[NetBehaviour] ~~~Serenade~~~ under the moon

Johannes Birringer (Staff) Johannes.Birringer at brunel.ac.uk
Mon Jun 24 14:47:05 CEST 2019

thanks Alan for the text and the music. 

I reread your writing a few times, and in fact enjoyed listening to you during this echoing-memory piece in 
"the cathedral of resonance," as you call it. I remember that serenades were light, light-heartedly serene, in honor
of some thing or some one, in the musical tradition I was raised in, but it's a while ago that I reflected on that, and you sound more somber
and desperate. On the other hand, think of cathedrals without roofs and yet with memories resonating in their
arms and corridors and bones and limbs, i think memory is a medium too, and I recommend a book I stumbled across
which overtly seems to me a media history/media theory, but it's so much more and I'm enjoying the elemental
sense of it (not devastation but plenitude of nature) - "The Marvelous Clouds: Toward a Philosophy of Elemental Media"
(by John Durham Peter., 2015). The depths of fragility of our bodies and our earth of course are serious matters,
you are playing with fire. If memory is time, thus lost or recorded, then you are doing fine, you are recording!
Now "Threnody," a CD of music you sent me some time ago, refers to a wailing, ode or song, hymn or poem of mourning? 
a memorial to a dead person?  music tends to lift me, make me feel alive, does it not to you?

I send you all a photo from current rehearsal, "mourning for a dead moon,"  i hope it will be a uproarious dance piece,
full of wonder, sprouting new leaves, and blue lines or arteries against the dark sky.  

Johannes Birringer
london and houston

From: NetBehaviour <netbehaviour-bounces at lists.netbehaviour.org> on behalf of Alan Sondheim <sondheim at panix.com>
Sent: 18 June 2019 16:59
To: NetBehaviour for networked distributed creativity
Subject: [NetBehaviour] ~~~Serenade~~~



[listening to duduk music, playing c clarinet]

[i worry about increasingly turning inward; the longer we live in
relative isolation here, the more i gnaw myself out. i generate a
cathedral of resonance after the fact of the music, and the music
ceases to be a social occasion, and turns instead immediately into
memory of what would never have occurred here, in this dwelling.
my thought moves between blockchain and holocaust; i was born when
'the' holocaust was in full fury, and now i try to drag the
digital down with me into the depths of the fragility of the body,
without crispr and with minimal prosthetics. this is sound hardly
to be listened to; this is the memory of sound. our minds live in
devastation; i listen to yours.]

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