drawing The Art of Dying | the Gojira project

the art of dying: paper sculpture of the song structure

One of the primary ideas behind the Art of Dying project is that the booklet can be folded together into a paper sculpture through a system of short cuts in the paper folds. 

So you have the Moleskine-size notebook with 50 accordion-fold pages, which then loop over each other to show the structure of the song. Each loop corresponds to a sequence in the song, and the placement of the loop is determined by its relationship to other loops. 

 

This idea has proved to be quite complex to work out, and my first few prototypes didn't function properly - the pages kept tearing because the cut placement wasn't properly thought-out. But I've finally managed to get the cuts placed in the right spots, so that they work and are the least intrusive possible. 

And so I've finally put together a prototype that works. 

the wall of sound

I was recently talking about the Art of Dying project with some friends who don't listen to metal. When I played the song for them, they were almost taken aback by the wall of sound. The sound was so dense for them that they could hardly understand how I could "see" any shapes in the music. 

I started thinking a bit more about how the wall of sound can make extreme metal difficult to listen to and understand. Lack of obvious melodic lines, extremely dense rhythms, fast tempos, saturated vocals, loudness, minor/diminished /almost dissonant harmonies, distortion and reverberation all contribute to this effect. 

Now with my synesthesia, I often see this wall of sound as a sort of genetic imprint of a song - a sort of first level of perception. 

I see the contours of the song, shapes which are determined by the melodies and the dynamics. Colors tend to come from tones, harmonies and the general timbre (though the name of a song, prominent lyrics or even the CD track number can lend a tiny colored effect too). The rhythms and reverberation generally determine how much white, black and grey are present. 

This genetic imprint pretty much stays the same for any song I listen to. It is most often stronger than my auditory memory of the song. If I want to recall music from a certain album, I always picture its genetic imprint first - sometimes the music comes to mind right away, but sometimes all I can rememer is the shape and color of a song.

So, the wall of sound for the introduction (after the drum intro) to The Art of Dying looks roughly something like this :

 

For me, 2 things in particular distinguish Gojira's sound:
• highly resonant, warm, organic and bass-heavy sound - which I see as bands of grey, in varying thicknesses and shades.
• unusual rhythmic textures and polyrythmns - which I see as looping through and turning around each other. 

Their music is just so thick and highly textured, there is so much to take in. What I really enjoy is focusing on different dimensions of the music and letting the genetic imprint take on all sorts of complexities and details. this is what makes music really interesting for me... and what is fueling the whole project!

Meeting Gojira

Gojira is touring this summer and I thought it would be the perfect time to try to meet them. I’ve been working on the Art of Dying project for over a year now, and I really wanted to try to show them my work – even though it’s not finished yet - and see what they thought.

So last Friday morning (July 16), I got on the 6:30 AM train from Nice, and traveled 9 hours to Blois, a small town about 2 hours from Paris. The show was scheduled in a small club, the Chato’do. 

I was a bit nervous. I talked to the girl running the merch stand, to see if possibly there was some way of meeting them. I wasn’t too sure if anything would happen – especially since I knocked a full cup of water all over the merch table! But she texted me later on, told me to come back and wait after the show.

Gojira à Blois, Flying Whales 

I had a great time at the show. They played well, and the ambiance was really great. It was a full house, with kids crowdsurfing and stagediving all over the place. There were feet in the air everywhere, it was a bit funny even.

Gojira à Blois, fin de concert

After the show, I waited around for about 2 hours, talking to a couple of really wasted and aboslutely hilarious guys. 

Around 1:30 AM, most of the club had cleared out, and the guys from the band came out. 

I was able to meet the Mario Duplantier (drums) first. I started talking about the project and pulled out the little moleskine notebook I’ve been working in. I think at first he didn’t expect much of anything other than random fan art. 

And then I unfolded the whole moleskine notebook (the accordion is several feet long!) and talked about the idea behind it… and he said, oh we’ve got to get Joe over here to see this. Joe Duplantier is his brother and the singer/guitar player. From what I understand, they do the primary song-writing in the band.

The whole experience was quite surreal. They were very friendly and seemed very genuine, and it was quite different from meeting an American group: it didn’t seem as superficial, and was much less intimidating because of that.

 

It seemed like they were taken aback by the complexity and depth of the work – and mentioned several times that it was the first time anyone had shown them anything like that.

One of the things Joe said was that the project captured the basis of their creative thought-process – strings of sequences looping around each other. Mario talked about about how their songs are percussion-based, because the guitar, bass and voice also function as essentially percussive elements.

We talked a little about visualizing music, and Joe mentioned how they often talk together about the color of their songs and that they coordinate the lighting with those colors! And of course I was spacey and forgot to ask what their colors for the songs were. I regret not asking what color the “Art of Dying” is for them.

I would have loved to be able to talk with them more about their creative process and the way that they see things, composition-wise and creatively. 

But just meeting and talking with the Duplantier brothers and showing them my artwork was an experience I'll never forget.

 

With Joe Duplantier:

 

 

the art of dying : typeface research pt 2

For the Art of Dying project, I have been continuing to develop the type shapes for the chorus sequence. 

As with the verse sequences, I first worked with a generic type shapes : a medium-weight, condensed sans serif with no definitive style or character.

initial type work on the chorus sequence:

 

As I have mentioned previously, I realized that this project required much more specific type design to distinguish the 2 distinctive rhythmic styles used in Joseph Duplantier's vocal work in The Art of Dying.

The second of these styles is used in the chorus sequence, which you can listen to here:

The vocal work in the chorus of The Art of Dying is characterized by long notes held out over rapid drum rhythms are grounded in front of an extremely dense wall of sound. The high contrast between this slow, long melody and the extremely dense and fast musical background creates an effect of stasis. Time seems to stop and the melody just hangs in the air.

To illustrate this, I chose a bodoni-based alphabet to emphasis the thick-thin contrast. I rounded out letters like the "w" and chose to use certain lower-case letters like the "n" and the "a" to underline the drawn-out, smoothed melody. The sharp, this serifs represent the high, sharp drum beats.

The result is much denser, visually, and brings out the "propeller" effect of stasis: the music is moving so quickly that it completely slows down and you only hear the melody.

Once I begin working on coloring, the type will be in white, with the tunnel structure in shades of dark grey/black.

 

The Art of Dying : full project portfolio

the art of dying : typeface research (part 1)

When I first began working on sequence and design layout of the Art of Dying project, I first worked with a generic type shapes : a medium-weight, condensed sans serif with no definitive style or character. 

 

initial type work:

However, as I continued developing the linework, I began to realize that the project required much more specific type design.

Joe Duplantier's vocals are harsh, as a general rule. But as I listened more closely to the song, I realized there are 2 distinctive rhythmic styles used in the vocal work, which require 2 different typefaces to illustrate them.  

The first of these styles is used in the verses (you can listen to the first verse in the video below). It's characterized by strongly accented beats. The drum rhythms are grounded in front of a wall of sound that is suddenly less dense - there is quite a bit of white space compared to the introduction to the song. 

To illustrate this, I chose to create a condensed and thick square-edged alphabet with a system of lengthened ascenders and descenders to bring out the accented rhythms and mechanical, technical delivery (which is moreover reflected in the lyrics).

Here's the audio of the first verse:

Nuit surprenante: Radulescu

Last weekend we attended Nuit Surprenante, a concert in the Monaco Printemps des Arts series. It really was a very surprising evening: the concert featured a variety of contemporary works and ensembles, including the Ensemble Accroche Note playing Horatiu Radulescu's Inner Time II.

We were completely unprepared for the Horatiu Radulescu piece - some of the most painful "music" I have ever listened to. The piece, which lasts nearly 1 hour, features 7 clarinets playing seemingly random, atonal sequences of notes... at earsplitting pitches. Just for fun, here is an extract of the piece:

I was able to make it about half-way through... and then I just couldn't take it anymore! I had to leave -  with a splitting headache!

The piece did prove to be extremely interesting in a completely contradictory way. Inner Time II was painful to listen to, but extremely beautiful as a synesthetic experience: strings of shapes and colors woven together. Sharp vertical rectangles that shimmered, literally, in a gorgeous palette of yellows, yellow-oranges, and eggshell whites, on bright white background. I wasn't surprised by the prevalence of white - it's my color for pain. Totally natural given the loud, shrill nature of the work.

I drew this rather summary figure to illustrate what the piece looked like to me (click on the image to better see the details).

This synesthetic experience intrigued me nonetheless, and upon returning home, I began researching Radulescu. And I have to say... I'm fascinated by this composer and his work!

Radulescu is often described as a spectral composer, because he often focused on the spectral technique of composition, that is, where compositional decisions are often informed by the analysis of sound spectra. This can also be described as a type of aesthetic, where music is ultimately considered as sound evolving in time. Spectral music can include any music that foregrounds timbre as an important element of structure or musical language (thanks wikipedia).

Inner Time II is meant as homage to Alexander Calder. As explained in these liner notes:

The basic material is a single registral filter, a basic shape (mobile of distinctly Calder-like appearance laid over the spectral scordatura, which in its macro form provides the overall descent-ascent, and on a smaller scale furnishes 137 mobiles - derived from the basic one by the quasi-serial processes of inversion, retrograde and retrograde inversion, as well as contraction and expansion in space (pitch) and time.

I find this analogy to Calder's mobiles to be very accurate, and immediately brings to mind the dancing multiples of rectangles I perceived. Dancing rhythmically because the notes being played either just before, just after or on the pulsations. And also "melodically," as the same liner notes explain;

The pitch structure is based on a scale of 42 pitches (spectral scordatura) which are the partials 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 and then every odd-numbered partial up to the 83rd of a low A; the emphasis on odd-number partials neatly matches the natural timbre of the clarinet, reinforcing as the composer puts it, "the sober and poetic unity of the score". The 6th partial is the bottom E on the clarinet; the 83rd lies just below the high D which marks the top of the conventional E flat clarinet range (though here, astonishingly, all the high partials are achieved on the normal B flat instrument!). Each clarinettist has a repertoire of just six steps of the scale (six frequency orbits), spread throughout the total range. However, since an enormous degree of accuracy of intonation is called for, especially in the highest register, where distinctions are notated to the nearest 64th of a tone, and then further inflected in cents (highly accurate tuning devices are used to find a basic fingering given for each note, and used again in rehearsal for verification), even the production of these six notes is a Herculean labour.

This rough overview of some of the facets of Radulescu's work really has me intrigued, and I'm looking forward to learning more, especially about his forays into graphic notation.

The art of dying : project progress update

For a number of months, I've been working on a project based around the Gojira song The Art of Dying.

I'll talk more about the ideas behind the project a bit later on, but here are several photos showing the initial sketches. I'm working in a Moleskine Japanese album, which folds out to 60 pages. I'll be drawing on both sides of the notebook, and using Tria markers in nuances of grey, filling in the curves with linear textures.

   

Here is one of the initial studies using Tria markers. I did several studies using different mediums (watercolor colored pencils, india ink, heavy black pencil, etc) but the Tria markers gave the sharpest, most graphic result.

I'll be posting a bit more about this project as I get time.

Decoding Gojira

Gojira through synesthesia

Listening to extreme metal is a fascinating process. In my experience, I've found that songs often sound like noise until your ear adjusts and you become familiar with the patters, which allows you to decode and organize the sounds you're listening to.

I began listening to the French metal band Gojira several years ago, when their album From Mars to Sirius came out. At that time, I wasn't interested in listening to groups whose drummers played too rapidly or whose singers growled instead of singing melodically. But I really, really liked Gojira's the ultra-heavy riffs and the groove moment I first listened to them. And so my ear gradually adjusted, and I learned to really appreciate their style and the technical virtuosity. 

Having synesthesia made learning to decode Gojira a really interesting and intense experience, as I could literally "see" the music taking form, becoming less dense, less "noisy" with repeated listenings. 

Synesthetically-speaking, I see graphemes, sound, touch and odors as colors and shapes. But sound is the most intense experience for me: sounds (both musical and non-musical) all have very specific colors and colorings, textures, and shapes. Songs become defined by their "map" - to the point when I recognize music first by its shape, then by its melody. I suppose this is a bit odd, but I've come to fully enjoy it.

The process

In the beginning, Gojira's sound looked something like this to me. This particular image doesn't represent a specific song or passage, rather, it's just an idea of what the Gojira sound looked like initially: relatively undefined, poorly contrasted splotches of black and shades of gray. 

With time, the shapes became more and more defined. 

 

And after a while, they refined to a point of being entirely articulated and precise - even during extremely aggressive or rapid passages.

 

This process of learning to decode Gojira has been very rewarding, The shapes and nuances of color of their music are just so striking, so riveting that they've inpired much of my artwork over the past year. I'll be posting more about these projects as I get time in the following weeks. 

A bit of music

Here are a few songs by Gojira that represent several different facets of their sound.

(After a long intro, the song begins at 2:30.)

Akiko Suwanai - a cross-section of sound

Last Sunday, November 1st, we went to see Akiko Suwanai perform the Brahms violin concerto with the Monte-Carlo Philharmonic. I really enjoyed her interpretation of the concerto and her style of playing. She plays with a very rich, warm, controlled tone, without being overly flashy, which I felt fit the piece perfectly. 

Here is a cross-section of what her sound looks like to me, synesthetically. The deeper tones in her sound were a nice, warm red - even leaning towards a brownish-red at times - but with an airy texture. When playing in a higher register, it was interesting to see that she kept that same light, airy tone. I also felt the shape of her sound was interesting, because it wasn't perfectly round. 

 

Why metal?

Deciding to work with metal came quite naturally to me. 

However, I realize this musical choice may seem trivial or superficial when compared with the possibilties offered by classical music. Metal may also seem too mainstream or pop culture-based when compared with experimental music, some kinds of electronic music, noise, and other types of contemporary music that are recognized within the contemporary art world. 

It is true that the metal subculture tends to focus too much on rather ridiculous religious dichotomies and symbolism, and is often associated with highly unimaginative imagery. But I feel the possibilities offered by this subgenre are worth much more than their seemingly low face value.

Let me explain why I've chosen to focus on metal.

I orginally became fascinated with the violin at a quite young age, because I liked the sound and the way that sound looked. The sound of the violin is typically yellow for me, and I prefer violin tone of a pure, golden shade, deeper in the center, slightly transparent around the edges without blurriness.

Because I received an extremely rigid and technique-oriented classical training in violin, standard music notation and playing technique have become deeply ingrained in the listening process. When I listen to classical music, my brain goes into uber-analytical mode: recognizing patterns and immediately associating them with their standard notation or with the playing techniques required to create them. I find it difficult to completely dissociate what I'm hearing from the way the music is technically created and represented. As a result, I haven't been interested in working on visually representing classical music. 

I'm much more interested in working with music that is edgier, darker and more aggressive. I prefer the way metal "looks" when I listen to it. And I'm especially interested in the process the brain goes through when learning to listen to this highly distorted, thrashy, aggressive music. Much non-mainstream metal isn't immediately accessible to casual listeners, and a new album can, even for seasoned listeners, cause metal fatigue and require multiple listenings to even begin decoding it. 

I feel like you need to learn to process the intense, aggressive sound and rythmns - which can be perceived as noise - into understandable, recognizable patterns. Once you begin to recognize the patterns, you can move away from focusing on each element that constitutes those patterns, and begin focusing on the shapes those patterns build. 

In my art, I'm interested in exploring ways of making this extreme music more accessible through abstract yet visually understandable structures. 

I recently discovered the graphic notation movement that developed in the 50s and 60s with avant garde and experimental composers such as John Cage. I'll be sharing more as I continue to research this fascinating subject.