Tectonics Festival Glasgow 2015 on the radio

I’m not sure when it happened, but I’m very happy that there has been a shift so that each episode of Hear and Now on BBC Radio 3 is available for a full month after broadcast. We are in a sweet spot now (until June 14th, I believe) of being able to listen to the entire coverage of the Tectonics Festival Glasgow that took place from May 1st to 3rd of this year. I had a wonderful time there, and there are a few major highlights I’d like to point out, for those of you that don’t have time to listen to all eight hours of coverage. I’m planning to write more about each of these pieces in some form. (Lawrence Dunn did a thoughtful review of the whole festival here.) For now I’ll just get these links posted so that those of you with an interest have a good chance to listen.

Episode 1:

Joanna Bailie: To Be Beside the Seaside (8:30-32:37)
Eliane Radigue: OCCAM RIVER XII, OCCAM DELTA IV (37:16-1:06:40)
A video clip of this performance is also available, and I’ll embed a short related interview with Radigue at the end of the post.

Episode 2:

Cassandra Miller: Duet for Cello and Orchestra (23:16-1:02:11)

Episode 3:

Peter Ablinger: Quartz (38:50-55:00)
Eliane Radigue: OCCAM XI (55:00-1:10:20)

Controlled Indeterminacy in Text Scores (4): Sarah Hughes

This is the last post in the series of interviews supporting the “Controlled Indeterminacy in Text Scores” project commissioned by a.pe.ri.od.ic. Sarah Hughes is a composer, artist, and performer based in the UK. She is a founding member of The Set Ensemble, co-editor of Wolf Notes, and co-founder of the curatorial platform Compost and Height and the publication platform BORE. (Take a look at Wolf Notes #8, a print edition that was just made available yesterday. It looks like a great collection, and I’ve ordered myself a copy.)

A reward is given for the best inframmary fold will be performed in Chicago on May 31st by the a.pe.ri.od.ic ensemble, and a different version of it will be performed in Los Angeles by Dog Star Orchestra on June 1st.


Often stopwatches are used to synchronize activity. In this case it seems like they are being used to make sure that the sections are not synchronized. There seems to be a deliberate lack of alignment between the parts. Was that your intent? There are not many simultaneous entrances or exits, and each player has a very different pattern of when they are playing/not playing.

This score is a reworked version of a composition that was written for solo zither (I Love This City and its Outlying Lands, 2014) and has here been broken down into different sections for a quintet, with fairly significant changes along the way. It was originally part of a commission to accompany an exhibition of work by Fernand Léger at the Musée des Beaux Arts de Nantes. The original score involved a fairly long process of deciding what should go where and how that could be written as something to be read and understood in a live situation. I decided to rewrite the score for this commission as I’m interested in how things get translated from one medium to another, and a different set of instrumentation is like working with a different set of materials. The position of each section contributes to the overall composition, so whilst they aren’t synchronised the qualities of each section are contingent upon the activity that surrounds it. I wanted the composition to sound improvised whilst being tightly structured and for the score to hold together and to sound composed, but as an emergent activity.

I Love This City and its Outlying Lands, 2014. Commission for composition written in response to exhibition of Fernand Léger’s work at Musée des Beaux-Arts de Nantes.

I Love This City and its Outlying Lands, 2014. Commission for composition written in response to exhibition of Fernand Léger’s work at Musée des Beaux-Arts de Nantes.

Are there other examples you can give of translational/reworking processes in your work?

The translation/reworking is present in most of my work, and filtering through an idea by reworking it a number of times is something I’ve been interested in for a long time. This could be reworking sketchbooks as screenprints, using the same sculptures in various installations or using the same sections to rework a composition. These are becoming more and more interrelated. A recent exhibition with David Stent (Objects of Conjecture) intentionally played with the role of a sculpture, image and text in a similar kind of way, and I’ve just been appointed composer-in-residence at South London Gallery which should provide a good platform to play with these kind of ideas even more. I’ve also been in touch with Basil Beattie recently and had a good conversation with him about re-working his Janus Series into a series of compositions (either sound or sculpture, likely both). Then there are things like Joseph Clayton Mills’ recent release on Suppedaneum – Sifr. Joseph composed a piece of music and then sent it to a number of composers to write the score for its realisation. Seven scores and the original audio composition are available as one release. This reversal and multi-realisation is exactly what I’ve been interested in recently. 

Objects of Conjecture 2015. Hardwick Gallery, Cheltenham

Objects of Conjecture 2015. Hardwick Gallery, Cheltenham

The material that each player is interacting with is shifting somewhat unpredictably with the stops and starts of sections around them, and also with the intervals of activity within each of those sections. Is that structuring something you set in motion to call for a high level of responsiveness/contingency?

The composition is a conceit to a certain extent. In order to sound improvised a certain level of unpredictability needs to remain in place, yet the the structure and sounding events are outlined beforehand – the situation set up between the presence of the performers and the composer is crucial. The composition will have been rehearsed ahead of the live performance and the performers will know what to expect. The indeterminacy in the performance comes from the level of contingency written into the score. As much as informing the performance of the composition, indeterminacy (which was outlined as a key part of the commission) is central to the writing of the score itself. For example, how a composition changes according to the performers and instrumentation available, limitations to duration etc. Since this score was written as a piece for solo zither it has been rewritten as a solo for Ryoko Akama, and now two versions have been written for the ‘Indeterminancy in Text Scores’ concerts organised by a.pe.ri.od.ic, premiered in Chicago and then performed by the Dog Star Orchestra in Los Angeles. The series becomes discursive as each rewriting of the score creates a very different, indeterminate, realisation.

There is an interesting balance struck on a number of levels in this piece:

– between part and whole: each player is playing from their own part, but the playing qualities of parts 3, 4, and 5 are very much dependent on what is happening around them. (“loud enough to weave the other sounds together,” “must not overpower,” “sitting beneath”)


– between text/visual image and sound image: the relationship of the title and list of phrases on the third page to the rest of the piece introduces an interesting type of tension into the performance process. One question for a performer, I imagine, is how those texts should inform their performance choices. Is that a question you’d like to keep as open as it currently is, or is there anything you’d like to say about it?

The forty-nine phrases at the beginning of the score came about as a result of renaming all the of paintings in the Fernand Léger exhibition, for which the original score was written. Each time the score is rewritten it will be given one of these phrases as a title, and the list will feature in each score as a constant. There is nothing written in the score that would enable these phrases to be used directly in the performance, so its clear that they are there are something to be considered, reflected upon, used to inform the attitude of the performance, etc. The title of each score is listed so one may assume that the score they are performing is one in a series of variants which echos the interrelationship of the qualities in the score – between the part and whole.

Sarah Hughes_A Reward is given for the Best Inframmamary Fold_v1

– between structure and indeterminacy: section start and stop times are given, and pitches and general playing instructions are given, but the players have a fair amount of latitude as far as when to play and for how long within each section. Is that type of relationship between more fixed and more fluid elements resonant with your other work? I was looking at your Architectural Model Making project on Another Timbre just now and it seems very relevant, though the framework is quite different. (I’d be interested to know about how this structure/indeterminacy relationship connects or doesn’t to your work in other art forms as well.) I know it’s also part of the commission for this piece, so of course that plays a role.

Yes. The play between improvised and composed is pretty central to my work. This is true of performing and composing, and in my sculpture / installations. The process of working is much the same for each, and the different media creates different opportunities to explore the tensions and resonances that result. It’s important for me to have something to work with, this could be a performer, artist or architectural space – the relationship between me and this other figure is always roughly similar:

The performance of a score is most successful when it retains the character of the composer and the character of the performer(s); an improvised performance is most successful when it retains the character of each performer (I don’t usually like to improvise solo, when I have done this successfully it is in a space that has an acoustic quality that can be considered a second performer. The recording of Criggion on Accidents of Matter or of Space (Suppadanum 2013) is a good example of this); an installation is most successful when it takes into consideration the architecture of the exhibition space.

The work is always contingent, and in that sense is always subject to a certain level of indeterminacy.


Is your experience playing in ensembles (Set Ensemble, Loris, others) something that you consciously refer to in making a piece like this, or is it something that sits more in the background?

I refer much more to how I work with physical materials in installations and sculptures. I consider the different sections in A Reward is Given for the Best Inframammary Fold as very physical things. The duration of the score is much like a physical space that is filled with these materials and when this space seems (to me) to be well composed the piece is finished. In this sense the compositions are very much like architectural models for a temporal event (hence the title of the Another Timbre project). I visualise the composition in space before I can imagine how it sounds in time. When I’m writing compositions I’m normally working on a visual counterpart. I have a number of prints/sculptures in progress (Bums, Fannies, Tits and Tongues) that correspond to this composition and they may come together at some point.

Controlled Indeterminacy in Text Scores (3): Ryoko Akama

Here is the third interview for the Controlled Indeterminacy in Text Scores project, introduced here. Ryoko Akama is a performer, composer, and sound artist currently based in the UK. She is co-editor of Reductive Journal and runs the melange edition label. Her work invites an introspection that feels very fresh to me. As I’ve started to look at it more closely, I’ve become more and more curious about the thinking or attitude behind the work. Keep reading…


I’m so interested in the way you chose to present the score of acorn. I could imagine a performance version of the score that has most of the instructions on one or two pages. Can you talk about what would be lost if it were presented in a more direct way? (I know a lot would be lost! I just am curious to hear how you might say it.)

– in terms of the performers’ engagement with the piece
– in terms of their understanding of your intentions
– in terms of the sound world that it suggests
– in any other way you might think of

You are absolutely right in saying that re-typing and squeezing all texts into a page or two will result in a different score, or at least it would not propose what I want to propose. Empty space is something that proposes. We don’t ask Malevich’s black square painting series or Bob Law’s castle series; ‘well, let’s collage these empty areas into one piece and exhibit that’. Space is idea, aesthetic and revelation of many things. In performance, it can mean silence, continuity, eternity, contemplation, contrast etc. The employment of space is a specificity that can not be ignored in its performance situation – a transformation of visual absence into temporal experience.

My score changes its appearance depending on how I assemble ideas and structures. I am currently working on a series called ‘a proposal’ (which I have made four so far and am in the process of making the fifth). ‘a proposal’ series do not carry out a visual sense of emptiness as much as acorn but the exploration of space/silence is still examined in relation to numbers, texts, visual sketches etc. How each performer perceives and receives my ‘proposal’ and replies to it is like a personal letter exchange. For me, when a score is created, a part of my work is done. The next part is that a performer perceives it – a performer’s engagement begins here when (s)he visually and perceptually deals with the piece. And then, an event takes place that actualises a situation, composes a space or juxtaposes different approaches into one structural experience on the base of the score. Throughout, the property of absence is as crucial as the property of object.

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I do not think that having areas of absence is an ‘indirect’ approach. It is the idea, form, reflection and the engagement with ‘the moment’. On the other hand, informative instructions and writings could be quite indirect and poetic. Employing limited amounts of objects/materials do not conclude as ambiguity. It can be the most concise and direct way of communication. When you look at scores by Manfred Werder, Taku Sugimoto or Sam Sfirri, my statement comes alive and truly. acorn quotes a Haiku by Ayako Hosomi. I have been fascinated by the system of Haiku recently and started integrating it in my practice. A constraint of 5-7-5 must be applied to a Haiku poem as well as an implementation of at least one seasonal word within the piece. Haiku form is the simplest and most absent description of seasonal life that fully comprises a composer’s intention. I like how text and space sculpt aural experiences altogether and I feed myself with many influences by visual art, literature, music and film.

There should be diverse (or subverted) approaches and possibilities to acorn performance. Once Joseph Kudirka said to me that the absence (of information) creates performer’s responsibility, not freedom. For me, this is where ‘listening’ becomes important. I ‘share’ ideas and ‘provoke’ listening situations in performance where performers reflect themselves upon my intention seeded within space. Space is so transparent and reflective. Once you recognize it, it is always there to examine through. Here, music becomes such a brilliant application as these examinations are expanded into the omni-dimensional structure, where one can be within, around or out of that sculptural field. Space in my scores may suggest silence but also happening. I am looking forward to hear how a.pe.ri.od.ic will read my space and text in the coming week.

There are a lot of “how many” indications in the score, as well as only’s (“only once” – “just once” – “sometimes twice” – “no more than three” – “only once in fifteen sections”), and a sense of really caring about each sound, especially that last one I quoted. For you, does the act of counting these actions, and especially of having few of them, make them more valuable? Or maybe there’s a better word than valuable. I’m also thinking of the title of your journal, Reductive Journal.

The title of the journal was decided by the co-editor Daniel (del Rio) so I have nothing to say about that. It is controversial to use ‘reductive’ in many ways and I am not good at arguing these things.

Here I make ritual indents in time that demonstrates one’s perception of time. I like a personality of individual pace or rhythm pattern that identifies a current self. I use ‘you’ a lot in recent scores in order to work upon a relationship. As an ensemble, each performer relates a personal scope of temporality to that of the others. Communication/relationship determines almost everything in the world. How things are related spontaneously and relevantly, in time and space, remains as a central tenet in my compositional activities. All matters are responsive and corresponding, but they maintain individuality too. In my works, I tend to deal with each element (performer/object etc) on its own, which as a result, crafts the wholeness.

Listening is very important in my creative practice. Where something is not performed is as important as, sometimes more important than, where it is performed. I like the contrast, transformation, uniformity or existence of ‘there is’ and ‘there is not’. It is beautiful to hear an occurrence of performing ‘just once’ when this ‘just once’ happens unintentionally but very intended… like a quiet experience in Turrell’s Skyspace.

There are also a lot of indefinite words and phrases, like maybe, could be, almost, approximately, slightly, optional, “does not have to be definitely” – and also the questions, like “do we hear it?” and “while performing?” and “what does ‘quite’ mean in your culture?” Would it be right take these all together (as well as separately) as a kind of performance instruction to ask rather than tell, to be unsure, to work at thresholds instead of in more definite spaces?

Yes, very true. Can we be sure to be unsure? Can we perform unintentionally with intention?

This comes from my interest in culture that maintains different nuances and idiosyncrasies. In Japanese culture, we tend not to give straight answers but ‘beat around the bush’, which is our cultural ways to answer or respond, so there is a strong connection between indirect references and actual answers. I used these cultural nuances as notations in acorn. These phrases such as maybe, almost, slightly etc. may appear inconclusive and cryptic, but at the same time, they do mean what they mean.


Take an example from acorn – ‘audible / but slightly inaudible / yet absolutely absent’. – This is not indirect at all but a simple indication, quite defining of my intention. On the other hand – sometimes twice – optional – arbitrary / no more than twice – authority – This implies two facets of communications; determinacy and indeterminacy. I think acorn is quite a straightforward piece to perform. I throw a ball that contains my thoughts, concepts and ideas. How one catches it and returns a ball is entirely independent but I would like to receive a ball back somehow, maybe, definitely, perhaps…

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These sentences with ? are brutal because it is both ‘me’ and ‘you’ asking questions. acorn is commissioned by a.pe.ri.od.ic and we do not know each other well. Therefore, I wanted to become a little expository, friendly, psychological, poetic, imaginary etc. with them through the text. My scores always play with language. In acorn, you can see CAUSE/beCAUSE, here/hear and so on. In other works, I produce different word-plays. I love language because I see myself as a no-lingual speaker. I speak ok English and ok Japanese. No Korean though my dad is a Korean. I have struggled and suffered from language and will forever, and this is why I play with it. For me, language is visual, literal, aural and contextual simultaneously. It is material, object, form and content. Some rules and constraints make my creativity blossom when I compose. Whether I’m doing a spatial or temporal composition, what I do does not change too much.

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