October 26, 2014 § Leave a comment

120 arrows today, 18m, at a 20cm target. October total 1347 arrows. Alas, one unlucky hit the net behind the target, busting the tip & the shaft. Nock could be saved. Since a bloke turned up what he hold for music, things got unnerving towards the end – next week I’m alone again, outdoors. Coach had some quite useful insights to share, adressing the effort I use to shoot, letting me find the locations of too high an effort.

rise from the dead

October 26, 2014 § Leave a comment

An archery forum I found recently, “Archers Rest“, led me to reviving this blog again. I do hope it’ll come to live again.

So, where was I? Musically, I push further still, Marc Yeats & Adam Fergler amongst the composers I work most with, James Erber as well (though his flute music is yet too hard for me to play well, but I’m at it). I took up archery again, after a more than 30 years’ break, changed from recurve to  the compound bow & I simply love it. I found a dear friend after nearly the same amount of time passed, via “facebook”, when one of her now 4 children adressed me, -she lives in Cairo now, of all places.


September 25, 2011 § Leave a comment

Went to a vernissage yesterday, to the Künstlerhaus Bethanien, “Gute Nachbarschft?” it was titled. Apart from a splendid evening with nice Polish friends old & new acquaintances, I had lengthy discussions about the nature of concept art. My point was that exhibitions as the above, or a major chunk of contemporary representative art, as far as it represents anything at all still, is prey to the methodological gridlock it put itself into when the material was abandoned. Too much thought, too little material. The very object itself is removed to the point of making it solely the convergence point of the ergon’s comments & commentaries, without those shedding their character as comments-&-not-the-work-itself. It’s not, per definitionem as well as definitely, the comment which is turned into the object of/as the work but a comment taking/occupying the place where the material was/happened (“ereignete sich”) to be placed. Nor stays the comment where it is written upon, the margin – without this concept art’s notion of the ti estin of both the comment & what it comments on, the work itself is nothing, it’s not there there. Yesterday I’ve encountered several in depth comments on the Polish-German relationship, its particular encumbrances & developments, with most commentators assuming synthetically a priori one or the other idea of what it means to be Polish/German. These wordings, discussions, comments, chains of words ordered along the semiotic trias weren’t in existence at all without the however insignificant in itself object (a swastika doesn’t carry its significance as a factum brutum but the discourses on the shared history of Nazism especially are essentially dependant on extensive collaborations & books of rules, that exactly is the point of those signifiers; a hermeneutic dwelling on the classical Indian co(n)texts of the swastika symbol is literally out of place, out of context & out of bounds here), but the very moment those discourses took up, the starters vanished, were obliterated. Since Hegel the material & the material world has be denigrated & been pushed aside as a mere  stage where the significant form takes to taking place & realises itself, & methinks that is a fundamental (sic) error.


September 5, 2011 § Leave a comment

(It’s not the mp3-terrorist next to me in Berlin’s Sbahn, it’s not the viciously noisy Kevin&Murat-group of youngsters occupying every 5 square metres, it’s not the disgusting electro/techno bullshit this city’s clubbing is so famous for – it’s Kindergardeners’  singing happy children songs with their flock. & add those imbecile smiles of those involved, no wonder my aural network tilts.

Yesterday we drove out to the Spreewald spa, here. A beautiful spa indeed, done in a way simulating a rain forest, or a bamboo forest, green spruces in places, tilted supporting columns, wooden boxes where we found the steam bath & such. Since it is roughly 100km outside the Berlin area, not too many people were visiting this place, it’s spacious, e.g. most of the saunas we went to found ourselves alone. What intrigued me particularily were the white (imitate?) stone fringes of the various basins, a feeling to the touch completely different from the usual white rubbered grilles, & a very nice one indeed.  Another remarkable point to me was the basin surrounding the steam bath & salt inhalation cabin each, ankledeep, one very cold, the other lukewarm, & the floor covered with small round pebbles set in concrete – a unique massaging effect to the soles of my feet.

During the New Music festival “Ankunft” at the Berlin main station A. & me went to a solo double bass concert & listened, rapt, to Xenakis’ “Theraps” – a score which I own right now, & fuess what I’m having at it with my s-cl or si-cl;  it’ll come as a new experiment in the ongoing series to thwart the traditional signifier-signified relationship of score-interpretation in contemporary music. Therefore the actual sounding note is irrelevant, it’s the relationship of all the sound events of a given piece amongst each other, the total network pattern of those formatting structures which trigger sound events, including dents in the score’s paper, smudges etc. In short, it’s about forcing a linear sequence into a nonlinear complex system.

Recorded “Lotan Jäljet / Bottom Kill”, for male voice, two didgeridoo & soundfile. It was so good to be at the studio again, concentrated work,  secluded from the world, just microphones, instruments, cigarettes, out there on the Rummelsburger Bucht.

Finally managed to record Mark Solomon’s “Point 008″, a work to be played in an elevator, in not more than 30-40”.


August 7, 2011 § Leave a comment

The year Nazi Germany got the Olympic Games for Berlin; yesterday we managed to realize a project we planned for quite some time finally, to visit the place where the sports world of the past met, slept, trained, was sucessfully kept from coming into touch with the Nazi terror unfolding on Berlin’s streets already – the Olympic Village. A “place of sacred quiet”, how the pathetically deluding officials styled it, a place which was, as the fabulous Jesse Ownes called it, “heaven on earth”, if one kept his (sic; the women, as we were told, had to camp outside this paradies for the sports, iron & wash their clothes themselves plus take part in the kitchen machinery of those Olympics; no womenfolk within those fences & walls of the Village, which itself was “to serve as a model for Arian settlements” at least of the military having sucessfully conquered subhuman rest of Europe. Such was the perfectly rationalizing sociopathy of the fascists. I have to read about the homosexual undercurrents of totalitarian regimes one day, all those half naked men worshipping other bodies, sports as war perspectives & ideologies, & at the same time an enforced de-sex’ed context, not even exploiting straits like prostitution or washer-women; I feel enourmously uncomfortable when listening to those radio broadcast bits of those times, the mixture of “brave men pitting their strength against each other in fair competition”, Nazi speak of the political clash then, & the strained hermeneutics of “We just talk sports here, okay?!” – just have a look at the political & the sports cartoons in the newspapers of that time, even in those American ones which were not falling prey to the illusion it could just be about sports competitions there in Berlin & which favooured the boycott, J.Owens is a fatlipped joker looking like some toy or chocolate for the ladies – it’s frightening) eyes to the running ground or the floor of the “Haus der Nationen”, the architectural grandeur & the committed support for the sportsmen justified this remark. A huge area, mimicking 1936s Germany’s outlines from the North coast to the Alpes, in regrettably bad shape thanks to the Soviet army after the end of  WW2, &, in particular vehemence, the vandalism setting in after the Soviets left in 1993. The Fund, paying a huge & yet Sysiphonian effort to restaurate the area, has erected numerous construction sites, in particular around the natatorium, a sweepingly vaulted hall with a jumping block at one end like a pulpit jutting out over the basin, cracked tiles everywhere, staples of rusted iron frames (the mechanically moveable frames of the natatorium’s windows were high tech of those times), bricks the Fund had to search a long time for to get them en masse & in 1936ies shape, dust. The quarters where J.Owens lived are tastefully & simply restaurated, as is the gym hall, which now houses a large exhibition about the Olympic Games of 1936. It seems impossible to connect those innocent men in track suits with the nation just outside those walls turning into a dehumanized genocidal paranoia. A streak of pictures of this place You may find here.

/Sometimes the discrepancy between artwork in public spaces, in Berlin, & the unintentional sculptures created by e.g. construction sites is astonishing. Whereas Berlin city planning results all too often in either total neglect of statues & reliefs placed in abandoned places, of course, as every surface is in this trashcan of a city, soiled with graffiti, or some sort of public surface design & not artwork. On the other hand, unintentionally placed objects such as plumbing pipes, road blocks & what have you like suddenly jump into my field of vision as bizzarely artistic, like the Found Scores I keep running into, like works of art proving that an author doesn’t exist. Bewildering, beautiful.


July 1, 2011 § Leave a comment

Okay, reading J.Clarkson’s “Born to be Riled” I take as license to venture that the by far & wide worst drivers of all are Polish. They’re so bad & so stupidly ignorant they teach the drivers from those East german provinces a fat lesson. Because, after being shown the finger, they break to a near stop. On a motorway. Doing 150km/h. Middle lane. If the speed ‘d allow me, I’d love to whack their idiotic heads on their sporty smallsized leathered steering wheel. There’s a speed limit on the country lanes, 90 km/h, but if you should happen to find that swift enough for you to enjoy the beautiful Polish scenery  & the musical sound of the voices from your stereo, you’ll find yourself more often than not forced to sway right onto this perhaps a meter wide sidestrip one is to use to let dickheads through who do 120 km/h for starters, – this enragingly dumb solution thy came up with as most lanes in Poland are country lanes, but the technoid chaps will drive at max  speed anyways so the state widens the road on both sides for about aforesaid meter, so that cars with less than 150 ps & reacionist lame law abiding citizens can swerve & let the idiots pass, even when there’s cars coming the opposite direction. Fun.

/Took up work again with a choreographer/dancer, in a duo project we call “Despacio”, an echo to Cortázar’s “Deshoras”. I use, nearly, the shakuhachi & the didgeridoo eclusively here, it’s a project focused specifically at working at/across/undermining of/on borders in the geographical & theoretical sense, with maps, directions, bodily encounters, travel, shifting of places & locations. So we did public performances at the start of tourist guided tours, at Potsdamer Platz, & now there’s the idea to end a tour thus, that is I’m waiting for the group to come by, last stop before “Thank You for joining today…” by her as a guide, we spot each other, greet, echange conversaitonal words & hey presto off we go for 10′ or so. The long view is to launch something like an experimental-performance-tour, the choreographer is asked about such quite often, the Berlin of the alternative arts is what many wish to see, & that’s what gave birth to the idea, something like “guided tour: The contemporary & the experimental in Berlin today” etc pp, in that line.

tit for tat

June 13, 2011 § Leave a comment

I don’t know, what is it that allows people shrug it off if they’re accused of being disinterested & irresponsible? Yesterday we were to perform at the “Voidhaus” (sic) in Berlin, & as we arrived at the appointed time, the door was locked, nobody in sight, as far as we could see from the outside the day’s before party’s litter was still all over the place, were we to clean it up before playing as well? They had zero costs as we were concerned, which in itself is a nuissance, this having to choose between being literally paid no respect or just not getting to perform concepts & scores that leave the well-marketed mainstream, the latter of which every single atomized scene sports one on its own. Outside the location the “Karneval der Kulturen” was rageing on, we knew the noise would be pretty bad, but that it’d be that awful we had no idea. So performing outside in the open impromtu before the location was no option. We waited 65′ indeed, & that’s that. A cooperative strategy, in Berlin, does not pay, it seems. The score for “Wu Wei Wu Paradox”, though, by Alex Zalah, was excellent, involving plastilin, the taking from the choreohraphy’s score to add to the instrumentalists’, signlanguage, an increase in dynamics ending in a turrent of loudness, 4 movements, four-armed entities & what have you.

/Else there was the 7 year old son of friends of ours learning klarnet & we sawing away at W.O.Smith’s “Meditation” & “Variants”, a visit to a video gallery where, again, the curator employing metaphysics (“I don’t want the room here to be burned away too soon.”, when all she was expressing was that it’s not allowed to take pictures. Heavens!) & invading personal space a bit too often (coming too close, for people foreign to each other at least), alas the videos there were impressive, & yet like undecided formally, teaching ethics at a nursery school, I was wondering why it seems so custom to answer immediately, spontaneously, when I was already telling them “Don’t. Answer. Immediately. Think it through, a bit, first.” -I love it there, really, way outside in Brandenburg, no big city noise nor its dirt, too many cigarettes, a run of 11km but too slow still, hectic calls to the animal ambulance in Berlin because of a bird leaving the nest but not being able to fly properly, it’s the season, sushi, missing 4 Feldenkrais days.