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Meeting Point in the Mind: Essay
about Sound, Experience and Synchronicity and Bibliography {September 2006}
M e e t
i n g p o i n t i n t h e m i n d
Poem by Rainer Maria Rilke,
“If
you will cling to Nature, to the simple in Nature, to the little things that
hardly anyone sees, and that can so unexpectedly become big and beyond
measuring; if you have this love of inconsiderable things and seek quite
simply, as one who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then
everything will become easier, more coherent and somehow more conciliatory
for you, not in your intellect, perhaps, which lags marvelling behind, but
in your inmost consciousness, waking and cognisance”
{Buchanan-Smith,
2001}.
Introduction
This essay is intended as a
personal dissemination of my practice and reinvention of the direction in
which my work will now travel - its principle aim is to clarify my personal
world view and its relationship to my creative approach.
In the broadest sense my
work is about contemplation and bringing our attention to the subtleties of
nature through the observation of micro environments. For me, life is a
journey of understanding and art can help to broaden our understanding of
life. Understanding is an on-going and complicated process. There are always
worlds beyond the worlds we are aware of, as we are limited by our senses
and understanding. As film director Lucrecia Martel says, ‘… most things
in the world are hidden’{Martel, 2004}. Bill Viola
has also commented, ‘ The invisible is always so much more present than
the visible’ {Viola ,1995, 271}.
I feel that to comprehend
our understanding we must acknowledge that it is a constantly shifting view
of reality. Reality is always interpreted in so many different ways
depending on who we are and how we are looking, listening, and approaching
things. As Hannah Aarent puts it, ‘understanding is unpredictable, and a
sensitive meeting with reality and resistance, what ever reality means’ {Aarent,
2005}.
Underlying principles
Within my art making
process I see synchronicity, intuition, gathering, experiences and
observations as working mechanisms. Real life situations and experiences
stimulate further exploration of ideas and deeper investigations in to
phenomena. My work reflects a moment in time where something was realised,
something that was found – a sound, material, event or thought. This I see
as an exchange and meeting point with the internal and external world.
Nature acts in my artistic language as a metaphor. It helps to connect
abstract ideas of the mind with the physical world. Alongside the
inspiration from the natural world, I also connect and utilise influential
aspects of different approaches in art, such as oriental values and a wide
range of other mediums that offer my practice different insights.
PART 1.
Perception and Understanding
‘He looked at his own soul
with a telescope. What seemed all irregular, he saw and shewed to be
beautiful constellations: and he added to the consciousness hidden worlds
within worlds’
{Jung, 1963, 9}.
The world has become so
complex and vast that I want to gain the opposite effect through my art. The
faster and vaster the world becomes, the slower, smaller and quieter I want
my art to be. As I have mentioned the process of understanding is integral
to my practice - consequently I now inquire in to the nature of perception
in relation to my personal aesthetic. Contemporary artists, such as Wolfgang
Laib, Reiko Koto and Stephen Turner have been looking for different ways of
bringing the focus of art as product closer to impermanent qualities.
Marshall Berman confirms my
thoughts on the significance of being in the current world. He writes that
‘…the process of modernization expends to take in virtually the whole
world, and the developing world culture of modernism achieves spectacular
triumphs in the art and thought. On the other hand, as the modern public
expands, it shatters into a multitude of fragments, speaking incommensurable
private languages; the idea of modernity, conceived in numerous fragmentary
ways, loses much of its vividness, resonance and depth, and looses its
capacity to organize and give meaning to people’s lives. As a result of all
this, we find ourselves today in the midst of a modern age that has lost
touch with the roots of its own modernity’. {Berman, 1982, 17}.
Through focussing upon
transient qualities we immediately are able to embrace the organic existence
of natural processes and our connection to them.
I work with ideas that are
reflecting my experiences with nature. Japanese sound artist Akio Suzuki
says, ‘nature is my teacher’{Suzuki ,2005}. He operates
between sound and visual art. I saw his work in the show, Playing John
Cage at the Arnolfini gallery in February 2006. He created listening
points outside the gallery space, simply marking the places with circular
signs inscribed with two specula figures which at once represented a pair of
ears and two human footprints. This was created to invite people to pause
there for a moment, paying attention to the surrounding space/time
continuum. This allowed the participants to simply use their eyes and ears,
to perceive the world in a new way.
This way of looking at the
world brought me to think of ideas based in Chinese philosophy. One of the
oldest and most central ideas is that of Tao, which Richard Wilhelm
interprets as ‘meaning’. Wilhelm wrote, ‘Nothing’ is evidently ‘meaning’
or ‘purpose’, and it is only called Nothing because it does not appear of
the world of senses but is only its organizer’ {Jung, 1995, 71}.
I feel that this contemplative approach in art making and observation, this
slow and quiet reflective state of mind, can offer sensations that take our
mind towards feeling the invisible and less obvious ways of the world.
Poem by Lao-tzu:
‘ Because the eye gazes but
can catch no glimpse of it,
It is called elusive.
Because the ear listens
but cannot hear it,
It is called the rarefied.
Because the hand feels for
it but cannot find it,
It is called the
infinitesimal…
These are called the
shapeless shapes,
Form without form,
Vague semblances.
Go towards them, and you
can see no front;
Go after them, and you see
no rear.’
{Jung, 1995, 72}
I try to gain simplicity in
my art by editing the unnecessary. Art can create space in the mind through
simplicity which can open a fresh angle upon the world. I wish to
concentrate on the small and subtle qualities that can bring us to a sense
of space within ourselves, and help connect us to the world around. Truly,
by paying attention we can enter deeper into the soft experience of sensing
the moment. The smallest and most ordinary of things can hide a seed of
revelation, and through our careful relationship to these things, the seeds
are enabled to blossom. I feel that the following quote by
John Cage supports a
similar understanding of this subtle awareness with our experiences and
observations,
‘ … when we make
music
we
merely make something
that
can
more naturally be heard,
than seen or touched
that makes It
possible
to pay atteNtion
to Daily
work or play
as bEing
noT
what wE think it
is
but ouR goal
all
that’s needed is a fraMe
a
change of mental attItude
amplificatioN
wAiting for a bus
we’re
present at the Concert
suddenlY
we stand on a work of art, the pavement.
{Cage, 1997, 136}.
The previous passage forms
the word INDETERMINACY and makes reference to his own personal experience
while opening an insight to his world view. Similarly this is what I hope to
achieve with my own practice.
Observation and participation
My approach to art-making
is determined by the observation of and participation in particular moments
that take place. This takes place in a variety of ways through recording,
using an audio, visual and written language. Process is driven intuitively.
As it grows and develops into a more focussed investigation it enhances a
clearer understanding of the work. Johann Wolfgang Goethe, a man of
sensitive science, comments - ‘Every act of looking turns into
observation, every act of observation turns into reflection, every act of
reflection turns into making associations; thus it is evident that we
theorize every time we look carefully at the world’ {Naydler,2000, 90}.
Part of my approach is to
be open and playful in order to draw inspiration from the most unexpected of
places. It is, in a way, always about approaching the element of the unknown
with a curiosity and faith in possibilities.
My approach involves
open-ended investigations into micro environments. When I am looking into
these arrangements I learn about the relationship of my eye, ear and mind.
My eye is the observer who goes out to the field and my mind is the planner
who directs the discoveries of my eye. My ear is the receiver who takes in,
and acts as a filter and stimuli all at once. Through observation we are
brought to an awareness of ourselves as a filter and how our senses connect
and disconnect ourselves to the world. As Laurel Lee said, ‘when I look
at things I don’t see how they are, I see how I am’ {Radin, 1997, 89}.
Goethe commented, ‘every new object, clearly seen, opens up a new organ
of perception in us’ {Naydler, 2000, 116}.
A contemporary physicist,
John Wheeler, talks about the importance of participation and not just
observation,’…in this way we have come to realize that the universe is a
participatory universe’ {Peat, 1987, 4}.
What ever way we
participate with the universe, each one of us, in our little way is making a
change. This brings me to think of my position as an artist – how do I want
to participate¨?
This very question brings
me to ponder my own presence in the moments that I work with, and how I
might be influencing what is existing around me. I am not in isolation, but
rather in relation with the surrounding environment - this becomes a
dialogue between time, place, sensing and being. I wish to communicate this
internal dialogue through art, inviting the viewer’s minds to tune in to
this way of sensing the world.
As the boundaries of
contemporary art have become blurred and integrated, combining
multidisciplinary means, we can start to realise the refreshing organic
possibilities that can excavate the properties of interpreting the world
around us. I like to see myself perhaps as a communicator, an indicator. I
am approaching nature on my own terms and sharing the realisations of what
has been found with viewers. As F David Peat comments, ‘Philosophy,
psychology, science, art, and religion all spring from a deep human response
to the universe and cannot be pursued in isolation but must always be
carried out from within a much wider context’ {Peat, 1987, 240}.
My
creative process – like building a bird nest
Next I want
to look deeper in to the process of creating, what is happening and how it
is happening. I feel that the natural world, in its widest sense, offers a
platform for reflection to connect with and make sense of the world. Bill
Viola talks of the importance of this in the following quote: ‘The basic
models of human beings come from nature, because we are a part of nature.
And if we look at the essence of what the natural world is about, we see
that it is about change and process’ {Viola, 1995, 271}.He then talks
about similarities in the process of sedimentation between humans and earth,
in which the layers of human experience become like sedimentary layers in
the earth. These different layers in human sedimentation are seen as
consciousness and reason, unconsciousness and intuition.
The gathering process is an
essential part of my work. It serves to collate incidental materials to
suggest and imply a greater aesthetic process. Each fragment - audio,
visual, or material, is a momentary one: only a slice of time, a piece of
the whole.
Reflecting on nature as a
metaphor, I have gained some clarity through connecting a form of subjective
creativity with its organic potential. My personal creative process is
manifest in the act of a bird building its nest. Each fragment is noticed,
selected and placed in the nest to function with others. These fragments I
see as thoughts and ideas which are steps along the journey and in them
selves not significant - but in operation together they start to serve a
further purpose. It is the little things that matter and shape what the
outcome will be. The nest-building process carries a notion of faith and
trust, in-built strength, even when we can not see where we are heading at
times. I like to think of birds as seeing the nest in each stick and tiny
fragment; that in the process of building they have this in-built drive to
find and build. Similarly, within the creative act we are dealing with
processes of building, finding fragments and placing them in to the whole
for something greater to be born. In the making process of the film La
Nina Santa, director Lucrecia Martel explains the difficulty in seeing
the film as a whole during the initial film making. She feels that it is an
act of faith and states that ‘You have to believe in that vague memory of
the film as a whole’ {Martel, 2004}.
My approach involves
contemplation of birth and death - something seen as arriving and departing
creates sense of destination, coming and going, no final stop but flux and
change. I believe that this transformative process reflects nature, which
itself is transformation. Therefore, this contemplation is solely about
union rather than separation and is evident in my installation of the
Heart-beat nests and the Moth collection.
Multimedia artist Saara
Ekström works with similar ideas of growth and growing and creates visual
dialogue that is perceived by a meditation of liveness and familiarly
finiteness. Her work reflects the intertwining processes of life and death.
She communicates this cyclical time by using materials that are recognised
in the every-day, such as moulding fruits and milk bags.
I feel that the following
poem from Andrei Tarkovsky’s film Stalker powerfully summarises
thoughts and qualities on life and death;
‘May everything come true.
May they believe.
And may they laugh at their
own passions
…for what they call passion
is not really the energy of the Soul
but merely fiction between
the Soul and outside world
but above all, May they
believe in themselves
and become helpless as
children
for softness is great and
strength is worthless
When man is born he is soft
and pliable
When he dies he is strong
and hard
When a tree grows it is
soft and pliable
but when it is dry and
hard, it dies
hardness and strength is
death’s companions
Flexibility and softness
are the embodiment of life
That which has become hard
Shall not triumph.’
{Tarkovsky,
1979}
I
have found clarification and support in the understanding of my creative
process from principles of Japanese aesthetics such as ‘naru’. This
means ‘becoming’, but a becoming dependent on time, in which all events of
life flow progressively from one to another, or more specifically, in which
each event is created from the previous one in an unbroken time span. In his
essay Aesthetics in Japanese Arts, Bruno Deschênes writes, ‘The
notion of becoming in Japanese philosophy is a creative process controlled
by a vital energy called ‘musubi’, meaning the spirit of fecundity, which
propels the events of life from one state to another through time’ {Deschênes,
2003}
I feel that all the natural elements of my installation form a poetical
structure, reflecting the idea of a fruit of creativity through which life
and energy carries on beyond itself.
For me it is essential to think of the way in which all objects are
inter-related - sounds, materials, images and text, are all elements that
point to unfolding associations. For me the creative process has been about
learning through not knowing, slowly letting ideas and impulses grow, so
they may start to form their sense through a fragmentary structure. This I
see as a complementary intuitive process of accepting the impermanent nature
of materials and subjects.
P A R
T 2.
Sound as thing falling and
flying through the air
“Our soul must be airy, for
it knows music, and takes pleasure in it.”
{Novalis, 1990, 421}
As I have discussed the
relevance of understanding my creative process I now feel it necessary to
address my chosen medium. Sound arrived in my art practice through wanting
to work in a more discreet and intimate way, combining visual and more
ephemeral processes. My investigation and practice emphasises the ideas and
processes of the mind combined with actual experiences rather than
constructed materialist artefacts. During this year my desire was to create
a way of working in which I could use reality, in the way that I sense it,
directly in my work. This meant bringing my life and its experiences closer
to my artistic practice, so that my life and art can work together, hand in
hand, both feeding in to each other. My practice invites found sound and
found events. If sound is approached as a whisper and if you think of how
something is whispered in to your ear, it carries its message far deeper
than shouting ever would carry it - this approach starts to unravel the
strength of the subtle qualities that I have been looking for. I
associate sound with the air and mind. Sound moves in the air, and yet it
enters into our being through sensory experience. Sound has a power to move
emotions, as wind has the power to move leaves. The ear takes sound in and
it travels to influence our mind and being, stimulating us in many different
ways.
The tools we use in art
making direct our interests and what we can find - it can open and limit the
discoveries at the same time. Sound can act as a bridge; for example, sound
used in films often allows the viewer / listener to anticipate or even
prejudge what is going to happen next. Lucresia Martel used sound
differently in the film La Nina Santa. The entire film did not have a
sound track, which consequently strengthened the ideas of the story in the
film through unpredictability. Ideas of people or situations being good or
bad turned out to be impossible to distinguish. The sound fabric of the film
was created by amplifying the natural sounds from the physical action in the
film, such as the sound of the girl touching the wall with her fingers. The
viewer / listener isn’t aware of this amplification but is left with a
strong sensory experience. Martel talks about the importance of editing as a
tool, ‘What disappears in narration- what isn’t said, what you’d rather
hide, what you don’t wish to share with the audience for some reason, what
is left out can be as important as what is shown, if not more’ {Martel,
2004}. Sound creates an inner space where one’s own line of experiences
starts to melt with what is present in the sensory experience / moment.
Sound has a power to stimulate multiple sensations far beyond what has been
heard. It also has similar qualities to scent and colour, as sound artist
Brian Eno puts it, ‘...sound is very much like a colour or scent, in
which its power to tap directly into our emotional states, can be used to
create a certain type of atmosphere to a place ’{Eno, 1978}.
S o u n d i s t h e
i n v i s i b l e w h i c h i s a r o u n d u s.
F l o w e r i s t
h e i m a g e,
f r e q u e
n c y i s t h e s o u n d .
Working with sound has been
like a walking journey of noticing and collecting. The value of experience
has become central to my interests. The walking journey with sound
holds the essence of fleetingness in time and place. I have come to realize
that we can never capture the moment, but rather the moment captures us. I
can only record slices of the continuum of moments. I believe that
the method of analysing and understanding these sensations is evident in the
following quote based on the Buddhist way of thinking; ‘In the level of
relative truth every moment of consciousness is born in touch with the
object, which is drawing our observation to it. It could be argued, that
every subject has its object in the every moment of consciousness. Even
observation and thinking seems as a continuous operation, they are born and
fading singularly moment by moment. But fundamentally consciousness doesn’t
exist as a single moment - as an independent and separated entity. It is
only a flow, which is continually formed by disappearing moments. The only
thing that doesn’t change is interdependent of time, non dualistic
consciousness that moves beyond random thoughts’{ Revel and
Matthieu,2000, 96}.
Synchronicity
Next I would like to
discuss the use of synchronicity as a mechanism in my art making process.
Moments of synchronicity manifest them selves in a space between where the
world in the mind and the world of matter starts to compose poetry of
possibilities. This middle ground is the area of realisations where an inner
world finds meaning in the outer world and outer enters the inner - after
all, there is no either or, it becomes one place, which is simultaneously in
the mind and in the surroundings. Personal experiences and dreams that
relate to synchronicity have become an inspiration and stimulation driving
my creative process. I am looking for connections between things that are
often hidden – a path which is revealed through intuitive action.
Carl Gustav Jung defined
synchronicity in the following terms, ‘Synchronicity means the
simultaneous occurrence of certain psychic state with one or more external
events which appear as meaningful parallels to the momentary subjective
state – and in certain case visa versa’{Jung, 1985, 36}. This
kind of process and stimuli sets an unpredictable and interesting journey in
creative process, a dialogue between psyche and matter. The
German philosopher Novalis writes, ‘The seat of the soul is there, where
the inner and the outer world touch’ {Novalis, 1990, 13}.
Through moments of
synchronicity we might gain an understanding of the world which, though
subjective and in a sense non-transferable, might be applied in other areas,
such as sound and visual art.
F David Peat writes,
‘Scientific theories can never come to life of themselves, they must always
remain what they are - theories, objective accounts of the world that must
be set beside the immediacy of our personal experience and those rare
flashes of insight that suggest a deeper reality lying beyond the structure
of appearances’ {Peat, 1987, 1}. He concludes that, ‘Synchronicities
give us a glimpse beyond our conventional notions of time and causality into
the immense patterns of nature, the underlying dance which connects all
things and the mirror which is suspended between inner and outer universes’
{Peat, 1987, 2}.
The Moth
Project
In order to conclude all
these thoughts I will draw upon The Moth Project which is also
present in my final exhibition. My project of tracing moths developed from a
dream in which I was sitting on spiral stairs and someone said to me, ‘You
are a kiss of a butterfly’. I had the dream at a time when I was
deeply questioning the essence of my artistic practice. I felt that the
dream was a pictorial answer, like a metaphor, revealing deeper and broader
meaning which I was unable to see at the time. Soon after the dream, a
beautiful small moth, which looked like a butterfly, came in to my room. It
was green with white borders on its wings and the centre of its body was
red. It flew up and down, spiralling around my room. The following evening,
three more similar moths came and this started a flow of moths entering my
room. I began observing the moths and recording them through visuals and
sound. This close observation of moths visiting my external inner space (my
room) brought realisation about the nature of my artistic approach.
Reflecting on the moth, I could trace many similarities between my way of
working and their way of being.
British artist Neeta
Madahar’s Sustenance project has great relevance to The Moth
Project. Sustenance is a series of 15 photograph frames of such
causal sightings as birds in a backyard. The creation of her work involves
months of observation and capturing defined moments. Carlo McCormick has
written of her work, ‘What she captures is more than a mere pose within
the fleeting: it is a rich, contemplative stillness; a chance for both
artist and the viewer to look, with mesmerised clarity of detail, at the
avian community whose constant cohabitation with humans has rendered their
presence ostensibly incidental’ {Madahar ,2005, 33}.
In this project I also
observe living creatures, although in this instance, moths. But unlike
Madahar’s piece, my work took place over a short period of time echoing the
short life–span of the moth, an average of two weeks. Images of the
moths act as a thought play about capturing. They have entered my room and
the meeting point with the moth is recorded and captured. Yet after the
moment passes they are still flying free, un-captured.
Neeta Madahar works at the
cross section in which we can observe and experience the wild within the
domestic. Madahar says, that ‘birds are so similar to us in the way they
feed and socialize, in their patterns of behaviour that they became perfect
symbols… as natural extension of ourselves’ {Madahar, 2005, 35}. Rather
than seeing a relationship between the life of birds and that of humans, I
prefer to see the moth as metaphor of fragility and mortality, a reminder
that we are here only for the time being. I have a longer life span and
therefore I am witnessing their life cycle, coming and going. The Moth
Project has in many ways enhanced my sympathy for all living beings.
Zooming in, seeing the face of the moth through a magnifying glass is at
once peculiar and touching. It literally brings me to face the fact that
everybody, each living form has their own journey and purpose.
Capturing is often the
essence of photographs, as they capture fleeting moments in time and act as
a memory capsule for what once was. The nature of taking photographs could
be seen as a connection to the place or a moment, but it is also our
separation from them. Carlo McCormick has commented, ‘When ever the
fluidity of nature is broken, when it is stilled by some aesthetic
intervention, the result has the quality of a ‘momento mori’{Madahar,
2005, 35}. When something is captured, in any form of recording, the
moment is isolated from its natural flow and in this way it dies from its
origin. Yet new meaning has the possibility to arise from this
separation.
Sound artist Janet Cardiff
comments, ‘that is one of our goals in life, to get connected…When I
started working with audio, I really liked the way it included the whole
body. It really created this physical connection’{Gardif, 2005, 189}.
I feel a similar way about the sound, it truly adds another dimension to
the experience. Alongside visual recordings I also traced moths
through sound. I set up a microphone in my rice-paper lampshade where moths
flew in from time to time. At once, I was in the micro environment of the
lamp shade, experiencing it through sound. Each nocturnal creature had its
individual activity happening. I was lying on the floor watching their
shadows moving inside and through listening, I felt as if I was in this
micro environment with them. This created a fascinating and shuddering
sensation.
Finally, I feel that this
project has embraced the quality of flight itself. It was driven intuitively
and instinctively by following unfolding events. Everything fell into place
at the right time supported by synchronicity.
This crystallised my entire
perception of the possible ways of transforming my intimate and personal
experiences into my art work.
Moths landed on to the
light box and became shadow beings. The light box became a memory platform
for the meetings in the past. Needle, of this moment, is piercing through
the memory shadow body – yet flutter of time can never be captured.

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