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, 15th and 13th 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.
