Category: global sonic cultures

One thing I’m thankful of globalization is the fact I’m currently living a life that wouldn’t be possible a century ago: studying art in a foreign country with people from every corner of Europe and other continents. Although, globalization could have shadowed some countries unwittingly. Diverse cultural scenarios are disappearing to adapt to its pace, becoming anglocentric and focused in English-speaking countries. That’s why I try to explore the places where I’m from and explore their artists.

In this Global Sonic Culture‘s entry, I brought Inês França, currently studying in Escola Superior de Artes e Design, Caldas da Rainha, Portugal. She has a particular interest in sound practices and their use in different multimedia projects that blend art formats into one cohesive and impressive experience. The contact with her pieces takes the subject to stimulate his senses due to the amount of detail in textures, imagery, sounds, figures. Inês uses art as a way to find herself and her boundaries, transporting her thoughts into surreal and occult worlds. At first, you question yourself: “What did I just saw?” But then you realize that her symbolic language might relate to your own, and finally, you can see yourself in those ideas. 

I decided to grab our Instagram conversations and turn them into an organized interview. I later had the opportunity to call Inês and discuss her last pieces and short films. The following dialogue is a fusion between both written and spoken conversations I had with her:

The Gravitational Field of Time and Space synopsis: Based on questions of identity, The Gravitational Field of Time and Space consists of a self-portrait that addresses the creation and the constant mutation of the individual being. The city is the inner and psychic world and how this space is formed and changes over time. A personal reflection on the triad – time, space, and individual.

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• I’ve just finished watching your short film The Gravitational Filed of Time and Space. I’ve to say that I enjoyed the sequence in 2:20. It was cool. It might be my favorite part. Is this piece symbolic? Or is it supposed to be hermetic? If there’s any symbolism, does this have anything to do with feeling enclosed when trying to express yourself, being the shots where you are blindfolded and suffocating the justification for this? Everything is very turbid, and it isn’t straightforward to decipher your true self.

INÊS FRANÇA: In that particular moment, or in general?

• In general

I.F.: I think it’s essential for you to have a little bit of context first and not explain everything, so you come up with your conclusions, even if they don’t correspond to my intentions. 

• I think the synopsis is very self-explanatory of what we’re watching. But, I guess the interpretation of the images is another history. 

I.F.: Yes. I could explain it part by part. Although my main idea is to make something very open to people’s interpretations

• Does my interpretation make any sense?

I.F.: Yes, a bit.

• Wow

I.F.: (laughs) What happened?

• Everything seems codified, and it isn’t effortless to decipher every single thing. That’s why I thought it to be a bit hermetic, and the idea was for the spectator to be obliged to eat what he’s looking at. Is there any leitmotif for every chosen visual and sound element?

I.F.: As you may have seen before in some of my works, they’re all autobiographic, so every object, background, scenario, or sound represents me. In this project, I tried to do the opposite – I wanted to represent myself to describe what surrounds me. That is why there are many reflective materials throughout the piece. In the sequence where I use a projector against myself, my thinking process was “to be a reflective slide.” 

“Is it always necessary for an artist to demystify everything he does?”

• I had a particular interest in that sequence where you’re suffocating yourself with a plastic bag around your head. Does that mean that you feel the reflection that you’re doing of the outside world is not allowing you to be and express yourself?

I.F.: As I told you before, one can interpret these messages freely. That is the primary intent. Is it always necessary for an artist to demystify everything he does? They do have a meaning behind them, but is it essential to explain their core? Every image and sound have different impacts determined by the person’s state of mind at that particular moment. Maybe you felt those images more intensively than others did, and perhaps that’s why you’re asking me that. 

• I might have thought that because of the type of imagery you provide – a frame that compiles the same shot in various screen positions – possibly making me think of it as something rather more chaotic and oppressive.

I.F.: I like to mess around with visual formats a lot – using various “windows” of the same image can bring more meaning to that source than it already does. Although I didn’t have the same reading as you did on the “suffocating” sequence.

• How did you come up with these aesthetic ideas?

I.F.: Sometimes, it’s my intuition working on the background. I would say that most of my projects center on editing. I have all my ideas written down, linked with reasoning for organizing them in the future. But it is on my editor where things change, and sometimes I come up with something that I wouldn’t think of beforehand.

• Do you see your art as a personal enhancement ritual, whereas you only overcome what you’re thinking/feeling after the release of the piece? Or do you work on non-ephemeral personal themes?

I.F.: I feel that this particular one is still an open window for me. However, I apply to all my projects something that I call art therapy, which is, for me, a way of not recurring to the most accessible form of expression – the spoken word or voice itself. Involving my personal life in a project makes it easier for me to point the fundamental reasons for a specific problem that I’m facing. 

• I find it challenging to find a personal project that fails on its delivery. The more personal the project is, the easier it is to develop and understand. Do you find it challenging to overcome the personal barrier and reach an art project that comprises a group of people?

I.F.: For now, it’s difficult for me to tackle a theme that I don’t relate to. For instance, I’m not in the position to do a documentary on the people of Nazaré (a characteristic small town on the eastern Portuguese coast) at this very moment. In the reception of a project, I think not in a marketing way where I wonder whether the spectator will like it or not, but in a sensitive way. My pieces are made to make you think about yourself and not specifically about me. 

“My pieces are made to make you think about yourself.”

• I’ll take advantage of this discussion to talk about another piece – Out Space out of Time – and compare it with The Gravitational Field of Time and Space. They are antagonists, whereas one is related to a personal experience and the other is related to the interaction with the other. Even so, does this last project represent something personal?

Out of Space, Out of Time synopsis: Following a stranger on the street can be very challenging. I am always trying to follow this person as long as possible, from the moment we see him/her for the first time to the point when he/she enters a personal or private space, where I am no longer welcome, or when he/she notices me. Using situationism, I exercise my drift practices, walking without a goal or an end, because that is in the person that I am following. This person doesn’t know about my existence, but I give myself entirely to him/her, giving up control and just adding myself this another person. It’s he/she who, unconsciously, is choosing the visual landscape and the sound landscape that I am involved in, it’s he/she who chooses the rhythm that I walk, and it’s she/he who chooses where I will stop. “My time and space are taken up out of myself, into a larger system.” (- Vito Acconci)

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I.F.: At first glance, it is not a personal project at all. But if taken with perspective, the act of me choosing a random person and allow him/her to control my destiny, I think it already tells a lot about me. Although someone is controlling me, the only thing you can see is my perspective over that experience.

• Do you mind explaining Vito Acconci’s idea?

I.F: He was a performer, and I found out a project of his called Following Pieces, where he would do the same as I did – following people as long as you could till the point they notice you’re stalking them or entering on a private location. As soon as I came across this, I became fascinated by it and decided to do a version. I’ve done it a couple of times, and the last one I did was with the lady you see in the short because she reacted that most people don’t have and understand. Nevertheless, because I decided to shadow a little bit the video footage by only adding a couple of frames, that reaction could have become a little bit dissimulated as well. 

• You touched on one of the aspects that I found most interesting in this project: your decision to shadow the video footage. What’s the explanation behind your preference for sound over the image in this piece?

I.F.: My first idea was only to record the environment’s sound provoked by the person I was following. On the day of the shooting, I decided to bring my camera, but I only selected a few frames to accompany the piece. It gives continuity to the scenario, forcing the spectator to imagine its spatiality and movement. Nevertheless, those frames have another feature, which is velocity. Sometimes, they appear quicker, and in other parts, a single frame rests for a while before the next one. The idea behind that was to emphasize the action in certain sections, so the spectator has more contextuality. 

• What does it have that worth listening to?

I.F.: I feel that the remarkable thing about it is the lady’s interactions with the others.

• Acconci was an avid fan of gestalt psychology, as you may know. How would you describe the “psychological fields” that you’ve created in those recordings? Can this be used to describe the Portuguese people?

I.F.: I think the things that determine most are, first, the age group: the person’s age defined rhythm, the older the person was, the slower I would go, especially with older people, and second, the interactions that these have depending on the age. I have to admit that I have never thought about this, but certainly, there’s something. The size of a city/town can also change the environment – the bigger it is, the fewer interactions with the others, and vice versa. 

• I noticed from all your work that it is your necessity for using different materials and their manipulation, turning the spectator’s vision very organic. You keep disappropriating materials of their original meaning to express emotions and exciting imagery. In Out of Space, Out of Time, what is the relation between the textile objects and your final approach? 

I.F.: The textile is a visual map of the course that the lady took, and consequently, mine as well. The little silver balls represent the animals and people that passed by us. Those balls are, in fact, covered in tinfoil or, more broadly, something reflective to explain the idea that the people that cross on your life always reflect something about you. 

• You are talking about the map. Acconci also did one with Brooklyn. Do you feel that your piece directly responds to Vito’s Following Pieces, or do you think this is a reinterpretation? Your map seems way different compared to his. 

“Humans are way more challenging to control than objects.”

I.F.: My intention was never to change Acconci’s map idea in terms of meaning. I did my version to make it mine and related to the aesthetic roots that I believe in. I was so intrigued by this idea of mapping a route that I first had planned for this to be the centre of the project. 

• Enough of Out of Space, Out of Time. Let’s talk about something more generic of your work. One of the most identifying features of your art is the use of various objects and materials. Most of your pieces have a very familiar and organic feel that is comforting and pleasant to see. What is your relation with materials, and how important are they to complete a piece of yours?

I.F.: Firstly, I have to state that I make connections with objects quickly. They can tell a lot about a person. For instance, I can see from here that you have a shelf fool of books that already gives me enough information about you. Another aspect that I found out about recording objects is that they can express things that humans can’t – humans are way more challenging to control than objects. The type of material, the density, and the colour are some of the various things you can choose and manipulate while working with objects. 

• You also have an obsession with shiny objects. You like when they mess with the lens, being that a leitmotif for you to mess around with its sound as well. What does this tell about you?

I.F.: It’s purely aesthetics. But, in fact, things that shine don’t do so forever, which could mean the impermanence of the living things. To catch on camera blinking or flashing things is way more interesting than if there weren’t any. Above all things, working with textures, sound, or visuals is currently my main goal on my projects.

•  Is this just a phase, or is this something definite?

I.F.: I don’t believe it will be like that, but this thinking process might stay with me for a long time. 

• Can we see in the future an Inês more concerned about the others instead of herself? What’s the future of your art projects?

I.F.: This is the most interview-type of-question that you’ve made so far. Now I felt the pressure of the reporter to sound as professional as possible. I’m currently pre-producing what could be one of my most important projects so far, alongside Joana Schurr (my current flatmate and best friend; her work is a mirror of mine), about childhood traumas. The idea is this to be an epilogue for the projects and themes that we’ve worked on so far.

• Name an album.

I.F.: Constance Demby – Sanctum Sanctuorum (2001)

• Name a film.

I.F.: No Sex Last Night by Greg Shephard and Sophia Calle (1996)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSCNmxXN5VE

• Name an artist

I.F.: Dennis Oppenheim.

Inês França’s instagram acc.: @in.fra.es

A response to Norrient’s article “Redefining Englishness” written by Louise Gray on Bishi Bhattacharya work

Castilla y León and Madrid

Castilla y León is a distinct, autonomous region, but historically, they consist of two different Spain zones. They both represented two Kingdoms – the Kingdom of León and the Kingdom of Castilla – from the Peninsula. They were responsible for creating the concept of Spain, founded in 1492 after the end of the Reconquista. León is also significantly related to its northern neighbor Asturias, forming the Astur-Leonese language group altogether. In Castilla was born one of the most spoken languages globally – Spanish or, more precisely, Castillian.

Paloteo – its literal meaning is sticking, but it is perceived as stick dance. It can be found in many places in Iberia. It consists of a rhythmic and playful dance between men striking the sticks at the same time they move. In northern Portugal, there’s the tradition of Pauliteiros de Miranda, which is the same thing but with different, yet similar, clothing.

Tuna – This is an academic musical genre that can be found all over Spain and Portugal – e.g., Student Fado – but in Salamanca, there’s a strong tradition. In both countries, university students wear traditional medieval clothing every day of the working week – in Portugal consists of a full-black outfit with a long cape the covers the whole body. At the same time, in Spain, there are other clothing elements, more colorful. The tradition is considered a little bit controversial because some students take this as a leitmotif to express conservative nationalist ideologies. 

Extremadura

This region is very peculiar in terms of sound and musical repertoire. It is considered the most impoverished region in Spain, and the one with the most migrational history in past centuries, with people fleeing to Latin America. It is believed that much of its sonic and musical heritage is far gone in the past. Still, it was with tremendous luck that the American musician Alan Lomax cross this area in the ’50s and happen to gain significant interest in the extremeños. There are very few ethnomusicological recordings of Extremadura’s music culture, being Lomax’s one of the authors – The Spanish Recordings: Extremadura – Alan Lomax Collection. Extremaduran music is very Portuguese influenced and can be connected to its ambiguous borders with the country: in the province of Badajoz, there is a municipality called Olivenza (Olivença) which the Portuguese language is the one who rules those areas as well as in Talega; if we go south, we can find the barranqueño language, which belongs to the Astur-Leonese language group and the Extremaduran dialect group; also up north we have the xalimego or fala language, a Galician-Portuguese language fuse with the Extremaduran dialect; In Portugal, there’s also the Extremaduran region. The peculiarity of this music heritage resides in the many percussion instruments that can be found. It could be considered that these instruments are a response to poverty and the lack of mediums to be entirely eclectic, so many of these instruments are adaptations of culinary utensils and working tools. In 2016, Aquilino Vicente, a private collector from Badajoz, counted more than 100 instruments.

Zambomba: it is various formats all over the world and all over Spain and Portugal – sarronca. It is a friction drum and makes a goofy yet exciting bass sound, producing the treinta y tres rhythm. 

El perantón – with a very strange marionettes look, this instrument’s name is a phonetic adaptation that changed throughout the time of Pedro y Antón. The characters are represented in the device with two figures with loose legs. If they are swung up and down on a wooden board, it will make them dance. They were carved with knives by shepherds to sing their songs with a bit of a touch of percussion.

Sárten y dedal: under the premise of reutilization, the sárten y dedal (pan and thimble) are very common instruments in extremaduran music. A spoon would be hit from one side of the pan and the thimble from the inside. 

Andalusia & Murcia

This region is probably the most famous and musically developed one after Central Portugal. If Lisbon means Fado, Andalusia means Flamenco. Its origins remain even in its name – Al-Andalus, the far gone Mozarab Kingdom that lasted till the end of the XV century and had most the Iberia controlled. We can still trace Mozarab evidence everywhere daily, through language, music, names of towns, costumes, social traditions, and food. But it is Andalusia where all that Iberian Mozabaric dream becomes real. 

Flamenco – this genre turned into a cliché in the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s with artists that expanded its legacy to all over the world, such as the guitar player Paco de Lucia, the dancer Joaquín Cortés, and the singers Camarón de la Isla and Carmén Linares. Not to forget that were the Andalusian gipsies who got most recognition as “practitioners” of the art form, but nowadays, everyone Spaniard is part of the movement that is still ongoing under New Flamenco. Nevertheless, nowadays, Flamenco reached an unimaginable level where flamencology is now indoctrinated in schools. The genre is so diverse that each province of Andalusia has its own style and characteristics and spreading to Extremadura, Murcia, Valencia, and Catalonia. New versions and reinterpretations of the genre appeared in the last century, such as the rumba callejera with famous names like Los Chunguitos, Kiko Veneno, and Gypsy Kings – sounds that a foreigner can easily connect to Spain. Flamenco, simply described, is an art form that combines lyrical dance and instrumentation (mainly guitars). The flamenco styles are called Palos, and more than 50 variations differ in rhythm and chord progression. The most famous ones are the bulerías, fandango, seguiriyas, and soleás.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AdBxXNmTXfI

In Andalusia, there’s also copla, a very contemporary genre born at the beginning of the XX century. It got recognition on the first glimpses of Spanish cinema where singers were invited to perform in international films such as Carmen la de Triana (1938), made in UFA studios, directed by Florian Rey, and protagonized by the famous actress and singer Imperio Argentina. It’s mainly a fusion of Andalusian folk singing with a powerful philharmonic orchestra.

Alternatively, Murcia is another region in Spain that is constantly forgotten, like Extremadura. Its traditions relate a lot with Andalusia, not only because of its moor origins but also its musical traditions that are very similar. Although, some peculiarities exclusively belong to the Murcians. 

Canto de los auroros – a gregorian-chant-like singing usually accompanied by bells and performed a capella with more than one individual. An auroro is the one who sings the night that died and the day that is about to born. This event usually happens in a religious context during midnight on the celebration of local saints of Huerta de la Murcia. It resembles the southern Portuguese cantar alentejano

Trovo is very similar to the Portuguese cantar ao desafio. The trovo is an “improvisation art” common in various zones of Southern Spain, such as Granada and Almería, with another type of trovo – la alpujarra. It is often referred to as poesia dialogada, dialogued poetry. This type of event was born under the Mozarab rule in that area, which is still very common in Arab traditions. There are two types of trovo: cantao, accompanied with instrumentation -usually, a guitar, a violin, and a bandurria -, and the hablao, a capella – usually when the musicians take some time to rest. The themes sang in a trovo depend on style: 

> Phylosofical Trovo: the sources of knowledge of the troubadour and his own personal reflection on themes such as the death of a loved one or someone else’s.

> Present Trovo: political views of the parish, town, region, country.

> Satiric Trovo: when a troubadour challenges someone to a “satiric” battle.

> Burlesque Trovo: with comedic intentions

> Loving Trovo: less aggressive and family-friendly

> Panegyric Trovo: to thank someone for their service or sympathy. 

A response to Norrient’s article “Redefining Englishness” written by Louise Gray on Bishi Bhattacharya work

Galicia, Cantabria & Asturias

Galicia is the most western Spanish province and shares many cultural aspects with Portuguese northerners, from language to costumes. This relation began a long time ago before Portugal even existed. Gallaecia was an ancient Celtic tribe that resided north of the Douro River, where Oporto is located. The original name for Oporto was Portucale which meant The Gates of Cale, another name for Gallaecia/Galicia. Portucale is also the origin of the country’s name. The north of Portugal and Galicia were also Asturias a long time ago, using Braga, Portugal (Bracara) as their capital city. In fact, there is a zone in northeast Portugal, Miranda-do-Douro, Bragança, where is still being spoken an Astur-Leonese language – the Mirandese, which is not related to the Galician-Portuguese language group.

Gaiteiros: the gaita-galega/asturiana is an instrument fluent in northern Portugal, Galicia, Cantabria and Asturias. Muiñeiras would be a genre that often uses the gaitas and the xotas, maneos and alalás. The instrument could also be followed alongside a tamboril (a typical snare drum). 

Euskadi, Navarre & La Rioja

These first two are known for their unique non-Latin language – the euskera, spoken by more than 3 million people across Spain and France – recently considered a unique and distinct Mediterranean ethnicity. They also have a strong relation with pipes, but they differ in format and sound – txitstu and the albolka. Navarre follows the traditions of the Basque Country. At the same time, La Rioja, a tiny region, is mainly influenced by its neighbor Navarre and Aragon, but its language is derived from standard Castillian. 

Trikitixa – meaning little-hand sound is a genre of music that consists of the usage of a basque melodeon (diatonic button accordion) and a tambourine – the name of the genre derived from the onomatopeia of this last instrument. It is believed that it was introduced by Italian alpines two centuries ago.

Jota – this genre is typical in many regions in Spain, but Navarre and La Rioja have a rich connection to this genre. It consists of visual performance with dancers and music instrumentation composed of guitars, drums, and the mythical dulzaina, a double-reed instrument in the oboe family. Its sound can be compared to many Arabic flutes, such as the mijwiz. The format of the songs resembles many Arab traditional musical genres such as the middle east dabke, which is played in a 3/4 rhythm. The term jota is a literal phonetic translation of the Mozarabic word šáwta, which means jump, alluding to the dance format consisting of various hops. This genre has its origins in southern Aragon, and his fluent in Castilla la Mancha, Castilla y León, and many other regions in Spain.

Joaldun Carnival – it is not considered to be music, but yet sonically very interesting. The joaldun carnival character is very famous in Navarre’s Pyrenees (Ituren and Zubieta), where the figures shake cowbells as a warning of the carnival’s arrival. Another similar sonic act would be the basque ezpatadantza, where instead of bells, it is shaken some sort of rattles. Reminds me of the Entrudo Chocalheiro 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjaZXwWDbyg

A response to Norrient’s article “Redefining Englishness” written by Louise Gray on Bishi Bhattacharya work

This matter was previously discussed in a blog post entitled Oh Povo Que Cantas, where I went through my identity problem in 2018.

I believe we all owe something to the place that raised and originates us. I was born Portuguese in Porto, Portugal, in 2000, in a zone called Matosinhos. I left the country to live 500km into the Iberian Peninsula in Madrid, where I stayed there till September 2020, a month before my move to London. I learned something more significant than the Portuguese identity, which is not Spanish because that remains on the same level, but the Iberian identity is called iberism. This pan-nationalist ideology supports the federation of all Iberian states. 

There is currently no such thing as Iberian art. However, many thinkers and philosophers practised this idea in their works, such as Miguel de Unamuno, a basque philosopher known for his controversial positioning during the Spanish Civil War, and the Portuguese Nobel winner José Saramago. In this case, there is nothing to be redefined because there is nothing defined yet. I want and believe in the prescribing of Iberianess. For that, I will explore the many sonic and musical cultures in all the Peninsula’s regions:

Northern Portugal

The north of Portugal is a major region that combines the provinces of Minho, Douro Litoral, Trás-os-Montes and Alto Douro.

Entrudo Chocalheiro ou Caretos de Podence: it occurs in the Trás-os-Montes Carnival where men dressed in careto – a colourful masked figure that represents the devil – shake their hips that symbolically signifies the touch of the Death, the Devil, and Censor

Cantares ao Desafio ou Desgarrada: it occurs in both Douro Litoral and Minho, being more evident on the last one. It consists of improvised singing between two individuals where they challenge each other. It functions the same way as a rap battle but in Portuguese and accompanied by a Concertina.

Central Portugal

The center of Portugal is the conjunction of Lisbon, Beira (Alta, Litoral, Baixa), and Ribatejo.

Fado: probably the genre which my country is most known for, it is a melancholic guitar and lyrical type of music that uses the theme of fate and Saudade (a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia) as a leitmotif. It is usually connected to its similarities to Flamenco. Fado de Coimbra or Student Fado is another variant of this genre.

Southern Portugal

Alentejo and Algarve. The south has the most significant Mozarabic influence, being the last region, a phonetic translation of the Arabic word Al-Gharb, which means The (Al-) West (Gharb) – the west of the Umayyad Caliphate. 

Cantar Alentejano: vocal music from Alentejo without instrumentation performed by various singers at a single time or rarely singularly. Its influence is pre-Cristian and pre-Roman, a fusion between greek and Arab labour singing.