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Interfacing/Radiotopia/Keyworx

Live networked performance

link to project website

 

v2

 

 

Interfacing/Radiotopia/KeyWorx consists of one space that has no images and has only sound, and one space that has no sound and only images. They are connected both physically and via the Internet.

[Radiotopia Space] Walk into a theatre and enter an audio space with no images. Artists from all over the world are asked to send in audio material to fill up a database. Behind every sound is an idea, a world of words and definitions. The one big experience with Radiotopia is the peaceful confrontation of all the world’s sounds, audio artists, concepts, sights and sometimes ideologies.

[KeyWorx Space] Walk out of the theatre, down a narrow hallway and enter a space filled with images. Three artists sitting in the space in Rotterdam are connected with three artists in New York City. Three translocally linked pairs, three simultaneous and connected performances.

Behind every sound is an idea, a world of words and definitions. In the KeyWorx space, one listens to the world of words within the audio–spoken words, ideas, emotions, memories–and translates that world into actual text.

Inspired by a Surrealist game ‘Parallel Stories’, a word sent by performer or public from a mobile phone in response to the audio appears simultaneously in all three performances. Each performance pair responds to this foreign text input sent via ‘sms’ by creating a visual story through remix of video, text and images pulled from realtime Google image searches.  Three parallel translocal exchanges within one physical space (a room in New York, the V2 bookstore) are connected by the same word yet are unique in the visual interpretation of it. The performance is improvised and created collaboratively in real-time.

These compositions are projected onto the screens throughout the V2 space.

Interfacing/Radiotopia/Keyworx was produced for The Dutch Electronic Arts Festival (DEAF)
Concept: Michelle Teran and Isabelle Jenniches with Sher Doruff
Keyworx performers: Isabelle Jenniches, Arjen Keesmaat, Lodewijk Loos, Eric Redlinger, Michelle Teran, Dan Vatsky.

Alternate description:

 

deafgrab_5

kwsnap0051

osama palestine
ericlod2 lod_eric
dan_arjen danarjen1

 

 Alternate performance description:

“According to you, everything is code.”

“Correct”
“In that case, every text?…”
“Yes”
“A literary text?”
“Certainly, Come with me.” He motioned me over to the small black door. There was no other room inside, only the dark surface of a machine, a small keyboard, a nickelplated slot from which a piece of printout tape curled like a reptile tongue. 

“Give me a line from some literary work,” Prandtl said, turning to me. 
“Shakespeare?”
“Whatever you like.”
“You maintain that his plays are nothing but coded messages”
“Depends what you mean by a coded message. But let’s give it a try, shall we?”

I tried to think, but nothing came to me except Othello’s “Excellent wretch!” That seemed a bit brief and inappropriate.
“I’ve got it!” I announced with sudden inspiration. 
“My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague”

“Fine.”

Prandtl had hardly typed this out when the tape began to move fromthe slot, a paper snake. He gently handed the end of it to me, and I waited patiently while the printout emerged. The vibration of the machine suddenly stopped and the rest of the tape came out blank. I read:

“BAS TARD MATT HEWS VAR LET MATT HEWS SCUM WOULD BASH THAT FLAP EAR ASS WITH PLEA SURE GREAT THAT MATT HEWS BAS”

“What’s this?” I asked, perplexed. Prandtl gave a knowing nod. 
“Shakespeare evidently harbored a grudge against someone by the name of Matthews and chose to put this in code when he wrote those lines.”
“What? You mean, he deliberately used that beaatiful scene to disguise a lot of foul language directed at some Matthews?”
“Who says he did it deliberatly? A code is a code regardless of the author’s intention.”
“Let’s see something,” I said, and typed the decoded text into the machine myself. The tape moved again, spiraling onto the floor. Prandtl smiled but said nothing.

“IF ONLY SHE’D GIVE ME TRA LA LA LA TRA LA LA LA IF ONLY TRA LA LA SHE’D GIVE ME LA LA, TRA LA LA AND GIVE ME TRA LA LA HA HA HA TRA LA LA” went the letter of the printout.

“Now what do you make of it?”
“We have moved deeper into the seventeenth-century Englishman’s psyche.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Shakespeare’s great poetry is nothing but Bastard Matthews and tra la la? At that rate, your machine will reduce our monuments of literature, creations of genius, immortal works, all to complete gibberish!”
“Precisely,” answered Prandtl. “Gibberish. The arts, literature, what is their true purpose? Diversion!”
“Diversion from what?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“You should”

I was silent.

“A cracked code remains a code. An expert can peel away layer after layer. It’s inexhaustible. One digs ever deeper into more and more inaccessible strata. That journey has no end.”
“How can this be? What about ‘There will be no answer’–didn’t you say that was the final result?”
“No. It was only a stage. Real enough within the framework of those proceedings, but a stage nonetheless. Give it some thought; you’ll come to the same conclusion.”

_ excerpt from Memoirs found in a Bathtub, Stanislaw Lem