casey anderson

April 7th
10:28 am — 1:44 pm
the wulf. @ inglewood library (in collaboration with collage ensemble)

for one afternoon, we will activate this historic civic center by charles luckman with sound and visual-based works and performances by casey anderson, matt barbier, daniel corral, corey fogel, mona kasra, james klopfleisch, heather lockie, jeffrey james mohr, liam mooney, alan nakagawa, steve roden, christine tavolacci, rick bahto, madison brookshire, eric km clark, and mike winter.

Location
Inglewood Main Library
101 West Manchester
Inglewood, CA 90301

Tentative Schedule
*Often overlapping… All outdoors unless otherwise indicated…
1030am: John Cage’s Royanji with Matt Barbier and Joseph Beribak
1040am: James Klopfleish’s The Collapsible Institution with Liam Mooney, Casey Anderson, Christine Tavolacci
1050am: Heather Lockie’s Dryads in the auditorium with Heather Lockie, Betsy Rettig, Ezra Buchla, Eric KM Clark, Jake Rosenzweig and Stephanie Smith
11am: Casey Anderson’s possible dust with Christine Tavolacci and James Klopfleisch
1115am: Liam Mooney’s Floortet with as many people as possible
1130am: Heather Lockie’s Dryads in the auditorium with Heather Lockie, Betsy Rettig, Ezra Buchla, Eric KM Clark, Jake Rosenzweig and Stephanie Smith
1140am a recording by Corey Fogel
1145am: a duet by Matt Barbier with Evan Spacht
12pm: John Cage’s Royanji with Matt Barbier and Eric KM Clark
1215pm: James Klopfleisch The Collapsible Institution with Liam Mooney, Casey Anderson, Christine Tavolacci
1230pm: Casey Anderson the argument with Christine Tavolacci and James Klopfleisch
1245pm: Daniel Corral’s solo for Casio keyboards, accordion, and chimes
1255pm: Cornelius Cardew’s Treatise with Christine Tavolacci and Eric KM Clark
110pm: Liam Mooney’s Floortet with as many people as possible

***throughout, 1030am-130pm: films of Rick Bahto and Madison Brookshire in the auditorium***
***throughout, michael winter’s one|two|one***

I recently performed new electronic work on Alan Nakagawa’s Ear Meal webcast. The video has been posted, and can be viewed here.

I am looking for pictures that somehow fulfill George Brecht’s “Two Signs” ( two signs / silence / no vacancy ), potentially ranging from literal interpretations (a sign with the word “silence” on it, the bottom of a hotel sign reading “no vacancy”), to something more metaphorical (blank billboard, nothing, etc.). The only rule is that you have to take it yourself (honors-system going on here), and, as much as possible, the “sign” (whatever it ends up being) should take up the entirety of the image. I need these by 3/26, and you can just submit them to me via email.

February 25th
THE EXPERIMENTAL MUSIC YEARBOOK
Issue Project Room, New York, NY
7:30pm
$?

Now entering its 4th year, The Experimental Music Yearbook is a repository for composers, performers, and the public to glean the methods and styles of various artists working in the experimental music tradition. As the modes of experimentation in the arts change from year to year, the Experimental Music Yearbook’s annual issues will build into a comprehensive, and varied, database of experimentation in music/sound.

For this concert, the editors (Casey Anderson, Scott Cazan, and John Hastings) will select highlights from the first three years to spotlight the different methods composers use to create their music. Differing in concept and execution, the compositions display the full range given to performers in realizing works in the experimental tradition. Composers include Peter Ablinger, Casey Anderson, Olivia Block, John P. Hastings, Hans W. Koch, and Christian Wolff.

More info here.

March 2nd
Casey Anderson, Scott Cazan, Tim Perkis, Mark Trayle
BETALEVEL, Los Angeles, CA
8:30pm
$FREE

Live electronic music by Casey Anderson, Scott Cazan, Tim Perkis, and Mark Trayle in various combinations (and/or solo).

March 25th
Casey Anderson: Solo, Many, All
the wulf., Los Angeles, CA
8:00pm
$FREE

Two new pieces (solo live electronics, the other participatory) concluding with an open discussion based on a prompt. The event will shift from an exclusive format (solo) to one in which everyone present is placed on an equal playing field (all).

March 30th
Anderson, Cazan, Kallmyer, Wambsgans
the wulf., Los Angeles, CA
8:00pm
$FREE

New work based on, or utilizing, field recordings.

issue 2011 has been added! click here to see scores/listen to recordings/view video/download all from the 2011 edition of the experimental music yearbook. curated by Casey Anderson, Scott Cazan, and John P. Hastings, the performances for the 2011 edition took place at various locations in New York and Los Angeles.

issue 2011 features contributions from Casey Anderson, John Bischoff, Scott Cazan, Bill Dietz, John P. Hastings, Travis Just, James Klopfleisch, Hans W. Koch, GX Jupitter-Larsen, Jessi Marino, Albert Ortega, Mark Trayle, Tashi Wada/Paul Clipson, and C. Spencer Yeh.

When I was younger, my brother and I would construct long chains of construction paper rings. There was one ring for each day, and though I cannot remember when we started, I am fairly certain that they were 30 rings long. When the rings were gone it was Christmas, and tearing one ring off the chain gave us a sense of control over the passage of time. Every day we would wake up, tear off one of the rings, go about our day, and wait anxiously to awaken the next day and repeat the slow erasure of the multi-colored paper chain hung above our bedroom doors.

I used to view weekdays in a similar way: wake up, think (happily) about how I was one day closer to the weekend, or dread being one day closer to the week. Weeks did not consist so much of days, but instead contained markers: Wednesday was the middle of the week, so Monday and Tuesday were simply incrementally closer to the middle, which was in turn only two days away from the weekend. The weekend, though seeming to be a real destination point, marked another upcoming event: the beginning of the following week. Fridays were normally free of any sense of time, but Saturday became the day before I would be dragged to church, another upcoming marker (Sunday). Sundays were dreadful simply because it was the day before Monday, and a sense of impending doom would be marked by the passing of hours on Saturdays. Even though my brother and I outgrew the construction paper chains, the process of waking up and being one day closer to something in the future became the way I viewed time. A paper chain extending out into eternity.

I am not sure when I started noticing all of this, but I found a way to apply this non-presence in time, waiting, incrementally counting days, to all aspects of my life. There was a breaking point, of course, that happened to coincide with my first year out of graduate school. I made lists that I never completed, I rarely ate, slept a lot, hid out in my studio apartment, and overloaded myself with freelance work, performances, and deadlines for new works. I created a situation in which the chain of rings would never end, but simply grew longer. Creating a longer chain was really what I did.

It took a long time to retrain my perception of time, but 2011 was the year I did it. I heard myself, one day while teaching, explaining to students why I love Mondays. Every week I get to start over, fresh. In fact, every day I get to. Every day somehow seems filled with endless possibility, and though there is still the part of me that wants to neurotically work out every detail of the future, predict, analyze, respond (etc.), I find my thoughts permeated with some general sense of awe – sheer multiplicity, possibility in the world.

The art I care the most about, that I study, that my friends make, that I make, has this quality of possibility, multiplicity, but most importantly, of presence. Whether a work simply tunes one’s attention to something already present in the world, or carves out a space to activate something, it is presented carefully and for itself. Success in these fields depends on observation and awareness right now. In a way, there is simply now and all now’s possibilities.

I once had a lesson with Larry Polansky in which he mentioned that a useful compositional tool was considering the following: is what I am doing enough to activate something that I find exciting? Am I highlighting it and then getting out of the way? Am I letting the world in? What is the minimum amount necessary to assure these things? And, perhaps most importantly, does a particular work have the possibility to spawn more works? Does it have the potential for more possibilities, for multiplicity?

Dedicating one’s life to work like this, one would think that I would have noticed the rift between my personal conception of time and that represented, or even championed, in the art work I liked. My critiques or feelings about the success of a particular work would invariably be the exact opposite of how I lived my life. There is no attention to detail, the work missed numerous endings, it ignores the context it finds itself in, why was that presented in only one form, what happens if it was done again, etc. All frequent responses to art work that never were applied to my own life. With art I was calm, present, open, attentive, in awe, but in my life I was a paranoid, stress-filled, distracted mess.

I recently was in New York and, while riding the subway, found myself wondering if anyone had made any field recordings inside of a subway train. I was sure someone had, and frankly it seemed uninteresting as a recording. Nonetheless, simply sitting on a subway train, listening, paying attention to the sounds, was a lovely moment. Why would I want to put that on a record? Wouldn’t that simply ruin it, the translation (certainly impossible) of the experience? While enjoying the overall environment, and in particularly the sound, I found myself mesmerized by the “no exit” stickers at the end of the train car. I could see two of them, one facing me and one backwards (at the end of the next car), and as the cars moved, their position relative to each other changed. No Exit [forwards], No Exit [backwards], varying distance. Again my impulse was to document it somehow, but it was simply a moment and I was happier to be there for it.

Mark So was at my apartment recently and arrived with a piece, as a gift, that completely floored me. Five transparencies, to be overlayed (possibly) atop one sheet of paper. In the upper left corner of the piece of paper is what could function as a title and Mark’s name (the two together being enough to indicate a score). In the bottom right, the date (8 december 2011) and location (los angeles) it was written. In the center, a river of possibilities.

Using text from Ashbery’s poem, “River,” Mark derived a procedure for scattering letters across the center of each transparency, as well as the single sheet of paper (becoming a riverbed of sorts). The text from the poem is given a clear orientation on each sheet, with space between each letter, each punctuation point. Holding the assemblage together, looking at each sheet individually, holding a certain number of them together, all are possible ways to activate the piece as reading event.

Nonetheless, there is something about the way the text has been arranged that defies simple reading. The text certainly looks like words, but it is not quite readable. This is enhanced by viewing the transparencies/sheet of paper in different groupings. At the same time, the way light reflects off the transparencies, the busy-work of shifting the pages around, activate the piece as textual material. Letters or punctuation on transparencies underneath others seem to sink into the background, though shifting the entire assemblage slightly has the ability to emphasize or minimize this effect.

A river: endless possibilities, an ever-shifting stream of particles in motion. Thinking about a river as object seems to ignore the multiplicity present in it. Thinking about a river as a collection of individual components misses the object quality of it. Like sound, water is always in motion, and is always both a collection of things and a thing itself.

When asked where this current stream of work came from, Mark recounted a driving experience which I cannot exactly remember now. Prone to taking road trips across the country, much of Mark’s work derives from a real sense of being-in-the-world. Postcards from Mark (while traveling) arrive in the mail for me occasionally, looking like they were sent from the seventies or eighties. Unannounced, they are some of my favorite semi-regular gifts. Frequently the postcard is a picture of some somewhere, on the back is sometimes a phrase, sometimes a name, other times a word. Sometimes they suggest titles, sometimes they are more elusive. I have a collection of them, and I love them.

As best I can remember, Mark was driving late at night, and had an experience similar to the one I had on the subway. There was the sense of a moment, indicated by (if I remember correctly) a sign, the fog, his car, a second sign, and a general being-thereness. Similar to me, Mark felt inclined to document it somehow, but how? It was more than simply text, and translating it to a score seemed to miss the actual nature of the moment. Using a component would not do it, nor would making it do something else (and really, what was it?). The only true way to appreciate the moment was simply being-there. Allow the moment to happen, and hope for possibilities.

The possibilities came after many failed attempts to get at that same feeling in his own work. While I find it hard to believe that the attempts Mark described were actual failures, insofar as trying to get at the whatness of that experience, I can imagine how certain realization/documentation strategies would fall flat. At some point, though, something like “River” came about.

Is “River” a score? Certainly not in the traditional sense. What would performing it even be like? Any real sense of “performance,” or activation, seems to happen when one simply spends time with “River.” Shifting through the pages, experimenting, reading, viewing. The whatness of the event, whatever it was, lead to a multiplicity of possibilities. More specifically, being attentive and present yielded other pieces, for lack of a better term. “River,” then, is both a product of this presence attitude and a way to echo, perhaps, the very whatness of the event. It is always both, oscillating back and forth, between document and event, score and text, reading event and text-as-object.

Here it is (or a facsimile thereof):

upcoming shows:

December 8th
storefront + scope, circuits [intervention, investigation]
Machine Project, Los Angeles, CA
8:00pm
Free

Various prompts will invite the audience to listen to a wide range of chaotic circuits (inside) through Machine’s recessed storefront window/plaza (outside) via contact microphones and portable amplifiers. The audience will be encouraged to interact with the already present ambient sounds of the environment, as well as thoroughly investigate the resonance(s) of the window and the possible interference caused by moving throughout the plaza.

More information about “storefront” here.

December 15th-16th
INTERPRETATIONS: Wadada Leo Smith’s 70th Birthday Celebration
Roulette, New York, NY
8:00pm
$15/10

A Two-day celebration for innovative composer and trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith in honor of his 70th Birthday. December 15th features Leo Smith’s Golden Quartet (with Angelica Sanchez, piano, John Lindberg, bass and Pheeroan AkLaff, drums), Mbira (with Min Xiao Fen, pipa, and Pheeroan AkLaff, drums) and his String Quartet plus Thomas Buckner, voice, and Smith on trumpet. December 16th features Leo Smith’s Golden Quintet (adding Susie Ibarra on drums), Silver Orchestra, & Organic.

The 2011 issue of the experimental music yearbook festival began last night (10/14) with a beautiful performance by Hans W. Koch. Here is information about the events:

Concert 1, 10/15, 8pm (Presents Gallery, Brooklyn, NY): Jessie Marino/On Structure

Concert 2, 10/15, 8pm (the wulf., Los Angeles, CA): Hans W. Koch

Concert 3, 10/21, 8pm (BETALEVEL, Los Angeles, CA): John Bischoff, Scott Cazan, GX Jupitter Larsen, and Mark Trayle

Concert 4, 10/22, 8pm (the wulf., Los Angeles, CA): Casey Anderson, John P. Hastings, Albert Ortega, and C. Spencer Yeh

Concert 5, 10/29, 8pm (Echo Park Film Center, Los Angeles, CA): Tashi Wada with Paul Clipson

More information, and documentation, can be found here.

A lot of recent work has been added to the site here (see the “recent work” tab on the sidebar), including my contribution to the recent khalija compilation, a recent live set at BETALEVEL, and my contribution to devin sarno’s absence of wax netlabel.

I also recently accepted a teaching position in the Graduate Media Design program at Art Center College of Design

upcoming events
9/22-23 with Jason Kahn at CalArts, BETALEVEL
10/12 with Vic Rawlings and Tim Feeney at Human Resources
10/21-22, 29 the third annual experimental music yearbook festival