ 25 ,26/9/2012
3 . συγκέντρωση έργων ΤΡΙΤΗ 25/9 σε Συνεννόηση με τους ΖΙΩΓΑ- ΚΟΝΤΟΣΦΥΡΗ που Θα συντονίσουν το στήσιμο
4. εγκαίνια :27/9/2012 το βράδυ
5. διάρκεια έκθεσης 27/9-6/10/2012
6. για τα πολυμεσικα έργα θα χρησιμοποιηθούν οι 4 προτζεκτορες της σχολής και 2 που έχουν την διάθεση να μας δανείσουν οι οργανωτές του κοδρα .Οι προτζεκτορες δεν συνοδεύονται από cdplayer και μπαλαντεζες που πρέπει να φέρουν οι ενδιαφερόμενοι.
7 εργαλεία στησίματος πρέπει να τα χει προβλέψει η κάθε ομάδα εργασίας
Δεν επιτρέπεται σχολιασμός στο Δελτίο τύπου
28 Σεπτεμβρίου 2012
ΠΑΝΔΟΤΕΙΡΑ ΠΑΝΔΩΡΑ
TRANSFORM 2012/ Pandora’s Box/ Αριστοτέλειο Πανεπιστήμιο Θεσσαλονίκης
Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών
Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών
Πανεπιστήμιο Δυτικής Μακεδονίας/Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών (Φλώρινα)
Κέντρο Χαρακτικής Νεάπολης 5-23.9.2012
Κοιτώνες πρώην Στρατοπέδου Κόδρα 27.9.2012 – 6.10.2012
ΠΑΝΔΟΤΕΙΡΑ ΠΑΝΔΩΡΑ
Ο ανθρωπογονικός μύθος της Πανδώρας συνδέεται με μύθους που αναφέρονται στην
παράβαση της θείας εντολής και την τιμωρία που επέρχεται με την εξάπλωση των συμφορών
στο ανθρώπινο γένος. Η Πανδώρα, η πρώτη γυναίκα, το «καλόν κακόν», ως άλλη Εύα, είναι
αυτή που θα θέσει σε κίνηση την ιστορία, καθώς θα εξαπολύσει μέσα από το «κουτί» τα
δεινά και θα στερήσει από τους ανθρώπους την ευτυχία ενός γήινου παραδείσου. Η γυναίκα,
το κουτί, τα δεινά είναι οι τρεις άξονες γύρω από τους οποίους κινήθηκαν οι εργασίες των
φοιτητών του Τμήματος Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών του Πανεπιστημίου Δυτικής
Μακεδονίας.
Ποια είναι η Πανδώρα;
Η απατηλή και πανούργα φύση της στολισμένης, από την Αφροδίτη με χάρη, από την Αθηνά
με ικανότητα στα έργα και από τον Ερμή με «νου σκύλας», Πανδώρας παρουσιάζεται με τη
μορφή της γυναίκας από την περιοχή του «άλλου», μια γυναίκα διαφορετική και γι αυτό πιο
ελκυστική και απειλητική. Ωστόσο η κρυμμένη φαυλότητα της Πανδώρας έρχεται στο φως,
καθώς αποκαλύπτονται σώματα παραμορφωμένα και παρακμασμένα. Αν όμως η Πανδώρα
είναι η θηλυκή εικόνα της καταστροφικής δράσης, ο άλλος πόλος δεν είναι παρά η αρσενική
της εκδοχή. Η πράξη της Πανδώρας, παρά το σαφή καταλογισμό ευθυνών στα θηλυκού
γένους άτομα, αφορά την ανθρώπινη μοίρα, καθώς οι ενέργειες που διέπονται από φιλέρευνο
πνεύμα, την «περιέργεια», έχουν συχνά αμφίβολα αποτελέσματα.
Κουτί ή πιθάρι;
Το αινιγματικό αντικείμενο με το πολλά υποσχόμενο περιεχόμενο δεν ήταν παρά μια ακόμα
παγίδα των θεών, όπως και το πλάσιμο της γήινης Πανδώρας. Ανεξάρτητα από τη μορφή
του, το κουτί αποτελεί μια πρόκληση για την ανθρώπινη περιέργεια. Το κουτί όμως λειτουργεί
ως πρόσχημα. Η ανθρώπινη δράση είναι αυτή που εξαπολύει τα δεινά ή πραγματώνει
τα «αγαθά». Το κουτί ως βούληση και μνήμη. Η επιλογή για το άνοιγμά του, ακόμα και όταν
η συσκευασία προειδοποιεί για το περιεχόμενο, είναι μια πράξη, την ευθύνη της οποίας
αναλαμβάνει το δρων πρόσωπο. Την ίδια ευθύνη αναλαμβάνει και όποιος αναδεύει την
ατομική και συλλογική μνήμη, ερευνώντας, ανασκευάζοντας ή κατασκευάζοντας το παρελθόν.
Το «κακό» έρπει
Όταν συντελέστηκε η πράξη οι συμφορές πλημμύρισαν τον κόσμο. Τα έρπον «κακό»
παρασιτεί και πολλαπλασιάζεται, λιγότερο ή περισσότερο διακριτό, άλλοτε βασισμένο στην
αδυναμία της ανθρώπινης φύσης και άλλοτε αποτέλεσμα της οργανωμένης κοινωνικής ζωής.
Οι σύγχρονες εκδοχές του κακού ως «αμάρτημα» αφορούν το άγχος, την απομόνωση, την
άμβλυνση της σκέψης με την κατασταλτική δράση της τηλεόρασης, την «τυποποίηση» της
ίδιας της ζωής που γίνεται εμπόρευμα. Στον πάτο του πιθαριού η ελπίδα, ως μεταμφιεσμένη
συμφορά, μεταθέτει το τώρα στο αύριο, δημιουργεί ψευδαισθήσεις, αλλά και λειτουργεί
κατευναστικά στο φόβο και την απογοήτευση.
Οι φοιτητές του Τμήματος με τους δασκάλους τους διερεύνησαν τις διαφορετικές πτυχές του
μύθου της Πανδώρας, δίνοντας έμφαση στη διαλεκτική σχέση καλού-κακού και στον διφυή
χαρακτήρα της Πανδώρας ως πηγή δεινών και δημιουργίας. Εξάλλου κάθε απόφαση, κάθε
λόγος, κάθε πράξη -ιδιαίτερα όταν αφορά τη δημιουργική εργασία- είναι το άνοιγμα ενός
κουτιού με άγνωστες συνέπειες.
Ζωή Γοδόση
Επίκουρη καθηγήτρια στην Ιστορία της Τέχνης
Τμήμα Εικαστικών και Εφαρμοσμένων Τεχνών -Πανεπιστήμιο Δυτικής Μακεδονίας
Αναφορές
Κακριδής Ι.Θ. (επιμ.), Ελληνική Μυθολογία, Εκδοτική Αθηνών, Αθήνα 1986.
Κείμενα από τα project των εργαστηρίων για την έκθεση: www.eetf.uo
Συμμετέχοντες με το εργαστήριο πολυμέσων για την διαβαλκανική έκθεση ΤΟ ΚΟΥΤΙ ΤΗΣ ΠΑΝΔΩΡΑΣ
- Μηνος Κεφαλας
Η θάλασσα είναι ένα απέραντο γαλάζιο οπού κρύβει πολλά δείνα άλλα και πολλές ομορφιές ,το κουτί της Πανδώρας έκρυβε και αυτό με την σειρά όλα τα δεινά του κόσμου άλλα και την ελπίδα.Εξάμηνο : 8ο
- Ηλέκτρα Μάιπα – Video εγκατάσταση
Η πίεση, το άγχος, οι οικονομικές δυσκολίες τον εγκλωβίζουν -τον άνθρωπο- σε ένα συγκεκριμένο τρόπο ζωής, επιβραδύνοντας τη ροή της σκέψης του. Όντας ένας απλός θεατής, οι αντιδράσεις ελαττώνονται προκαλώντας ολική σωματική και εγκεφαλική αδράνεια. Η αδράνεια αυτή μπορεί να οδηγήσει σε ένα κατευθυνόμενο τέλμα.
Τίτλος : «Περίεργες σκέψεις»
Χρονολογία : 2009 Υλικά : Βίντεο Διάρκεια : 35’’ Ονοματεπώνυμο : Ηλέκτρα Μάιπα Εξάμηνο : 10ο
- Γεσθημανή Χατζή
ΤΙΤΛΟΣ: ΛΑΙΜΑΡΓΙΑ
ΕΤΟΣ ΠΑΡΑΓΩΓΗΣ: 2011
ΚΑΤΗΓΟΡΙΑΕΡΓΟΥ : Video Art + Photo Shooting
Στοιχεία VIDEO : MP2, 03:09 (προδιαγραφές –προβολή) Στοιχεία Φωτογραφιών : 300 dpi(τυπώματα)
Εξάμηνο : 8o Είναι κατά σειρά το τρίτο απο τα επτά θανάσιμα αμαρτήματα. Σύμφωνα με την παράδοση, κάθε αμάρτημα εκπροσωπείται απο έναν δαίμονα.΄΄. Δυό ΄΄Λαίμαργοι΄΄ εκπρόσωποι του Βελζεβούλ απολαμβάνουν ένα λουκούλιο γεύμα,με το κραυγαλέο ένστικτο της πείνας που σκιαγραφεί επιτιδευμένα,την κοινωνική μας συμπεριφορά. Η ΄Λαιμαργία και η επιδίωξη της ικανοποίησής της, αποσκοπεί να δημιουργήσει μόνο συγκρούσεις και ανεκδιήγητες συμπεριφορές με απότερο σκοπό την κατακτησή της. Μια αλοτριωμένη αίσθηση της κοινωνικής και συναισθηματικής πείνας που διακυβεύει την ζωή μας και στηρίζει με συμβολικό τρόπο τα νοήματα ,της καθημερινότητάς μας σε ενα πλαίσιο μιάς ομαλής συνεύρεσης- συνεργασίας. Μετατρέπουν το περιβάλλον του ΄΄φαινομενικά΄΄δίκαιου μοιράσματος σε σκηνή παρακμης. Η λαιμαργία μας,μπορεί και καταβροχθίζει ηθικές και ιδεολογικές αξίες και οδιγεί σ’ενα κυνήγι αδυσώπιτων συμφερόντων.Κάθε άλλο,λοιπόν η κοινωνική και ψυχολογική μας Λαιμαργία συγχέεται χώρις ενδοιασμό με τα΄΄δεινά΄΄και τα ΄΄κακά΄΄ που σκορπίστηκαν απο το πιθάρι ή το κουτί της Πανδώρας, ή ακόμα να είναι και το αποτέλεσμα της πράξης αυτης, που οδήγησε στον κοινωνικο μας κανιβαλισμό.
- Χρήστος Σκούρτης -Videoεγκατάσταση
Τίτλος : Ελπίδα
Οι προεκτάσεις που μπορεί να πάρει ο μύθος του Κουτιού της Πανδώρας είναι πάρα πολλές όπως πολλά είναι επίσης και τα νοήματα που μπορεί κάποιος να εξάγει από αυτήν την ιστορία. Μέσα από την εργασία μου προσπάθησα να προσεγγίσω μια μικρή λεπτομέρεια του μύθου που μου κέντρισε το ενδιαφέρον και είχε να κάνει με την ελπίδα.
Διαβάζοντας τον δεν μπορεί να είναι κανείς σίγουρος τι ακριβώς αντιπροσώπευε η ελπίδα μέσα στο κουτί. Ήταν το φάρμακο που θα έσωζε τους ανθρώπους από τα δεινά τους ή ήταν άλλο ένα κακό κλεισμένο μαζί με όλα τα άλλα; Είναι καλό να ελπίζουμε ή πρέπει να ζούμε χωρίς να περιμένουμε τίποτα και από κανέναν; Πρέπει να περιμένουμε ένα καλύτερο αύριο ή να μην τρέφουμε ελπίδες για τίποτα;
Ερωτήματα όπως τα παραπάνω έγιναν αφορμή για να συντάξω δυο κείμενα περίπου 100 λέξεων και να επιχειρηματολογήσω για την ελπίδα. Οι λέξεις των κειμένων γράφτηκαν με φως και καταγράφηκαν μέσα από μια φωτογραφική μηχανή η οποία τραβούσε φωτογραφίες με πολλή αργή ταχύτητα. Το αποτέλεσμα ήταν να συλλέξω περίπου 480 φωτογραφίες jpeg τις οποίες και προβάλλω με την μέθοδο του stop motion με δυο video περίπου 100sec το κάθε ένα.
Στην σχολή η προβολή της εργασίας μου έγινε σε μια μακέτα η οποία έμοιαζε με μια σκάλα και οι δυο προτζέκτορες βρίσκονταν κάθετα προς αυτή. (Οι προβολές γίνονταν με την φορά που έχουν τα βέλη)
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Παράλληλα μετέτρεψα τα κείμενα με την βοήθεια ειδικού διαδικτυακού μεταφραστή σε κώδικα μορς. Έτσι την ίδια στιγμή που βλέπεις το κείμενο μπορείς και να το το ακούς σε γλώσσα μορς. Τα δυο video αυτή την στιγμή μπορούν να προβληθούν μόνο με την χρήση του προγράμματος quic time player.
Μέσα απο αυτή την ταυτόχρονη προβολή προσπάθησα να δείξω πως τελικά η ελπίδα βρίσκεται στην ένωση, στο σημείο συνάντησης των απόψεων μας για αυτήν, στα κοινά σημεία των επιχειρημάτων και των κείμενων που συνέταξα. Στα θετικά γνωρίσματα των απόψεων μας και στο μέτρο.
Ακολουθούν τα κείμενα για την Ελπίδα.
Το να ελπίζει κανείς έχει την έννοια ότι δεν κάμπτεται από τα άγχη που τον συνθλίβουν, δεν υιοθετεί ηττοπαθή στάση και δε νικέται από την κατάθλιψη μπροστά σε δύσκολες προκλήσεις ή εμπόδια. Ελπίδα είναι η προβολή στο μέλλον για κάτι καλύτερο, για βελτίωση. Η Ελπίδα είναι άμεσα συνδεδεμένη με το χρόνο, δηλαδή με το μέλλον. Ελπίζουμε γιατί θέλουμε αύριο κάτι διαφορετικό, μία βελτιωμένη κατάσταση. Λίγη σημασία έχει αν τρέφουμε προσδοκίες, μεγάλες ή μικρές, υλικές ή πνευματικές,. Μεγαλύτερη σημασία έχει ότι μπορούμε και το πράττουμε. Και αυτό είναι το βασικό χαρακτηριστικό που έχει ο άνθρωπος: έχει συνείδηση του ιστορικού του χρόνου και μπορεί να ελπίζει, να θέλει, να αγωνίζεται και να προσδοκά. «Στην πραγματικοτητα, η ελπιδα είναι το χειροτερο από όλα τα κακα, γιατί παρατεινει τα βασανα του ανθρωπου»Φρίντριχ ΝίτσεΟι αρχαίοι Έλληνες δεν έτρεφαν ελπίδες. Η ελπίδα για αυτούς, αντίθετα με ότι πιστεύουμε σήμερα, σήμαινε παραίτηση και ζω δεν σημαίνει παραιτούμαι. Εμείς έχουμε καταφέρει να βγάλουμε από το κουτί ότι οι αρχαίοι θεωρούσαν το χειρότερο από όλα τα κακά.Πότε θα καταλάβουμε ότι η ελπίδα είναι μια ψευδαίσθηση που απλά μας κάνει να είμαστε πιο ευτυχισμένοι για όσο αγωνιζόμαστε;
«Δεν ελπίζω τίποτα, δε φοβούμαι τίποτα, είμαι λέφτερος.»
Νίκος Καζαντζάκης
- Νίκος Παναγιωτόπουλος –Εγκατάσταση()
Tίτλος : Pandora’sbox
Χρονολογία : 6/6/2012
Διαστάσεις : Κύβος 30 cm
Υλικά : Μέταλλο , αντιστάσεις , thermometricpaint , φωτοκύτταρο
Ειδικές πληροφορίες : Η κατασκευή θα ήταν επιθυμητό να βρίσκεται σε χώρο με χαμηλή θερμοκρασία (16-20οc), τοποθετημένη πάνω σε ένα βάθρο. Επίσης να βρίσκεται κοντά σε παροχή ρεύματος.
PANDORAS
BOX
Pandora’s box is a sculpture based on a project with the same title.
In ancient Greek mythology Pandora was a princess and the first woman in the world. Gods envied her because of her beauty and they wanted to trick her. So they gave her a box that contained all good and all evil. They told her never to open it , but Pandora was too curious, so one day she couldn’t stand the curiosity and she opened the box. Suddenly, all the evil spread to the whole world and the only thing left in the box was hope, the last good element.
So for this subject I made a metal box that is pitch black. The square works symbolically for the box and black works for the negative-evil concepts that the box contains. When the viewer comes to see the square the box <> and from black it becomes white. White symbolizes the last benevolent elements that are left in the box.
The time when the box is <> on every side of the square appears a word that is connected with the good and evil
The words are:
KNOWLEDGE : Knowledge is connected with good and evil in most cultures like the Christian culture. When Eve eats the fruit of knowledge , suddenly, she knows about the good and evil and in the further story the knowledge brings their loss of their innocence and their exile from heavens.
HUMAN: Every human being incorporates an equal amount of good and evil. The human sub stance is the equation of good=evil. So humans are connected with the good and evil of Pandora’s box.
HOPE: Hope is the last thing that remained in Pandora’s box. Hope was used from Pandora as an antidote for all the evil that unleashed to the world.
π : The infinity number that many believe that is the number of God. Also π is the first letter of the name Pandora (Πανδώρα in Greek), moreover Pandora means the one who brings the gifts. So if we tell that π=3,14.. and that numbers equals to God then the Pandora is the gift of the Gods to humanity and also the curse. Many believe that Pandora made by the Gods to punish humans for using the flame that Promethean gave to them. The punishment was the disaster that brought to them by Pandora when she opened the box. π factions symbolically as the wrath of the Gods to humans.
- Χριστίνα Τζάνη VIDEO-STOP MOTION
4ο Εξάμηνο
Τίτλος έργου : Τηλενουβέλα
Έτος: 2012
Video Stop Motion Animation
Διάρκεια : 02:08 λεπτά
Σαν Πανδώρα που σκόρπισε τα κακά παρουσιάζεται η κυβέρνηση (με γυναικεία μορφή) .Προσπάθησα να θίξω επίκαιρα θέματα τα οποία απασχολούν όλους τους Έλληνες πλέον επί καθημερινής βάσεως. Διακωμώδησα κατά κάποιο τρόπο τις συνθήκες με τις οποίες η πολιτική της χώρας μας ,μας επέφερε τόσα δεινά που στοιχειώνουν την καθημερινότητα μας σαν λαό.
Χρησιμοποίησα κούκλες του εμπορίου πετυχαίνοντάς τις εκφράσεις τους με την προσθήκη πλαστελίνης για την δημιουργία μιας ψευδαίσθησης ρεαλισμού και δημιουργώντας δικά μου σκηνικά όπου διαδραματίστηκαν οι σκηνές.
- Μερόπη Παύλου
Ονοματεπωνυμο: Μερώπη Παύλου Β΄ Εξάμηνο
Τίτλοςέργου: ASPHYXIA Video Art2012
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