Multi-channel Double Feature

A 44 speaker array surrounds Studio 1, EMPAC's famous “black box”. In the center of the room, chairs are scattered about at random. I take my seat near the edge, and I am immediately struck with an extreme sense of isolation but, I am not alone: several other festivals goers are eagerly awaiting for the first piece to being.

The first piece, a 24-channel sound-scape by Volkmar Klien, thrilled me from the very beginning. Using electronically generated beeps, clicks, and ticks, Klien takes listeners on a dynamic ride through the noise of the 21^st century. At times, the piece is overwhelming: the audience becomes, quite literally, surrounded by noise. Feedback loops and high frequency screeches attack the audience from all directions, an experience completely unique to the space that it is being presented in. These delightfully abrasive sounds eventually give way to quieter hums and clicks which make up the majority of the rest of the piece, until quietly dissolving at the pieces end.

A piece by Hans Tutschku follows with a very similar ebb and flow of sounds, beginning very quietly, becoming increasing loud towards the middle of the piece, and then slowly fading into nothing. Tutschku's piece was unique in that he chose to include the voice of a woman in a style similar to that of a Gregorian chant. Full of longing and despair, the woman's voice cries out over all the noise and chaos until she is ultimately silenced along with everything else.

In no criticism to the composers, there were periods where I found it very difficult to focus on the pieces being presented. The sound of every cough, every movement made by the audience members was amplified to the point where someone clearing their throat was, at times, louder than the music itself. I found this to be terribly distracting and even wound up becoming overly focused on trying not to make a sound myself. This could have been avoided if the piece were presented on an individuals basis however, there was neither the time nor space to allow it.

Despite these minor annoyances I very much enjoyed both pieces. I am a huge fan of contemporary noise based music and having a chance to experience these works in 24-channels was quite remarkable in that of itself.

The Other Monster on the Mountain

Trekking the long way up the hill from the Other Troy this Saturday I went through campus to see MTAA's All Raise This Barn and saw the saddest pile of lumber and tarp littering the library's lawn in front of half a shack. What had happened? Hundreds of votes, and the one thing not up for discussion was "Can a barn be built in a day?" Yes if you're a community of Amish barn builders, but maybe not if you're an underequiped art installation in an apathetic, overworked university. The idea was interesting, but the whole community interaction process seemed to have a big question mark hovering over it. And in the end, the truth came out. Community and interaction do not seem to be the ties that bind Troy, RPI and EMPAC together. It is hard not to ask EMPAC, who is it here for? Who is it serving? Performers? Art enthusiasts? RPI students? The Troy community?

Filament, the three day performance art festival hosted by EMPAC advertised filling its numerous theaters and atriums with performance and video. I planned on taking advantage of the offer they have, allowing RPI students free admission before shows to see the Live Shorts. Although I could not take my boyfriend due to the exorbitant $35 full pass or one time $15 ticket fee for non-students, and wondered who else in the Troy community was deterred by the price. I got there with plenty of time to see the installations in the lobby and the mezzanine. Yanira Castro's Wilderness was an impressive and delicate interactive sound installation avoided by the sparse viewers for most of the day, unaware that they were meant to take off their shoes and run around the rubber filled arena, triggering the simple beauty of the piece. It took the few children to throw caution into the wind and take a leap, but even then, the simple arrangements were muffled by the overpowering architecture and acoustics of EMPAC, making the connections between sound and movement unclear.

In the vast sterile mezzanine was a sparse showcase of about 20 past EMPAC residents each allotted a square foot cubicle to display their achievements. Many of the interactive performances were untranslatable in such a meager space, but some managed to create a feeling of intimacy with headphones. Interestingly enough, Daniel Teige, the artist unable to complete his composition during his residence seemed to have the greatest success in his display box. The simple 5 sided plexiglass cube with dual low-tech tape recorders playing unsynchronized soundscapes of the viewers discretion made for a fun, inviting piece, not quite squashed by the blank open building. Unfortunately, the only indication that the viewers were allowed to play with the tapes was in the program and many viewers wandered away without understanding their potential involvement.

At 5 minutes to, I made my way to the box-office to learn that the show was sold out and noticed a few students with all access passes who had been told the same thing. All of the viewers filled into the smallest theater and I was left alone in the lobby. I went into the main theater and heard my steps cruelly echo the 1200 empty seats as the 5 audience members turned to stare back at me and the little panda way in the distance did his mascot victory dance.

The evening performance of Wilderness in the darker, more intimate setting proved less exclusive. Much much much less exclusive to the point of begging the startled and uncomfortable audience for interaction. Many were willing and happy to play along, but few seemed to belong and contribute to the piece. Many audience members stood wondering where to look or who to look at. There is as long a history of interactive performance as there is of music and dance. The musicians play, the dancers dance and anyone present who feels moved will move. Music is that powerful. Interactive performance, while interesting and compelling, is not necessarily so. We as audience members can be moved by the spirit or a good old fashioned beat, but in contemporary performance art, participation is not a given. It requires an intimacy and a feeling of belonging, that your contributions will be incorporated. In an open lobby of a contemporary museum, it is hard to make your mark in a way that seems sincere.

The performance started out with an old eccentric man begging for attention, calling on the resonance of the Earth of a black rubber insulated sensor ridden arena which responded to his movements, no matter how odd. As the audience stood there, unsure of how to move or where to go, we understood that our contributions were in our footsteps, not our gestures. We move and make the accompaniment. The contribution of the interactive sound component written by masses seemed much greater than that of one man or one piano.

The mob could not comply with the man's physical requests, because we view all old men with the skepticism of insanity. He stalked off stage, watching wistfully as his 4 young and beautiful memories imitated his eccentricities, but without the same musical response of the ground. Whether accidental or not, the silence which met the young quartet amplified its superficiality and the lack of our possibility for a meaningful contribution. The audience watched the dancers attempts of eccentricity amused, for we will never truly believe the fall of the young and beautiful, but merely tried to play along, following their foreign cues, agreeing to participate in their silly games. When the performers finally spoke to the audience in our own language and gave each other cues in theater speak, we realized the game was up. No one was believing this sham. This play. We were just here for amusement until it was over.

ABACUS –Soap Box Street Orator Turned Performance Artist

Paul Abacus advocates his socialist agenda in this performance art piece with a glorified soap box and megaphone. The self-titled ABACUS is a tribute to the man’s egotistical vision that merely regurgitates the ideas of Darwin, Buckminster Fuller, and philosophies that echo Nietzsche, and Marx. The Opera’s vertically-paneled screens enhance their ‘cult of personality’ effect, and command the audience through fascist technique.

As a viewer, I felt generally uninvolved as Paul drowned both the audience and himself in self-reverie and discontent. Even when participatory action was encouraged, it was no more interactive than say trivial polling or mimicry. That being said, if a discussion and following was desired, then I must question his delivery and presentation methodologies, as the position being taken was adversarial to popular belief. I don’t disagree with his social paradigm, and I think he appeals to some very general 21rst Century sensibilities. His argument follows logic and truth, the metaphysical product of modern scientific dogma. But I think this is really the source of confusion, because the Opera combines Paul’s compelling objectivity with artistic drama and performance, which ultimately distorts the output, making it very political.

As a piece of entertainment, I think ABACUS is successful. The piece excites, engages, shocks, and dramatizes. As anything else however, the piece just doesn’t jive. The piece is well designed for RPI and artistic introverts, but would fall apart outside of this niche. In many ways art has always been exclusive, and something that was only accessible to the intelligentsia. I suppose that Paul might be able to evangelize a small crowd of this sort, but if he desired widespread assimilation of his ideas, he might translate his spoken prose to laymen terms. I say this because Paul talks about understanding. The whole principle behind this idea is that if one is to understand then we first need a universal language. Paul touches on the notion, but the problem itself is not addressed.

To speak of the content of ABACUS, I need to first comment on the vehicle of communication. As I mentioned earlier, the visual set-up is inherently fascist with a twist- the audience is looking down at the performer. I don’t believe that this was a condition that was meant to empower the audience, however. The content “performed” was both aggressive and intimidating. The screen(s) depicted high-contrast images with Paul’s deep-shadowed features, paired with flashy statistical visualizations and models, bringing PowerPoint to whole new level of totalitarian influence. Paul’s setup commands the viewer’s attention. In fact it demands it ruthlessly. On this level I have a problem, and my entire organism can’t help but rebel against Paul Abacus’ dream of some definitive social utopia.

Star Room impressions

It is difficult to write a full review on Star Room by Maryanne Amacher since what we experienced this afternoon was an interpretation of her work by two close collaborators, Sergei Tcherepnin and Micah Silver. Another important piece of information is that the sonic material was planned to be accompanied by a projection/animation that was not completed due to Ms. Amacher death in October 2009. In short, this is not a review but rather my impressions on this amazing and unfinished work.

Star Room was a very intense an powerful experience. At moments I felt like the sonic material was treated as pure energy trying to lift up the theater with us in it. It was almost like a sculptural gesture - also important is to know that Ms. Amacher performs part of her work live - giving shape to massive bodies by moving them around, in all directions, through vasts distances. Listening was expanded until all my body felt the resonating physiognomy of the building contracting as a living being. Maryanne Amacher placed speakers in a room beneath were the audience was sitting, she named that space "the star room". The stars were literally underneath my feet.

We were told after that Maryanne Amacher was trying to create an experience were sound could be perceived as if we were in zero gravity, it is my humble opinion that she achieved her goal with great mastery.

The "Wilderness" from the Outside

There are two ways to view Yanira Castro’s Wilderness: from inside the magic circle, and from outside the circle. I sat on a bench on the outside of the circle, outside of the “full” experience. However, from outside, it is easier to see the inner workings of Wilderness, and how it interacts with the audience. And honestly, if I was in the circle, I would be too frightened to write a proper review. The “magic circle” I talk about is a black circle in the EMPAC entrance lobby that is filled with black rubber chips. Before the performance begins there are also a few dozen chairs for the audience, arranged in a semi-circle. It is surrounded by 16 light posts that remain on for much of the performance (they only shut down or change in any way twice: once to highlight a particular area and a second time to indicate the show was over). Though the area is described as dark in the EMPAC description, the only thing that is dark is the ground. Many of the surrounding lights at EMPAC remain on for safety reasons.

The performance itself is approximately 1 hour long. It started with a brief 5-10 minutes of just music, mostly just an indicator for the audience within the e circle to take their seats. The music is a combination of piano and ambient music, neither of which have a set tune, and sort of jump in and out during the performance. It works for the atmosphere, but I would not describe it as good music. The actual performance starts with a solo act by an old man. With a hood over his head, his opening move was a strange dance where he basically ran in place until he started breathing heavily, and then tore of his hood. From there, the performance could be best described as a “descent into madness” as the man basically ran around, dug into the rubber chips, randomly exclaimed things, stared into the distance, talked to himself, was freighted by imaginary things, and talked to various members of the audience. He eventually commanded the audience to stand, herds them about the circle, and continued as he did before. In the background, quickly and quietly, staff members walked away with the chairs. In a way, I was convinced that the man’s purpose was to distract and confuse the audience while the chairs were stolen, leaving the audience standing or sitting in the rubber chips.

When I said the “full” experience was inside the circle, I did not mean to imply that the performance always took place within the circle. Eventually, the old man walked out of the circle, and slowly moved to the sidelines, stopping every so often to stare off into the distance. As the old man wandered off stage, four members of the audience reveal themselves to be performers, and begin doing the same act as the old man. And if the performance wasn’t strange enough, this is where it gets even stranger: the performers somehow get the audience to participate in their strange antics. The audience begins carrying other members of the audience, burying each other, rolling around. Maybe if I was in the circle, I would understand… more likely I would run out of the circle and continue observation from a safe distance (there’s a certain level of interaction I’m ok with in a live show and Wilderness crosses the line).

Eventually, the show ends. The performers move to the edge of the circles, the lights turn off, and the audience applauds. This was my opportunity to confirm the number of performers, to determine the true extent of the audience infiltration, to see if the interactivity was a hoax. To my surprise, it wasn’t. This demonstrated what perhaps the greatest accomplishment of Wilderness is its ability to get the audience involved. While I found the show’s content strange, boring (the repetition of the four performers of the old man’s material made it easy for me to be distracted), and perhaps frightening, it succeeds in getting those within the magic circle involved. As Castro’s focus was on audience interaction and feeling, the show would be considered a success. However, I still wouldn’t call it a good show, even if it did achieve its goal.

Review: ABACUS

ABACUS, the new performance by Early Morning Opera, is sweeping in its scope and vision but fails short of delivering the desired message.

After a brief starting time delay, I watched the opening night performance of ABACUS. Upon walking into the EMPAC concert hall, I was immediately struck by the tech setup / set, which was very striking: six screens, set up above the performing area in a kind of semicircle. They dominated the stage view, as it was much easier to see the screens from the balcony that to try and look below them at the actual concert hall performing area. I’m not sure, however, what the intended seating arrangement was: something that bothered me throughout the whole performance. I, along with every other person who saw the show, sat in the balcony high above the performers. It allowed for a cool looking-down-on-the-action view of what was going on, but made viewing the lowest of the screens very difficult. I was unsure if the bottom section was meant to be filled with patrons who did not come or if the seclusion of the audience was intentional. I mention this because of later portions of the performance, where Abacus walked through the aisles of the lower sections and turned the camera on those seating sections: completely empty. I could see the meaning of those sections of the performance completely changing if there had actually been people there to film.

I was surprised at how engaging ABACUS was. Paul Abacus is a performer of the highest quality, and his interpretation of what is essentially a 60 minute monologue kept the show interesting and fast-paced for the duration of the performance. He was supported by a team of cameramen using Steadi-cams attached to their bodies, whose video feeds were mixed along with pre-rendered graphics and broadcast onto the giant screens above the performing area. It was visual bliss, as each member of the audience was constantly forced to make a decision about where to watch: the screens or the live Paul Abacus. Unlike other live-action / video mashups I’ve seen, one was not favored over the other and I never felt that I was missing something by watching either of the two options.

On the other hand, I felt the thematic content left something to be desired. ABACUS tries to make a point about national borders and social evolution, but the message got muddled very quickly. Paul Abacus’ monologue changes topics without the resolution of the previous topic, forever using the next topic to support the previous argument without ever really making a point about anything. If not for Abacus’ pure showmanship and charisma, these thematic matryoshka dolls would have quickly grinded on my nerves. I also disliked the ending of the piece, which used a deus-ex-machina ending purely for shock value without a real reason supporting it.

ABACUS was a nice opening to the Filament Festival for me, and I look forward to seeing more things here at EMPAC. I was a little let down, however, that PhD panda shown heavily in promotional material for the work bearly had a role in the actual performance. Hopefully I’ll be seeing more visual pandamoneum in the future.

Sheepspace

Sheepspace is a ‘live film’ by SUE-C and Laetitia Sonami, inspired by Haruki Murakami’s two novels Dance, Dance, Dance and A Wild Sheep Chase.

The film is about someone who lives in the folds of shadows; they act like a switchboard, making connections between dreams and reality.

SUE-C and Laetitia sat on the floor in the middle of the studio, working out of their suitcase-sized animation booth, packed with cutouts, film strips, flashlights and motors. The two artists worked in silence, side by side. SUE-C manipulated the items under the lights while Laetitia created the music on her electronic setup. The pair looked like a couple of child gypsies; sitting on the floor, wearing silly-looking sheep hats, with a bunch of random-looking toys and gizmos. The performance, however, was rather sophisticated.

I found the projected visuals combined with the live music to be extremely entrancing, even haunting. In some instances, I could really sense the blurring between the dream world and reality. There was one part that I really connected with on a deep level; a spinning fan of colours was whirling around and every so often there would be a flash and a glimpse of live action footage such as a view from a window on a train, all the while some fantastic music evoked feelings of nostalgia. I was totally transfixed, it was a dream.

All Raise This Barn

The Filament event I was most looking forward to was the MTAA Art Barn. After hearing about it in class I went to the website and began voting on what I wanted the barn to look like. I was voting on some ridiculous features and was therefore looking forward to seeing a completely unique and crazy barn.

When I walked up to the barn I was immediately a little disappointed. The wild barn I had in my mind was replaced with a fairly normal looking half finished barn. I thought after a weekend of various people working on the barn it would be completed, but it wasn't and maybe that is why I didn't get the full effect. I also wonder if my high expectations were unrealistic. In my mind and based off the questions I voted for, this was going to be a neon circular barn boat. I can't tell if the other people voting on the barn were more inclined to see a traditional barn or if structural restrictions limited the extend to which the artists could be creative. After hearing that there was an Art barn in San Jose I looked online to see what that one looked like. I felt like Art Barn east, while architecturally disappointing, was overall better because it was outdoors and felt like more of a community fueled work of art.

What I did find really interesting was hearing more about what is to be done with the barn. The barn will stay up through the end of October and many student groups on campus have already signed up to use the barn for various activities. This is truly an interactive piece of community art. The community got to help build the barn and now we get to have it on campus as a space for students to use. My disappointment with the appearance of the barn was countered by this information, and overall I think the Art Barn was a success.

BalletLabs' "Miracle"

I, too, was rather skeptical when I first viewed the trailer for “Miracle.” I don’t generally go for experimental art, not to mention I wasn’t sure if I could tolerate an hour of people screaming and writhing around on a stage, no matter how deep the meaning behind it.

Overall, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised, and was applauding in earnest by the time the dancers took a bow. “Miracle” was a riveting performance full of tension, emotion, and symbolism working together to convey the mysterious yet frightening aura surrounding modern cults, sometimes in highly abstract ways. I found myself scribbling notes over the cover of my program booklet, so that I wouldn’t forget some of the more striking details. In the end, though, for the true experience you must see it in person for yourself, as no amount of writing will be able to convey the emotion of the dancers, or the power of the sound design.

The first act of “Miracle” had the four dancers dressed in differently-colored robes faintly reminiscent of those worn by the Romans. (Perhaps a reference to pagan beliefs?) The minimalist stage, containing nothing more than a pair of stage lights, slowly lit up to reveal the dancers standing in the back corner, perfectly silent with a look of peaceful contemplation on their faces. For a couple of minutes, at least, they stood this way without a single sound. Then all of a sudden, they launched into the hysterical shrieking that must have earned the performance its “loud moments” warning in the booklet, backed up by discordant, shrill music. It was actually physically uncomfortable, especially in its louder portions, but I say that not as a complaint, but as a compliment, as it meant the performance was successful at evoking the feverish euphoria it was trying to convey.

Of the three acts, the first had the least actual ballet “dancing”, at least in the form we’re used to—for the most part, the dancers just run wildly about the stage (albeit in noticeably coordinated patterns) and drag each other around. At one point, one of the female dancers screamed in agony, thrashing about on her back, as one of the male dancers repeatedly yelled “SHUT THE F**K UP!” at her. Earlier, another dancer completely lost it, kicking and screaming, while the others stifled his yells by lying on top of his struggling body. What was particularly praise-worthy was how fluidly the dancers went from moving in spiritual unity to harshly abusing one of their number, and how the chaotic, discordant soundtrack blended smoothly with moments of harmonious, hymn-like singing and violins. The dancers smoothly shifted between roles, one moment playing an oppressor, the other a victim.

The second act had much more overt imagery, and was obviously the part most inspired by the Jonestown massacre mentioned in the booklet. Instead of robes, the dancers wore more contemporary clothing, signifying they were portraying more recent cult activity. The use of megaphones was particularly important, as was the large speaker dangling from the ceiling. These elements represented the brainwashing and propagandizing often done in extremist evangelical cults. Indeed, this act’s sound was dominated by the continuous, overlapping loops of stifled, indistinct speech issuing from both the speakers and the dancers themselves, through the megaphones.

This was accompanied by choreography which was clearly informed by the atmosphere of evangelical gatherings. The dancers jumped up and down with their hands raised high and enraptured faces. They took cloth bundles--obviously meant to symbolize holy objects—and handled them with veneration and care. There were also more traditional dance segments, during which the dancers intertwined, embraced, clasped hands, and leaned on each other with incredible grace and fluidity, possibly representing the unity and interdependence of the cult.

One of the most striking parts of this act was the segment in which one of the female dancers ran away from the others, frantic and scared, as they berated her through the megaphones, ending only when the woman collapsed in exhaustion. This was a fantastic representation of the way in which cults use shame and blackmail to prevent members from leaving.

The heavy symbolism and the way it was artfully incorporated into the dance sequences was my favorite part of this act, and the show as a whole. If you were only allowed to view one act from this performance for whatever reason, I would not hesitate to recommend the second for its power, raw emotion, and familiarity.

The third act was the most abstract of the three, and also the act with the most “traditional” ballet. Instruments had a large focus in this act, harmonicas in particular. The dancers would perform expressive ballet while screeching from harmonicas. It was no less riveting than the rest of the performance—the choreography was particularly beautiful—but unlike its companion acts, I found it difficult to get a grasp of what it was trying to get across. Even the description in the booklet didn’t help.

The performance ended with a marvelous and entirely unexpected visual illusion which made the two dancers appear as if they were levitating off the stage. The dancers were dressed in robes reminiscent of those worn by Asian monks, and were loudly whispering some sort of mantra, which helped enhance the tranquil atmosphere. After viewing a performance mostly dominated by frantic screaming and hysterical movements, the contrast of such a peaceful, mystical scene was particularly striking.

“Miracle” was an incredible event and highly recommended, especially if you find yourself horrifically fascinated by cults and religious extremism, as I am. Even if you aren’t, the symbolism is so well-crafted that it’s easy for anyone to appreciate. However, definitely heed the warning in the booklet if loud/shrill noises tend to upset you, as this performance thrives on dissonant, aurally jarring music and sound effects. I concur with my classmate in that bringing earplugs may be a wise decision.