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.