Soundscapes National Gallery Exhibition

Music and art are creative brother and sister- similar and from the same innovative imaginations of artists, but different in their form. I find that both the music and the paintings, which we favour, have the same effect on us when listened or viewed; it is transcendent, immersive and completely captivating. Soundscapes seeks to explore the connection between sound and visual art, and how one can enhance the other. The exhibition also was an examination of the difference, or likeness, between listening and viewing, and how an amalgam of the two manifests itself in both a rhythmical, and utterly sublime euphoria.

Jamie xx is undeniably one of the most enigmatic musicians of the modern day. 1/3 of ‘The xx’, their music is complex yet unified through an intricate tapestry of sound that has been played over and over and over again on my iPod since 2009. 6 years later, his debut solo album, ‘In Colour’ was released in June of this year, and inevitably has been left on a loop in my headphones ever since.

When I saw that the national gallery had commissioned Jamie to be part of the Soundscapes exhibition, an obligatory ticket was bought within nanoseconds of sighting the advertisement. What drew me even more so, was that Susan Philipsz had chosen Holbein’s ‘The Ambassadors’ as her painting of choice. It is undeniably one of my favourite artworks- so complex in its symbolism whilst remaining seemingly symmetrical- and one that I came across from my study of Art History at school. My favourite musician and my favourite painting both featuring in the same exhibition: the best £5 I’ve ever spent.

The National Gallery was sitting in Trafalgar Square’s drear and dross, always seeming disparate from the murk and wet of an overcast English summer. I was directed to the lift that would take me to -2, the location of the exhibition. As I ran through the gallery (I don’t apologise for being irrationally over excited) all of the renaissance, 15^th and 13^th century art I kept catching out of the corner of my eye was a stark reminder of why art can feel inaccessible to those who aren’t racing to see a Raphael, yet what I was about to see I knew was so different from what was surrounding me- people forget that art isn’t limited to the Sistine ceiling, the last judgement and the school of Athens- it is everywhere, you just have to look for it.

I reached the entrance, I could hear a pounding bass; my heart stilled, had I ever been this excited for an exhibition? I was directed to a cinema, where a short film had been made to explain to the viewers the musicians thought processes behind why they chose the painting, and why they compiled the sound the way they did. This was interesting to hear, yet I felt that everyone didn’t want to be told about it, as it’s the way it makes you feel where the enjoyment lies, and this was going to be different for everyone. Testament to this was the fact that Jamie xx didn’t give an interview for the film- it is interesting to hear the musician’s reasoning behind the music, but ultimately, as was apparent by the number of the people that kept leaving before the film had ended, we just wanted to experience everything we were being told for ourselves.

The film finished. Darkness awaited as the sound proof tunnelling unveiled a mysterious opening into black nothingness. Christ Watson’s soundscape was first; he had chosen Gallen-Kallela’s ‘Lake Keitele’ 1905, an oil on canvas seascape. Watson created a composition of natural sounds that brought the scene to life. A single light shone on the canvas from above, whilst we as the viewer were in darkness. I can’t really put into words how it made me feel. I was in Cornwall as a 10 year old with my siblings playing on the beach, then sitting by the fire, falling asleep on the sofa, waking up and playing Monolopy, on the ferry to Padstow with the salt water licking the edge of our boat. The way that the exhibition had been designed ensued a lack of feeling present; I felt no sense of time. Watson had included every subtlety of nature within his sound- I could feel a different air in the room. The way that the artist had painted the water on the sand was iridescent with the positioning of the light, and the sheen resembled a hot sun’s gleam- pure visual genius.

I then walked through the black tunnel to the next room- when I was walking I felt like I had refuted the laws of space and time, as if I was travelling frame to frame through some physical impossibility. ‘The Ambassadors’ awaited my arrival. Susan Philipsz positioned three different speakers around the room, so that the languish 3 strings, not the fourth representing the discord shown by the broken lute string, played by the violin seemed mobile in the space, sounding different depending where you positioned yourself. I sat down in this room for 20 minutes- the painting looks different to me after seeing it with Philipsz’ music. I felt like I was with the ambassadors in discussion, yet when the conversation had reached a pause- and this was the moment when both men turned to look at me, as if for my response on the political climate of the time- the music held me with bated breath for the duration of being in the room; it felt suspenseful, on edge, I actually let out a sigh of relief as I walked onto the next room as if I had been holding my breath with tension. The colours seemed more opulent on De D’Inteville’s attire- the fur displayed its palpability and added to both men’s presence in the room. I hold the painting in a different regard, a varying light compared to the way I saw it before when studying it as part of my art history course at school- I see it in a more human way, that the French ambassador and the bishop of lavure were real people- the music brought this element of humanity out of the painting and into the room.

Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller experimented with an architectural element to their soundscape when recreating the setting of Saint Jerome in his study. It was an almost theatrical approach, as a viewer, you had more of an active role in piecing together in your head how everything fitted together in the artist’s mind- the music was created in a way that when viewing the painting, it was as if you were outside the window: a dog and children ran past behind you, the pond in the distance rippled ever so slightly, the faint chatter of the nuns on the river side that could be seen through a window, and the low pious singing of monks echoed throughout- a truly transcendent piece of artistry that combined both music, painting and theatre. Being honest, painting and sculpture have always held more of an interest for me yet this has curbed my attitude towards architecture. I realised how it can be so sculptural in its form as it shapes the world we live in. I knew that Jamie xx’s room was around the corner, and this posed too much of a distraction and so I spent a little less time with Saint Jerome, yet still took away a lot from the experience.

Ultramarine and a costal scene, the final room was dripping of Jamie xx. I find it hard to write how this painting looked to me when I listened to his soundscape and how I felt. The colour of the blue pointillist sea changed. Its hues went from light to dark, darker to lighter, again and again- and this was paint on a canvas. His sound matched the technique, dots making up a fuller form, electronics making up a unified sound- the closer you got to the painting, the sound thinned out into its parts, whilst stepping out the sound became one, and how the track was meant to be. I didn’t feel like I was in the national gallery at all, I didn’t feel like I was anywhere, just being washed by this sound and the painting- I could have stood there for hours on end just watching the waves crash over and over again. Mesmeric.

This exhibition is unlike anything I’ve been to before, it has changed the way I think about perceiving art and also the relationship it has with music, something which I would like to consider further- I can’t help matching my favourite songs to my favourite paintings and I think this would have resonated with a lot of people who have been to the exhibition. Soundscapes is revolutionary not only in its idea, but in its format- it takes an unorthodox approach to the art snob’s London exhibition, and rejuvenates it, it becomes all about the viewer’s relationship with the art, both in painting form and with the music. The exhibition centralises ultimately on connections, the connection between art and music, between the viewer and the art, and between art and the everyday.

I just really like this photo

mosey mcmoses

Another sculpture, omg so typical; hate me forever, but this one is a goodun.

So around this time two years ago, I was just about to start sixth form. The biggest amalgam ever of emotions was leaping around in my stomach- I was nervous, I was excited, but most of all, I had absolutely no idea what to expect.

I started history of art, having always been interested in art but never particularly knowing that much about it, and Moses was the very first sculpture that we looked at as a class.

With a scant knowledge of art historical terms, I looked at this with the freshest of eyes. If you yourself know nothing about art, then you can empathise. However with this in mind, you can still sense a brooding attitude through the way michelangelo has manipulated the marble; everything about Moses' demeanour screams movement. He clutches at his beard, his right leg pushes back ready to stand up, he holds on to the tablet of law- this is one pissed off mega man. Even from just looking at the sculpture once, you can gage Moses' anger, his monumentality and thus his power. So why was this sculpture commissioned, it's great that there's a lot of movement going on, and that he's strong, built and ripped, but why? What's the point?

Julius the second's papacy ran from 1503-1513. He was a strong character, and he liked to portray himself in this way, too. He liked to see himself as an 'art connoisseur', and he commissioned some of the world's greatest art work: Raphael's 'The School of Athens', and Bramante's 'St. Peters', although this particular building was the work of many architects. ANYWAY- Julius was very concerned with how the everyman saw him- he wanted to be equated to the biblical icon and also roman river god of Moses. Moses is both calm and strong, wise and angry, and possesses the characteristic, 'terribilita'- which basically means someone who is incredible, awe inspiring and heroic but you also wouldn't want to piss them off.

And so Julius, being the great pope he was, was also thinking ahead towards the end of not just his papacy, but his life. It was not who was going to remember him when he had died that was his concern, but how great of a legacy he would leave behind. aka- opulence, marble and a hella big tomb, which Michelangelo was commissioned to build. It was to be a great mausoleum, to rival that of St Peter's tomb, (St. Peter was the first pope); evidently, modesty and humility were not on his agenda. Originally, he wanted a free standing, three storey building with 40 sculptures all over it- a completely unrealistic, fantastical idea from the ever so slightly idealistic, arrogant leader. However, this is all context, and beside the point of why 'Moses' is tha bomb.com

Moses is huge. Like seriously big. We're talking 2.35 metres tall, plus he's elevated. that's pretty monumental. And I think that's part of why we feel so 'wo' when you see him in the flesh, and is what Julius wanted you to think- dayum Moses is so intimidating but also powerful, Julius must be like this too #nsync- you have to look up to see him.

So why does he look so angry, why has Michelangelo gone into such great depth to convey such anger and frustration? Moses led the israelites into the promised land (parting of the red sea n all that). When they got there, God summoned Moses to Mount Sinai where he gave him the 10 commandments, which we can see that he clutches in his hand. However, which this was happening, Moses glimpsed the israelites worshipping the golden calf, not god. Michelangelo captures this moment of subliminal anger as he begins to rise to his feet- the virtuosic finish of the marble catches the light and increases the theatricality of the entire sculpture, something which increases the pleasure and satisfaction in viewing it perhaps. 

The horns which you can see on Moses' head come from the mistranslated hebrew word for  'rays', yet this is an attribute which recognises Moses as a roman river god. Again, Julius piles on the stacked ab effect that he wanted to have- not actually he himself being ripped, obvs- but omnipotent, intimidating, bold. 

I think what drew me to Moses was the fact that Stendhal said this sculpture was enough to honour Julius' life- and that's a pretty big statement to make- one sculpture enough to honour the accomplishments and achievements of a pope, pretty cool. Not only this, but there's something so alive about this sculpture, he really does look like as if he's about to get up and bollock the israelites- he looks like my mum when she sees my brother through the crack of the living room door on his 8th hour of Call of Duty. The skill of michelangelo in this also is just unparallelled, he is by far my favourite renaissance sculptor, and I would even say artist in general- and 'Moses' is testament to his artistic skill and creative vision. What a guy. I think as I myself am into the whole acting thing, I see this as a piece of theatre in itself- its transcendent, compelling and so full of life and vivacity- 

The song 'Limit to your love' by James Blake was chosen by myself as to go with this piece. I chose it for four reasons- 1- it speaks of people who have boundaries on their love, they are fickle with it and it only goes so far, it shifts and shapes. This reflects the Israelites in this situation, they leave turmoil due to the helps of one man, yet they then refute this and are prepared to follow something else. 2- the song itself is like 3 songs in one, it changes itself, different tones, different beats, Blake occasionally distorts the sounds making them sound longer, then goes back to the original melody, its a piece of art in itself. 3- I love James Blake and his voice is dreamy af 4- there's something both still about the song, but it also has a clear movement that carries the piece throughout the entirety of it, that is always there, but never always apparent- again, similar to Moses- sometimes you think its all about anger and hatred and fury, yet other times I look it at him and I just think, you're just so confused as to why they've done this, and how people have the capacity to do what they've done, and will continue to do. 

Annnnd so yes, Moses is great, I hope you think so too, and seriously, listen to the song with it when you look at it; its so so good. 

Keep it humble, don't be like Julius. 

a different kind of jai

JAI PAUL (no ho's here)

I'm guessing that when you hear 'jai paul', pretty much instantly nicole scherzinger's breathy n sultry vocals on the slumdog millionaire track 'jai ho' starts grooving in your mind. nothing wrong with that, don't get me wrong, but I've been listening to the man jai paul a lot recently- a lot a lot. The link to his sound cloud is just below, but my favourite is a track called 'str8 outta mumbai' which he hasn't officially released, but can be found on the internet (the link to that is also just below= no effort required= you're welcome) 

listen to jai paul's soundcloud

str8 outta mumbai


so why should you listen to him? what's the reason to withhold that insta whilst you indulge yourself in jai's seriously cool indian vs electronic vs urban vocals- well, you just should.
I think that me sitting here, writing on my laptop, describing the sound of an artist, is arguably a waste of time, as surely the reason we enjoy music is how it resonates with us, how it makes us feel as individuals... I'm no expert, but I think that's a large part of why music is such a personal thing. 

So what I'm trying to say (I'm getting there, dw) is that you really should listen to his music; it's fresh, current but without involving synthetic sirens, 'let the bass drop' and quite frankly, eurodisco crap. His stuff is just good quality upbeat music- and I highly, highly recommend.

Give it a listen, you know you want to.  

do you want fries with that?

So if you've been on here before, you may be familiar with the 'aurora in art' section of things (if you haven't, you're missing out). 

I listed some of my favourite art works and a song that reminds me of them- last week I spoke about Titian's 'Bacchus and Ariadne' coupled with Aquilo's 'You There' both stunning art worke, man I love them, so today is following on from that, but instead of Bacchus, we got burghers.

Burghers, yeah I haven't spelt it wrong. Not what you get from Macdonalds, but what you get from the Met (lol it's not in the Met that was just for stylistic emphatic effect; the copy I saw was in France at the Rodin museum)

The Burghers of Calais is a sculpture created by Auguste Rodin in 1884-1889. When I see an article, a web page, a description of somebody talking about art, and their opening line is the bog standard title, artist and date- what I've just given you- I'm turned off instantaneously. Fear not, I am not going to bore you, JUST because it is a sculpture and not a film or a playlist. I promise.

I came across this when at school. I studied History of Art at A Level, and was introduced to this about half way through my first year of sixth form as I was assigned it by teacher to study and come up with a presentation to give to the class. So far so good. I know usually at school, projects have the tendency to be more dull than exciting and I was feeling a bit Lana summertime sadness about the whole thing. But Rodin never disappoints.

I googled the sculpture first of all, as anyone would, to see what it looks like. Dark bronze, there was something inherently sad about it all, but the frozen movement of the figures swayed more towards a living thing than a drab-dross take it or leave it. I was intrigued.

In 1347, there was a battle,The Battle of Crecy, which formed part of the 100 years war (effort). Phillip VI of France who ruled Calais was having a slight problem, as Britain's Edward III was holding him and his city under siege. No food, no water forced Philip into an embarassing 'ok you win'. However this was far from over. Ed then decided to give him a hard time, bc y not, and said that he would only lift the siege if 6 significant leaders came forward to be executed. So if Edward III was Kim Jong Un and Philip was David Cameron, the 6 would most likely be George Osbourne, Michael Gove, Harry Styles, Louis Payne, Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson (haha)

However all was not lost. Phillippa of Hainult, Edward's wife, was preggers, and said to him that it would be a bad omen for their unborn child (I'm guessing she fancied one of the burghers and hoped to elope away from her bitchy husband)- so they didn't die. BUT what Rodin captures is not the moment after of heroic triumph- it's the precedent to it of their heroic bravery, dealing with the prospect of imminent death.

What do you think you would do if I told you that in the next 10 minutes you were going to die? Not sure? Yeah, neither. I have no idea what I would do, how I would feel or who I would tell, talk to; would I even do anything? What Rodin pumps through the whole of this piece is exactly that, the human dubiousness, the unpredictability of human reaction, and having to deal with the worst in the here and now. Deep. 

But how does he do this? Well, we can see the varying emotional responses of the men. Eustache de Saint Pierre was the oldest and the first to volunteer. He is stoic, brave, but also there's something about his face that he's clearly thinking 'holy shit'. And that is what is so great about this, that I think as a 21st century viewer we are really attracted, the psychological thought processes under something that could just appear pretty one dimensional, yet it's dimension other that is where the interest and satisfaction lies.

Unlike Eustache, Andreiu de Wiessant was one of the younger burghers- crouched down, quite similar to Munch's 'The Scream' he wails, he is distraught, and he is crapping himself (not literally). It's really quite powerful, and reminds me of the blood curdling, thank fully few, moments in your life when you hear other people in pain- the screams and the wails that are from so deep within- like the time my Dad had an appendicitis and he was lying on the staircase, screaming in pain- Rodin draws massive pathos for the guy, and makes the sculpture itself very emotional, especially contrasting with the strength of Eustache and Jean D'Aire (who holds the keys to the city). 

Their hands are feet are bigger compared to the rest of their bodies scale wise, so that it looks in proportion from below, yet is also testament to having to deal with the prospect of imminent death, as if death has a physical effect on you, it becomes part of you before it totally becomes you.

I know that it kinda seems like this whole sculpture is about death, imminent death, not dying but almost dying etc etc, but it's just so much more than that. It's about human individualism- Rodin wasn't glorifying these men, which is what the commissioners wanted him to do and so ditched the sculpture when he presented it to them. Rodin exploits their humanistic side, and says yeah these men went through possibly the worst mental experience one will ever have to go through, and this is what it looks like, so how does that make you feel viewer? It's like if someone made a sculpture of David Cameron during his election campaign- tired, persistent and valiant, but still tired- I think Dave would rather a sculpture of him after this year's election- victorious and smug. 

Rodin challenges, he defies, and that's what's so cool about this sculpture and why I love it so much. I hope you like it too, and the song I chose with it is Keaton Henson's 'Sweetheart heart what have you done to us?' 

So I hope that when you next here the word 'burgers', you'll think a little bit further along the thought train than macdonalds. 

PALO ALTO

I know, I'm so behind on this one, I've really caught the Palo Alto plane a little late (2 years actually). Nevertheless, this film is just so so good because it's so so sincere. We love honesty!

There's something so raw (that sounds really cliched I know but you have to watch it and you'll see there's really no other adjective) about it- Gia Coppola captures the essence of the american teenage angst, lust, confusion and direction-lacking temperaments of a bunch of everymans, of 'normals'- rather than beautiful tanned and size 0 abercrombie models complaining about their boyfriends and trapped in a champagne cage of existence. Yawn.

Palo Alto is fresh, even the name is exciting, even though it's the name of where the film is set, who doesn't love Spanish in a film title. The movie follows the lives of April, Teddy and Fred- plus all of their friends who are intermingled in one way or another. April is played by Emma Roberts, and is nice, kind, but revered as the class virgin. She likes Teddy. Teddy, played by Jack Kilmer, is chilled, laid back but at the beginning of the film gets put on community service in a children's library for DUI. He likes April (of course they don't tell each other this). Fred is loud, boisterous and disliked by many- he's a trouble maker, drinks, smokes and sleeps with girls because he can, with no concern for their feelings. He's a doer, not a thinker like Teddy and April. 

It sounds pretty simple, but it's a very sensitively made film- every nuance, subtlety and suggestion is what makes it so great and so watchable; it really defies any preconception of an american film about teenagers. Oh and the soundtrack is AMAzing and will be featured heavily on the September playlist, for sure.

'Everyone pretends to be normal and be your best friend, but underneath, everyone is living some other life you don't know about, and if only we had a camera on us at all times, we could go and watch each other's tapes and find out what each of us was really like'