I hope someday I get to be included in a study on the role of music in influencing brain functions. Here I am, trying to work on a fellowship application, and I can’t string two words together until I turn on the Bartók Violin Sonatas as recorded by Christian Tetzlaff and Leif Ove Andsnes. It is apparently the only music to which I can write. Now suddenly my brain is in all-out verbal composition mode and I can produce entire paragraphs of meaningful thought. (Never mind that I’m sti
Anna Magdalena Bach was Johann Sebastian Bach’s second wife, mother of 13 of his children, the copyist of his manuscripts and herself an accomplished musician. When I became interested in using J.S. Bach’s music as the basis for a new body of work, her name repeatedly caught my eye in my background research. Then I ran across an article describing how an Australian researcher has theorized, based on forensic science and musical analysis, that Anna Magdalena may have been the composer
Took a couple of in-process shots of my latch hook rug based on Bach’s Prelude in C Major. I’m almost one-third of the way through. Talk about tedious. Good thing I’ve got Doctor Who to keep me company.
New ideas, new direction… Intersections of musical notation, craft process and concept-based art. Music theory meets color theory. I’m starting with a latch-hook rug of Bach’s Prelude in C Major from the Well-Tempered Clavier Book I. My idea is to obsessively replicate the color pattern of the Prelude in as many tactile, tangible media as I can think of. More on the concept to come later when I have a better sense of what the heck I’m doing and whether I can actually stom
Here’s another visualization of J.S. Bach: the first Prelude and Fugue to the Well-Tempered Clavier. The Prelude is playing a dominant role in the new artwork I’m brainstorming, so it’s fascinating to see how someone else envisioned it.
When a system constantly replicates even a simple set of variables, the result quickly becomes organic, seemingly uncontained. By rolling dice to move around the color wheel using mathematical probabilities, Murken dissolves the familiar spectrum into variegated columns of haphazard hues. Towering chroma without regard to art-school theory nonetheless impose beauty on the gallery-white walls. There are the beginnings of excess, of sheer visceral reaction to brilliant abstraction. Phonebooks as t
While containing all of the gentle tactility and delicate detail you might expect from a textile-work, Sheila Hicks’s two-story cascade blows the whole definition apart. Monumental, visceral – you feel the tangled coils twine through your own gut. It dwarfs you, shrinks you to the size of a pin head next to a spool of thread. You have no chance to passively observe, but must conquer the simultaneous desire to dive in and to run away screaming. Like standing at the base of a thousand-year-old tre