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Encounter with Vincent-Raphaël Carinola and Jean Geoffroy

Vincent-Raphaël Carinola and Jean-Geoffroy’s contribution is in two parts. On the one hand, a research article, “Espaces notationnels et œuvres interactives”, originally published in English under the title “On Notational Spaces in Interactive Music”, by Vincent-Raphaël Carinola and Jean Geoffroy, in the proceedings of the conference organized by PRISM-CNRS in Marseille (May 2022).
On the other hand, the transcript of a meeting between Vincent-Raphaël Carinola, Jean Geoffroy, Jean-Charles François and Nicolas Sidoroff in Lyon in February 2023.

 

Access to the two parts and their French versions

First part

Access to the article “On Notational Spaces in Interactive Music”
Access to the French translation “Espaces notationnels et œuvres interactives”
 

Second part

Encounter with Carinola, Geoffroy, François, Sidoroff
Access to the French original version of « Rencontre avec Carinola, Geoffroy, François, Sidoroff »

 


 

Encounter with
Jean Geoffroy, Vincent-Raphaël Carinola
and
Jean-Charles François, Nicolas Sidoroff

1erFebruary 2023

Translation from French by
Jean-Charles François

(with the help of Deepl.com)

 

Summary :

1. Origin of the Collaboration
2.1 Toucher Theremin and Agencement
2.2 Toucher, Hands/Ears Correlation
2.3 Toucher, Notation
2.4 Toucher, Form
2.5 Toucher, Process for Appropriating the Piece
3.1 Virtual Rhizome, Smartphones, Primitive Rattle, Virtual Spaces
3.2 Virtual Rhizome, the Path to Virtuosity, Listening
3.3 Virtual Rhizome, a Collaboration Composer/Performer/Computer Music Programmer
3.4 Virtual Rhizome, the “Score”
3.5 To conclude: References to André Boucourechliev and John Cage
 


 

1. Origin of the Collaboration

Jean-Charles François

Could you retrace the story of how you met, how did your collaboration come about, and what was its context?

Vincent-Raphaël Carinola

We already worked with Christophe Lebreton[1] on different projects and although Jean and I had often crossed paths, and I knew and admired his work and his various collaborations with composers, I was looking forward to the opportunity to work with him. The point of departure was all the work they had done, Christophe and Jean, on new electronic interfaces and the role of the performer in relationships to them, Jean will be able to tell you more about these projects in detail.

Jean Geoffroy
The work with smartphones started for me thanks to Christophe, and to a first deviation from the usual applications I had created for Xavier Garcia’s pieces.[2] In 2018, Christophe and I created a structure called LiSiLoG in which we develop all kinds of projects around artistic innovation and transmission, which could be summed up in a phrase by Bram van Velde, a painter in an interview with Charles Juliet: « You have to give an image never seen before ».[3] It’s quite a simple phrase, and yet so difficult to grasp!

For a concert in Seoul, I had selected some applications taking account for their framework, sound possibilities, possible developments and I had written a short text as an introduction to the concert, in which we also played other pieces by Xavier.
What I realized almost immediately was the possibility of recreating spaces that were different from those imagined by Xavier, and it was equally possible to work on a kind of “sound intimacy”, because in fact, there’s nothing “demonstrative” about playing with a smartphone, you have to lead the audience to enter in the space you’re proposing, and thanks to the different applications deviating from usual utilization and used in different ways, it was as if I had in front of me a new instrument.
In this case, everything stems from the sound and the space it suggests, and then you need a narrative that will enable you to keep a relatively clear framework, since without this framework you run the risk of going round in circles, and playing the smartphones like a child with a rattle…
As with the Light Wall System[4] also designed by Christophe, the most interesting thing, besides music itself, is the absolute necessity of working on a narration, on a form. This should be obvious to any performer, but which is sometimes forgotten it in favor of the instrument, its virtuosity, its placement on stage…
With the SmartFaust applications,[5] the main aim was to return to a sound devoid of « artifice », that would enable us to invite the audience into a totally revisited sound universe.

After this concert, Christophe had the idea of taking his work with smartphones a step further, and then he proposed to Vincent to imagine a piece for “Smart-Hand-Computers – SHC”, a term that better represents this interface than the word “smartphone” which is primarily used to designate a telephone.

From the outset, however, the process was different than with Xavier, if only in terms of creating the sounds. The fact of having two SHCs totally independent of each other with the possibility to include aleatoric elements in the piece and above all, work on the writing of the piece itself made it a totally different project from anything I had done before. Moreover, this piece is an opportunity for us (Christophe and I) to imagine other performing frameworks: we developed a solo version with a set-up similar to that of the Light Wall System, and we’re working on a project for two dancers. Virtual Rhizome by Vincent-Raphaël Carinola really functions as a permanent laboratory, which incites us to constantly revisit the work, which is essential for a performer. These three proposals around the same piece raise the question of our relationships with the audience: from a) the intimacy of a solo with two SHC, b) to a form of address to the public within the Light Wall System framework, and c) to a choreographic piece in which dancers are at the same time performing the music with their body movements.
This piece enables us to re-examine the act of interpretation, which in itself is an exciting question that performers I think don’t often enough consider.

 

2.1 Toucher, Theremin and Agencement

Jean-Charles
We can separate the two pieces Toucher and Virtual Rhizome. Toucher involves the theremin, but as I understand it, it’s not at all the traditional theremin where you’re constantly controlling pitch in order to produce melodies with very precise intonation. It’s consequently a very different situation, and I was wondering in what way it involves a fundamental change in comparison to percussion playing, and if there were any particular problems induced with this change of media, this change of instrument?

Vincent-
Raphaël
Toucher is another story. Here too, the initial idea was the relationship with the performer, in this case Claudio Bettinelli.[6] He owned a theremin that we used in a performance piece called Typhon.[7] He suggested to use the theremin by connecting it to a computer, using it as an interface to control image and sound.

Following this first experience we wondered whether it would be interesting to write a work for this “instrument”, bearing in mind that from the moment the theremin is connected to a computer, the instrument is definitively no longer a theremin (the more so since its original sound is never heard). The instrument is the theremin connected to a computer, to sounds and sound processing modules distributed around the audience. This is partly the subject matter of the article « On Notational Spaces in Interactive Music »:[8] here the instrument becomes a playing system. What we consider to be the instrument, the theremin, is just one part of the system, which is in fact the “true” instrument. The theremin is equipped with antennas that capture the performer’s gestures, lamps or electronic circuitry that generate a sound that varies according to the distance of the hands from the antennas and, sometimes, in the same cabinet, a loudspeaker is included. This is like electric guitars, there is a kind of amplifier that can be more or less close to the musician. What interests me here is the possibility to dissociate the organological elements of the instrument and turn each component into a writing support. The performer is then confronted with a sort of fragmented object within a system. On the one hand, the performer has to deal with an instrument very different from the traditional one, since he/she doesn’t control everything because part of the sounds are generated by the computer – so, he/she is playing an instrument that has the ability to function on its own – and, on the other hand, the performer has to follow a score which is not entirely constituted by notation on staves. The score also includes the computer program, which contains the sounds I have generated, integrated into the computer’s memory. So, the score itself is scattered across the whole range of media supports: the graphic score of the gestures, that of sounds, the computer program, the interactive programs, and even the “mapping”, that is, the way in which the interface is correlated with the sounds and with the unfolding of the piece in time.

This is why the performer’s work is quite different from that of a performer who is playing an instrument with which he forms a single body, since with this new instrument – as a system – the body tends to be separated from the direct sound production. One part of the way the instrument functions escapes him/her. The performer doesn’t always control the totality of the sounds (since I am the one who generated them as well as the sound processing modules). Moreover, the computer can also function automatically. That’s what’s so interesting, because it means that the way the performer can adapt to the system becomes in itself an object of creation, the object of the composition, and that’s what’s so beautiful. The performer cannot be considered as someone who appropriates a piece fixed on a support, external to her/him, and which she/he then comes to interpret: he/she is part of the work, one component of this “composed” ensemble of interfaces, the computer, the fixed sounds, him, her, the musician, her/his corporeal presence on stage, etc. We face the same type of problem with Virtual Rhizome but addressed in a very different and very strange way.

Here is the video of the version of Toucher by Claudio Bettinelli :
 

 

Jean
With Toucher, Vincent is right, it’s a question of building the space and consequently becoming part of a system, which itself partly escapes you. This is a really fascinating situation that forces you to be at the same time interpreter and “learner” all at once in real time. You have above all to develop a certain quality of listening, which is not based on expectation but on surprise. That’s what I’ve learned with these two pieces, even if I started by Virtual Rhizomes and then turned to Toucher.
The fact that the situation in which you find yourself partly escapes us could mean some sort of comfort for the performer, but on the contrary, it really disturbed me. This project allowed me to find myself really at the center, first and foremost as a “listener” before being a performer. This requires concentration, to pay attention to all the sound events that you generate, as well as those that you don’t necessarily control and that you need to appropriate and integrate into your “narrative”.
What makes this attitude more sensitive is the fact that, with these instruments, everything seems simple, because just in relation with a movement. Even though the theremin is extremely technical, each person develops his/her own technique, an attitude linked to a form of inner listening to sound, listening that does not pass exclusively through your ears but also through the body.

Vincent-
Raphaël

In fact, what’s very complicated for me with interactive systems in general is that, if everything is determined, that is if the performer can control each sound produced by the machine, she/he becomes some sort of “operator”. The computer takes no initiative, everything must be determined by conditional logic: if-then-else. The computer is incapable of reacting or adapting to the situation, it only does what it’s asked to do, with a very… binary logic. Everything it does, the way it reacts, is limited by the instructions specified in the software program. That’s why you never have the same relationship with the digital instrument as you do with an acoustic one, in which there is a resistance, a physical constraint, linked to the nature of the instrument, which structures gestures and allows the emergence of expression. That’s why the idea of simulating an instrument that escapes the musician’s control, forces the performer to be in a very attentive listening, to be literally on the look-out, to strain the ear, to charge listening with tension. I think that if you want – I don’t know if it’s possible – to be able to find something equivalent to an expression – when I say “expression”, I don’t mean romantic expression or anything like that, it’s something proper to the musician on stage, to the performer, something that belongs only to him or her – you have to find new ways of making it emerge in interaction with the systems, that’s somewhat the idea of inviting the performer to “stretch the ear”.

Jean
I’d like to add one little thing: when you speak of tension, it’s for the performer and it’s also the case for the audience. Because ultimately, there are no predicable gestures in the sense that when a violinist takes her/his bow, moving it towards the strings, everyone expects to hear a violin sound, whereas with the theremin, even if one gets nearer to the antenna, you never know when or what sort of sound will be produced. In addition, before the actual beginning the piece, I proposed an introduction in silence, precisely so that the attention of the audience would be drawn to this silent gesture which would then reveal an unexpected sound. The idea to put the public in this state of listening/searching/waiting… ultimately making them “actors” of this shared artistic moment. Effectively, something is at stake, raising tension, something is at play, at that very moment.

 

2.2 Toucher, Hand/Ear Correlations

Jean-Charles
In the article “On Notational Spaces in Interactive Music”, you mention “a hand/ear correlation of great requirement”.[8] What do you mean by requirement concerning the hand?

Vincent-
Raphaël
You could say that it is the requirement of the meaning you give to the sound and therefore to the expressive movement of the hand that produces it, but it’s also the structurating of a space that is drawn around the theremin, making possible gestures that have meaning in themselves, a choreography you could say.
Then there’s also the process of interaction, on what actual parameters is it possible to act, a volume, a sound form? From there on, you have your “playground” where the hand can develop its movements, intuitively at first, then by exploring the relationship between sound and gesture to give it a singular form of coherence.

Jean
First and foremost, there is a sound, and the “response” you have to propose; how spontaneously, intuitively, my body or my hands will interpret that sound, shaping it in a physical form. All this provides a consistency, an expression, a projection, which without the gesture would not at all be the same. It’s quite simple to do this experiment: take a mechanical sound made of “beep, beep, beep, beep”, nobody will listen to it and it’s uninteresting, but if we start to incarnate it, to give it a temporality, a form, a space, it changes everything. That’s exactly what’s at stake in the piece Silence Must Be by Thierry de Mey.[9] At this point, the hand, the gesture, the presence, will give a direction to the sound, will give it a meaning that a priori it doesn’t have. In Toucher, the relationship to sound is far more complex: the gesture must produce the sound while drawing it in space. Claudio’s version is brilliant from this point of view, there’s a real choreography of sound, which results in a sort of totally insane form in terms of space, and relationships to the instrument. Ultimately, it’s all about presence of the sound, and of the performer. Each performer playing the piece will have re-imagine a form that has nevertheless already been written, but that has to be inscribed in a space that needs to be each time reinvented. And it’s the performer’s task to reveal this through a gesture, a movement, a pause, a suspension, something that belongs to the performer. At that precise moment, the gesture embodies that, or at any rate gives an incarnation to an immanent sound, which is not produced in any case by blowing or striking in a way that could be predictable.

Vincent-
Raphaël
That’s really the most appropriate term in my opinion: “immanent”. Unlike acoustic instruments when to produce a sound you need to apply a more or less strong force according to the desired result, with Toucher — but it’s also the case with Virtual Rhizome — you have instruments where it’s as if the music was playing in the background. This bring us back to what I was saying earlier concerning the “automatic” aspect of the instrument. The sound materials are there, the musician doesn’t produce them in the strict sense of the term: the sounds are recorded, the modules are fabricated or programmed, and so on. It’s as if the role of the hand were to dig into the matter and to extract it from a kind of magma. That’s why this reference to immanent music appeals so much to me. The musician searches inside something that’s already there, to make certain points of view emerge. This is evident in certain passages of Toucher with its many layers, and the fact that you might be here or there in relation to the antennae, or that you move the hand in one direction or another, or from one point to another, etc. It’s in some ways as if you were working with a material, as if you were in the process of sculpting it. As you said, Jean, with Claudio, there’s something that pertains to a construction, to the evolution of things: he seeks out one element, then another, and thus shapes the discourse. What was fairly new for me and very surprising in the version Jean played, was that he juggled with all these materials. You got the impression of an erupting volcano, from which emerged a completely splintered universe of magma, lava, basalt fragments… I mean, it was all over the place. And that’s also another way of working the material that I really like. The work of interpretation also consists in becoming one with this apparatus system [dispositif] in a certain way, but in a manner that is completely different from a traditional instrument where everything is determined by the movement of the body. Here, there is a kind of encounter between two logics, the logic of the machine and the logic of the performer, and from this encounter emerges something very interesting..

 

2.3 Toucher, Notation

Jean-Charles
How does the relation to notation function?

Jean
This is a fundamental issue in this type of adventure! And I learned a lot about this question of writing while working on Virtual Rhizome. As performer, you are constantly looking for a framework, for an artistic writing that allows you to enter into the composer’s approach and give concrete substance to a written work. In relation to scores, I’ve often been frustrated. Either it’s too directive (too many injunctions, signs, notes that don’t allow a singular reading, as you are too busy doing what’s written down…) and in that case, you’re looking for some space of interpretation, you say: “But how am I going to breathe?” Or it’s extremely open with all kinds of possibilities of interpretation and approach. I’m not speaking of mf, ralentis, accel. etc., but of words that would enable us to really contextualize a form, a phrasing. Sometimes, the role of the performer is reduced to a minimum, even, from time to time, not really considered by the composer. Or on the contrary, you are into something very (overtly) open which leaves a lot to improvisation and less to form, in any case less in terms of storytelling, of narrative. It’s the in-between that is interesting, having something that’s absolutely written down, absolutely thought out – and we will talk further about this for Virtual Rhizome, but it’s the same for Toucher – but which leaves room for the performer to interact.
Ultimately, the question is: should we play what’s written or what we read?
This approach changes things considerably. In many pieces you have introductory notes that resemble more instruction manuals, sometimes they are needed, but they become a problem when there is nothing else besides!
When You read Stockhausen’s Kontakte, even without having read the introductory notice, you’re capable to hear the energies that he wrote in the electroacoustic part. In Toucher, as in Virtual Rhizome, we have a very precise structure, and at the same time sufficient indications to leave the performer free to listen and make the piece his or her own, keeping with the limits set by the composer. It’s really this alloy between a predicted sound and a gesture, an unstable equilibrium… but it’s the same thing with Bach.
With pieces like Vincent’s, it’s essential to have this intimate perception: what do I really want to sing, ultimately, what do I want to be heard, what pleases me about it? If you adopt exactly the same attitude behind a marimba or a violin or a piano, you will really achieve as performer something that will be singular, corresponding to a true appropriation of the text you are reading. The idea is to make people hear and think, just as they do when a poem is read: what will be interesting will be the multiplication of the poem’s interpretations, each one allowing the poem to be always in the making, very much alive. It’s exactly the same with music.

Vincent-
Raphaël
Here, unlike in classical notation, not all the information is on the score. I know that this has never been the case, that there are historical codes, such as ornamentation, which were not always notated. With these works, it’s even more the case since, as mentioned earlier, there’s one part of the instrument that functions autonomously. The instrument is fragmented into its different components (gesture sensors, sound generators, loudspeakers, etc.) and each component of the instrument is subjected to a writing process. As a result, the score itself is broken down into the different components of the system, such as the computer program, the recorded sounds in the computer memory. If you follow the score and do the gestures exactly as notated, you get nowhere. In fact, in a piece like Toucher – we’ve got enough hindsight now to be able to say this, since it has been played by quite different performers – you have to understand technically how it works, that is, to know what a Max patch is, how the machine functions in interaction, what is a granulator (etc.), in order to play it with ease. By understanding what’s happening, you can better control the instrument, follow the score, and grasp more precisely what is graphically notated. It’s not possible to keep up a traditional attitude of reproducing a certain type of gestures as they are notated by the composer and therefore have to be respected. It doesn’t work like that, it cannot work like that, it’s impossible for the reasons given earlier, because the relationship to the instrument is not at all the same. In Toucher, there is a representation of the gestures and also a notation of what should be heard, indicated with the name of the sounds. But there’s a third notation at the very end of the score: it’s a script that describes what’s happening in each part of the piece. There are 19 parts, it’s relatively easy to memorize and ultimately this is what the performer memorizes most of all. The performer keeps two different things in mind: a) how the instrument works, i.e. how it responds to the musician’s action, how the space around the antennas is organized, what the patch does, the different samples used, etc.; and b) the script, i.e. the successive activation of the instrument’s various components over time.

 

2.4 Toucher, Form

Jean-Charles
Because the 19 situations can occur in different orders?

Vincent-
Raphaël
No, not in Toucher, unlike Virtual Rhizome. In Toucher, the form has a very directional layout. It’s structured in two parts that follow the same outline: it’s as if you were drawing something, first by making dots, then lines, then ornaments within the lines, and then, there is moment when it becomes so complex that you lose the link between the gesture and what you’re hearing. It’s at that moment that appears the “true” sound of the theremin, as if it was saying: “Ah! but here I am, I’m the real instrument.” So, there is a formal order: it begins with number one, then at number two there’s a new element, at three a third one, at four you come back to three, and so on. Therefore, you cannot play it in any order.

Jean
As for me, after having assimilated the different parts, I try to highlight some “pivotal states”, some kind of punctuations that enable me to build my interpretation and therefore my reading of the form of the piece. It’s not a question of telling a story but to convey a sort of narrative in the sense of a trajectory, an inner journey that unfold like the threads between the sounds you reveal, or that you are going to hide. It’s this relationship with sound that we have over time that in the end shapes the narrative. To start with little things, with scraps of sound, and then begin to construct by paying attention to never “losing the audience”, by providing some listening clues. If the performer is really involved in this dynamic of listening to time and space, there will necessarily be something that the public will grasp. It’s clear that in this context, members of the public must also be curious about what is or isn’t going to happen; as the piece progresses, a kind of “co-listening” can be perceived, and from that moment, the sounds become definitively shared by all present. The issue is to get in the same “fragile listening”, between a sort of communicative tension and intense listening, audience, and performer here and now.

Vincent-
Raphaël
In the case of Toucher, you cannot modify the order of the sections, however, each section leaves enough leeway to develop its own particular discourse. This said, all this should flow in a continuity, you cannot stay in one spot for half an hour, because then the whole continuity would disappear. But this possibility to take your time is important in order to rediscover this manner of seeking out the music in the instrument, and letting it emerge. So, it’s important that there’s a certain temporal freedom to be able to do this. Some modules contain a small amount of randomness, sometimes resulting in unpredictable results. Consequently, while the musician is shaping the sound material with the hand, if he/she hears something interesting, unexpected, she/he can repeat it because it’s good and makes him/her happy. In concert, something unexpected might happen: “Ah! well! that’s amazing, I’ve never heard this before, I’ll do it again”. And so, there’s also this kind of opening in the piece that allows to have these pleasant, surprising moments. All the while trying not to succumb to the machine’s charm!

Jean-Charles
To pass from one section to the next, for example from 1. to 2., the timing is controlled by the performer?

Vincent-
Raphaël
Yes. For example, in number 1, in Toucher, you never know precisely what sound is going to appear. You know that there’s a reservoir of vocal sounds, of sighs, there are some that make “pook, bong, zoom” [sons vocaux très courts], and then others much longer that make “paaaaaah” [whispered]. So, if you hear one that’s longer, you have to wait to avoid it being too busy… You could trigger a lot of them, it’s not prohibited to do it, but it wouldn’t make sense. Sometimes it happens that you would add one or two more, or that, I don’t know why, you would want to hold on a little longer, and then, when things are settled down, when they are well in place, you’ll move to number 2, which retains the elements of 1 with an additional variation.

 

2.5 Toucher, Process for Appropriating the Piece

Nicolas
Sidoroff
I was listening to you, but I was also looking at you, because you were making all kinds of interesting gestures. Concerning the way Jean appropriated this score, or this notation, or this work – I don’t know what is the best term to use – how did it start, what did you do and in what order? You said that you’d discussed it a lot with Vincent, so when and how this happened? Was it before, during or after? Or maybe all three? What is the temporal process of appropriating the score?

Jean
As with any piece involving electroacoustics, as far as I am concerned, everything starts with the sound. It’s the composer’s “signature” and that’s what guides me. From there, you start to understand the composer’s space, universe, and it’s a question of finding your place in it, your reading of it, your response to it. For these two pieces, it’s not just a question of playing the sound, but to making it your own. Once you have the idea of the sound space of each one of the parts, you can begin to inhabit these different spaces by giving them your own perception through gesture.

For me, there’s one thing that’s really incredible, it’s the prescience that you can have of a sound, a prescience that is revealed through an attitude, a gesture, a listening. For Virtual Rhizomes, we don’t always know which texture is going to be played, what impact it will have, and the listening and attention that result from this open up incredible horizons because potentially, it compels us to be even more intuitively aware of our own sound sensations. It’s this balance between the attitude of anticipating integral listening, and the notion of form we’ve been working on, that you need to keep in mind, so as not to get into that famous « rattle » Vincent talks about. It’s interesting to think that a texture played that you don’t know a priori will determine the development of this particular sequence, but you still have to give it a particular meaning in terms of space.

During my last years as percussion professor in Lyon, in order to ensure that this particular attention to sound was an essential part in the work on a piece, I wanted no dynamics to appear on the scores I gave to the students, so that they would just relate to the structure, and that the dynamics (their voice) would be completely free during these first readings. At that point, the question of sound and its projection becomes obvious, whereas if you read a written dynamic sign in absolute terms and therefore decontextualized from a global movement, you don’t even think about it, you just repeat a gesture often without paying sufficient attention to the resulting sound.

On the contrary, Toucher and Virtual Rhizome (like other pieces) force us to question these different parameters. For me, Toucher as Virtual Rhizome, are fundamentally methods of music: there are no prerequisites, except to be curious, interested, aware of possibilities, and present! Such freedom offered by these pieces is first and foremost a way of questioning ourselves at all levels: our relationship to form, sound and space, this is why they are true methods of Music. These pieces are proposing a real adventure and an encounter with oneself. On stage, you know pretty much where you want to go, and at the same time everything remains possible, it’s totally exhilarating and at the same time totally stressful.

Nicolas
I have the impression that to work on it, you « squatted » each of the 19 situations, as if they were « houses ». Did you stay in the first house, to use that image, to see what was going on in its corpus, what it was all about, before moving on to the second?

Jean
Exactly.

Nicolas
Or instead, did you do a global reading, saying to yourself: “Ah! there’s a journey to the next house”?

Jean
No, I really proceeded part by part, in any case this is my way of doing things, to manage to find yourself in the best possible way in one space before going on to explore the next. This is what I call “presence”, you must be present, firmly anchored in the ground. With new technologies, we could remain in a form of superficiality, totally focused on representation and the use of effects. That’s precisely what is at issue with these electroacoustic systems, which function somewhat like Pandora’s boxes, with all the dangers this represents in terms of interpretation: do we decide for the instrument or does the instrument decide for us…?

Nicolas
You said a moment ago that you’d seen Claudio’s version? At what moment in the process?

Jean
Afterwards, always after I’ve got a pretty clear idea of what I want to do. I know Claudio well, he was one of my students at the CNSMDL [Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique et de Danse de Lyon], he is a very talented musician, with a very Italian, magnificent presence. His version sounds like an evidence. I would be incapable to reproduce what he does, his version being so totally singular and corresponding so perfectly to his personality. If I decided to reproduce what he does, it would be a disaster, it would be ridiculous. And that’s precisely what’s so strong about this piece, there is no right or wrong version, just an exactitude of interpretation. To be exact is something that’s both simple and terribly complicated, as it’s a matter of finding yourself.

Nicolas
The silent gesture that you make before starting the piece, that you mention several times, at what moment in the process of learning the piece does it appears? And do you always keep it, because it’s now part of your interpretation? How does it come about?

Jean
To play in silence just a few gestures is something that’s touched me greatly, ever since I started to play the piece by Thierry de Mey,Silence must Be many years ago. I became aware that creating a gestural space in silence enabled me to concentrate on presence, and presence alone, because there’s no artifice, no virtuosity, only presence. The idea is for the audience, surprised at first, even incredulous, to gradually enter into your discourse, and in the case of Silence Must Be, the clues are given later when I play again the same silent sequence accompanied by a recorded soundtrack. For Toucher, I really like to start in this way, with the difference here that I build a gesture that increases more and more, giving the public a key to reading. The idea behind this is to really “make silence” which is the best way to work on sound, since playing more doesn’t make you hear. On the contrary, it sometimes knocks you down, and very often the more you boost the sound, the more you crush it. Here, the idea is to ensure that the first sound produced by the theremin should be extremely thin, almost at the limit of the audible, and in order to achieve this, a real silence is needed. Once the piece begins, it’s from this dynamic level and initial listening that you are able to develop it further.

Jean-Charles
Apparently, in all this, the notion of recording a given performance raises some questions. Often, for example, in improvisation, you don’t use recording for public release, but as a mirror to listen to what really happened, because there is a difference between listening afterwards and listening while playing. What is the status of recordings in this context?

Vincent-
Raphaël
There is the possibility of video capture, which is part of the working tools, but it’s not simply a sound recording. It is, of course, the trace of an experience, but for those playing the piece, it can also be a working tool, helping to understand how it works. There is also the audio recording itself: it’s pretty funny, because I remember when the piece was broadcasted on the radio, listening to it, I wondered if it was really the piece? What we hear is only one part of the piece. This is why I promote the idea that the works are very particular agency systems, it’s not simply the sound, it is a combination set up between sound, the performer who plays, and the gestures he or she makes. All this carries some sense in Toucher. If you listen to it on a recording, it’s as if you would listen simply to an acousmatic piece. Personally, I was quite satisfied because it sounded good as an acousmatic piece. Except that this piece isn’t based on a fixed support, even so there exists a fixed system, since the computer is there, and the program is fixed on a memory. But each time, it gives rise to a different interpretation, to a new unique projection in time. The video capture makes sense in terms of trace of an event, as with any recording of any work.

Right now, one of my students is practicing the piece. He worked on the available online videos to understand it, to understand its notation, etc., which saves time. But that wasn’t the approach used by Jean, who had another kind of experience. I think that each person deals with it in a certain way. But it’s fair to say that, generally speaking, video has become an accessory to the score.

 

3.1 Virtual Rhizome, Smartphones, Primitive Rattle, Virtual Spaces

Jean-Charles
We can now move on to Virtual Rhizome. In this piece, the interface between the performer and the system set up is achieved through the manipulation of smartphones. To begin with, we’ll go back a little to what has already been discussed: in the article already mentioned, you speak concerning this subject of « hochet primitif » [primitive rattle].[10]

Vincent-R.
[laugh] I like it.

Jean-Charles
It seems to me that this idea is connected in some way to video games, where there are beginners and then virtuosos…

Vincent-R.
… those who win and those who lose…

Jean-Charles
But in video games, it seems that beginners are somehow recognized as respectable in the same way as virtuosos. Is this the case, that is, is the piece still the piece, no matter who plays it, even someone who’s never studied music before?

Vincent-
Raphaël
I don’t know. About this idea of rattle, it’s linked to the issues of interfaces. In Toucher, the link between gesture and sound is completely arbitrary, I chose it myself, it’s a purely contingent relationship. The same gesture, used elsewhere in the piece can produce very different sounds. But the object-theremin is there, with the space around the antennas. There’s everything we were talking about earlier, which structures the musician’s gesture, enabling to play in an expressive way. With smartphones, for me, it was a problem, because in this case, space is no longer an issue, it’s an object reduced to the minimum movement. From the gestural point of view, you can make all the gestures you want, but it’s an object that you’re holding in your hand and with one and the same hand movement you can produce a billion different sounds. So, there was a problem concerning the construction of a discourse, due to the absence of a structured space that would allow you to say: “Well! first I’m here, then I’ll play there, then I’ll move away, I’ll go to…”. In Toucher, , this structured space exists around the antennas. In Light Music by Thierry de Mey,[11] that Jean premiered, there is a light surface, also virtual, you don’t see it, but when he places his hand somewhere, it’s not just anywhere, he places his hand according to the structure of the space. With the smartphone, there’s no structure. It’s a punctual object, almost “incorporated” that can only be shaken. It reminded me of a maracas. Really, all this technology for making the gesture of a maracas, it wasn’t worth doing all that [laugh] This was a big problem for me. I had to think hard to find a solution that seemed appropriate. The solution to the problem was not in any way to try to turn the smartphone into an instrument. That object in itself, isn’t that important – although obviously it is, I’m caricaturing a little – but what’s important is: what is the performer playing? Where is the piece really located?

When you’re playing a video game, you might find yourself in a room or on the street, and then at some point you take a turn, you go to another room or to another street, and then you’re attacked by some aliens, you’ve to react, and then you move on to the next stage. It’s a sort of virtual architecture in which you can move in many different ways. This was precisely the idea in Virtual Rhizome, to depart from the traditional instrumental model, which still exists in Toucher, but which is no longer appropriate here because there’s no space to explore with this object that is the smartphone. And from this came the idea of building a virtual space and using the smartphone as an interface, almost like a compass, enabling you find your way around this architecture. That’s how the two things, the rattle, and the video game, are linked together.

 

3.2 Virtual Rhizome, the Path to Virtuosity: Listening

Jean-Charles
And so, where can we find the path to virtuosity in this piece?

Jean
Listening. Being able not just to listen, but somehow to be the sound…
When I recorded with Vincent the percussion sounds used in Virtual Rhizome, I played almost everything with the fingers, the hands, and that allowed for much more color, dynamics, than if I’d played with sticks. When you’re playing with the hands, there is a particular relationship with the material, especially when you’ve spent your entire life playing with sticks, and in fact, when you’re playing with the hands and fingers your listening is even more “curious”.
Then, in this piece, you need to thoroughly understand the interface and play with it, especially with the possibility of superimposing states that can change with each interpretation. But once again, this is only possible with a clear vision of the overall form, if you don’t want to be overwhelmed by the interface.
Whoever the performer is, there is one common thing, which is this necessity to listen: you hear a sound if you go to the bottom of what it has to say. This means writing an electroacoustic piece in real time, with what you hear inside the sound.

It’s the idea of this interiority that helped develop the interpretation, because at the beginning I was moving a lot on stage, and the more I evolved with the piece, the more intimate, singular and secret this approach became. That’s why on stage there is a counter-light (red if possible) so that the public can only see a shadow, and ideally closes the eyes from time to time…

What’s interesting with the versions with dance is that, ultimately, even if the movements are richer and more diversified, there is really this inner listening that predominates, and forces a certain purity, a choice of intention before the choice of movement, that gives rise with the dancers to totally peculiar listening and embodiment movements.

Vincent-
Raphaël
This version with dance was very impressive, because the three dancers were perfectly in place. I said to myself: “But how could you be in place in something that’s never in place, that’s never the same?” You really had the impression that they were perfectly synchronized with the music. How did they do that? It was touching, yes. Very moving.

Jean
And it was brilliant because the accumulation of possibilities, that is roughly, the layers they had encountered, the sound they knew, or at least they heard. They made up a kind of narrative (it’s exactly the same thing in Toucher), they knew, there was a story in the making, with emphasis on certain things, they had to be in a certain place at a given moment. Their sensibility was extraordinary and above all their intelligence. Really, when you’ve worked in a setting like that, with pieces with such intensity in terms of interpretation, I think there is veritably a huge difference between before and after. Because the usual situation of the choreographs is to dance to music that has already been definitively fixed. Most of the time, during rehearsals, they roughly only repeat things that have already been more or less decided. On the contrary, you have here the idea of a flexible framework that enables you to know where you are situated among an infinity of possibilities. And the three dancers benefitted from it, because we performed it three times and each time it was great.

 

3.3 Virtual Rhizome, a Collaboration Composer/Performer/Computer Music Programmer

Jean-Charles
During the elaboration of the piece, you worked together on recording sessions of voice and percussion sounds. What was the nature of the collaboration between the two of you?

Jean
In any case, it’s Vincent who is the composer. It’s a collaboration, of course, but the distinctive feature of the composer in relation to the performer is to be “ahead of time”, which forces you to move toward what is proposed. The collaboration between composer and performer has always existed, even if it can take different forms depending on the encounters.
With Vincent, everything seemed coherent and flowing, even when we were recording many sounds over the course of a day. Everything was clear to me, and I quickly understood in what sound universe I was going to evolve in, even though I had no idea of the form of the piece, but just knowing the landscape is an essential thing for the performer.

Vincent-
Raphaël
Regarding collaboration, it’s true that I really enjoy writing solo pieces, because it implies a very strong bond with the person playing them. The piece arises from this kind of relationship. In Virtual Rhizome, there was something a little special about the fact that the instruments didn’t exist yet, everything had to be developed. Effectively we had the smartphone, but I spent a lot of time first imagining how to deal with the piece, before working on the sound processing modules, which I did with Christophe Lebreton, bearing in mind that I never work with computer music designers. I had worked with Christophe before, but on projects in which he played an artistic role. In Virtual Rhizome it was the first time he really had the role of computer music programmer. I would make the patches in Max and Christophe encoded them in Faust and then compiled them for iApp. As the tool wasn’t ready, it was difficult to be able to work directly on the piece. And at the same time, with such a piece, a relationship with Jean had to be established. I remember suggesting to Jean something like this: “I don’t know where we’re going, but we need to have some sounds. I would love that the work be a sort of portrait of yourself, and so to start with the instruments you like, the way you approach them, and also for you to play with the hands, without sticks.” Conceptually, in a piece like this, where precisely there is no contact with the instrument, it was interesting that the sounds possess in their deepest being this direct contact with the performer’s body. Lastly, the most personal sound imaginable is the voice. Thus, I asked Jean to come up with a text. In fact, there were two texts: Jean proposed extracts from Proust’s Recherche du temps perdu, and I proposed a text (read in French by Jean) by Jorge Luis Borges taken from « Jardin aux sentiers qui bifurquent » [in Fictions][12]. It’s another Borges-style labyrinthic story that fitted the project very well. And both texts say something of the sensual work of listening, the work on sound matter, the labyrinthic structure of the work. They are there as signatures from which we can sometimes hear a word, a barely audible fragment of Jean’s voice.

You raised the question of virtuosity earlier, Jean-Charles. Speaking then of virtuality or virtuosity, I liked the link you made between the two. The virtuosity here resides in the fact that there are two smartphones, behaving in complete isolation from each other. They don’t communicate with each other. You could play the piece with only one smartphone, in a way. You could switch from one situation to another, forwards and backwards, using a gestural control. With both of them, you can combine any situation with any other one. This means that you have to work extremely hard at listening, precisely because, on the one hand you don’t always know what automatized sequences will appear, the textures, the layers mentioned by Jean, and on the other hand, you have also controlled sounds, played, each of which can be very rich in itself. The use of two smartphones implies a great deal of complexity because of the multitude of possible combinations. This requires working intensely on an inner concentrated listening, to orient yourself in this virtual universe, which precisely has no physical consistency. There’s no score anymore, the score is in the head, it’s like the Palace of Memory in the Middle-Ages, a purely virtual architecture that you have to explore. That’s why I like the way you link these terms of virtuosity and of virtuality, because each depends on the other, in a way.

Jean-Charles
About this collaboration, Jean, do you like to add something?

Jean
I already knew Xavier Garcia’s pieces, so working with smartphones wasn’t a problem for me, on the other hand it was when I started subverting Xavier’s applications that I really realized their potential. It’s essential to know at a minimum how it functions, otherwise you cannot really play it without being overwhelmed by the tool… For there is the risk that the tool could ultimately take up all the space.

Nicolas
What I find interesting is that the question of the PaaLabRes fourth edition is centered on how to report on practices and especially the complex ones that have just been described here. In the case of Virtual Rhizome perhaps more than in Toucher, there are three poles that are fairly well defined in terms of the classical division of labor of the 19th century, when the computer didn’t exist. There is the person who composes, the person who performs, who transforms the composition into actual sounds, and Christophe who is the luthier, who would be a kind of computer technician, I don’t know how to call it. So, the composer provides a piece to be played, something to make music in terms of action verbs, Jean, as a performer learns it and creates something with it, and Christophe’s role is to deliver the computer software with the system included to make it work. And it’s this kind of combination, which is not at all as simple as what I’ve just described. It’s nevertheless a first representation, and if you go a bit to the floor below to see the relationships that are woven between each other, how the fact of having said something at a given moment, of having used this very word, for this precise use, that comes out at a given moment, because we have perhaps heard it pronounced as you got off a bus, might create the conditions of a real collaboration. How can you describe this form of complicity between these three positions which, in a bit simplistic and bestial vision, might seem as extremely separated. We tend to look at things too quickly, but in fact there is an enormous amount of subtleties. At what points does this sort of cooperation between at least the three of you come into play? It’s not IRCAM with the Max MSP and this kind of wider community. I don’t know how to make this clear. I’ve got a few ideas, but I submit this question to you to help us do that.

Jean
I think that it’s a modern version of what existed with Mozart and the basset-horn, Bartok with the pedal timpani, Wagner with the saxhorn… I think these relationships have always existed, and they’re extremely closely interwoven. The luthier, Christophe, takes part in the creation of the piece, he is a structuring factor in the creative process. It’s clear that today we’re no longer in the situation of previous times when the composer completely mastered the tool and was often performing his or her own works, keeping control over the three thirds of the creative process: intuition, writing, realization.
Nowadays, with the presence of set-ups, “agencies” [dispositifs], the notion of writing has completely changed its framework, you have to describe the music and at the same time to develop the electroacoustic set-up process of captation, in real time, that is, building an instrument.
The composer can only partly cover the second third, bearing in mind that lutherie also evolves in the writing process… The only obvious thing is that from beginning to end, there is a spoken word, that of the composer, in terms of: “This I want, that I don’t want”. And for me, this is the alpha and omega of creation, that is, its requirement. The composer provides us, performers, with a material, a discourse, a narrative, a vision, a relevance. It’s not a question of hierarchy, but this kind of spoken word is at the heart of the whole process of encounter and creation.

 

3.4 Virtual Rhizome, the « Score »

Nicolas
In the article (already quoted), there’s figure 3, which is a graphic representation with smartphone 1 and smartphone 2 going from 7 to 8 and coming back to 7, and so on. We wondered if this was a notation of one of the possibilities? Is it in fact something that perhaps Jean never did, that Jean never needed to look at to realize the piece? This figure seems to me a little incompatible with the idea that what is represented here is actually the score indicating what there is to do. So, what exactly does this figure 3 represent?

 

Extract from the score of Virtual Rhizome (example 3 de l'article)
Extract from the score of Virtual Rhizome (example 3 of the article)

 

Vincent-
Raphaël
In fact, this is an extract from the score. The score also provides a text of presentation that explains the precise meaning of this notation, which corresponds to a transcription of Jean’s first interpretation. Actually, it’s a possible pathway, but based on the fact that it had already been done. Jean’s interpretation was very good indeed! The recording respects the score absolutely, as it’s been done in other way round… A fair number of things come from his interpretation. At some point, Jean was going back and forth between the two situations… I transcribed this extract you mentioned, which I think corresponds to situations 7 and 8. It makes it explicit that it’s possible to linger in one area of this architecture to explore it, to look at what’s going on around it, and to play with the complexity resulting from combination of the two smartphones. But there are many more ways of exploring it than what’s indicated in the score.

At the top of Figure 3, there’s also a word: “ineluctable”. These terms have been added to produce intentionality. The performer doesn’t just generate sounds, she/he animates them, gives them a soul, literally, and to give them a soul requires an intention, a meaning. It might be a concept, I don’t know, a geometric figure, something that generates intentionality. This is important in the score, but what is notated is actually a possible pathway, and this is the result therefore of the performer’s work, it’s a pathway followed by the performer during the collaboration, and which becomes a possible model for the piece’s realization. It’s interesting to note that it is this pathway that was followed by other performers who played it, as if the form was definitively fixed.

Jean-Charles
Vincent mentioned above that there is no longer a score and that « the score is in your head ». How does this work from your point of view, Jean?

Jean
That’s related to what Vincent said, in a piece like this, the idea of having an infinite number of interpretations is an incredible richness, it’s a bit like analyzing a poem, there will be as many different approaches as there are people reading the poem, which is nevertheless the same for everybody, I love that.

Jean-Charles
This is what Vincent calls “images”? In the text of the article, you can read this: “images totally internalized by the musician”.[13] Are these the words you just mentioned?

Vincent-
Raphaël
Not just these words, but all the sounds and the pathway, everything. An image in the “imaginary” sense, you see, it’s something internalized…

Jean-Charles
It’s not just something visual?

Vincent-
Raphaël
No, it’s internal. But you always have to build an image, so that things can have some consistency and be externalized.

Nicolas
My hypothesis would be that people respect the score, which is given as impossible to respect. In fact, I shouldn’t ask both of you at the same time [laugh]. If someone contacts you, Vincent, who would like to play the piece, what do you begin to tell her or him, what do you send, and so on? Conversely, if a performer comes to see Jean and says: “Ah! I thought it’s great, what do I have to do to be able to play the piece?” What do you give, and what don’t you give, or don’t give right away?

Vincent-
Raphaël
Yes. But there’s included in the score an introductory text, which guides a great deal the work to be done. That’s written down. If someone comes to ask me how to practice the piece, the first thing to say is that you have to work on each situation separately, to understand how it works, because the score isn’t just the notation. The score is also the instrument, the sound processing modules, the choices of recorded sounds, Jean’s voice, it’s the way certain types of controllers were configurated to certain types of parameters, it’s all part of the score. You have to know all that in order to navigate inside it, and, once you know that, then I think you can work on the construction and on the musical aspects. Jean knew all about it because he participated to the creation of the instrument with Christophe, so for him, it was completely obvious. But for someone else, it’s not at all obvious. This was already the case with Toucher, but here perhaps even less so. It’s not easy, because of the conception you have of an instrument on which you act physically, and your gestures produce expected results, and of a score where the intentions are transcribed.

 

3.5 Conclusion: References to André Boucourechliev and John Cage

Jean-Charles
At the end of the article “On Notational spaces and interactive works”, in the conclusion, there are references to Boucourechliev and Cage. Now, listening to what you said, it occurs to me that it’s precisely here a little different because, notably with Cage, there is a fundamental separation between the composer and the performer. The composer defines processes and then passes the relay to the performer to realize the piece without the need for any contact between them. It’s a bit the same with Boucourechliev: the performer can elaborate his or her part of the creative process in with complete independence. Consequently, it seems to me very interesting to refer to this origin of graphic scores from the period 1950-60 (more or less) and compare them with what’s happening today. But at the same time, what you are talking about today seems to me completely different from what happened then.

Vincent-
Raphaël
That’s for sure. But before talking about that, I’d just like to respond to what Nicolas was saying about Christophe’s role in this matter. He’s the designer of the system. His idea of doing something with smartphones was already an important starting point. As is usual when you start something new, at first the ideas tend to be rather vague, you don’t quite know what you can do with them, so you tend to refer to known models. In this case, Christophe’s experience is based on the model of the instrument, among other things. I was a little hasty in talking about his artistic work. He is not only a computer music programmer, but also a creator of interactive systems. And for me, the conception of interactive systems is part of the writing process. I might be the only one to say this, but I think that, fundamentally interactive system design is an integral part of the writing process. There’s a keyword that I like a lot, as it translates quite well this type of experiences: it’s the term of “agencement”. For each new piece, we find ourselves agencing musical functions – performer, composer, luthier – with technical tools, creating each time original agencing. Thus, the difference between Toucher, Bach’s Chaconne and Virtual Rhizome, Rhizome is that each time, there are different agencing between what we consider to be a score, a notation, an instrument, the performer, the composer, the role of each one, the way in which the piece is elaborated, and each time there’s a work, and therefore there’s effectively a composer. The very idea of the work of art, its configuration, the relationships between the composer and the performer, all that, gives way to particular agencements. And for me, the composer who most experimented this during the 20th century was Cage. With Cage, the works – he fabricates works, so he’s effectively a composer, he has that function – are very often particular agencing involving situations, the performer is also a theatre actor, the instruments that have to be chosen, or technical tools, installations, and so on. Obviously, for me, there’s a direct link between Cage’s work and pieces like Virtual Rhizome, in that Cage’s scores often don’t represent a finished work, they are open forms. Above all, the score is a generator of works. If you consider Cage’s Variations, it’s an object designed to produce works, in short, it’s as if you were given a model, an instruction manual designed to fabricate your own, by determining the evolution of parameters and the relationships between them. In fact, Cage proposes technical tools and supports that enable the performer to construct her or his own work. In so doing, he emancipates the performer from the traditional role of interpreter, creating a particular agencing between the performer and the score. And regarding Boucourechliev, there is definitively a link between him and Virtual Rhizome: the score is a sort of navigation map. What I said earlier about virtual architecture applies here, smartphones are like helms that enable you to navigate inside the work. Boucourechliev ‘s Archipels de Boucourechliev is a little like that, appropriately named, it’s a navigation map.

Jean-Charles
We tend to use the word dispositif instead of agencement.

Vincent-
Raphaël
Dispositif”, I used it too, you find it written in the article. Dispositif suits me fine. To dispose, layout, arrange, compose, it speaks, it’s logical. But dispositif has a double meaning. Philosophically, it’s also one of those double-edged terms: Foucault speaks of dispositifs, of imprisonment, of surveillance. And it’s true, one feels it, there’s something about the technical dispositifs which imprisons us. The Deleuzian terms of “agencement” has for me a more open meaning. There is something about agencement compared to dispositif that makes it more open, less oriented. The dispositif has a purpose. The agencement, I don’t really know what it’s for, it remains open to exploration. These are nuances, two complementary points of view of the same process.[14]

Jean-Charles
Thank you to both of you for a very rich encounter. Thank you also to Nicolas.

 


1.Christophe Lebreton : « Musicien et scientifique de formation, il collabore avec Grame depuis 1989. » Musician and educated as a scientist, he collaborates with Grame since 1989.
See: Grame

2. Xavier Garcia, musician, Lyon : Xavier Garcia

3. Charles Juliet, Rencontres avec Bram Van Velde, P.O.L., 1998.

4. « Light Wall System was developed in LiSiLoG by Christophe Lebreton and Jean Geoffroy. See LiSiLoG, Light Wall System

5. SmartFaust is both the title of a participatory concert and the name of a set of applications for smartphones (Android and Iphone) developed by Grame using the Faust language. See Grame, Smart Faust.

6. Claudio Bettinelli, percussionist, Saint-Etienne. See Claudio Bettinelli.

7. Vincent-Raphaël Carinola, Typhon, the work is inspired by Joseph Conrad’s story Typhon. See Grame, Typhon.

8. “On Notational Spaces and Interactive Works”, 2.3, 2nd paragraph.

9. Thierry De Mey, Silence Must Be: “In this piece for solo conductor, Thierry De Mey continues his research into movement at the heart of the musical ‘fact’… The conductor turns towards the audience, takes the beat of his/her heart as pulsation and begins to perform increasingly complex polyrhythms, …3 on 5, 5 on 8, getting close to the golden ratio, she/he traces the contours of a silent, indescribable music…”. Grame

10. “On Notational Spaces and Interactive Works”, op. cit. 3.1.

11. Thierry de Mey, Light music: “musical piece for a ‘solo conductor’, projections and interactive device (first performance March 2004 – Biennale Musiques en Scène/Lyon), performed by Jean Geoffroy, was produced in the Grame studios in Lyon and at the Gmem in Marseille, where Thierry De Mey was in residence.” Grame

12. Jorge Luis Borges, Fictions, trad. P. Verdevoye et N. Ibarra, Paris : Gallimard, 1951, 2014.

13. “On Notational Spaces and Interactive Works”, op. cit. 3.2.

14. See Monique David-Ménard, « Agencements déleuziens, dispositifs foucaldiens », in Rue Descartes 2008/1 (N°59), pp. 43-55 : Rue Descartes

Jean-Charles François – English

Return to the original text in French: Invention collective

 


 

Collective Invention in Music

and Encounters Between a Diversity of Cultures

Jean-Charles François

 

Summary:

1. Introduction
2. Alternative forms to definitive art works
3. Improvisation
4. Artistic Processes or just Human Interactions?
5. Protocols
6. Conclusion

 


Introduction

The world in which we live can be defined as one in which a great diversity of practices and cultures coexist. As a result, it is difficult today to think in terms of the modern Western world, Eastern philosophy, African tradition or other labels too easy to use to guide us in the chaos of the world. We are in presence of an infinite number of networks, and each of us is active in more than one of these. Therefore, we have to think about musical practices in terms of ecological problems. A practice can kill another one. A practice can depend directly on another’s survival. A practice can be directly connected to another and still be different. The ecology of practices (see Stengers 1996, Chapter 3) or how to face a potentially very violent multicultural world is probably today as important as the ecological question of the future of the planet earth. I will attempt in this article to treat one aspect of the diverse world of artistic practices: improvisation with heterogeneous groups.

My own personal research on mediation between groups of musicians belonging to different cultural practices or musical styles stems from my involvement as the director (between 1990 and 2007) of a center devoted to the training of music school teachers, the Cefedem AuRA in Lyon, France. This institution was created in 1990, under the authority of the Ministry of Culture, and offers a two-year program leading to the Music Teacher State Diploma [Diplôme d’État de professeur de musique], geared towards the teaching of voice, instruments, basic musicianship, choral conducting, jazz, popular music [described in France as Musiques actuelles amplifiées, Today’s Amplified Music], and traditional music in music schools and conservatories organised throughout France by the towns. Research was conducted within the framework of curriculum development in this institution, in direct collaboration with Eddy Schepens and the entire pedagogical and administrative team of this institution.

For the first ten years all the students at the Center were classical musicians issued from Regional Conservatories. In 2000, the study program was completely reinvented to accommodate the inclusion of jazz, popular music, and traditional music students, alongside the ones from the “classical” sector. The curriculum was based on two distinct imperatives: (a) each musical genre had to be recognized as autonomous in its practical and theoretical specificities; and (b) each musical genre had to collaborate with all the others in specific artistic and pedagogical projects. We were thus confronted with the issue of how to face the problem of a difference of culture between a highly formalised teaching tradition with low exposure to public presentations, and traditions that are based on atypical or informal forms of learning involving a high degree of immediate public interactions. The problem that then had to be solved can be formulated as follows : the classical sector tends to develop an instrumental or vocal identity in a posture of technical readiness to play any music (on the condition that it would be written on a score) ; other musical genres tend to require of their members a strong identity based on the style of music as such accompanied by a technical approach based solely on what is necessary to express that identity. Our task was to find solutions that could include all the ingredients of this triple equation. Two concepts emerged: a) the curriculum would focus on student projects rather than on a series of courses and the definition of their content (although these courses continued to exist); b) projects should be based on the principle of a contract binding students to a number of constraints determined by the institution and on which evaluation would be based. The Centre has developed a research program on these issues and in pedagogy of music, and publishes a journal, Enseigner la Musique (see for example François & al. 2007).

Taking this concept of intercultural encounters as a model, experimental situations have been carried out by a Lyon collective of artists in existence since 2011: PaaLabRes (Artistic Practices in Acts, Laboratory of Research [Pratiques Artistiques en Actes, Laboratoire de Recherche]).
Several projects were developed:

  • A small group of improvisators met to propose protocols for developing common material in the context of collective invention[1]. These protocols were tested, discussed and then tried in a number of workshops addressed to the largest range of participants (professionals, amateurs; beginners and advanced students; musicians and dancers belonging to different musical categories, styles and traditions) (2011-2015).
  • Regular meetings of PaaLabRes musicians with dancers (Maguy Marin’s Company members among others) have been organized at the Ramdam, an arts center near Lyon, with the aim of developing common materials between dance and music in improvisation (2015-2017).
  • Through the digital space www.paalabres.org a reflection on the definition of artistic research, situated in between formal academic research and artistic practices, between various artistic domains and diverse aesthetic expressions, in between pedagogy and performance on stage. (See the station Débat, line “Artistic Research in the first edition of paalabres.org).

 

2. Alternative forms to definitive art works

Improvisation situations seem in this context to be a good way to deal with heterogeneous encounters through practicing music, not so much as a focusing on aesthetics values, but rather as a democratic process that this situation seems to promote: each person is fully responsible for her or his sound production and for interacting with the others persons present in the space, and also with the diverse means of production available.

The definition of improvisation, within the art practices of the West—especially in its “freer” forms— is often proposed as an alternative to the written music that dominated European art music for at least two centuries. Improvisation faced with the structuralism of the 1950-60s tended to propose a simple inversion of the prevailing model:

  1. The performer considered up to that time as not being a major participant to the creation of major works, becomes through improvisation completely responsible for her/his creation in a context that changed the definition of work of art.
  2. The practice of writing signs on a score and respecting them in interpretation is replaced by the absence of any visual notation and the prevalence given to oral communication.
  3. There will be no more works definitively fixed in historical memory, but processes that are continuously modified ad infinitum.
  4. The slow reflective method used by the composer in a private space when elaborating a given piece of music will be replaced by an instantaneous act, in the spirit of the moment, on stage and in the presence of an audience.
  5. Instead of having compositions that define themselves as autonomous objects articulating their own language and personal sleight of hand, free improvisation will tend to go in the direction of the “non-idiomatic” (see Bailey 1992, p. ix-xii)[2] or towards the “all-idiomatic” (the capacity to borrow sound material from any cultural domain).

And so on, all the terms being inverted.

For this inversion to occur, however, some stable elements have to remain in place: notably the concept that music is played on stage by professional musicians before an audience of educated music lovers. This historical stability of the concert performance largely inherited from the 19th century goes hand in hand according to Howard Becker with what he calls a “package”: an hegemonic situation that controls in a global way all the actions in a given domain with particular economic conditions, definitions of professional roles and supporting educational institutions (see Becker 2007, p. 90). The reversal of elements appears to guarantee that certain aesthetical attitudes would remain unchanged: for example, the concept of “non-idiomatic” might be considered as reinforcing the modernist view of an ever-changing process towards new sounds and new sound combinations. We don’t know which idiom will result from the composer’s work, but the ideal is to arrive at a personal idiom. The improviser should come on stage without idiomatic a-priori, but the result will be idiomatic only for the duration of the concert. The “blank slate” ideal persists in the idea that each improvisation has to occur outside beaten paths.

The nomadic and transverse approach to improvisation cannot be confined to the idea that it is an alternative to sedentary human beings personified by the classical musicians of the West. The nomadic and the transverse practices cannot just pretend to offer an alternative to institutional art forms, through their indeterminate movements and infinite wanderings. Rather the (transversal) nomads have to deal with the complex knots of practices situated in between oral and written communication, timbre and syntactic articulation, spontaneity and predefined gestures, group interactivity and personal contribution.

 

3. Improvisation

One of the strong frameworks of improvisation – as distinct from written music on scores – is the shared responsibility between players for a collective creative sound production. However, the exact content of this collective creativity in actual improvisations seems unclear. In improvisation, the emphasis is on the unplanned public performance on stage, on the ephemeral act that happens only once. The ideal of improvisation seems to be dependent on the absence of preparation, before the act itself. And at the same time, the actual act of improvisation cannot be done by participants who are not “prepared” to do it. The performance may be unprepared in the details of its unfolding, but generally speaking it cannot be successfully carried out without some intense preparation. This is indeed the paradox of the situation.

Two models can be defined, and we have to remember that theoretical models are never reflecting reality, but they offer different points of reference allowing us to reflect on our subject matter. In the first model the individual players undergo an intensive preparation inscribed in a time frame of many years, in order to achieve a personal voice, a unique manner of producing sound and gestural acts. This personal voice, or manner of playing, has to be inscribed in memory – inscribed in the body – in a wide-ranging repertoire of possibilities. This is the principal condition of the improvisation creative act: the creative elements are not inscribed on an independent support – like a score – but they are directly embodied in the playing capacities of the performer. The players meet on stage as separated individuals in order to produce something together in an unplanned manner. The performance on stage will be the superimposition of personal discourses, but if players can anticipate what the partners will be able to produce (above all if they have already played together or listen to their respective performances), they will be able to construct together, within that unplanned framework, an original sonic and/or gestural world. The emphasis on individual preparation seems to not hinder the constitution of a fairly homogeneous network of improvisators. This network is geographically very large and imposes, without having to specify any definition, the conditions of its access by a set of implicit unwritten rules. What is at stake here? The main focus of this model is on the public performance on a stage, where the important issues concern the sonic or gestural quality of the acts in that encounter produced by everybody present, including the attitudes and reactions of the audience.

The other alternative model puts the emphasis on a collective co-construction of the sonic universe independently from any eventual presentation on stage or other types of interactive actions. It implies that a substantial time is spent on elaborating a repertoire of sonic (or any other) materials within a permanent group of people. The development of the collective sound depends on a sufficient number of sessions working together with all members present. That these sessions are performed before an audience or not, is beside the point. This second model does not present much interest if the members of the group are homogeneous in their background, notably if they acquired their professional status in the same kind of educational institutions and the same processes of qualification. If they are not different in some important respect, the first model seems to be more adequate, as there is no difficulty in building a collective sound world directly through improvised performance on stage. But if they are different, and above all if they are very different, the idea of building a collective sound material, or a collective artistic material, is not a simple task. On the one hand, the differences between participants have to be maintained, they have to be strictly respected in mutual terms. On the other hand, building something together will imply that each participant is ready to leave behind reflexes, habits, and traditional ways of behavior. This is a first paradoxical situation. Another paradox immediately becomes apparent adding to the complication: on the one hand, the material that is collectively developed has to be more elaborate than just the superimposition of discourses in order to qualify as co-constructions; and, on the other hand, the material should not become fixed in a structuration, as would be the case with a written composition, the material should remain open to improvisation manipulations and variations, to be realized at the actual moment of the improvisation performance. The performers should remain free to interact as they see fit on the spirit of the moment. This second model does not exclude public performance on stage but cannot be limited to this obligation. It is centered on collective processes and might involve other types of social output and interactions.

The challenges of the second model are directly linked to debates about the means to be developed in order to break down the walls. To face these challenges, it is not enough to just gather people of different origins or cultures in the same room and expect that more profound relationships will develop. It is also not sufficient to invent new methodologies appropriate for a given situation, to ensure that a miracle of pacific coexistence will occur. In order to face complexity, you need to develop situations in which you should have a number of ingredients:

  1. Each participant has to know in practical ways what all the other participants are about.
  2. Each participant is obligated to follow collective rules decided together.
  3. Each participant should retain an important margin of personal initiative and remains free to express differences.
  4. There can be processes in which a leadership can emerge, but on the whole the context should remain on a democratic level.

All this complexity demonstrates the virtues of pragmatic tinkering within the framework of this plan of action.

As the sociologist and jazz pianist David Sudnow showed when he described the learning processes of his hands that enabled him to produce jazz improvisations: sound and visual models, although essential to the definition of objectives to be attained, are not sufficient to produce real results through simple imitation:

When my teacher said, “now that you can play tunes, try improvising melodies with the right hand,” and when I went home and listened to my jazz records, it was as if the assignment was to go home and start speaking French. There was this French going on, streams of fast-flowing strange sounds, rapidly winding, styles within styles in the course of any player’s music. (Sudnow 2001, p. 17)

Some degree of “tinkering about” is necessary to allow the participants to achieve their purposes through heterogeneous detours of their own, outside the logical framework given by the teacher.

The idea of dispositif (apparatus, plan of action) associated with “tinkering about” corresponds to the definition found in the dictionary: an “ensemble of means disposed according to a plan in order to do a precise action”. One can refer to the definition given by Michel Foucault as “a resolutely heterogeneous ensemble, comprising discourses, institutions, architectural amenities, regulatory decisions, laws, administrative arrangements, scientific enunciations, philosophical, moral and philanthropic statements, some explicitly stated, some implicitly unsaid…” (Foucault 1977, see also the station timbre, line “Improvisation” in the first edition of paalabres.org)

In applying this idea to a co-production of sonic or gestural materials in the domain of artistic practices, the institutional elements of this definition are indeed present, but the emphasis is here directed towards the network of the elements created through everyday action, which are contextualized by given agents and materials. Thus, the means are defined here as concerning, at the same time, the persons concerned, their social and hierarchical status within a given artistic community, the materials, instruments and techniques that are provided or already developed, the spaces in which the actions take place, the particular interactions – formalized or not – between participants, between participants and materials or techniques, and the interactions with the external world outside the group. The dispositifs are more or less formalized by charters of conduct, protocols of action, scores or graphic images, rules pertaining to the affiliation to the group, evaluation processes, learning and research procedures. To a great extent, however, the dispositifs are governed on an everyday basis in an “oral” manner, in contexts that can change radically according to circumstances, and through interactions, which by their instability can produce very different results.

 

4. Artistic Processes or just Human Interactions?

The idea of dispositif, or complex apparatus, at the same time denies that artistic acts be simply limited or confined to well identified autonomous objects, and it also enlarges considerably the scope of artistic endeavours. The network that continuously forms, informs and deforms itself cannot be limited to a single focus on the production of artistic materials for the benefit of a public. The processes are no longer defined in specific specialized spaces. The term improvisation is no longer strictly limited to a series of sacred principles of absolute freedom and spontaneity or, on the contrary, respect for any tradition. Improvisation can incorporate activities that involve a variety of media supports – including using writing on paper – to achieve results in particular contexts. The purity of clear and definitive positions can no longer be what should dictate all possible behaviour. This does not mean that ideals have been erased and that the values that one wants to place at the forefront of the reality of practices have lost their primordial importance.

The confrontation of nomadic and transverse artistic practices to institutional imperative requirements may concern many areas: improvisation, research, music and art education, curriculum design, reviving traditional practices, etc. More and more artists find themselves in a situation in which their practice in strictly artistic terms is now considerably widened by what we call “mediation”, or mediating between a diversity of elements (see Hennion 1993 and 1995): pedagogical activities, popular education, community involvement, public participation, social interactions, hybrid characteristics between artistic domains, etc. The immersion of artistic activities into the social, educational, technological and political realms implies the utilization of research tools and of research partnerships with formal institutions as a necessary part of the elaboration of artistic objects or processes (see Coessens 2009, and the PaaLabRes’ station the artistic turn). Research practices in artistic domains need to a large extent the legitimacy and evaluation given by academic bodies, but it is equally important to recognize that they must be seen as part of an “eccentric science” (see Deleuze & Guatarri 1980, pp. 446-464), which considerably changes the meaning of the term “research”. The important questioning of these artists pertains directly to the very practice of conducting research: it tends to attempt to erase the usual strict separation between actors and observers, between the scientific orientation of the publication of results and other informal forms of presentation, and between the artistic act and reflections about it.

A possible nomadic and transverse response would be found along a pathway between the freedom of creative acts and the strict imposition of traditional canons. In this context, the creative act can no longer be seen as a simple individual expression asserting freedom in relation to a fiction of universality. The constitution of a particular collective, defining its own rules along the way, must play, in an unstable friction, against individual imaginative desires. To place somebody in a situation of research would mean to anchor the creative act on the formulation by a collective of a problematical process; the complete freedom of creation is now bound by collective interactions and to what is at stake in the process, without being limited by the strict rules of a given model. The creative act would cease to be considered as an absolute object in itself, and the accent would be put on the numerous mediations that determine it as a particular aesthetical and ethical context: the convergence at a certain moment of a number of participants into some form of project. The knots of this convergence need to be explicated not in terms of a particular desired result, but in terms of the constitution of some kind of chart of the problematic complexity of the situation at its inception: a system of constraints which deals with the interaction between materials, spaces, institutions, diverse participants (musicians, administrators, amateurs, professionals, theoreticians, students, general public, etc.), resources at hands, references, etc. According to Isabelle Stengers, the idea of constraint, as distinct from “conditions”, is not an imperative imposed from outside, nor a way to institute some legitimacy, but it requires to be satisfied in an undetermined manner open to many possibilities. The signification is determined a posteriori at the end of a process (Stengers 1996, 74). Constraints have to be taken into account, but do not define pathways that might be taken for the realization of the process. Systems of constraints apply best when very different people with different specialized fields are called to develop something together.

 

5. Protocols

We have called “protocols” collective research processes that take place before an improvisation and that will colour its content, then accumulate in the collective memory a repertoire of determined actions. The detail of this repertoire of actions is not fixed, nor is it necessarily decided that a given repertoire should be called up during an improvisation. The definition of the term protocol is obviously ambiguous and for many will seem to go completely against the ethics of improvisation. The term is linked to connotations of official, even aristocratic circumstances, where behaviour considered acceptable or respectable is completely determined: it refers to socially recognised modes of behaviour. Protocol is also used in the medical world to describe series of care acts to be followed (without omissions) in specific cases. It is not in the sense of these various contexts that we use the term.

The definition of protocol is here linked to written or oral instructions given to participants at the beginning of a collective improvisation that determine rules governing the relationships between persons or that define a particular sound, gestural or other type of material. It corresponds more or less to what you may find in dictionary (here French Larousse dictionary on-line): “Usages conformed to relationships between people in social life” and “Ensemble of rules, questions, etc. defining a complex operation”. The participants have to accept that in a limited time, some interaction rules in the group would be determined with the aim of building something together or to understand another point of view, to enter into playing with the others. Once these rules are experimented, when situations have been built, the protocol in itself can be forgotten in order that interactions less bound by rules of behaviour can take place, retrieving then the spirit of unplanned improvisation. The ideal, when determining a protocol, is to seek a collective agreement on its specific content, on the exact formulation of the rules. In fact, this rarely takes place in real situations, as different people understand rules in different ways. A protocol is most often proposed by one particular person, the important factor is to allow all present the possibility to propose other protocols, and also to be able to elaborate variations on the proposed protocol.

The contradiction that exists between the intensive preparation that improvisers impose on themselves individually and improvisation on stage that takes place “without preparation”, is now found at the collective level: intensive preparation of the group of improvisers must take place collectively before spontaneous improvisation can take place, using elements from the accumulated repertoire but without planning the details of what is going to happen. If the members of the collective have developed materials in common, they can now more freely call them up according to the contexts that arise during improvisation.

Thus we are in the presence of an alternation between, on the one hand, formalized moments of development of the repertoire and, on the other hand, improvisations which are either based on what one has just worked on or, more freely, on the totality of the possibilities given by the repertoire and also by what is external to it (fortuitous encounters between individual productions). The objective remains therefore that of putting the participants in real improvisational situations where one can determine one’s own path and in which ideally all the participants are in specific roles of equal importance.

Different types of protocols or procedures can be categorized, but care should be taken not to catalogue them in detail in what would look like a manual. In fact, protocols must always be invented or reinvented in each particular situation. Indeed, the composition of the groups in terms of the heterogeneity of the artistic fields involved, the levels of technical (or other) ability, age, of social background, geographical origin, different cultures, particular objectives in relation to the group’s situation, etc., must each time determine what the protocol proposes to do and therefore its contextual content.

Here are some of the categories of possible protocols among those we have explored:

  1. Coexistence of proposals. Each participant can define a particular sound and/or gestural movement. Each participant must maintain his or her own elaborate production throughout an improvisation. Improvisation therefore only concerns the temporality and the level of personal interventions in superimpositions or juxtapositions. The interaction takes place at the level of a coexistence of the various proposals in various combinations chosen at the time of the improvised performance. Variations can be introduced in the personal proposals.
  2. Collective sounds developed from a model. Timbres are proposed individually to be reproduced as best they can by the whole group in order to create a given collective sound.
  3. Co-construction of materials. Small groups (4 or 5) can be assigned to develop a coherent collective sound or body movements. The work is envisaged at the oral level, but each group can choose its own method of elaboration, including the use of paper notations. Then teach it to other groups in the manner of their choice.
  4. Construction of rhythmic structures (loops, cycles). The characteristic situation of this kind of protocol is the group arranged in a circle, each participant in turn (in the circle) producing an improvised short sound or gesture, all this in a form of musical “hoquet”. Usually the production of the sounds or gestures that loop in the circle is based on a regular pulse. Variations are introduced by silences in the regular flow, superimposing loops of varying lengths, rhythmic irregularities, etc.
  5. Clouds, textures, sounds and collective gestural movements – individuals drowned in the mass. Following the model developed by a number of composers of the second half of the twentieth century such as Ligeti and Xenakis, clouds or sound textures (this applies to gestures and body movements as well) can be developed from a given sonority distributed randomly over time by a sufficient number of people producing them. The collective produces a global sound (or global body movements) in which the individual productions are blended into the mass. Most of the time, improvisation consists in making the global sound or the movements evolve in a collective way towards other sound or gestural qualities.
  6. Situations of social interaction. Sounds or gestures are not defined, but the way of interacting between participants is. Firstly, there is the situation of moving from silence to collectively determined gestural and bodily movements (or to a sound), as in situations of warm-up or early stages of improvisation in which effective improvised play only begins when all participants have agreed in all senses of the word tuning : a) that which consists of instruments or bodies being in tune, b) that which concerns the collective’s test of the acoustics and spatial arrangement of a room to feel together in a particular environment, c) that which concerns the fact that the participants have agreed to do the same activity socially. This is for example what is called the prelude in European classical music, the alãp in North Indian classical music, a process of gradual introduction into a more or less determined sound universe, or to be determined collectively. Secondly, one or more actions can be prohibited in the course of an improvisation. Thirdly, the rules of the participants’ playing time, or of a particular structuring of the temporal course of the improvisation can be determined. Finally, one can determine behaviours, but not the sounds or gestures that the behaviours will produce.
  7. Objects foreign to an artistic field, for example, which have no function of producing sounds in the case of music, may be introduced to be manipulated by the collective and indirectly determine the nature of the sounds or gestures that will accompany this manipulation. The example that immediately comes to mind is that of the sound illustration of silent films. But there are an infinite number of possible objects to use in this situation. The attention of the participants is mainly focused on the manipulation of the object borrowed from another domain and not on the particular production of what the usual discipline requires.

 

6. Conclusion

The two concepts of dispositif and of system of constraints seem to be an interesting way to define artistic research, especially in the context of heterogeneous collective creative projects: collective improvisation, socio-political contexts of artistic acts, informal/formal relationships to institutions, Questions of transmission of knowledge and know-how, various ways of interacting between humans, between humans and machines, and between humans and non-humans. This widens considerably the scope of artistic acts: curriculum design, interdisciplinary research projects, teaching workshops (see François & al. 2007), become, in this context, fully-fledged artistic situations outside the exclusivity of performances on stage.

Today we are confronted with an electronic world of an extraordinary diversity of artistic practices and at the same time a multiplication of socially homogeneous networks. These practices tend to develop strong identities and hyper-specializations. This urgently forces us to work on the meeting of cultures that tend to ignore each other. In informal as well as formal spaces, within socially heterogeneous groups, ways of developing collective creations based on the principles of direct democracy should be encouraged. The world of electronic technologies increasingly allows access for all to creative and research practices, at various levels and without having to go through the institutional usual pathways. This obliges us to discuss the ways in which these activities may or may not be accompanied by artists working in formal or informal spaces. The indeterminate nature of these obligations – not in terms of objectives, but in terms of actual practice – brings us back to the idea of nomadic and transversal artistic acts.

 


1. The following musicians participated to this project: Laurent Grappe, Jean-Charles François, Karine Hahn, Gilles Laval, Pascal Pariaud et Gérald Venturi.

2. Derek Bailey defines “idiomatic” and “non-idiomatic” improvisation as a question of identity to a cultural domain, and not so much in terms of language content: “Non idiomatic improvisation has other concerns and is more usually found in so-called ‘free’ improvisation and , while it can be highly stylised, is not usually tied to representing an idiomatic identity.” (1992, p. xii)

 


Bibliographie

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Coessens, Kathleen, Darla Crispin and Anne Douglas. 2009. The Artistic Turn, A Manifesto. Ghent : Orpheus Institute, distributed by Leuven University Press.

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François, Jean-Charles, Eddy Schepens, Karine Hahn, and Dominique Clément. 2007. « Processus contractuels dans les projets de réalisation musicale des étudiants au Cefedem Rhône-Alpes », Enseigner la Musique N°9/10, Cefedem Rhône-Alpes, CNSMD de Lyon, pp. 173-194.

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Hennion, Antoine. 1995. « La médiation au cœur du refoulé », Enseigner la Musique N°1. Cefedem Rhône-Alpes and CNSMD de Lyon, pp. 5-12.

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Stengers, Isabelle. 1997. Cosmopolitiques 7: Pour en finir avec la tolerance, chapter 6, “Nomades et sédentaires?”. Paris: La Découverte / Empêcheurs de penser en rond.

Sudnow, David. 2001. Ways of the Hand, A Rewritten Account. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT