Pictured here is Henri Chopin, famous for very small part of words as musical-sound material. Text/Sound Art and Sound Poetry, both not quite the same in terms of genre as is instrumental tones, and which are not text at all, and, according to one expert, do not exist until it they are performed. Duane Ingalls and I both will hopefully do a little of all of these in one piece performed live at IMRC in two months, in early December.

Our title for this entry, fmsbwtözäu or alternatively how we see it above, is actually from the very historical and famous sound poet Kurt Schwitter. Duane Ingalls and I will use instruments, too, or even toys; the gurdy, a trombone, probably a kitchen sink (hey just my own groovy idea a moment ago), and two, cheap tape players– all of which can be thought of trans-intuitive. François Dufrêne, an early sound-art poet who used tape players to alter his human-voice sound art, did what they called phonetic poetry.

All of this is sound as a generative-art material. I plan to see visual lyricism in the rust on a green truck in a junkyard here. I want what my eyes see in the junkyard to translate to organized sound and often my gurdy can sound like a human voice. 

Sound Poetry in this post celebrates the sound poet Henri Chopin. I am thinking in the realm of music with no sound, of visual music, lyricism in the midst of a junkyard… This stage of my student research came to life after my musical piece Storm #17 for Anoush, in which I played 17 minutes of vocal-like sounds from the gurdy while looking at my video of a snow storm. That was my first ever try at sort of playing the hurdy-gurdy, but really extended techniques with slackened strings. Technically, instrumental sounds are not technically sound poetry so I seem to be “genre bending”. If I succeed in doing my work here the way I hope to I will be concerned with something which is transcending normal intuition. All of this is non-syntactic and non representational in their logic. Some would argue that there has to be a logic of some sort going on so that art doesn’t mean to merely do anything one feels like.