The Science of Music
Here is a piece I completed back in June 2006 for my class entitled "The Science of Music", taught my Stephen Whittington.
It is 'very' loosely based on the growth of a fractal tree or arborescence if you like. There is a further description of the work in the documentation.
The Science of Music 3:04
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Documentation
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I didn't think about it at the time, but listening to it now makes me picture an elder with a broken mind, standing next to a old squeaky metal gate, continually opening and closing it whilst lock in a perpetually inescapable motor loop, with the impossible intent of creating all possible sound variations of the gate opening. The constant tone reminds me of a fly buzzing about, and represents some sort of metaphor for the trance like prison the person has locked themselves in.
The gate itself belongs to some old derelict house. The sky is grey, the garden unkempt, and the floor littered with loose and rotting leaves, the air is cold and the weather is misty. Although there is a scent of freshly discarded autumn leaves, the rotting undergrowth does not allow a completely satisfying smell. Whilst the gate and the surroundings fit into each other as a whole, the elder man belongs to nothing.
It is 'very' loosely based on the growth of a fractal tree or arborescence if you like. There is a further description of the work in the documentation.
The Science of Music 3:04
Download 4 MB
Documentation
Download 118 KB
I didn't think about it at the time, but listening to it now makes me picture an elder with a broken mind, standing next to a old squeaky metal gate, continually opening and closing it whilst lock in a perpetually inescapable motor loop, with the impossible intent of creating all possible sound variations of the gate opening. The constant tone reminds me of a fly buzzing about, and represents some sort of metaphor for the trance like prison the person has locked themselves in.
The gate itself belongs to some old derelict house. The sky is grey, the garden unkempt, and the floor littered with loose and rotting leaves, the air is cold and the weather is misty. Although there is a scent of freshly discarded autumn leaves, the rotting undergrowth does not allow a completely satisfying smell. Whilst the gate and the surroundings fit into each other as a whole, the elder man belongs to nothing.
posted by Tyrell Blackburn at 1:52 AM
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