I first came across artist Katie Paterson a few years ago when she made the streetlights along Deal Pier flicker in response to lightening storms for her work Streetlight Storm. Since then she has continued to make connections between ordinary, everyday objects and natural phenomena, ranging from nanomolecular technology to dead stars and quasars. In the process, she has developed close working relationships with scientists, often through residencies at leading research centres such as University College London’s Department of Astronomy and the Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute. The recent launch of two new works seemed like a good opportunity to reflect on her conceptually rigorous and aesthetically engaging practice.
I’ve been a bit useless with sharing my thoughts about things I’ve seen over the summer, but a couple of things stuck in my mind long enough for me to finally get round to writing about them. Jeremy Millar’s 18-minute film Daphne (2013), seen at the Turner Contemporary’s summer exhibition, was one of those memorable things. The film was shot in the Photographic Collection at the Warburg Institute in London, and consists of numerous very long shots of filing cabinets, potted plants, whitewashed pillars, and piles of artworks stacked on tables or leaning against walls. Occasionally a cardiganed arm or the top of a head is glimpsed as members of the Institute’s staff sort prints into piles, or quietly discuss some aspect of how the Daphne of the film’s title, a minor figure in Greek mythology, has been represented in art over the centuries.
There’s an interesting discussion going on over at Caleb Kelly’s Sound Thoughts blog about the nature of field recording to which I’d like to draw attention. To summarise: the discussion centres around Chris Watson’s Ynys-hir Dawn Chorus recording, in which the morning calls of various birds and animals can be heard. Kelly argues that an edit Watson makes in order to cut out the sound of a passing military jet results in a less authentic field recording, because while it seeks to remove traces of human intervention in a natural soundscape, the edit is in fact itself a human intervention, altering the record of what is found.
Arboretum is a short film made with leaves and twigs from the Forest of Blean, a study for a forthcoming larger project on tree dieback. Enjoy!
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
The month of February is marked by the pagan festival of Imbolc and the Christian feast of Candlemas; both events are traditionally celebrated with candlelit processions, the light of the candles symbolising the returning warmth as winter wanes. Unfortunately a bitterly cold and snow-filled wind managed to blow away any rumours of spring throughout the weekend of the inaugural Cheriton Light Festival in East Kent, so it was good to see hundreds of people still brave the elements to enjoy two days of light-related art installations, a lantern parade, and a sculptural bonfire.
First attempt to make a piece of music using sounds from a flute. I even made a short video to go with it, though panning on my cheap tripod wasn’t exactly smooth!
Here’s the full-length piece:
This download contains a high-quality FLAC file, SuperCollider source code and required audio:
The first time I came across the work of Gerard Byrne was while I was working on the 2010 Whitstable Biennale. We were showing his 2004 film Homme à femmes (Michel Debrane), in which the eponymous actor plays the role of Jean-Paul Sartre in a reconstruction of an interview with the philosopher regarding his relationships with women. Every morning I went to the gallery to switch the projector on, returning to switch it off at the end of the day. My viewing of the film thus consisted of a number of fragments built up over the course of a fortnight, some repeated several times; presumably there were also parts I did not see.