An evolving ecology— a conceptual approach to “space as timbre”
An evolving ecology— a conceptual approach to “space as timbre”
Individual Report
Anqi Liu (University of California San Diego)
My primary motivation was to observe how a machine would interpret and transcribe these inherently organic and variable sonic phenomena into a structured orchestral format. Snow sounds, with their ever-changing dynamics and unpredictability, presented a fitting challenge. Would the software be able to capture the delicate crunches, the muffled silence, the soft patter of snowflakes, or the harsh winds that accompany a snowstorm?
To further complicate this, the concept of 'space' played an integral role in this experiment. Space, in terms of both physical space where the sounds originate and the metaphorical space within the composition, dictates the formal structure and progression of a musical piece. The question then arises - how would the software understand and interpret this 'space'? Would it be able to recognize the vast emptiness of a snowy field or the intimate closeness of snowflakes landing on a windowpane?
These questions took me on a fascinating journey, pushing both the limits of computer-aided software and my own understanding of sound, orchestration, and space. The results were intriguing, highlighting both the potentials and limitations of technology when faced with the complexities of sonic phenomena. The software captured the dynamic feature of the target sounds by suggesting busy rhythmic patterns interspersed with varied pitch combinations. Yet, one can't help but ponder: How does this algorithmic solution differ from stochastic choices? Moreover, the software's output demanded further optimization. It's vital to consider both the inherent capabilities of instruments and the physical limitations of human performers. On multiple occasions, the software proposed notes that were either beyond the playable range of specific instruments or exceeded the feasible playing capabilities of a musician. Furthermore, refining the software's initial solution for notation proved labor-intensive. For reference, I've included both the original solution provided by the software and the post-processed score notation.
Fig. 1 Suggested orchestration by Orchidea
Fig. 2 Anqi Liu’s notation based on Orchidea suggestion.
This endeavor fostered profound reflection. What nuances were lost or overlooked in the computer- aided orchestration process? Addressing this query is pivotal, given my years of exploration into the role of meticulously crafted scores that guide musicians understanding of our surrounding 'spaces' and 'ecologies'. I view past experiences, memories, training, and learnings as part of a psychological ecosystem influencing our cognitive patterns, decision-making, and behaviors. Yet, it was clear that the software did not integrate the human element into its orchestration suggestions. While the software's pitch and rhythm combinations were captivating, how could orchestration exist in isolation from the human nuances of playing an instrument, often acquired after years of rigorous training?
During the three enlightening workshops led by the fantastic musicians at McGill, it became clear that the software had certain limitations when it came to suggesting orchestration. But, it's essential to put this in context: I intentionally chose the snow sounds, knowing well that these nuanced, ephemeral sounds aren't necessarily what computer-aided software typically excels in. My motivation, as previously mentioned, was to explore the boundaries of this computer-aided composition approach, and in doing so, understand its nuances and subtleties better. Many of my fellow composers achieved impressive results using the software, and their outcomes resonated well with the tool's capabilities. While my results took on a different hue, I too found satisfaction in this exploration. My journey was not just about achieving the perfect sonic representation but also about understanding the interplay between nature, technology, and human interpretation. The experience gave me invaluable insights into the balance between the structured precision of technology and the ever-changing dynamics of sonic phenomena. Embracing this tension, understanding it, and allowing it to inform my work has been an immensely rewarding aspect of this journey.
After these valuable experiences, my reflections took me down a different path. Instead of solely relying on the computer-aided software, I felt an urge to explore alternative solutions. This divergence wasn't just about moving away from technological means, but it also called into question the very linguistic model that has anchored musical endeavors for centuries: notation. Just as technology provides a framework to process and produce, so does musical notation offer a language for our sonic expressions. Both, at their heart, are linguistic models, shaping and codifying our interactions with sound.
Linguistic models, by their very nature, simplify and codify complex phenomena into understandable, repeatable formats. At their core, they seek to translate the inexpressible breadth of human experience into a structured framework. And while this provides us with a universally comprehensible language, it often truncates the richness of individual experiences. In music, traditional notation serves as a linguistic model, streamlining vast sonic landscapes into a series of symbols on a stave. But every symbol, every note penned, carries with it centuries of cultural, historical, and personal baggage, and may not truly encapsulate the essence of the sound or intangibility the musician wishes to convey. As the experimentation with the software revealed, while it could mimic patterns and suggest notations, it lacked the subtle understanding of human connection, gesture, and emotion. It's an experience that can't be boiled down to mere ones and zeroes.
In light of these revelations, I embarked on a quest to sculpt microscopic spaces within the gap of musical notation. A traditional score, while rich in its own right, is bound by its linear, time-bound representation of sound. My sculpture sought to break away from these confines, offering a more holistic, spatial, and interactive experience. By doing so, I hoped to create a system where the notation itself becomes an evolving entity, much like the ecologies we had discussed. The new notation would factor in the performer's experiences, memories, and training, enabling a evanescent rendition each time, thus bridging the gap between the rigidness of linguistic models and the fluidity of human experiences.
To further address the philosophy behind these sonic experiments, I want to share a human experience back to the Song Dynasty's (960-1279) Ru Porcelain. Artisans once tried, failed, and ultimately succeeded in capturing the ethereal blue of the sky on their creations. Yet, the true magic wasn't just in capturing that blue, but embracing the unpredictable alchemy of iron in the firing process. A challenge intensified by the capricious nature of the iron, making each porcelain's final hue an unpredictable marvel. Even with the most diligent adherence to the ancient craftsman’s techniques, the outcome remained an enigma until revealed, echoing the essence of real-time experimentation.
For instance, in the following description in the performance notes, I introduce the situation “threshold” described as in-between and ongoing. In this situation, uncertainties and unpredictabilities are unenviable. The thresholds are revealed in multiple parameters while playing the instruments. Part of the concepts of the piece is to find, explore and define those thresholds. The thresholds are conditions of uncertainties and are conditions of the edge of new or different things starting emerging; therefore it’s always in the in-between and either-or situations.
Taking string instruments as examples, the representation of thresholds on the bow showcases the deliberate effort to merge the tactile experiences of a performer with the theoretical concepts of sound generation. When the bow interacts with the string, its positioning and pressure serve as parameters, defining the produced sound's tonal color, frequency, and amplitude. These parameters, however sophisticated, are bound by physicality. Yet, it's this very physicality that aids in conveying the intangible.
Fig 3, Anqi Liu, While Snow Buries…, pp. 2-3
This approach to orchestration and notation isn't about replacing traditional systems but enriching them. It's a manifestation of the idea that, while computational models can rapidly process vast amounts of information, they often skim over the deeper, intricate layers of human connection. For example, with Ru Porcelain, while the capricious nature of the iron needed to be tamed to a certain extent to achieve the desired hue of blue, it still retained its inherent unpredictability.
In contrast, my scoring system embraces the unpredictable, allowing it to flow freely, shaped by a multitude of human phenomena. The essence of the score changes when each performer brings their personal touch, be it through subtle differences in interpretation, fleeting moments of subconscious interference, or even a rekindling of past memories evoked during the performance. These moments, rich with individual experience and unspoken narratives, can influence the micro gestures utilized to approach these thresholds. Instead of being precise and defined, the application of technique becomes a reflection of these underlying psychological ecologies. Where one might have been sure of a particular bowing situation, a sudden rush of surrounding sounds might cause the hand to waver, deviating from the exact point of contact on the string, or altering the pressure applied. These nuances, subtle yet profoundly impactful, can mean the difference between hitting the threshold, fleetingly passing it, or perhaps not reaching it at all.
Unlike the exacting requirements of firing Ru Porcelain, where specific conditions had to be met for success, in this framework, these unpredictabilities aren't regarded as inconsistencies or errors; rather, they are celebrated as integral components of the sonic palette. The process of achieving or missing the threshold becomes fluid, imbued with the weight of human experience and memory. Instead of a singular, virtuosic rendition, what emerges is a flux of sounds. It's less about a binary distinction between structure and spontaneity, and more about fostering a dynamic symbiosis where the two coexist, allowing the musical narrative to be constantly reshaped by individual experience and memory.
It is this confluence of the tangible and intangible that sets this approach apart. Technique, no longer rigid and fixed, becomes a living, breathing entity, evolving with each performance. The sonic results, therefore, are not just a product of practiced gestures but also a testament to the inner life of the performer.
This approach to orchestration and notation isn't about replacing traditional systems but augmenting them. With these new systems and my continued exploration, I aim to foster a space where technology aids human experiences without stifling it. Where linguistic models serve as foundational structures, yet are malleable enough to accommodate the unpredictability of human experiences. This journey has become an embodiment of my philosophical musings on space, ecology, human connection, and the delicate balance between structure and uncertainties. It's a call to recognize that while technology can process vast data rapidly, it often skims the intricacies of human connection. I urge musicians, technologists, and art enthusiasts to see this as an opportunity – to embrace both the structure of linguistic models and the unpredictability of human experience.
References
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Cella, Carmine Emanuele. (2022). “Orchidea: A Comprehensive Framework for Target-Based Computer- Assisted Dynamic Orchestration.” Journal of New Music Research 51, no. 1: 40–68. https://doi.org/10.1080/09298215.2022.2150650.
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