Bravobo

Friday, March 31, 2006

smile of Buddha

-the sound of the mind-

John cage's fundamental artistic contribution was to definitively eliminate the boundary between art and life.

For cage, the purpose of art, for both maker and perceiver, was "to sober and quiet the mind so that it is in accord with what happens." Thanks to Cage, the integration of art and life reched its culmination in the discipline of music.

Cage's breakthrough was to teach us that our listening is as directed by habits of the mind as our seeing.

The purpose of art is to open our hearts and minds to the experience of that richness.

Fortified by the teaching of Zen Buddhism, Cage broke ground in three areas.
1. He incorporated chance happenings from "real" life-specifically ambient sound- into his work

2. He eliminated the hierarchies between composer and performer and performer and audience by "letting go" of creative responsibility and by incorporating his audience into his performance.

3. The experiential , performative nature of his work emphasized the process of creation over its product.

Happening and Fluxus-they wanted to give art back to the social realm, to make it continuous with everyday living.

"Happening" -Allan Kaprow's Eighteen Happenings in six parts,
Happenings were events of indeterminate length with no narrative, usually involving members of the audience and incorporating everyday as well as artist-made objects.

Fluxus art "could temporarily have the pedagogical function of teaching people the needlessness of art including the eventual needlessness of itself."

"Fluxus" is the "act of flowing: a continuous moving on or passing by ... a continuous succession of changes."

Nam june Paik said:

zen consists of two negations.
The first negation:
the absolute IS the relative.
The second negation:
The relative IS the absolute.

The second negation is the KEY-point of Zen.

That means...
The NOW is utopia, what it may be.
The NOW in 10 minutes is also utopia, what is may be.
The NOW in 20 hours is also utopia, what is may be.
The NOW in 30 months is also utopia, what is may be.
The NOW in 40 million years is also utopia, what is may be.

Therefore
We should learn,
how to be satisfied with 75%
how to be satisfied with 50%
how to be satisfied with 38%
how to be satisfied with 9%
how to be satisfied with 0%
how to be satisfied with -1000%
Zen is anti-avant-garde, anti-frontier spirit, anti-Kennedy.


The cultural dichotomy between East and West had all but disappeared, and Buddhism was as likely to inform the art of a Western artist like Laurie Anderson as artist with Asian backgrounds, like Paik and Ono.

But while Ono is a visual poet, creating sensuous, highly focused images and actions for the mind, Anderson is self-described storyteller whose medium is multilayered, mutidisciplinary narrative.

All four of the musician/artists in this section-Cage, Paik, Ono and Anderson-have applied and extended Thoreau's observation that music is always present in our environment; it is only our hearing that is intermittent. As Cage put it, "Art is everywhere; it is only seeing which stops now and then."

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Smile of Buddha

-the space of art-

I don't think that art comes from art. A lot of artists apparently think so, I think it comes from the awakening person...Everything tends toward awakenign, and I would rather use the word awakening than a word derived from some system-because there are many system.

Isamu Noguchi, 1987

From what is seen, we sense what is unseen.

Like cherry blossoms, perfection could only be transient- a fragile beauty is more poignant.

D.T. Suzuki wrote:
To reach the goal of Zen, even the idea of "having nothing" ought to be done away with. Buddha reveals himself when he is not more asserted: that is , for Buddha's ske Buddha is to be given up. This is the only way to come to the realization of the truth of Zen. So long as one is talking of nothingness or of the absolute one is far away from Zen, and ever receding from Zen.

Nogucci said " In the blossom so closely related in significance to the teaching of the Buddha, we found the theme of recurrent change and rebirth. We came to realize it was not only the birth of Buddhism that we wished to celebrate, but the significance of universal birth and awakening.

Smile of Buddha

-Light and insight-

The dharmas are one and the ox is symbolic. When you know that what you need is not the snare or set-net but the hare or fish, it is like gold separated from the dross, it is like the moon risign out of the clouds. The one ray of light serene and penetrating shines even before days of creation.

D.T Suzuki's translation from Kakuan Shien, Zen Oxherding Pictures.

Agnes Martin, Asd Reinhardt, Robert Irwin

According to Irwin: "At one point I thought the term 'nonobjective' was going to translated to nonobject, this idea of the phenomenon, but all of sudden I discovered that it had nothing to do with object/nonobject at all; it had to do with relationships, and the whole idea of conditioned realtions."

Light is a primary medium for Irwin, who is acutely conscious of his moment in time:

There is simply no real seperation line, only an intellectual one, between the object and its time environment. there are completely interlocking : nothing can exist in the world independent of all the other things in the world. To me, the whole history of contemporary art starts out as a highly informed and highly sophisticated pictorial activity. But by the time I arrive on the scene, as a post abstract expressionist, there is at least the possibility of looking at the world as a kind of continuum, rather than as a collection of broken up and isolated events.


"Continuum" encompasses the self, the work of art, and the viewer within a boundless universe of time and space, a universe of interrelationship.

Maurice Merleau Ponty, whose Phenomenology of Perception, analyzed the "phenomenal body" who experiences within time and space. The experiential, constructive nature of the act of seeing

Smile of Buddha

-Other dimensions-

By the end of the 19th century the empirical, "scientific" understanding of the material world was driving a significant number of artists toward an exploration of noumenal reality, accessible to intution rather than the sense or the intellect.
"Art became the creation of reality"

Kandinsky's book, On the spiritual in art.

For a Kandinsky, a "true" work of art leads a full inner life-good art has soul. Klang, spiritual reverberation.

Like Kandinsky, Duchamp set out to liberate both art and its audience.
For Duchamp art was emptiness, a space wherein the viewer "brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds his contribution to the creative act."
The degree to which the artist fails to fully convey his intention creates a "gap" that is energized by the potential of this encounter. "What art is in reality is this missing link, not the links which exist. It's not what you see that is art, art is the gap." In other words, art, like everything else, is empty of inherent self-existence.

Duchamp's viewer-response theory of art:rasa.
Rasa resides not in the artist or the object, but in the mind of viewer-just as the taste of wine exists not in the vintner or in its bottle, but in the mouth of the one who drinks it.

Duchamp and Brancusi-Mahayana Buddhism known as Tantrayana or Vajrayana
Mahayana Buddhism recongnized two main paths to awakening: the Sutra Way, in which the practitioner patiently explores and works on the afflictions of his or her mindstream by engaging in prescribed practice as meditation, and the Tantra Way, in which practitioners cultivate a vision of the world as a mandala and themselves as buddhas or bodhisattvas-"enlightement beings", who vow to retain human from untill everyone achieves enlightenment.

The goal of Tantric contemplative exercises is to experience samsara(journeying, the cycle of existence) and nirvana(release) as one and the same.
Tantra's assumption of nonduality implies the collapse of all concepts, including those of purity and impurity.

John Dewey resolved Descarte's mind/body dualism by understanding the mind as a product of natural processes and the web of interactive relationships between human beings and world. As far as humans are concerned, the world is not comprised of things, or objects, but of happenings, or experience.

His book, art as Experience, he wrote, "in common conception, the work of art is often idenrified with the building, book, painting, or statue in its existence apart from human experience. Since the actual work of art is what the product does with and in experience, the result[of this misconception] is not favorable to understanding."
What Dewey said is that the "work" of art does not reside in the art object, but in what the object "does" within the mind of viewer. This view is very close to the Duchamp;'s concept of art as the gap in which experience occurs.

Duchamp's life goal as obtaining a "moderately clear and distinct idea of what the problems are that underlie the difficulties and evils which we experience."

Yeno, the sixth patriarch, once saw two monks watching the flag of a pagoda fluttering in the wind. One said "it is the wind that moves", the other said "it is the flag that moves"; but Yeno explained to them that the real movement was neither of the wind nor the flag, buf of something within their own mind.

Kakuzo Okakura

The smile of Buddha

freedom from mental and emotional conditioning.
It consists of experiential practices based on a body of accumulated knowledge about the human mind that emphasizes the inevitability of change and the interdependence of all existence. The teaching unique to later Buddhism is "emptiness"; all things are empty of "inherent self-existence"; nothing exsits seperately or permanently.(p.1)

Buddha-"awakened". Being "awake" is not about transcendence; it is about seeing things as they actually are, realizing and accepting what is so.

Knowledge was understood to be the result of inner transformation-what remains when false beliefs are removed.
(Marcel Duchamp's version; There is no solution because there is no problem)

The temporal world of senses was dismissed, and the goal became escape from the cycle of rebirth and death through positive karma, or "deeds".

Siddhartha's four noble truths after deep meditation
1. our experience of life as unsatisfactory is inevitable.
2. The reason for this is that we want we don't have and want to hang onto what we do have.
3. It is possible to escape this cycle of wanting and dissatisfaction
4. This happens by cultivating attitudes and behaviors consistetn with the perception of the interrelatedness of all beings-the so-called middle way between indulgence and asceticism.(p.3-4)

THe literary theorist Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick has pointed out that, in contrast to current academic practice, "in Buddhist pedagogical thought... the apparent tautology of learning what you already know does not seem to constitute a paradox, nor an impasse, nor a scandal. It is not even a problem, If anything, it is a deliberate and defining practice. " The appeal of the Buddhist perspective for artists is just this: like art, Buddhism challenges thinking as a path to knowing. And what both the creation and the perception of art share with Buddhist mediation practice is that they allow us to forget ourselves and thus realize ourselves. They are parallel practices. This is, with the American painter Ad Reinhardt meant when he wrote, "The fine artist need not sit cross-legged." (p.11)



Delineation

We communicate with furniture consciously and unconsciously throughtout most of our day. Using digital technology, Delineation responds to our habitual movements fashioning images from our daily routine. The reaction exhibits a dialogue between the object and the user that traces time, motion, and memory.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

dossiê medienkunstnetz: áudio
Document Actions



Audio Art, by Golo Föllmer
http://www.medienkunstnetz.de/themes/overview_of_media_art/audio/


In the last quarter of the nineteenth century, a comprehensive mechanization of music began which contained three radically new principles: the transmission, storage and synthesis of sound. These basic media technologies enabled new forms of designing and generating sound, changing the way in which music is heard. After being limited to a confined space and an apprehensible audience until well into the nineteenth century, at the turn of the century the scope of music expanded greatly. The gramophone and radio enabled it to become omnipresent, because from now on it was not confined either to a particular space or a particular time. Finally, the technical media even broke away from their hitherto reproductive function by producing their own sounds.

In the subsequent phase, which began in the mid-twentieth century, the basic technologies of electronic media were integrated into the creative techniques, now making it possible to process a variety of other subject matter. Intermedia connections, space as a musical determinant, media-specific forms of narration, detemporalization, virtualization and dehierarchization will be discussed by way of example.In this second phase, ‹musical art› no longer meant just music. Artistic ways of dealing with sounds developed that burst the traditional understanding of music and called for the coining of a new term. While the term ‹sound art› has established itself for the general, non-media-specific expression of this phenomenon,[1] in the present context ‹audio art› stands for sound art for whose production technical media are either essential or necessary.

The main part of the present contribution introduces the development and the spectrum of audio art. This is followed by a comparison of the techniques and motifs of its use of media with those of the historic precursors of electric music media, mechanical musical instruments, allowing the clear identification of the radical change that separates audio art from the traditional understanding of music.

Transmission
Radio made music and other acoustic cultural assets freely available. Its appearance occurred at a time in which a significant number of German composers were searching for a new berth for their music. Using terms such as ‹utility music› and ‹colloquial music,›[2] they experimented with integrating popular musical elements into art music and involving music in everyday situations in a functional way.

Participation
In 1929, Bertolt Brecht, Paul Hindemith and Kurt Weill produced the radio opera «Lindberghflug,» which was designed to include the listeners at home sitting at their radio receivers. For the stage performance in Baden-Baden, Brecht placed a shirtsleeved representative of the listeners on stage, who took over Lindbergh's singing part. For later productions, Brecht had in mind that for example classes of schoolchildren become familiar with the piece and then complete a version of it, which is broadcast without the part of the aviator. «The radio would be the finest possible communication apparatus in public life … if it knew how to receive as well as to transmit, … how to bring [the listener] into relationship instead of isolating him.»[3]

Brecht was not aiming at aesthetic arrangement, but rather at social educational value, which amongstother things was criticized by Theodor W. Adorno. In Adorno's view any kind of music that lets itself in for elements of popular music, i.e. music with commodity character, did not achieve its goal of reflecting life in an unadulterated way.[4] Brecht, on the other hand, judged Adorno's position to be the expression of an arrogant elite that secures its integrity (amongst other things through music) while reproachfully—but de facto idly—looking at an ideologically blinded mass of music listeners under the tight control of the culture industry.

The medium of radio presented structural obstacles to Brecht's far-reaching utopias. Technologically and organizationally speaking, it had already developed into a mass medium[5] that lacked an effective transmission channel for its recipients.[6] In the 1960s, when Hans Magnus Enzensberger criticized that the mass media artificially separated the producer from the consumer,[7] Max Neuhaus had just begun working on a series of pieces for radio that demonstrated the potential for openness. In «Public Supply I,» produced in New York at WBAI in 1966, Neuhaus did a live mix of incoming telephone calls from ten lines. Although he considered himself to be the designer of the technical configuration, at this point he was merely the host of a musical event. The listeners who called in were the broadcasters. In 1977, for «Radio Net» he withdrew even further as an artist by leaving the arrangement up to an automatic electronic system. At the same time he thematized the dimension and the immanent aesthetics of the technical system of the radio by wiring up the circuit of the American radio network NPR, which spanned the entire continent, in such a way that the sounds of the signals it contained were transformed through feedback.[8]

Aesthetization
Radio also had an aesthetic influence on music. By potentially opening up the entire world, it released a fascination for hearing global, alien, multi-shaped things and stimulated the imagination of artists. In 1936, Rudolf Arnheim wrote that radio virtually had a consciousness expanding effect: «In radio, the sounds and voices of reality revealed their sensual affinity with the word of the poet and the tones of music… .»[9] Radio listeners discovered that noises possessed anaesthetic quality they had hardly taken notice of before. The radio play theorist Richard Kolb attributed this effect to the disembodiment of sound, which invariably leads the listeners to become more involved mentally. «The less we are bound to a particular idea about time, place, costume, character, the more scope is left to our imagination, with whose aid we can form an idea that is befitting us. In this way the effect of the word approaches music ….»[10] This altered perception of noises did not first begin with the radio, but had already begun with the advent of industrialization. The Italian Futurists considered the rhythm of machines to be an aesthetic expression of their epoch, and thus in 1913 the painter Luigi Russolo proclaimed the ‹art of noise›: «Ancient life was all silent. In the nineteenth century, with the invention of machines, Noise was born. .. .We will amuse ourselves by orchestrating together in our imagination the din of rolling shop shutters, the varied hubbub of train stations, iron works, thread mills, printing presses, electrical plants, and subways. .. .We want to give pitches to these diverse noises, regulating them harmonically and rhythmically.»[11] Russolo constructed special mechanical noise generators and demonstrated these ‹intonarumori› at events attended by important artists and musicians of the time. Edgard Varèse, John Cage and others were influenced by Russolo's art of noise and were the first to implement percussion instruments, which had hitherto primarily been used in art music for the purpose of rhythmic accentuation, as carriers of a music consisting of timbres of noise.

Radio art
With his piece «Imaginary Landscape No. 4,» in 1951 John Cage was the first person to perform the peculiarities of the radio—the cheeping and hissing, the accidental juxtaposition of language, music and noise on the waveband—in a composition. He not only used the natural sounds of noise, which from a traditional point of view are perhaps only just acceptable, rather he also used the side effects of technical media, which are typically absolutely undesirable in music, as musical material. A specific ‹radio art› developed out of this approach in the 1960s that thematized the aesthetic effects of thetransmission and perception of sound via radio as well as the social conditions of radio production and consumption. In radio collages consisting of audio fragments, Negativland, for example, show the aesthetic and social effects of the merchandising control of media content and from this—as did John Oswald—they derive their demand for the preservation of the creative scope when dealing with technology.[12]

Storage
The storage of sound through the phonograph and the gramophone enabled the unlimited reproduction of music. Whereas sheet music was only disseminated amongst the bourgeoisie, the record was the first musical medium to reach listeners of all classes. Like transmission, sound recording also changed production and reception as the two areas were now separated in terms of both time and space. Because listeners were no longer dependent on musicians, for the first time they were able to integrate music into their daily lives. Music had, so to speak, become a ubiquitous source of nourishment.

Musique concrète
Artistic experiments with reproduction technology were a long time coming. Although the gramophone had already been developed in 1877 and was widespread at the latest at the turn of the century, concrete suggestions for its artistic-musical use were not made until the 1910s. Around 1917 the later documentary film pioneer Dziga Vertov attempted to create a montage of noise, however his plan fell through because of the state of technology at the time.[13] In 1923 the Hungarian Bauhaus artist László Moholy-Nagy suggested «to change the gramophone from a reproductive instrument to a productive one, so that on a record without prior acoustic information, the acoustic phenomena itself originates by engraving the necessary ‹Ritzschriftreihen› (etched grooves).»[14] In the 1990s, the sound artist Paul DeMarinis[15] referred to Moholy-Nagy's idea that a graphic ‹etched alphabet› could be found by reading sound grooves optically, as a false estimation owning to the dominance of the visual in Western culture. In the mid-1920s, Paul Hindemith experimented with ‹gramophone music› by creating a montage of recordings and playingthem backwards at different speeds. He did not get beyond the experimental stage. For the first successful noise composition experiment, in 1930 Walter Ruttmann did not use the unwieldy gramophone, but rather the optical sound technology that had been developed for film a year prior to this. Film sound, which could be cut with scissors and taped back together, enabled the creation of the first stringent sound montage. At great technical expense, Walter Ruttmann collected sound recordings over a weekend in Berlin. The montage he produced, «Weekend,» changes between narrative and sound portrait—an art of listening inspired by photography. Although he attempted to structure the montage according to musical standpoints such as pitch and rhythm, the characteristic style of «Weekend» is narrative throughout; timbre, rhythm and pitch merely organize the narrative.[16]

It was not until 1948—eighteen years after «Weekend» and seventy-one years after the invention of sound storage—that Pierre Schaeffer's approach to discovering a way to compose specifically with the gramophone led to fruition. The compositional attitude responsible for this was based on two aspects: Firstly, Schaeffer concentrated solely on the aesthetic qualities of the sound material, thus largely eliminating the occurrence it connotated. Secondly, he did not force a preformed, superordinate structure onto the material. He stressed that the ‹musique concrète,› a name he chose in order to distinguish it from ways of composing that come from abstract ideas, is always based on the experience of concrete musical material: While traditional composition attains interpretation from the intellectual concept via writing down, for his music Schaeffer uses the reverse path: from listening to the collected material, to sketch-like experiments, finally arriving at the material composition, which is recorded as a finished sound carrier.[17]

In his opinion, sound material can be everything: the primarily noise-like sound occurrences in the environment, linguistic utterances, as well as conventional music. Sounds become so-called ‹objets sonores› when they are recorded technically, but they do not become ‹objets musicaux› until they have been processed in a special way. According to Schaeffer, these methods include the cutting of individual sounds,the variation of speed, playing from specially manufactured closed record grooves, playing backwards, and the layering of several sounds. The record player becomes a musical instrument the moment creative methods are derived from its specific possibilities. In Schaeffer's first piece, the «Étude aux chemins de fer,»[18] composed in 1948, ‹musique concrète› anticipates the later DJ methods of cutting, cueing, and in part scratching.

Sound
Pop music also received decisive impulses with the introduction of the tape recorder. The playback method, which consists of recording the instruments in a piece of music one after the other, causes reproduction to become the primary instance of music. Now even live performances have to sound like the record. Because more and more complex studio technology is used, the ‹song› in the sense of a certain melody and harmony sequence counts less and less. Instead, ‹sound› has become the central criterion of music styles.[19] This begins with cover versions, for example Jimi Hendrix's version of the American national anthem played on a feedback electric guitar. The significance of sound reaches a new level with the audio electroquote techniques in DJ mixes, and then again with the dissemination of digital sampling in the 1990s. Now not only a song is quoted, but the sound itself. When John Oswald recomposes Beethoven and Michael Jackson using the same means, then what primarily counts is the processing technique—melody, harmony, formal structure or lyrics only prompt a sound realization.[20] The sound is the music.

In 1993, Christian Marclay, who as an artist and art DJ thematized the history of the sound carrier, assembled a collage of music from a variety of stylistic and geographic origins in his «Berlin Mix.» What was unusual about it was that he did not use any technical media, rather he assembled the original sound sources in an auditorium and conducted them using cardboard signs. The physical presence of more than 180 musicians made the usual eclectic dealing with samples seem absurd. Marclay's action showed that music can be more than just sound and how much we have become accustomed to getting by with just a fraction of the substance from the media we receive.[21]

Principles of chance
With his composition «Imaginary Landscape No. 1,» in 1939 John Cage applied techniques similar to those of Pierre Schaeffer, however he used test records with sine tones, thus keeping to the ‹musical tone.› With the publication of his manifesto-like text «The Future of Music: Credo» in 1937, he had already predicted that the use of noises and the complete control of the overtone structure of all sounds with the aid of audio technologies would shape the music of the future.[22] In 1952 Cage started from the assumption that every sound and every noise is musical unto itself, and he manifested this in his first tape composition «Williams Mix.» For him, the advantage of tape technology was that one could penetrate into the micro-time of the sound and create a high degree of complexity. «What was so fascinating about tape possibility was that a second, which we had always thought was a relatively short space of time, became fifteen inches.»[23] In a nearly 500- page score drawn up according to principles of chance, the way the tape has to be cut is presented graphically, much like a cutting pattern. The score specifies in which form, for how long and which of six types of sound are to appear in the montage. In one case a section of tape a quarter of an inch long (one-sixth of a second) had to be assembled out of 1,097 tape particles. Cage applies the specific characteristics of technology in order to discover unconventional structures during the transformation of an idea into sounding reality.

In 1963 the Fluxus artist Nam June Paik extended Cage's principle of indeterminacy[24] by placing Schaeffer's technologies into an installation situation at his «Exposition of Music—Electronic Television.» «In most indeterministic pieces of music the composer grants the decision of will or freedom to the interpreter, but not to the audience.»[25] «Random Access,» for example, enabled listening to tapes, which had been stuck to the wall, with a freely moving recording head. During «Schallplattenschaschlik» visitors would help themselves to records rotating simultaneously using the stylus of a phono pickup. Paik's sculptures had a refreshingly contradictory effect because they were created out of profane consumer media in a crude, handcrafted fashion, while their interactive operation so obviously stood in the way of the one-way communication of mass media.

Musique d'ameublement
More than forty years prior to Paik, the French composer Erik Satie drew up a similar critical scenario. In pamphlets, which have since become famous, he suggested extremely functional music intended to fill embarrassing pauses in conversations during dinner or to cover up unpleasant interfering sounds. Satie criticized that department store music, which at the time was still played live by musicians, was a simplified adaptation of concert music. In a letter written in March 1920 he took up the musical climate of his piano piece «Vexations» (1893), which allowed for 840 repetitions of two rows of notes. «We now want to introduce music that satisfies the ‹useful› needs. Art does not belong to these needs. ‹Musique d'ameublement› generates vibrations; it has no other purpose; it performs the same role as light, warmth—and comfort in every form.»[26], Hofheim, 1994, p. 124. On March 8, 1920 in the Barbazanges Gallery in Paris, Satie used fragments from pieces by Ambroise Thomas and Camille Saint-Saëns to produce such ‹musique d'ameublement.› According to an account written by Darius Milhaud, the experiment went wrong: Satie could not keep the visitors from listening to the music.[27], Regensburg, 1974, p. 227.

Sound installation and ambient music
Two central concepts from the second half of the twentieth century make reference not only to Satie's experiments, but also to Cage and Paik: sound installation and ambient music. The sound installation, developed at the end of the 1960s by Max Neuhaus, Maryanne Amacher and others, pursues amongst other things two of the objectives emphasized by Satie: Firstly, not to simply adapt music conceived for a performance situation to casual forms of reception, rather to fundamentally conceive the tonal design of space as integration into a specific place. Secondly, not to occupy the attention of the listeners, rather to provide the scope for the listeners to determine which kind of attention they choose to lend to the tonal design. In 1975 Brian Eno, a commuter between art and pop music, transferred these avantgarde techniques onto the format and sound aesthetics of the pop record and coined the genre term ‹ambient music.› In the 1990s many other musicians, for example The Orb and Aphex Twin, developed Eno's idea of the electronic ‹ambient› style.[28]

Synthesis
Around 1930, the invention of the electron tube allowed the development of the first promising electronic musical instruments, amongst others Leon Theremin's «etherophone,»[29] Jörg Mager's «spherophone,» Friedrich Trautwein's «trautonium,» and Naurice Martenot's «Ondes Martenot.» They proved that the laws of physical mechanics could be circumvented in an ‹electric music›[30] and that this meant the dawning of a new musical era. Composers hoped for new timbres from the sound synthesis, a substitute for unpredictable human interpreters, as well as the opportunity to overcome the twelve-tone scale, which they perceived as constricting. However, for the most part these instruments had been conceived out of a traditional understanding of music, like the etherophone imitating for example a romantic espressivo style.

Sound composition
When Karlheinz Stockhausen produced «Studie I» in the newly equipped NWDR studio in 1953, he did not use the available musical instruments—a melochord and a monochord—working instead with awkward sound generators originally developed for the purpose of transmission measurement. These new technical possibilities were meant to enable ‹composing› the individual sound as well as the musical form of a composition, including its spectral details.[31] Serialism, which dominated Europe's musical avantgarde at the time and in which all of the parameters of a composition are organized according to a central principle of construction, required precise planning. This meant that it was contrary to Schaeffer's approach, which rested on intuition and the reverse method of composition from the material to the structure.

Score synthesis
In 1956 Lejaren Hiller and Leonard Isaacson conducted the first experiment involving the reproduction of human decision-making processes with regard to music on the computer: they had the mainframe ILLIAC 1 synthesize a four-movement score for string quartet, the «Illiac Suite.» The first three movements were based on formalizations of conventional rules ofcomposition (simple polyphony, counterpoint, serial techniques); the fourth movement, however, was based on the mathematic principle of so-called «Markov chains.» Composers such as Iannis Xenakis later frequently took up the use of these ‹non-musical› means by implementing mathematic disciplines such as game or chaos theory for score synthesis.

Today's advanced music programs such as Max/MPS and SuperCollider integrate sound and score synthesis in a single system. As claimed by Stockhausen's electronic music, timbre and compositional form can be processed with the same instruments and thus more easily according to the same principles. At the same time, the idea of the computer has changed fundamentally since then. While Hiller started out from the image of the unbroken formalization of human behavioral knowledge, which was typical for the early stage of research on artificial intelligence,[32] computers were now not meant to replace human beings, but rather confront them as interactive partners. The notion of the machine transformed from a human surrogate to a cooperative counterpart, which was impressive less due to its perfection than its uniqueness. Interactive systems became pools of ideas; ‹interactive composing›[33] firmly established the process orientation of experimental music[34] in the domain of music electronics and computers.

The repercussions of interactive, process-oriented computer technology are becoming wider and wider. In addition to the sound installation and electro-acoustic music out of the research studios, in the 1990s club music as well was pervaded by processlike methods of creation. Autechre regard their CDs as sections of continuing processes.[35] Farmer's Manual elucidate the process idea by unpretentiously breaking off a performance by pulling the audio cable out of the laptop—to emphasize the fact that the music being heard is a segment from endless automatic design processes in the computer.[36] Markus Popp sees his aesthetics as a result of digital means of design. In his view, ‹electronic listening music,› one of many genre terms for the products of the ‹laptop scene› around the year 2000, requires an understanding of music that pays tribute to the immense technical influence on design processes—delinearized time, the split-second reshaping of sounds, the ergonomics of softwareoperation. «[T]he concept of ‹music› itself is almost tragically overshadowed by assumed notions of creativity, authorship, and artistic expression.»[37] Crackling sounds caused by a faulty CD player, the noises coming from computer hardware and caused by the (frequently intentional) incorrect use of software characterize the sound material. «Indeed, ‹failure› has become a prominent aesthetic … , reminding us that our control of technology is an illusion … .»[38]

The duo Granular Synthesis uses a sound synthesis technique on video recordings. During the acoustic granular synthesis new timbres are created from existing samples by iterating extremely short sound fragments according to different patterns. Using this method on sound and image synchronously, since 1991 Granular Synthesis have been presenting image-sound collages that could work like the technical simulation of cerebral malfunctions—however, it would remain unclear whether the person being portrayed cannot coordinate his or her movements or the audience cannot coordinate their perception as usual—see for example «Pole» (1998) with Diamanda Galas. In reality one is seeing an extreme example of everyday media manipulation, i. e. what happens when the material extracted from the medium is not defamiliarized in itself, but rather is prevented from its full scope of movement by leaps in time made possible by technology.[39] In «MODELL 5» (1994), the movements by the performer shown in the portrait, Akemi Takeya, appear to be dehumanized. Here it becomes clear that the characteristic qualities of a person should not be sought in the substance of the individual image, but rather in the person's movements.

Intermedia
Intermedia forms of expression seek correspondences between phenomena in different areas of perception. Technical transformations are highly efficient in this respect, because once they are configured a mechanical structure can be evaluated with arbitrary inputs. In the process, it turns out that the translation code is the actual problem associated with intermedia: the question arises of which rules should be applied to transform sound into image, spatial movement into timbre, or harmony into color. As early as 1729, Louis-Bertrand Castel built the ‹optical cembalo,› an instrument that translated sounds into color. Amongstothers, Kastner's «pyrophone» (1870) and Rimington's «color organ» (1910) pursued this idea further.[40] After about 1910, the associative transference of musical-spatial forms into painting became more frequent.[41] It was not until after 1900 that technologies were developed which allowed flexible transference between areas of perception. When, for instance, the poem for orchestra «Prométhée— Le Poème du feu» by the mystic and synaesthetician Aleksandr Skrjabin premiered in 1911, the two voices for colored light had to be produced using simple light bulbs.[42] Film involved new technologies and suggested that fine art, which in the nineteenth century was understood purely as spatial art, could come closer to the temporal art of music. Walter Ruttmann's composition «Lichtspiel Opus I,» which premiered in 1921, mobilizes abstract visual forms and colors in a characteristic musical style. The introduction of the optical sound recording principle enabled the analogies between image and music to be drawn even closer using technical coupling. Similar to what Moholy-Nagy had suggested for the record, Oskar Fischinger took up the technically conditioned visual manifestation of sound: the relief-like jagged script of the optical soundtrack.[43] By painting the optical soundtrack for «Tönende Ornamente» by hand, in 1932 Fischinger attempted to prove that there is an aesthetic correspondence between visual and acoustic forms. However, synaesthetic theories, which presuppose these kinds of unambiguous relationships between hearing and seeing, were soon identified as subjective perceptive phenomena. They were replaced by the machine and its unique, technically conditioned rules of transformation.

Le Corbusier summarized the visual design, music and architecture of the Philips Pavilion he created for World's Fair in Brussels in 1958 under the title «Poème électronique.» The blending of the three levels of image/light, sound and structure was intended to express how electric technologies connect the levels of perception in a new way and make it necessary for human beings to reorient themselves.[44] Two tape compositions were created for this occasion: «Poème électronique» by Edgard Varèse was aimed at an intense fusion of space and sound experience. The synthetic and concrete sounds used were set into motion as lines and volumes in space to Le Corbusier'sfilm/light projection with the aid of lavish loudspeaker technology. Iannis Xenakis' ‹intermission piece› «Concrete PH» was formally based on parabolic and hyperbolic curves, which had also lent the structure its extraordinary form. Xenakis thus interpreted principles of mathematics as general truths that could express themselves in different media and form a link between them.[45]

«Fontana Mix» (1958) counts as one of the early examples of graphic notation. John Cage created a kind of generative score out of transparent graphics, which promoted the creation of an arbitrary number of realization scores. In 2002, Matthew Rogalsky, Anne Wellmer and Jem Finer used «Fontana Mix» for «FontanaNet,» a performance for networked computers in which the lines of the generative score were followed on a graphics tablet and after that, sound occurrences were negotiated between the participating computers according to complex rules. Artistic practices that combine the different levels of expression and take mutual advantage of the possibilities of the transformation of visual, acoustic, haptic, spatial or other data have become more and more widespread with the dissemination of electronic and digital technologies. Intermedia techniques have been adopted into the repertoire of the graphic languages of form and the montage practices of the pop music video clip. They also occur as decorative, abstract visuals shown in the chillout rooms of clubs and raves as an optical counterpart to varieties of ambient music. Representatives of the ‹laptop scene› such as 242 Pilots and the commuter between art and music, Carsten Nicolai, interweave the design of sound and image with special hardware and software.[46]

Space
In the twentieth century, the spatiality of sound gained new significance. Space locations and movements had not been treated as design parameters in the theoretical reflection of music for a long time, although they had, for example, already been specifically implemented by Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli in sixteenth century Venice. Following attempts made by Gustav Mahler and Charles Ives, Edgard Varèse elevated space to a central category by striving to physically materialize his music in eachindividual sound. By implementing the orchestra in a special way he allowed music to move in space, thus moving it close to sculptural and choreographic works.

Even before Varèse allowed sound masses and surfaces to be electronically mobilized in the Philips Pavilion, Karlheinz Stockhausen treated space as a design parameter equal to pitch, volume, duration and timbre—in 1956 in his five-channel piece recorded on tape, «Gesang der Jünglinge,» and in 1955–1957 in «Gruppen,» in which three orchestras were distributed around the audience.[47] On his suggestion, the German Pavilion at the 1970 World's Fair in Osaka was built as a spherical auditorium, in which sounds could be moved electro-acoustically in three dimensions.[48]

In 1967 Max Neuhaus reversed the customary direction of thought, thus attaining a new kind of musical space: the sound installation. Music should not be enriched by adding a new dimension to it, rather it should primarily start out from space: «Traditionally, composers have located the elements of a composition in time. One idea which I am interested in is locating them, instead, in space, and letting the listener place them in his own time.»[49] For «Drive In Music,» Neuhaus installed sound sources which could be heard along a road via the car radio, thus subordinating time to space. For the first time in the history of music, musical form was no longer primarily temporal art, but rather it was based on space. Temporal sequence ensues from three factors: The distribution of sound sources (mostly loudspeakers) in space; the individual path of the user, which in installations in public space is molded by everyday needs; as well as the frequently underlying temporal structure of the sounds, often obtained from environmental influences, for example in that brightness, volume or physical movements influence the development of sound via sensors.

Christina Kubisch also works with the temporalization of real space. «Klang Fluß Licht Quelle» (1999) is part of a series of sound installations at which visitors wearing special induction headphones hear sounds out of cable structures and then assemble them to create an individual sound composition. In addition, Kubisch also often refers to the historic content or the background elements of existing rooms by using sounds that could once be heard in them or by accentuating an atmosphere unique to a particular place.[50]

David Rokeby's «Very Nervous System» depicts motion in Euclidean space in musical dimensions—therefore a non-Euclidean space. In this respect his work represents a continuation of the attempts at intermedia transformation, however it possesses a further level. In the version installed in 1995 in the «Eisfabrik» (independent exhibition venue for media art—ed.) in Hanover, one could lead the ticking of a free-hanging alarm clock into roaring feedback loops by starting it to swing. The crux here was to fathom out an invisible, unseizable space that is consistently elusive, because any transformations can only be arbitrary.

Gordon Monahan's performance «Speaker Swinging» (1994) describes the way back from electronic into physical space. Static sine tones are rotated in space by three performers swinging loudspeakers on long ropes around them in a circle. The monotone sine tones obtain an unimaginable vitality through the Doppler effect and the complexly varying reflections and interference patterns. This is enhanced by the corporeality of the perspiring performers and the menacing character of the misused loudspeakers tearing through the room. Monahan demonstrates that musical three-dimensionality means considerably more than occupying points in a three-dimensional system of coordinates.[51]

Media narration
In the great forms of media narration such as the book, film and radio, design techniques have developed that are familiar to us as being specifically novel-like, cinematic or ‹funkisch› (radioesque).[52] Laurie Anderson uses these stereotypes in her media narratives. At the same time she describes their origin and their everyday meaning. In her performance «United States I–IV» (1983), Anderson's voice guides us through everyday stories and bases them on a changing multimedia accompaniment. Although her performances implement a lavish multimedia apparatus, they do not reflect high technology, but rather the experience with profane everyday media.[53] The performer Laetitia Sonami takes up Anderson's virtuoso style of media narration and replaces its centrally controlled multimedia presentation with physical interaction with a technical system made up of motion sensors. During her narratives, by moving her body she navigates through a pool of sounds, noises, melodies andharmonies. Anderson tells of the myths of the media world; Sonami's choreographically narrated pieces demonstrate a ritual-like association with the mystery of technical media.[54]

Paul DeMarinis deals with media history. The installation «The Edison Effect» (1989–1993) reflects mystical components of the technical achievements of sound storage. Instead of using a stylus, a wax cylinder and shellac discs are scanned contact-free by a laser technology developed by the artist himself. DeMarinis virtually stops time, because in contrast to digital storage technologies, the mechanical record playback persistently deletes what has been memorized every time the recording is played; it even writes the moment of play into the storage medium because the noises present in a space are engraved into the groove via the stylus when the record is played back.[55] By example of a clay cylinder with grooves that stems from ancient Jericho, DeMarinis points out that Edison's simple invention of mechanical sound storage could have already been developed centuries earlier. Original recordings of Bach and Mozart would have been preserved, and their music would be different to us.

Detemporalization
With DeMarinis, what narration chiefly consists of disperses: narration follows a line, steers along a dramaturgy which has been prescribed or even developed ad hoc towards an end, often aims towards a resolution or relaxation. If one removes this line from a narrative structure, then what remains is a detemporalized gesture of showing. Detemporalized does not have to mean that duration does not play a role, but that the focus is not on the logical sequence from the beginning to the end. Temporal duration only provides ‹space› for a lengthened snapshot or a multi-perspective view of a phenomenon in order to be able to concentrate on a single phenomenon, a kind of detailed shot or purification of the same.

Alvin Lucier's performance «I Am Sitting in a Room» (1969) is based on a constant development from one state to another. However in reality, what we are hearing is only different stages of one and the same phenomenon: the specific resonance of a space. Lucier plays his voice through a loudspeaker into the room and repeatedly records the sound until due to the resonance frequencies of the space, the text becomes unrecognizable. The text to be spoken islibretto, score, performance instruction and comment in one.[56] By reversing a relation, the perspective changes: Our normal understanding is that the spatial reverberation is the coloring appendage of objects expressing themselves sonically. However, now the space expresses itself in the reverberation of a sounding object whose own sonic quality is only a coloring addition to the experience of space. The space changes from the surrounding context to the object.

La Monte Young's installations allow time to stand still to different degrees. In 1962 he conceived of the «Dream House» as a kind of laboratory; in the 1980s he used it to investigate the long-term effects of purely tuned intervals of sine tones on the psyche. The series of «Drift Studies» explore the sublime phenomenon of a minimally out-of-tune pure interval. Later installations with large sets of minutely tuned sine tones use interference to form infinitely complex volume distributions of the individual frequencies in space. Each location in the space contains other tone combinations. If the listener moves, he/she hears a thunderstorm of alternating sound patterns; if he/she is still, the music stands still in time.[57]

Virtualization
Technical media reproduce. The transmission, storage and synthesis of sound are based on semiotic systems which respectively reproduce those features of a phenomenon in plastic, magnetic, optical, electrical and digital representations that appear relevant to us in a particular context. The daily experience that a representation can never reproduce a phenomenon in all of its aspects and thus alters the reality experienced points out that even unreal, virtual phenomena can be represented with the aid of fictitious semiotic systems.

The focal point of Bernhard Leitner's work is the virtual construction of space. As do many of Leitner's other works, the permanent installation «Ton-Raum TU-Berlin» (since 1984) provides acoustic versions of architecturally constructed forms.[58] Bernhard Leitner liquefies dimensions and architectural characteristics such as proportion, tension and weight by temporalizing their features. Sound movements follow conceivable architectural forms, the lines of a structure are plastically adapted to become lines ofsound. Conversely, architectural coordinates lend structure to a sound event that can definitely be understood as a musical occurrence. Leitner blends musical and architectural systems of symbols to create a new aesthetic symbolic language.

In his installation «Klangbrücke Köln/San Francisco,» Bill Fontana combined the local displacement of sounds over half the globe with distortions of spatial form and dimension. He transmitted prominent urban sounds from all of San Francisco live to Cologne's Cathedral Square (and vice versa), thus pulling together a field of sound in one place that originally extended over kilometers. Under the parameter extension of space, the acoustic representation of real space is so to speak decoded with a false multiplier.[59]

In his computer installation «SMiLE,» Klaus Gasteier virtualized time by using the hypertext principle to represent a musical myth. The more than a hundred music fragments from an ominous, never released album by the Beach Boys were run—semi-automatically and semi-controllable by the listener—via a graphic interface. In the process, possible links between individual fragments were derived from musical similarities and from legends circulating around the album and entered into a database. Time is normally understood to be that one-dimensional ‹space› in which the structure of music is fixed. Here, technical means and the semiotic system chosen transform them into a multidimensional space of possibilities.

Dehierarchization
Audio art frequently endeavors to dissolve hierarchies. The network presents itself as an environment and structural model for this purpose, which is why examples with this focus have occurred more and more frequently since the genesis of the Internet. But the approach is older.

With reference to John Cage, as early as the 1950s David Tudor began building indeterministic electronic systems whose components were interwoven in such a way that he could not predict their behavior. At the end of the 1970s the «League of Automatic Music Composers»[60] transferred the concept to three locally networked ‹KIM 1› computers, the firstaffordable precursors to the PC. Each composition consisted of a system of rules, according to which each individual computer (and its performer) responded to the different information coming from the other two, in turn influencing them in different ways. «One can conceive of a computer system as a framework for embodying systems offering complexity and surprise …. Under this paradigm, composition is the design of a complex, even wild, system whose behavior leaves a trace: this trace is the music.»[61] There are no clear relationships of power between the performers and the computers or even between these amongst themselves. The pieces are different models of music that are created discursively between participants—including the machines—of equal status.

Since the mid-1990s, similar concepts have developed in association with ORF Kunstradio in Vienna, however in this case they are motivated by experiments in the field of telecommunication art.[62] In 1994, «State of Transition» by Andrea Sodomka, Martin Breindl, Norbert Math and x-space depicted data movement processes. Different electronic data paths were used between Graz and Rotterdam: the performers communicated using amongst other things audio, MIDI and HTML via ISDN, radio station transmission paths, normal telephone lines and Internet connections. Listeners could play sounds into the two independent concerts by telephone and trigger off sound occurrences in the concert halls while navigating in the Internet through websites on the topic of ‹migration.›[63] It was impossible for either the listeners or the performers to identify all of the different sub-actions. It was also uncertain in how far one's own actions were integrated into the context at the remote location. So it could not be a matter of synchronizing individual occurrences. The system had to be coordinated in its entirety via stimulation and correction of sub-systems.

«nebula.m81» by Netochka Nezvanova is a network for the Internet and a single user. The software constructs audiovisual output out of found material, the player merely sets it going. HTML codes and other data formats found in the Net are transformed into sound, sound is transformed into a visual form. Text, graphics and sound have equal status. The user influences the automatic mechanisms, can listen into individual audio particles and trigger off vaguely defined transformation processes. However, thedynamics and aesthetics of music, image and text arise primarily from the interaction between the program, the data and technical processes in the network. Nezvanova takes Gregory Bateson literally: «All that is not information, not redundancy, not form and not restraints is noise, the only possible source of new patterns.»[64] All three examples of dehierarchized networks are not limited to the production of new aesthetics. They also serve to depict unseizable technical processes in a sensory way and to represent and criticize the social and political significance of these communicative processes as well as to develop alternative models thereof.

Audio Art as a phenomenon of the modern age
Music did not first begin being shaped by media in the twentieth century, but centuries before that. Musical instruments and the written notation of music determine as media how it is made, how it is heard and thus: what makes up music. However, it was not until the emergence of mechanical musical instruments that music could be conveyed completely by media, as it was now no longer bound to its being concretisized by a human being. Three central concepts molded the manner in which mechanical musical instruments were handled. The first one can be found in the oldest automatic musical instruments: the aeols harp and wind chimes, whose strings or chimes are caused to accidentally vibrate by the movement of the air, creating a kind of natural, ‹organic› music. Diederich Nikolaus Winkel's «componium,» constructed in 1821, which could derive more than fourteen quintillion variations from an incoming theme, was a machine that developed this idea.[65] The second central concept of mechanical music machines is the aesthetic representation of higher laws. The carillons in astronomical clocks (for example in the Strasbourg Cathedral, circa 1354) represented divine principles and their connection with science, for instance the idea of the harmony of the spheres.[66] The third central concept implies that human beings can be perfected by a mechanism able to reproduce their abilities or even surpass them. Jacques Vaucanson's flute-playing satyr from 1738 embodied this striving for exact reproduction and greater control.

These three central concepts can also be found in audio art. The first one—the extraction of ‹scores› from processes alien to art—is present in score synthesis and is widespread in audio art. It accepts not only nature and mathematics, but also technical and communicative processes as sources of design rules. We encounter the second central concept, the representation of higher laws, amongst other things in the intermedia connections between the arts. However, these are seldom unbrokenly directed towards metaphysical ideas, but rather more towards phenomena of perception.

The central issue of audio art is the third concept: gaining control and the technically determined feasibility of what was previously unachievable. The storage, transmission and synthesis of sound as well as intermedia transformation and virtualization are amongst these new possibilities, and as the examples show they are consistently at the core of the musical examination of technical media. As the examples likewise document, artistic value does not solely unfold through an increase in control, extended playability or new sound perspectives. As was the case with the first electronic instruments or one or the other interactive installation, the mechanical orchestrion was nothing more than a technical attraction.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart shared this view. He used the technical extraordinariness of the instrument in a commissioned composition for an automatic organ clock, however he felt that the result was somewhat frivolous.[67] It was furthest from his mind to thematize the technical medium itself, because as a musician in the pre-modern age his measure of all things was music played by human beings. Even the inventor of noise music, Luigi Russolo, could not conceive of taking this step. By wanting to «give pitches to these diverse noises, regulating them harmonically and rhythmically,»[68] he did not seek the rules of design in the new material or its origin (the machines), rather he engaged an understanding of music that had been cultivated on traditional instruments and traditional ways of making and listening to music—and which the Futurists actually wanted to overcome.

Igor Stravinsky hoped to gain increased control through mechanical instruments. However, one of the reasons he took so much notice of the player pianowas that the specific problems caused by composing for it enriched his work.[69] The «Studies for Player Piano,» which the American composer Conlon Nancarrow began writing around 1950, constitute the first complete body of musical work to consistently place the possibilities of a technical medium in the foreground.

On the one hand, audio art has hopes of gaining control through the use of technical media. Media convey information where conveying information was previously impossible; they make greater amounts of data available, which in turn can only be researched and navigated with the aid of media; they enable the control of the temporal, spatial and structural details of processes, which without these aids would be neither perceptible to nor controllable by human beings. On the other hand, the deliberate loss of control is being implemented to counter this gain of control. Not only the potential of the technical advantages, but also the alleged technical disadvantages of the media used are being exhausted: mechanical rigidity, amateur-like construction, and ‹unnatural› dimensions of space and time. A comparative examination of a second domain of mechanical musical instruments still needs to be made. Besides the three central aesthetic concepts mentioned, considerable social effects of music-making machines can also be made out: the representation of influence, power and wealth in the technical work of wonder; the synchronization of social groups during the course of days and years; the reflection of the everyday in depictions figured by crafts, dance, etc.; the comfort of independent background music at court and later in middle-class households and entertainment facilities; the widespread dissemination of popular tunes and operetta hits by hurdy gurdies, street pianos and music boxes.

These aspects, too, are articulated in audio art: not as a secondary effect of the social or economic processes of art, but on the contrary, frequently as the true focus of a work. Technical media are used to re-experience everyday perceptions of body, history, space or time in an aestheticized form. However, they are also critically reflected on with regard to their social potential for and effect on the individual.

Three fundamentally new ways of implementing technical media thus distinguish audio art from the traditional understanding of music as manifested in the use of mechanical musical instruments. These differences define audio art as a phenomenon of Modernity. Firstly, audio art accepts the structural peculiarities of media as the source of aesthetic rules of design. Secondly, it accepts the task of the experimental investigation of mediaspecific phenomena of perception. Thirdly, it uses media both in a critical and in a playful way against media themselves by deliberately seeking the loss of control: because the plurality of access and the unpredictableness of the results are considered to be the condition of development.



Translation by Rebecca van Dyck



[1] Cf. Helga de la Motte-Haber, «Klangkunst—eine neue Gattung?» in Klangkunst, Akademie der Künste Berlin, Munich, 1996, pp. 12–17.
[2] On the original terms ‹Gebrauchsmusik› and ‹Umgangsmusik› cf. Eberhard Preussner, «Der Wendepunkt in der modernen Musik oder Die Einfachheit der neuen Musik,» in Die Musik, 21, 6, March 1929, pp. 415–418; cf. Heinrich Besseler, Das musikalische Hören der Neuzeit, Berlin, 1959.
[3] Bertolt Brecht, «The Radio as an Apparatus of Communication,» in Radiotext(e).=Semiotext(e), Neil Strauss (ed.), 16, VI, 1, New York, 1993, p. 15.
[4] Klaus-Dieter Krabiel, Brechts Lehrstücke. Entstehung und Entwicklung eines Spieltyps, Stuttgart, 1993, pp. 125f.
[5] Cf. Dieter Daniels, Kunst als Sendung. Von der Telegrafie zum Internet, Munich, 2002, pp. 135f.
[6] Luhmann's definition of the mass media is based on this criterion. Cf. Niklas Luhmann, Die Realität der Massenmedien, 2nd ed., Opladen, 1996, p. 10.
[7] Cf. H. M. Enzensberger, «Constituents of a Theory of the Media,» in Electronic Culture. Technology and Visual Representation, Timothy Druckrey (ed.), New York, 1996, pp. 62-85.
[8] Cf. Max Neuhaus, «The BroadcastWorks and Audium,» in Zeitgleich, Transit, Vienna, 1994, pp. 19–32.
[9] Rudolf Arnheim, Rundfunk als Hörkunst (1936), Frankfurt / Main, 2001, pp. 13f.
[10] Cf. Richard Kolb, «Die neue Funkkunst des Hörspiels,» in Rundfunk und Film im Dienste nationaler Kultur, Richard Kolb/ Heinrich Giesmeier (eds.), Düsseldorf, 1933, pp. 238f.
[11] Luigi Russolo, «The Art of Noises. Futurist Manifesto,» (dated March 11, 1913), in The Art of Noises, Monographs in Musicology, Luigi Russolo, no. 6, New York, 1986, pp. 23-27.
[12] Cf. Klaus Schöning, «Sound Mind Sound. Klangreise zur akustischen Kunst,» in Welt auf tönernen Füßen. Die Töne und das Hören, Kunst- und Ausstellungshalle der BRD, Göttingen, 1994, pp. 64–78; cf. Daina Augatitis/Dan Lander (eds.) Radio Rethink. Art, Sound and Transmission, Banff, 1994. Further examples in this text are «Public Supply I» and «Radio Net» by Max Neuhaus, «Klangbrücke Köln/San Francisco» by Bill Fontana and «State of Transition» by Sodomka/ Breindl /Math/ x-space.
[13] Cf. Stefan Amzoll, «Ich bin das Ohr. Zum 100. Geburtstag des Klangpioniers,» in Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, 1, 1996, pp. 50–53.
[14] László Moholy-Nagy, «New Plasticism in Music,» in Der Sturm, 7, 1923; English transl. in Broken Music. Artists' Recordworks, Ursula Block/Michael Glasmeier (eds.), Berlin, 1989, pp. 54–55.
[15] Cf. «The Edison Effect.»
[16] Cf. «Ruttmanns photographisches Hörspiel,» in Film-Kurier, 41, 15 February 1930, cited in Jeanpaul Goergen, Walter Ruttmann. Eine Dokumentation, Berlin, p. 130.
[17] Cf. André Ruschkowski, Elektronische Klänge und musikalische Entdeckungen, Stuttgart, 1998, pp. 210f.
[18] The CD ROM, The Early Gurus of Electronic Music (New York, 2000), contains a collection of classic pieces of electro-acoustic music.
[19] Cf. Peter Wicke, «Sound-Technologien und Körper-Metamorphosen. Das Populäre in der Musik des 20. Jahrhunderts,» in Rock- und Popmusik, (Handbuch der Musik im 20. Jahrhundert, vol. 8), Peter Wicke(ed.),Laaber,2001, pp. 37f.
[20] Cf. the website plunderphonics.
[21] Cf. Klangkunst, op.cit., pp. 96f.
[22] John Cage, «The Future of Music: Credo,» in Silence. Lectures and Writings by John Cage, Hanover, NH, 1973, pp. 3–6.
[23] John Cage in an interview with Richard Kostelanetz (1984), cited in Richard Kostelanetz, Conversing with Cage, 2nd ed., New York, 2003, p. 170.
[24] Cf. John Cage, «Composition as Process. Part II: Indeterminacy,» reprinted in Media Art Action—The 1960s and 1970s in Germany, Rudolf Frieling /Dieter Daniels (eds.), Vienna/New York 1997, S. 30–33. While Cage initially noted precise instructions for the results of chance operations, when it developed into ‹indeterminacy› around the end of the 1950s the score now contained considerably more interpretational scope. Cf. Kyle Gann, American Music in the Twentieth Century, New York, 1997, pp. 136f.
[25] Nam June Paik, «Über die Ausstellung der Musik,» in Dé-collage no. 3, Wolf Vostell (ed.), Cologne, 1963, in Niederschriften eines Kulturnomaden. Aphorismen, Briefe, Texte. Nam June Paik, Edith Decker (ed.), Cologne, 1992, p.100.
[26] Cited in Ornella Volta, Satie/Cocteau. Eine Verständigung in Mißverständnissen
[27] Cf. Grete Wehmeyer, Erik Satie
[28] Cf. Mark Prendergast, The Ambient Century. From Mahler to Trance—The Evolution of Sound in the Electronic Age, London, 2000; cf. Tony Marcus, «Ambient,» in Modulations. A History of Electronic Music, Peter Shapiro (ed.), New York, 2000, pp. 156–165.
[29] Also known as «theremine» and «ether wave instrument.»
[30] Cf. Peter Lertes, Elektrische Musik. Eine gemeinverständliche Darstellung ihrer Grundlagen, des heutigen Standes der Technik und ihrer Zukunftsmöglichkeiten, Dresden, 1933; cf. Carlos Chavez, Toward a New Music. Music And Electricity, New York, 1937.
[31] Cf. Karlheinz Stockhausen, «Zur Situation des Metiers (Klangkomposition),» in Karlheinz Stockhausen, Texte zur elektronischen und instrumentalen Musik, vol. 1, Dieter Schnebel (ed.), Cologne, 1963, pp. 45–61.
[32] This view also shaped the early forms of early Computer graphics.
[33] In 1967 Joel Chadabe, influenced amongst others by David Tudor's use of electronics, coined this term for the improvisational-experimental use of electro-acoustic sound generators as a counterpole to the ‹clinical› fashion of composition dominant at the time in the academic studios. Cf. Joel Chadabe, Electric Sound. The Past and Promise of Electronic Music, Upper Saddle River, NJ, 1997.
[34] Today, the flexible term ‹experimental music› is primarily used to refer to the music made by the group around John Cage and their successors. It is marked by its process orientation and its constant questioning of the understanding of music. Cf. Michael Nyman, Experimental Music—Cage and Beyond, 2nd ed. New York, 1999.
[35] Cf. Sascha Kösch, «The Ultimate Folk Music. Laptops, Napster, Derrida & Autechre,» in De:Bug, 48, June 2001, p. 3.
[36] Cf. Max Hollein et al. (eds.), Frequenzen [Hz]. Audiovisuelle Räume/Frequencies [Hz]. Audio-visual Spaces, Frankfurt/Main, 2002, pp. 35f.
[37] Markus Popp cited in Kurt B. Reighley, «Downtempo. Lost in Music,» in Modulations. A History of Electronic Music, Peter Shapiro (ed.), New York, 2000, p. 179.
[38] Kim Cascone, «The Aesthetics of Failure. ‹Post-Digital› Tendencies in Contemporary Computer Music,» in Computer Music Journal, 24, 4, 2000, p. 13.
[39] Cf. Tom Sherman, «Maschine des perpetuierten Augenblicks. Granular Synthesis: Was bisher geschah…,» in Wien Modern. Elektronik, Raum, ‹musique spectrale,› Berno Odo Polzer/ Thomas Schäfer (eds.), Vienna, 2000, pp. 164–171.
[40] Cf. William Moritz, «Der Traum von der Farbmusik,» in Clip, Klapp, Bum. Von der visuellen Musik zum Musikvideo, Veruschka Bódy/Peter Weibel (eds.), Cologne, 1987, pp. 17–52.
[41] Comprehensively described by Karin von Maur, Vom Klang der Bilder. Die Musik in der Kunst des 20. Jahrhunderts, Munich, 1985.
[42] Cf. Gottfried Eberle, «Mysterium und Lichttempel. Alexander Skrjabin und Ivan Wyschnegradsky— zwei multimediale Konzepte,» in Der Hang zum Gesamtkunstwerk (catalogue supplement), Berlin, 1984, pp. 48–52.
[43] Oskar Fischinger in the Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, 28 July 1932, cited in Peter Weibel, «Von der visuellen Musik zum Musikvideo,» in Bódy/Weibel, op. cit., p. 84.
[44] Cf. Marc Treib, Space Calculated in Seconds. The Philips Pavilion, Le Corbusier, Edgard Varèse, Princeton / NJ, 1996, p. XVI.
[45] Cf. Helga de la Motte-Haber, «Zwischen Performance und Installation,» in Klangkunst. Tönende Objekte und klingende Räume, (Handbuch der Musik im 20. Jahrhundert, vol. 12), Helga de la Motte-Haber (ed.), Laaber, 1999, p. 248.
[46] Cf. visuals/ clubs/ sounds (Positionen. Beiträge zur Neuen Musik), 43, 2000.
[47] Cf. Karlheinz Stockhausen, Texte zu eigenen Werken, zur Kunst Anderer, Aktuelles, vol. 2, Dieter Schnebel (ed.), Cologne, 1964, pp. 49f.
[48] Cf. Golo Föllmer, «Osaka: Technik für das Kugelauditorium,» in Musik…, verwandelt. Das Elektronische Studio der TU Berlin 1953–1995, Frank Gertich et al. (eds.), Hofheim, 1996, pp. 195–211.
[49] Max Neuhaus, «Program Notes,» York University, Toronto, 1974, in Max Neuhaus, inscription, Ostfildern, 1994, p. 34.
[50] Cf. Helga de la Motte-Haber, «Die Idee der Kunstsynthese,» in Christina Kubisch. Zwischenräume, Stadtgalerie Saarbrücken, Saarbrücken, 1996, pp. 40–45.
[51] «Körperlicher Klang. Gordon Monahan im Gespräch mit R.I.P. Hayman,» in Musik Texte, 27, 1989, pp. 17–19.
[52] This term was commonly used in the early years of radio to describe radio-specific speech and design techniques.
[53] Cf. Laurie Anderson, United States, New York, 1984.
[54] Cf. Klangkunst, op. cit., pp. 138f; cf. also the text «Virtual Narrations.»
[55] Paul DeMarinis, «Essay anstelle einer Sonate,» in Klangkunst, op. cit., pp. 251f.
[56] Alvin Lucier, «I Am Sitting in a Room,» in Alvin Lucier. Reflections. Interviews, Scores, Writings, Gisela Gronemeyer/Reinhard Oehlschägel (eds.), Cologne, 1995, p. 322.
[57] Cf. William Duckworth/Richard Fleming (eds.), Sound and Light. La Monte Young, Marian Zazeela, London, 1996.
[58] Cf. Bernhard Leitner, Sound:Space, Ostfildern, 1998, pp. 134–143.
[59] Cf. the text «Interaction, Participation, Networking.»
[60] John Bischof/Rich Gold/Jim Horton, «Music for an Interactive Network of Microcomputers», in Computer Music Journal, 2, 3, 1978, pp. 24-29.
[61] Tim Perkis, «Bringing Digital Music to Life,» in Computer Music Journal, 20, 2, 1996, p.31.
[62] Cf. the text «Interaction, Participation, Networking.»
[63] Cf. Martin Breindl, «lo-res vs. hifi. Kunst Internet,» Positionen, 31 May 1997, pp. 9–13.
[64] Cited in Netochka Nezvanova, «The Internet, A Musical Instrument in Perpetual Flux,» in Computer Music Journal, 24, 3, 2000, p. 38.
[65] Cf. Dieter Krickeberg, «Automatische Musikinstrumente,» in Für Augen und Ohren, Akademie der Künste Berlin, Berlin, 1980, p. 25.
[66] Ibid., pp. 11f.
[67] Cf. Jürgen Hocker, «Mechanische Musikinstrumente, » in Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, vol. 5, Kassel, 1995, pp. 1726f.
[68] Luigi Russolo, «The Art of Noises. Futurist Manifesto,» op. cit., p. 27.
[69] Cf. Alexander Buchner, Mechanical Musical Instruments, London, 1959, p. 20.



http://www.artlex.com/ArtLex/kl/kaleidoscope.html

kaleidoscope

Our conception of the pas depends on the kind of question we ask.
Any source, be it a detail of a picture or a part of a machine, can be useful, if we approach it from a relevant perspective.
There is no such trace of the past, which does not have its story to tell.

Histrorians have began to acknowledge that they cannot be free from the web of ideological discourses constantly surrounding and effecting them. In this sense history belongs to the present as much as it belongs to the past.
It cannot claim an objective status; it can only become conscious of its ambiguous role as a mediatior and "meaning processor" operating between the present and the past( and, arguably, the future).

recurring cyclical phenomena which (re)appear and disappear and reappear over and over again.
THe sense of deja vu that Tom Gunning has registered when looking back from the present reactions into the ways in which people have experienced technology in earier periods.


Erkki Huhtamo

From kaleidoscomaniac to cybernerd:Towards an Archeology of the Media

This version published in Leonardo, Vol.30. No 3(1997), pp. 221-224


http://www.damninteresting.com/?p=40

pantelegraph

Monday, March 27, 2006

http://www.tristanperich.com/Art/DrawingMachine/


Interactive Drawing Machine

After the demise of Interscan in 1978, many of the Lovelight team members continued their pursuit of the burgeoning laser show market. One of the engineers had the idea that the process of making laser drawings would be dramatically improved if the X-Y coordinates of the drawing could be adjusted while viewing the laser display. Moreover, a drawing might even be created by a person who lacked freehand drawing skills, by tracing conventional artwork with the laser projection.

Some of the Lovelight artists argued that such a machine was impractical because it would not allow a trained artist to utilize their manual drawing skills. Of course, all the nay-saying spurred the engineer to prove them wrong, and by the following year he had completed a "proof of principle" machine. The device consisted of 256 precision slide potentiometers, arranged in 128 consecutive X-Y pairs. Each pair controlled a single point, or coordinate, of the drawing. Beam blanking for each point was controlled by 128 dedicated toggle switches. A 128-pole digital stepper switch sequentially sampled the array at an adjustable clock rate, outputting the slide pot and switch positions to the X-Y scanners and beam blanker.

The machine was sold in 1979 to Laser Creations, Inc. of Denton, Texas. Under U.S. patent law, the operational principle became public domain one year later.

http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/TEXcardingM.htm

carding machine

http://dataisnature.com/?p=299


http://iaaa.nl/cursusAA&AI/metamatic.html


The drawing machine is based on the idea that a mechanism, with freedom to move on a surface, will make repetitive and incremental movements. A pencil or pen added to the mechanism then graphically records the movement, producing the type of pattern seen in old banknotes, etc.
http://www.mutr.co.uk/prodDetail.aspx?prodID=719

Sunday, March 26, 2006

By dealing with the ways things are experience instead of how they are made or percieved, the intents of work are realized only through the physical involvement of the spactator.
Ordinary experience of the space dosn't deal with a concept of sapce but with sensation of it. Purely physiological reaction becomes a highly charged emotional experinece. It is similar in feeling to the impact of seeing, but not immediately recongnizing yourself in the reflective surface of a store window as you pass it.

Physological and emotional effects of time. Even according to the most stringent scientific analyses of time, pure time cannot be masured, because every lapse of time must be connected with some process in order to be percieved. We defined time, therefore, according to our experience of it. When looking at a static object, the phenomenon of time, of how we perceive something, can be separarted from what we are looking at, which does not change.

Experience shows that human beings are not passive components in adaptive system. Their responses commonly manifest themseleves as acts of personal creation.

_Rene Dubos, Man Adapting

Friday, March 24, 2006

Morris's labyrinthine spaces take a dialectical view of their potential to control the viewer. While the experience of a labyrinth is somewhat claustrophobic and disturbing, its exploratory situation grants the individual a degree of independence from the traditional relationship between viewer and reverential art object.

Once inside a labyrinth, the participant is freed from the immediate and repressive demands of the real world.
Borge said "Often the labyrinth is a symbol for happiness ... because we feel we are lost in the world, and the obvious symbol is that of losing yourself in the labyrinth... and the word labyrinth is so beautiful."

The concept of the labyrinth as a vehicle for spiritual freedom is deeply ingrained in the history of ideas. The labyrinth was seen as the setting for creative acts, a space where time and the phenomenal worldc are placed in suspension. So, the labyrinth represents the idea of a deconstruction of the institutional hierarchies of late capitalism for Morris.

Morris was searching for art which can mirror and critique the repressice space of late capitalism as well as experiences that were self-validating and recuperative.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

http://www.ismacs.net/smhistory.html

A Brief History of the Sewing Machine

by Graham Forsdyke

Historians of the early days of the sewing machine can argue for hours over the simple matter of who invented what is, in many ways, one of the most important machines ever devised.

The story really starts in 1755 in London when a German immigrant, Charles Weisenthal, took out a patent for a needle to be used for mechanical sewing. There was no mention of a machine to go with it, and another 34 years were to pass before Englishman Thomas Saint invented what is generally considered to be the first real sewing machine.

In 1790 the cabinet maker patented a machine with which an awl made a hole in leather and then allowed a needle to pass through. Critics of Saint's claim to fame point out that quite possibly Saint only patented an idea and that most likely the machine was never built. It is known that when an attempt was made in the 1880s to produce a machine from Saint's drawings it would not work without considerable modification.

The story then moves to Germany where, in around 1810, inventor Balthasar Krems developed a machine for sewing caps. No exact dates can be given for the Krems models as no patents were taken out.

An Austrian tailor Josef Madersperger produced a series of machines during the early years of the 19th century and received a patent in 1814. He was still working on the invention in 1839, aided by grants from the Austrian government, but he failed to get all the elements together successfully in one machine and eventually died a pauper. Two more inventions were patented in 1804, one in France to a Thomas Stone and a James Henderson -- a machine which attempted to emulate hand sewing -- and another to a Scott John Duncan for an embroidery machine using a number of needles. Nothing is known of the fate of either invention.

America's first real claim to fame came in 1818 when a Vermont churchman John Adams Doge and his partner John Knowles produced a device which, although making a reasonable stitch, could only sew a very short length of material before laborious re-setting up was necessary.

One of the more reasonable claimants for inventor of the sewing machine must be Barthelemy Thimonnier who, in 1830, was granted a patent by the French government. He used a barbed needle for his machine which was built almost entirely of wood. It is said that he originally designed the machine to do embroidery, but then saw its potential as a sewing machine.

Unlike any others who went before him, he was able to convince the authorities of the usefulness of his invention and he was eventually given a contract to build a batch of machines and use them to sew uniforms for the French army. In less than 10 years after the granting of his patent Thimonnier had a factory running with 80 machines, but then ran into trouble from Parisian tailors. They feared that, were his machines successful, they would soon take over from hand sewing, putting the craftsmen tailors out of work.

Late one night a group of tailors stormed the factory, destroying every machine, and causing Thimonnier to flee for his life. With a new partner he started again, produced a vastly- improved machine and looked set to go into full-scale production; but the tailors attacked again. With France in the grip of revolution, Thimonnier could expect little help from the police or army and fled to England with the one machine he was able to salvage.

He certainly produced the first practical sewing machine, was the first man to offer machines for sale on a commercial basis and ran the first garment factory. For all that, he died in the poor house in 1857.

In America a quaker Walter Hunt invented, in 1833, the first machine which did not try to emulate hand sewing. It made a lock stitch using two spools of thread and incorporated an eye-pointed needle as used today. But again it was unsuccessful for it could only produce short, straight, seams.

Nine years later Hunt's countryman, John Greenough, produced a working machine in which the needle passed completely through the cloth. Although a model was made and exhibited in the hope of raising capital for its manufacture, there were no takers.

Perhaps all the essentials of a modern machine came together in early 1844 when Englishman John Fisher invented a machine which although designed for the production of lace, was essentially a working sewing machine. Probably because of miss-filing at the patent office, this invention was overlooked during the long legal arguments between Singer and Howe as to the origins of the sewing machine.

Despite a further flurry of minor inventions in the 1840s, most Americans will claim that the sewing machine was invented by Massachusetts farmer Elias Howe who completed his first prototype in 1844 just a short time after Fisher.

A year later it was patented and Howe set about trying to interest the tailoring trade in his invention. He even arranged a competition with his machine set against the finest hand sewers in America. The machine won hands down but the world wasn't ready for mechanised sewing and, despite months of demonstrations, he had still not made a single sale.

Desperately in debt Howe sent his brother Amasa to England with the machine in the hope that it would receive more interest on the other side of the Atlantic. Amasa could find only one backer, a corset maker William Thomas, who eventually bought the rights to the invention and arranged for Elias to come to London to further develop the machine.

The two did not work well together, each accusing the other of failing to honour agreements and eventually Elias, now almost penniless, returned to America. When he arrived home he found that the sewing machine had finally caught on and that dozens of manufacturers, including Singer, were busy manufacturing machines -- all of which contravened the Howe patents.

A long series of law suits followed and were only settled when the big companies, including Wheeler & Wilson and Grover & Baker, joined together, pooled their patents, and fought as a unit to protect their monopoly.

Singer did not invent any notable sewing-machine advances, but he did pioneer the hire-purchase system and aggressive sales tactics.

Both Singer and Howe ended their days as multi-millionaires.

So the argument can go on about just who invented the sewing machine and it is unlikely that there will ever be agreement. What is clear, however, is that without the work of those long-dead pioneers, the dream of mechanised sewing would never have been realised.


http://www.petereudenbach.com/l_images/01.html


http://remtrak.com/robots/woodkits.htm


Electrical Instrument Service Inc. Sensitive Research Scale Drawing Machine

http://docserver.ingentaconnect.com/deliver/connect/mitpress/15263819/v1n10/s2.pdf?expires=1143155067&id=27577844&titleid=1359&accname=Rhode+Island+School+of+Design+Library&checksum=D667A93D610EB384D39E80B84D8A557D

bruce nauman

http://muse.jhu.edu/demo/wide_angle/v021/21.1morse.pdf

body and screen

September 24, 1999
ART REVIEW; When Context Outshines Content

By ROBERTA SMITH
''AMERICA TAKES COMMAND.'' These jarring, jingoistic words, redolent of a Marshall Plan approach to cultural influence, appear on a large sign in the first gallery of ''The American Century: Art and Culture, 1950-2000'' at the Whitney Museum of American Art. They float above paintings by Jackson Pollock and Willem de Kooning and sculptures by David Smith, and they refer, of course, to what is often called the triumph of American art, specifically of Abstract Expressionism, after World War II.

Today the phrase seems quaint. Since the 1960's, curators, art historians and critics have progressively dismantled or at least de-emphasized the notion of a national esthetic and cultural dominance. Recent exhibitions have strongly suggested that Abstract Expressionism was only one strand of gestural painting that emerged around the globe in the late 1940's and early 50's in Japan, France, Austria and Italy.

Luckily, these words aren't the whole story of this complicated and conflicted show, which has been organized by Lisa Phillips, a former Whitney curator who is now director of the New Museum of Contemporary Art in SoHo, and designed by the architect Christian Hubert. Like its tamer, less historically freighted predecessor, this second part sums up 50 years of American art and culture, the century's better half this time, and fills the entire museum. Over the range of six floors and five decades and hundreds of artworks in dozens of media, it alternately dazzles and frustrates, illuminates and disappoints, demonstrates terrific imagination and the yawning lack of it and ultimately confirms that an exclusive focus on American art has outlived whatever usefulness it once had.

The show, which opens on Sunday, is best and most surprising around the edges. In keeping with the current fashion for context, it surrounds the art with a tremendous amount of engaging supporting material. Even more than the first part, this installment is festooned with so many expertly organized bits of popular culture and historical background that a kind of centrifugal force builds. One's attention is constantly pulled outward toward the show's flickering margins -- toward landmark events, famous personalities, banned or controversial books, emblematic snippets of film, song and television and even occasionally the wild and crazy carrying on of the artistic avant-garde.

Every square foot of the museum has been used to convey some nodule of information or activity. In the garden-level ladies' room, for example, well-known authors like Frank McCourt and Kathryn Harrison read excerpts from their books on tape. The museum's stairwell has audio works by John Cage, Yoko Ono and Terry Fox and a segment of ''The Simpsons'' playing on a tiny television set. And just as you reach the lobby, home free you think, there are three Gap commercials on an even tinier set.

Upstairs, in the show itself, there are constant tugs of war between high and low and between art and history. On the fifth floor, while looking at Jasper Johns's ''White Target'' or Ray Johnson's burnished collages of Elvis Presley, both from the late 1950's, you may hear Presley singing ''Jailhouse Rock'' or equally famous songs by Ray Charles, Little Richard and Patsy Cline.

These emanate from one of the show's six ''cultural sites,'' which provide historical context with a minimum of disruption and a refreshing lack of text panels. At other sites you can sit in a beanbag chair beneath a giant peace symbol while listening to Jimi Hendrix's ''All Along the Watchtower'' in front of a wall-size image of the 1963 March on Washington. And toward the end of the show you can read a chronology tracing the National Endowment for the Arts' near-death experience in the early 1990's beside two of the most notorious artworks, by Robert Mapplethorpe and Andres Serrano, that started the uproar.

Some of the show's interstices evoke the ephemeral fringe of artistic practice that tends to be edited out of official histories. A gantlet of video monitors after the gallery devoted to Minimalism includes dance and performance pieces by Trisha Brown, Steve Paxton and Carolee Schneemann, emphasizing that there was more to the late 1960's and early 70's than industrially fabricated geometry. You can also watch films of happenings; signal works by experimental filmmakers like Stan Brakhage, Jack Smith and Jonas Mekas; early videos of Joan Jonas and Meredith Monk, and performances of Robert Wilson's ''Einstein on the Beach'' and Laurie Anderson's ''O Superman.''

The problem with the addition of so much context is that when art is pitted against life, life tends to win. In the exhibition context, souvenirs of the outside world function as a form of visual comfort food: immediately comprehensible and easier to digest.

One responds to them with warm nostalgia (duck-and-cover air raid drills! Sonny and Cher!), or when the details concern figures like Senators Joseph R. McCarthy or Jesse Helms, with a knee-jerk sense of indignation and superiority.

But once past the feel-good moments, the contextualizing can't disguise the show's conventional core, the predictable, severely truncated story told by the art objects on view. As smooth as the periphery is textured and as shallow as the edges are deep, the central narrative moves with the efficiency of a Monarch Notes time line from Jackson Pollock's drip paintings, Mr. Johns's flags and targets and Andy Warhol's big double-double Elvis to ''Drawing Restraint 7,'' a Matthew Barney video installation featuring bare-chested satyrs. In between, brief note is taken of Color Field painting, Fluxus, Pop, Minimalism, Photo Realism, Conceptual Art, Process Art, Earthworks, Pictures Art, Neo-Geo and looser categories the Whitney calls ''A Resurgence of Painting'' and ''The Return of the Subject.''

On the whole, this show once again underscores the difficulty of mounting broad-scope, inclusively titled historical surveys unlimited by a discernible point of view that might provide a modicum of shape or logic. Mainly, one has the sense that a large, familiar list of artists was drawn up, all of whom appear in the show's textbooklike catalogue. After that it was simply a matter of shoe-horning as many of the uppermost layer as possible into the available gallery space.

Thus, there was room for Ellsworth Kelly and Alex Katz but not for Myron Stout or Al Held, for Jay DeFeo but not Joan Brown, for Ed Ruscha but not Peter Saul, for Jim Nutt but not Roger Brown, for Donald Judd but not Larry Bell, for Susan Rothenberg but not Jennifer Bartlett. Other artists present in the catalogue but not in the galleries include Robert Longo, Douglas Huebler, Judy Chicago, Kerry James Marshall, Zoe Leonard and Ann Hamilton. Artists who don't even qualify for the book include Dorothea Rockburne, James Welling and James Casebere.

The overall effect has the ''one artist, one work'' briskness and superficiality of a Whitney Biennial. Like the museum's signature overviews, it mixes usual suspects and fashionable unusual suspects, and it seems aimed primarily at a general audience with only a passing knowledge of art. But it will initiate many into the incalculable range of form and subject that characterizes the postwar art not just of the United States but also of most Western countries.

One glimpses the opening of the art world to women and artists of different races that Conceptual Art made possible and the acceptance of different forms of craft initiated by Process Art and Pattern and Decoration. The main drama, though, is the widespread, polymorphous infiltration of popular culture and everyday life signaled by Pop Art but instigated by a broad swath of artists, including the composer John Cage, the Fluxus group and Californians like Wallace Berman and Jess.

The movement of art toward accessibility and beyond, toward entertainment, is everywhere apparent. It is symbolic that at the beginning of the show rock-and-roll music is present in the cultural sites; by the end it has segued into the art, providing accompaniment, for example, to ''The Ballad of Sexual Dependency,'' Nan Goldin's slide presentation of photographs of the East Village demimonde.

Equally telling is a comparison of the show's two walk-in corridor installation pieces. In ''Live/Taped Video Corridor,'' Bruce Nauman's early 1970's work, one arrives at a tiny black and white monitor on which one can see only a live image of the back of one's own head. In Bill Viola's 1997 ''Tree of Knowledge,'' the viewer's movement down the corridor triggers an entire life cycle in splendid color, from green sapling to a life-size tree going through the four seasons.

But old habits persist. Count on the Whitney to work Edward Hopper into the exhibition; more pertinent would have been Stuart Davis, whose work underwent tremendous growth between 1950 and his death in 1964. And you would never know about folk artists from this show; even the achievements of two of the country's greatest, Martin Ramirez and Henry Darger, both active well past 1950, are missing.

After 1970 it is not the absence of individual artists that plagues the show so much as the sense that the American ''command'' phase, if you want to call it that, was over, that the action was increasingly elsewhere, or more accurately, everywhere, in South America, Europe and beyond. In the end, one senses a very quick rise and fall. Not only was there no ''American Century'' of fine art; there wasn't even an American half-century. What there was were two decades, the 1950's and 60's, during which American Art seen in isolation held its ground.

''The American Century: Art and Culture, 1950-2000'' opens on Sunday and will remain at the Whitney Museum of American Art, 945 Madison Avenue, at 75th Street, through Feb. 13. It is presented by the Intel Corporation.

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9506EED8153FF937A1575AC0A96F958260&pagewanted=print