composing human/nature

Dylan Bolles composing human/nature human/nature, engaged a complete reading by Stephen Ratcliffe of his poem by the same name over the space of 14.5 hours, and enlisted the creative energies of various artists and audience in the shape of a performance installation. The event took place on June 6, 2008 at UCDavis, was based in long-standing collaborative relationships spanning over 10 years, and is archived as an audio recording at http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Ratcliffe.html

i am walking alone. i feel the way I have learned to feel. i know when it is time for me to make art the way a farmer knows when

The small passage in italics tunes the ears of the reader, asking them to listen for resonances.

it is time to plant, or a sailor when it is time to make for shore. a hollow log and a large stick. i hit the log remembering the ruffed grouse drumming for a mate. i am drumming for pleasure and become lost in the reverberation of the surrounding valley. the beats are strangely urban. the feeling begins to creep. a slow and building fear that i am releasing something which should not be. which i am not ready to release. i stop. notice that my pace in the direction of camp

Zukofsky's poem suggests a range of potential performances which writing puts into play, the limits of which my work with Stephen seeks to explore.

seems quicker than usual.

I began work with Stephen in the spring of 1999 as the lone composer in a graduate seminar he was leading on sound in experimental poetry.

When Stephen and I met, I was working on a variety of techniques for organizing words and sound with a small group of writers who were

"How, in Zukofsky's poetics-music ∫speech

similarly engaged. I decided to treat the reading of texts as I would treat the playing of another musician. Each writing and reading inspired a different compositional response. The “setting” of the text in

An integral Lower limit speech Upper limit music

song became only one possibility out of many.

--is music the "upper limit" of writing, speech its "lower limit"?

Ratcliffe, Stephen. Listening to Reading. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000. pg.1 (See also) Zukofsky, Louis, and George Frideric Handel.

"A"-24. New York: Grossman Publishers, 1972. in which Zukofsky experiments with the layering of multiple spoken voices to accompany piano music by Handel.

The Case of The Manual Typewriter and The Sewing Machine Case

... SOMETIMES YOU CAN'T HEAR THE WORDS!!! Or rather, one of the sound elements which accompanies the reading of human/nature

sometimes you can't map the sounds and shapes which reach your

is a dark green, antique Royal typewriter.

ears to discreet and repeatable meanings which are socially agreed

the typewriter records the

rhythm of the speech using a simple cipher like this:

upon (however provisionally). The words do not cease to mean, they mean differently as an integral aspect of the sound. Occasionally,

ll..._

ll..l

=

(sweptback wingspan of jet passing overhead)

sound colors the meaning of the speech in quite a different way.

Objects and ideas presented as speech are sometimes echoed by a

the resonant THWACK of the keystrokes corresponds to the rhythms being recorded providing a contrapuntal echo to the continuing speech.

the

pitch of the THWACK sits just above the pitch of the speaking voice - its partials rising far above and beyond the upper limit of human hearing. the attack is sharp and dry in contrast to the ocean-like lulling voice and bounces indiscriminately between the many angles and hard surfaces presented by the architecture of the space, the wood floor and the

representative sound in the environment. For instance, I might be playing a set of stone whistles which sound similar to bird calls as Stephen reads, "sound of golden-crowned sparrow's 3-note oh dear me".

It is also quite likely, in many situations, that a plane will go by just as the line, "sound of jet passing overhead," is delivered (this line

columns, in a disorienting and shifting pattern.

recurring as a kind of echo throughout the work). These happy the record, that is, the series of dots and dashes imprinted on the page,

accidents are the exceptions that prove the rule in the relation of

simultaneously represents two sets of distinct yet related rhythms:

sound to meaning in language. They help us to understand that the

one,

the cadence of the voice that is speaking captured in a series of non-

sound of the word only partially partakes in the sound of its meaning.

continuous snapshots of what "catches the ear" of the person who is

"sound of jet passing overhead" is both an image of a sound and a

typing.

sound itself. Even if partially buried by the sound of an actual jet,

two, the rhythms performed by the motion of the typewriter in the

act of recording.

and indistinguishable as legible speech, it participates in the language of sound as meaning.

the temporal discontinuities which constitute these complementary

The first performance I did with Stephen was on a series called,

sonic experiences are erased into a continuous data stream of dots,

Borderbends. I had never read his work, so he took me to his

dashes, and lines, forming a new score from the old one (the poem?

office, opened up a file on his computer and printed me 20

the speech? the space?).

consecutive sheets, sight unseen. As in human/nature, which he

this score is then played back into the

room as a rhythm, against the still speaking voice, on a wooden

began three years later, there was a consistent graphical layout to

sewing machine case.

each page, long prose-like lines, a repeating form which virtually

the tone is low and dull, but oddly resonant:

a persistent mumbling fullness.

the undertone of a compressed

erased transitions page to page, no titles, and consecutive dates in

temporality fast-forwarding past events in the wrong register (the

the top left corners which indicated the day they were made. In

sound/symbol for "fast-forward" is still a speeding up of the tempo

what became our typical working relationship, the next meeting

and a raising of the pitch, as if the signal were contained on an

would be onstage, and the poems he gave me would not be the

audio tape).

ones he read.

all the while the 4 microphones, placed like sentinels in rough correspondence to the four columns

which describe the possible

boundaries of the performance space, and the 1 perched outside between the road and the window-wall, silently record in their particular way, turning all they hear into electrical impulses. each sends its report to be duplicated and reiterated. of impulses is recorded as raw data.

one stream

the other enters a kind of

Stephen reads his poems continuously, almost ignoring the page break. While his vocal range is narrow, he pays careful attention to the rhythms and tones he creates. The effect is something like drone or trance. This subtly shifting music left me free to explore a wide range of ideas. Stephen found that my music helped to drive and shape his speech, adding texture and richness to its

magic box where Zachary Watkins remakes, recombines and

rhythms and a shifting context for its images. Over the years we

reconfigures their various signatures, sending them back out into

have performed a series of “public meetings� of our most current

the space to be recaptured again.

artistic practices, of which human/nature is the longest and most

recording

performance recycling.

scoring, documenting, and

ambitious in terms of the number of performers and mediums involved.

In the early stages of planning, Lynette asked me how I

Pauline Oliveros was my composition teacher at Mills College

viewed my role in the production, to which my answer

from 1997-99. She has remained both a mentor and a

On the surface, the working method for

was - Composer. This term has gained some complexity

professional ally since that time and her importance to my life

human/nature has a lot in common with

over the years as the scores for my works become less

has seemed to steadily blossom. She is so quiet that as a young

the type of experiments made famous by

locatable as documents, and reveal themselves, if at all,

composer I struggled to hear her. She has been steadfast in her

Cage and Cunningham in which each

as a quality of being in the world.

assertion that the act of listening is a creative act with material

artist works independently of the other in

consequences: that listening is composition itself and the basis

an attempt to embrace a kind of chaos or

For each aspect of the production (sound, recording,

for ethical action. I recently had the opportunity to speak to her

chance dimension. While I agree with

space, lighting, food, etc.), I invited artists with whom I

casually about my practice. I asked her these questions, more or

Cage that, “In musical terms, any sound

have a trusting relationship to participate based on their

less

may occur in any combination in any continuity,” I also find embedded in that

talents and interests. I then “held the space” for a particular collaborative process: not conflict leading to

Pauline, isn't it true that what we do is compose? that we just

statement a kind of dare, which cleared

compromise, but a commitment to engaging each artists

do that? if i sing for an hour then i compose for an hour, even if

some necessary space during Cage's time,

expressive needs in a shared space.

i don't try to consciously guide the decisions. looking back on

but which we may no longer need to

your work i conceptualize it as composition in the presence of

make.

For instance, Stephen's decision to read the entire work

audience. you share the process of composition with your

himself meant that the duration could not be known

audience in the time of performance. others call this

beforehand. We had to assume that he would tire,

improvisation. she smiles, considers, and then speaks. i have

slowing his reading by some unknowable factor. We

always felt that way. scientists now believe that our

supported the reading from 4pm to 4am and then fell

consciousness becomes aware of the decisions we have made

asleep, leaving Stephen to finish the last 2.5 hours on his

ten minutes after we make them. so yes, we have already

own. We needed to sleep and he needed to read. Maybe

composed and now it is our job to figure out how to get out of

we continued to support him with our snoring

the way.

Cage, John. Silence; Lectures and Writings. 1st ed. Cambridge: The M.I.T. Press, 1969. p.8 Oliveros, P., Deep listening : a composer's sound practice. 2005, New York: iUniverse Inc. xxv, 101.

human/nature attempts to create a space and time to meet each other at the limit of our need. Its potential gift is a community-of-the-moment, which recognizes the ways in which we are both ourselves and other – an impulse to reach across difference, rather than contain it within an impossible outside. [each time i look in your eyes, i get the same surprise] - Spellbound, The Smithereens.

The duration and scope of relations between the performers involved, which extend far beyond the demands of this performance and into the realms of friendship and family, creates a level of trust which exceeds the requirements of composition. My players, "know me better than myself." Composition for, human/nature, like the practice of attempting to place random brush strokes on a piece of paper, is a type of koan which raises deep questions about the relationship between the self and its productions. It explores tensions between what we “know” or “expect” an individual will do, and what each individual, in fact, does, inviting its participants to find a space within themselves for not themselves.

“Resonance: Soundwaves reinforce themselves, either by the addition of an identical sound or when material properties or spatial dimensions match the physical shape of the soundwaves themselves.”

“Sympathetic Vibration: When a bell is struck, another identical one across the room begins vibrating, giving off the same sound.”

“There is something immortal in the echo, for example; we can easily imagine a state of ultimate reverberation – a space where everything that has happened continues to exist – the end of time, where everything is live, perpetually present. If we sense that the description of sympathetic vibration bears some resemblance to radio broadcast, it is no coincidence, the same principle is at work. The processes of contemporary media systems are latent in the laws of nature – they have existed in various forms since the beginning of history.”

Viola, Bill. “The Sound of One Line Scanning”.

Lander, D., et al., Sound by Artists. 1990, Toronto,Banff, Alta: Art Metropole ;Walter Phillips Gallery. 385. p. 42

We work very hard to realize and attend to the connections we uncover in performance. The activity of making those connections becomes the central activity what the work is about.

Simone Forti remarked that, “It did not seem to me that Cage had relinquished any control, but rather that he had shifted his hand to a new dimension or point of leverage.” In this work, our “new dimension” resides in the listening practices which shape our interactions during the time and space of performance.

Forti, Simone. Handbook in Motion. Halifax N.S.New York: Press of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design ;New York University Press, 1974. p.36

Film and video artists, Keith Evans, in a preliminary site visit, identified the movement of light in the University Club as a property of the space which would have implications for all participants. The movement of the sun motivates movement in us, and to the extent that the sun has or finds meaning in the expression of light and heat we participate in that meaning by its use. The sun appears to move slowly.

However, if one places a small group of glass lenses at the leading edge of its shadow on the floor, one finds himself having to almost continuously move them. The sound of those lenses rocking on the floor, and the repeated action of moving them, adds a periodicity to the steady creeping of the sun which increases its legibility and draws attention to its motion.

Photo by Mike Meyers

This drawing is Michael Meyers' floor plan for human/nature. The overlay represents the four pillars which describe an interior and central square rising a full story above the surrounding room to a large skylight. The horizontal beams are attached to diagonally opposite pillars where they are free to pivot on a wheel. The other end is unattached, and can travel a path described by the drawing which lies underneath. The beams were constructed of aluminum drainpipe into which evenly spaced holes were drilled.

These holes worked as small vases for bunches of dry native grasses which were placed by the artist during the opening of the performance (see photo above). The beams were moved 3 or 4 times over the duration of the work in order to interact with changing light and refresh the possibilities for viewing.

Michael speaks of this action as a wiping or clearing of the space.

i hear theand freeway now it is not the ocean i hear the freeway now and it i hear the freeway now it is not theand ocean i hear the freeway now and it is not the ocean ow ii hear and the it is freeway not the now ocean and it is not the ocean i hear freeway nowi hear and itthe is freeway not the ocean now and it is not the ocean hear i hear the the freeway freeway now now and and it is itthe is not not the the ocean ocean i hear the freeway now and it isi hear not the ocean the freeway now and it is not the ocean i hear ithe freeway now and is not the ocean hear the freeway nowit and it is not the ocean i hear the freeway now and it is not the ocean

each of these movements create ripples outward and inward.

human/nature, captures a rich ambivalence. It's

like when i'm singing and trying to get the whole body to vibrate

almost tongue in cheek in the way that it asks the

and not just the chest and throat. this morning it was my palms

reader to come down on one side, to be binary about

but only when i held them a certain way. these movements are

it. Does the slash attempt to unify concepts which

connected in my body and in your reading. when i speak of the

are usually held apart, or does it describe an aporia

body i don't mean to leave anything out. do you know what i

which gives to each its unbreachable limit?

Stephen's poetry narratizes the process by which

Edward, it has been ten years of practice

what we observe, and what we make of such

together. we are so close now that consonance

observations, enter a relationship by way of language

and dissonance are just valences. locations in

- “the relation between things seen/observed in the

which to pass or stay. and leaving or arriving are

world and how such things might be made

just facts, empty of their usual hindrances. we

(transcribed/transformed) as works of written (or

find again that inexhaustible relation in the

visual) art.� (from Stephen's artist statement) It

middle of a long night. so sure of it now. not of

invites you to hold that which you are considering to

what it is, but that it will be.

be nature and that which you are considering to be human alongside one another. Similarly, the performance of human/nature invites a thinking – of the technological, the found and the made, the intentional and the unintentional, the human and the natural - by placing these potentials alongside each other and simply exploring them.

mean? soon i will move on. these traces will also move. each of these traces create ripples outward and inward. echoes like when you're singing and trying to reach every audience member and not just the one who loves you. this morning it was the sun rising and tonight it will be the sun falling. Brenda marks the rising of the sun each day with the ringing of a bell. when i speak of a bell i don't mean to leave anything out. do you know what i mean? soon the sun will move on and the shadows will also move. each of these shadows create ripples outward and inward. visions like when your body quits and you're confused and unsure if you are still alive. this morning it was waking while you were asleep and singing to myself until the janitor came. when i speak of a janitor i don't mean you. i don't mean you at all.

the kids are to bed. even the musicians, the artists, asleep. the audience gone home and only the pages remain. so many out of a thousand and the sound of snoring blends with this tired voice about to break. and if it stopped? the only witness these microphones. it is a defiance of some form of natural law that these words should carry me to the end and in the morning... it is the morning.

Cast: Dylan Bolles - Sound/Composition Julia Elsas - Food Art Keith Evans - Video and Film Projection/Sound Lynette Hunter - Academic Advisor Mike Meyers - Kinetic Sculpture Stephen Ratcliffe - Text/Speech Edward Schocker - Sound Lisa-Ivy Teigel - Food Art Zachary Watkins - Sound/Recording

Sponsored by the UCDavis Department of Theatre and Dance, and the UCDavis Graduate Student Association Special Thanks to Sasha Hom, Naima Bolles, Sora Bolles, and Johnny Ratcliffe