the banging of doors

I've been writing and responding a lot since I saw / experienced the new David Lynch film "Inland Empire". When I say 'film', perhaps I mean 'shock to the system'. When I say 'system', well, perhaps I mean 'system that breaks down'. I am in love with Lynch. It was an even more intense love to hear his sound compositions in this new work. The film, made entirely on high definition video, is therefore not a film, a kind of grainy nightmare (when has one ever been clear?). Broken mirrors and cut skin. His sounds penetrate the skin, rattle the bones. Like a stab from screw-driver and that's giving nothing away but gives you some idea. As a musician who is also a sound artist who is also a filmmaker who makes sound for film, well Lynch, you've done it again. He seems to enter my life at all the right times. In the way that Mullholland Drive defined a certain period of my practice and made me feel like it was worth it. In the way, strangely still, that Twin Peaks meant that TV was not dead after all (Buffy, Unit One, Jaaam - actually all Chris Morris, Nighty Night and Veronica Mars have come to the rescue since). Chris Morris too, with his intense audio assaults and sedative loops. Lynch lulls you there too, in Inland Empire. Noone uses sub frequencies to such disturbing and unpredictable effect like Lynch. He knows the effect image and sound coalition can have. It's not about emotion but about a pure visceral experience. He won't let this be an easy experience for anyone. He reminds us that the world rumbles with discontent and that earth is spinning out of control. He reminds us that our heads are full of noise and un/sub-conscious horror scenes. Last night I 'dreamt' that somebody loved me. Last night I 'dreamt' that a gun was being aimed at me but I couldn't move. This morning I woke up with a start.

Post-Sound

A couple of weekends ago I conducted (is that right word? it certainly sonically inclined, definitely musical) a 'sound art' workshop which I called Playing Out: Making Sound Work. An amazing bunch of 10 artists (plus the glorious presence of Tristan L-R on the second day which nearly brought audible tears to me eyes) who came to the workshop with some or no prior experience of working with sound. So for me it was an incredible opportunity to explore without too much construct, without that level of imposed practice (which doesn't always make (for) perfect (workshops)). In fact, what I love about conducting (watch me keep using this word) such a thing (cos it was one, a thing) was the very nature of "play" and open space: space to be tasked and to get one with it.

The task based exercises ranged from taking objects/books/cds/vinyl/little toys from a long table and being given a relatively short space of time to 'compose' a piece, often being instructed to use no more than 1 or 2 instruments devices. Another task was to confront the instrument you fear the most and make it friendly with one you feel more comfortable with. Just a way to make do and make sound. For there was an objective not to too complex about it; to remain simple in idea and realisation; to pursue a thought in a way that doesn't need an over-abundance of 'stuff'.

In essence, the 10 hours we all had to develop ideas (a lot of duos, which I enjoyed, and plenty of solo space too) were a starting point and the crucial element of documentation was there. A CD of 75 minutes duration was made at the end of the second day, comprising recordings (made on a wav recorder) of all the performed pieces. It's a great listen and one I hope the participants really love having in their collections. Like many of these kind of events (or workshops), conducting them/shaping them/guiding a process becomes a curatorial action in progress - a building of ideas that eventuate in an accidental concert of passing bodies.