We are taught to chase perfection when writing code or creating a program. To write functions that act when things fail layered with more functions that can act when the first layer of defence fails. Over the years such practices have ensured that users never get a look into the other side of the wall even when things do not go as planned, practically endangering the glitch. I never gave that a second thought until I read Rosa Menkman’s Glitch Studies Manifesto that revealed an upside to a glitch in a program that I would not have thought of before. Describing noise as a “disturbance, break or addition within the signal of useful data” highlighted how it’s only thought of as a useless disturbance that we need to get rid of. Ignoring it’s potential in revealing hidden structures and challenge the norms entrusted upon us in modern technology. Using the glitch as a critique of this move away from noise which created a consumerist culture where we constantly crave newer devices that are more deprived of noise than the ones that came before them.
While I do still understand the desire for noiseless devices, this process of thinking did help me appreciate the noise more. And with the rise in demand for older digital camera and different vintage devices I see on social media now, I’d say there is an overall shift towards the noise in an attempt to reclaim the technological sphere. Artists taking the concept of the glitch and constructing it into their work is another form of reclamation of control over not just technology but also economic and political hierarchies. Taking a glitch and encoding it into a work can be seen as creating structure out of an unstructured phenomenon where you create “a new protocol after shattering an earlier one”. However, the discussion of how this is not the case for the viewer that still view the glitch art as an unexpected disturbance highlights how the world is all about perception, where the creator of the work will now see structure the viewer will still experience the essence of the glitch. Similarly every interaction with technology, whether it’s an orderly interaction or one muddled with noise, is shaped by the perception of the viewer who decides whether this is what a perfect program is.
The approach I took to creating a composition was a reverse engineering build-up where I found sounds and combinations that I enjoy and after finding those who sounded cohesive joined them into a composition. I wanted to create a more whimsical or alien-like energy to the work when choosing the sounds that I liked as I noticed several of the dirt samples had a high-pitched noise that went well really together. There was a main part that I thought brought together the composition which ended up being my A that is repeated. With that I integrated the other parts, creating the pattern A-B-A-C pattern. I tried to experiment with several of the techniques we learnt in class to find which ones fit into my work which helped out a lot in getting a hang of them, I think the part I focused the most on was creating a visual and audio fade out which was initially a transition, but then ended up looking like a great way end the work on a high instead. Which you see at the end when the screen goes fades into fight with a rising sound matching the rise in brightness in part C.
The constant contrast between the development process of Kurokawa’s work to the work itself is an interesting look into the extent to which this work can be transformative. An isolated intimate space produces work that is farthest thing from isolated, works that stand in concert halls and museums for the masses. Work that is derived from nature, an unpredictable disordered scene, that turns into an organized orchestrated performance. These changes make me think of the different ways I can derive from my source of inspiration and surroundings, you can take it and recreate it or transform into to a work of complete contrast. An earlier reading talked about the importance of keeping live coding a field without a definition as to not constraint or try to dictate what it’s limits and possibilities are. The work described in this text further proved me the importance of such a choice. The tools Kurokawa used to create his work are varied from custom software and 3D modelling platforms to capturing nature itself such as his approach to Octfalls. There are endless possibilities to what you can use to create such installations and in turn there are endless possibilities to what messages you can send out or what emotions you can evoke through your work.
Looking into the process of creating and the space where an artist creates is also interesting and insightful. Another part of the reading that particularly stood out to me is when the writer was talking about the space is when they pointed out that the various softwares and set-ups used in the office to test out the works are a “nod to the technical variables at stake in each live performance-to the fact that things can go and have gone wrong in the past.” That realization that things even in the case of an established artist have gone wrong when dealing with technological performances is a really comforting fact that even at a higher level it takes time to perfect and build up your vision. The various set-ups are also a reminder of the importance of testing and understanding the possibilities that come with different technologies. And this careful testing across different laptops are also quiet complimentary to Kurokawa to create order out of disorder, where he takes the unpredictability of what might go wrong and orders it. This line felt like it was both a comfort to the possibilities of error and a reminder to the importance of testing and experimenting.
Gibber is a browser-based live coding environment developed by Charlie Roberts and JoAnn Kuchera-Morin, who worked together with their UCSB team to create an accessible platform for live music and audiovisual programming. The existing live coding tools create obstacles for most learners because of their need to be installed and the requirement to learn specialized programming languages and complete intricate setup procedures. Gibber addresses these challenges by running entirely in the web browser and using pure JavaScript, which enables users to start coding immediately without any installation requirements. The system provides users with brief development tools that create Web Audio API functions enabling them to build oscillators, FM synthesis, granular synthesis, audio effects and musical patterns through minimal coding efforts. The timing system of the system provides two types of timing functions, which enable users to schedule audio at sample level and use musical time values. The platform provides sample-accurate time functions together with Seq and Score tools, which enable users to create both freeform musical patterns and organized musical compositions. The platform combines visual rendering capabilities with real-time code collaboration, which enables performers to edit code together while the system uses CRDTs to ensure performance consistency throughout the collaboration.
Gibber’s design provides multiple benefits which transform it into an effective educational instrument and performance tool. The system allows users to create music through its simplified syntax which enables beginners to achieve musical results yet permits advanced users to conduct complex testing. The application runs in web browsers which provides all users access to its features which makes it suitable for use in educational settings and training programs and online group performances. The integrated graphics system of Gibber enables artists to create audio-responsive visual content which works together with interactive drawings and multimedia shows through a unified coding platform. The software provides users with pattern sequencers and modulation tools and synthesis options which enable them to create music across multiple styles that include rhythmic beat-making and experimental sound design. The collaborative features further distinguish Gibber which enables multiple performers to code together in real time while they share musical ideas through their common code instead of using audio stream synchronization. The software enables users to create music through its flexible design which serves as a learning platform for users to practice and create together with others in the field of electronic art.
The concept of studying microtiming and other techniques often found in African and African-American music in to uncover the patterns that create the groove, rhythm and embodiement felt like looking at the science behind something I’ve always thought of as purely emotional. At the start of the reading I kept questioning whether music, a tool used to convey emotion, can be broken down in terms of technical terms to capture what makes it human and expressive. As someone with a short-lived history with music theory I was aware that it can all be broken down to uncover what makes up what we hear everyday, though never thought about what part of this technical dissection can be used to point out the humanness of it all. The ‘microscopic sensitivity to musical timing’ that is used by African musicians to create ‘expressive timing’ in their music was something that made sense once I read it, yet an attribute that I never thought about. A human can never reach the mechanical perfection of a machine, which sounds like a flaw until you start thinking of it as the foundation that creates expressive and meaningful beat. The emphasis on the fact that these slight shifts aren’t random, they’re embodied and part of a long cultural practice made me rethink how much of musical feel comes from the body and not just intention. Applying that to the live coding that we will be doing in class helped me understand where our personal expression can come into live coding. Evaluating a line or typing in the code for a beat when it feels right, even if it’s slightly delayed or early will contribute to creating a performance that feels personal and expressive rather than mechanic. It’s not about perfecting what we practice or what we had in mind, it’s about feeling what we are performing on a level where embodying the music is possible, giving space for the human body to be integrated into our works.