Anna Friz and Coppice performed in their audio installation at Tritriangle on 5/25/2013 in Chicago, IL. The two installations and two live performances occupied the gallery as co-existing organisms. Â Each stemming from Frizâ€™s and Coppiceâ€™s own larger overarching projects, Frizâ€™s Nocturne and Coppiceâ€™s A Vinculum Variation are iterations, though it becomes clear that these iterations are not repetitions, but manifestations of differences in space, time, and materiality. The artists filled the spaces above my head and below/around my feet with sounds produced by other bodies: people, instruments, apparatuses, and radios. The two installations created the terrain in which the live performances inhabited. The earthy landscape, coupled with a cloud of respiration, constituted a world of transmission that enabled relationships to form in and between bodies.
In the space of Tritriangle, tiny blueish-silvery lights floating in air illuminate 82 small silver radios suspended from thin silver wires, a cloud of radios. In one corner of the space is blue light; in two other corners, yellow-gold illuminations. The blue corner holds three hand-built radios by the inventor George Kagan, an accordion, a harmonica, a chair, a mixer, and other sound equipment. Two radio transmitters fixed near the ceiling, send signals on two different frequencies to the 82 suspended radios. The radios, hovering at different levels around my head, emit gentle sounds of an accordian-played melody, breath, and radio static. The golden-brown corner contains a chair, an accordion, a box. Another corner contains a set-up with tape players, speakers, and an inductive mixing table with devices that send signals to the speakers lining the room close to the floor. These speakers emanate sounds of breathing, bellows of an accordion, air passing through processed reeds, the crackling paper inside a shruti box, pressure cuffs, and a funnel. In a third corner, golden light illuminated that illuminates a metal funnel.
A Vinculum Variation; Coppiceâ€™s Archived Air Contours
For the installation and performance at Tritriangle, Chicago-based duo Coppice (NoÃ© CuÃ©llar and Joseph Kramer) created a listening experience that compelled the listener to navigate and inhabit the space of the gallery in a fluid way. Before the performances, the audience could walk freely around the space and stop to observe what was emitting from the various speakers lining the room. During the performance, the audience stilled and the artists and the audio material activated. CuÃ©llar, playing the accordion and free reeds, moved his own body around and through the space, while Kramer used two custom-built apparatuses: his customized inductive mixing table and customized cassette tape player. Kramer, kneeling on the floor, using this table, which â€œredistributes the sounds of the Vinculum archive as they are played back through small speakers resting at different locations on its surface,â€ Â changes the location from where sounds poured. The cassette tape instrument Kramer designed and created is able to â€œmake a record of the sonic space that also reproduces the recording from moments ago while simultaneously recapturing its own output.â€ 
These devices together create space and time that shift and refuse to remain static or linear. The changes in the part of the room that contained the raw recordings from the Vinculum archive created a constantly changing environment of breathing; audio materials from their ongoing-archive emerged in the space and surrounded the audience with breath. CuÃ©llar, changing positions throughout the space of the installation, used the accordionâ€™s keys and bellows to breathe sounds throughout the room. Coppiceâ€™s contribution to the installation as a whole grounded the audience and the space itself creating a material terrain the viewer could navigate and explore.
Coppiceâ€™s installation and performance at Tritriangle emerged from its ongoing project since 2010Vinculum, a constantly shifting index of sounds, bodies, and space that involves isolating and highlighting particular sounds that are specific to Coppice. Sitting down with CuÃ©llar and Kramer in their studio, they describe their interest in the â€œbehavior of soundsâ€ Â and the ways in which different sounds demand a different kind of listening. However, Coppice is not necessarily interested in making the listener more aware of the plethora of quotidian sounds that may surround her. Rather, the listener is encouraged to connect to the collection of sounds Coppice draws from to create their compositions. The work is deeply self-referential in its consistent pointing back to itself, its own self-reflexivity. The recordings, which are used to form Coppice compositions, are stored and categorized as specimens the listener can study and discover within the work. Coppiceâ€™s archival process, which involves recording the sounds and storing them in built containers or vessels – hand-sewn pouches or built wooden boxes (for Vinculum Specimen Edition), produces a peculiar meditation on the nature of cataloguing. What is capable of being stored? What should be saved? The individual entries/specimens can then be accessed and experienced by the listener in a multitude of ways. Coppice encourages the listener â€œto play the discs simultaneously on repeat from multiple players when possible.â€ Â However, the listener has the ability to change the order and method of playback to create her own way of experiencing the archived sounds. The archive is not static and is rather presented as a collection that is open to change and re-arrangement; it is an â€œopen composition.â€ 
Coppice describes the sounds of Vinculum as quiet and having to be found from a particular point of view. Because Coppice is concerned with each soundâ€™s specific experiential condition, the recordings in the archive capture the particular spatial arrangement necessary to recognize the sound, making the archive one of space and the way the listener and the instrument inhabit space. Many of the sounds Coppice finds, makes, and records relate to the human body and its rhythms. The breath that passes through a tube and the air that traverses through the bellows of an accordion or pump organ indicate the necessity of the body to the production of that sound, whether it is the musicianâ€™s breath, hands, or feet interacting with the instrument or apparatus. They claim that it is the â€œair on the edge of thingsâ€ Â that makes its way into the auditory. Coppiceâ€™s sounds that insist on the â€œair on the edge of thingsâ€ found themselves in conversation with Frizâ€™s dreamy cloud of radio breath that floated above their audio terrain.
Nocturne; Anna Frizâ€™s Radiogenic Objects
Canadian sound and radio artist Anna Friz, who is currently based in Chicago, performed second, immediately following Coppice, in the installationâ€™s landscape. While the suspended radios picked up the transmission of an accordion-played melody, Friz began to play that same phrase in the middle of the space. The recordings emanating from the tiny radios and the live instrument in the installation mingled together in a sea of sounds and lights. When the recorded melody ended, Friz used the live accordion with its bellows to create a drone, filling the space. At one point, Friz got up, put the accordion down, turned on the handbuilt radios, picked up the harmonica, and began to play the instrument, sending it through the transmitters to the radios filling the space above my head.
Nocturne is an iteration of her radiophonic installations that began in 2006 with You are far from us, a project she has been transforming since its premiere at Radio Revolten Festival at Ã„rtzejaus in Halle, Germany. The work explores the notion that radio technology is not disembodied, and that it actually holds within it traces of bodies and perhaps even allows us to overcome distance between bodies. Friz materializes the radioâ€™s possible embodiment through voice and its breath, corporeality, and emotion. Breath and radio are intimately linked; Friz describes the phenomenon of the breath and radio static as sharing the same frequency range – a fascinating aspect of radioâ€™s embodiment. She also describes the radios and their tendency to drift from their frequencies as a precarious bodily situation, not unlike human and nonhuman animal bodies that are subject to their environments and situations. The radios are in relationships with each other, though mediated through the multiple radio transmitters that populate the ceiling of the space.
The first manifestation of the installation You are far from us involved four transmitters, 50 radios, and 5-10 hand-crank Grundigs. This installation focused on the disastrous human condition and the ways in which it is transmitted and created through radio. In her statement for You are far from us, Friz asks the question: â€œWhat nearly inaudible signals, transmitted in moments of intensity or crisis â€” what do people seek to transmit, in a moment between the intake of breath and the breath held, waiting, in tension?â€ Â Further, in turning to the specificity of the radio, she states that â€œ[b]uilt on breath and other bodily exclamations typically absent from regular radio broadcasts, the radios operate at the limit of their capacity to transmit emotion.â€ Â This interest in the radio as entity and performer itself is something Friz has been working with, an evolvement of her earlier work which conceptualized the radio as containing within itself people and that â€œthe voices emanating from the radio were the voices of the little people who lived inside. Turn on the radio, the little people begin to talk, change the station and they change their voices. I imagined the radio people waited inside while the radio was off, ever ready to perform at the click of the dial.â€ Â Now, she conceptualizes the radios themselves as the performing entities, not tied to a necessarily anthropomorphic view of the world. This is not to say that the radios are entirely outside the realm of human experience; they experience the precariousness of the world in perhaps a similar way. They tune in to frequencies and then drift off, floating and locking into a new one â€” a new world experience.
Friz describes the radios suspended in the floating cloud as sleeping, experiencing REM cycles, taking in the day and processing it through dreams. Nocturne at Tritriangle is an outgrowth of the section â€œNocturneâ€ from Frizâ€™s previous installation You are far from us, with the sectionâ€™s intent being â€œstilling the breath and relaxing [the radios].â€ Â Friz emphasizes that she chooses to privilege the auditory over the visual in the installation because it helps the listener â€œfocus attention on moving through spaceâ€ Â and instills the notion that the listener is a sensing body. The stilling of the breath and the radios drives home this recognition. When limiting one sense, other senses heighten. The viewer is no longer dependent on the two orbs situated in the front of the head as guides through space. The audio creates spatial relationships that enable the viewer to navigate the space at her own leisure. This navigational drifting relates to the radiosâ€™ own drifts. The radios experience the phenomenon of capture effect, thus causing them to detune and find a new channel to occupy. For Friz, the detuning isnâ€™t necessarily about interference, since the notion of interference corresponds to a cybernetic theory of communication with involves fidelity to a message. Rather, she is interested in exploring “fields of influence.” Â The radiosâ€™ detuning donâ€™t mark a deficiency or breakdown. Instead, the tuning into different frequencies seem to reflect human and nonhuman animal choices to take a turn, go down a different path. The suspension of the inhale,  creates the space in which life is lived, with all of its precariousness.
Coppice and Friz created an environment in which the audience and the device could all breathe together, exchanging exhalations and inhalations actualizing a cloud of respiration. Focusing on the breath allows us to recognize that we are constantly exchanging material from our own bodies with the world. Though, this body in its continual state of exchange shows us that the molecules in our own bodies arenâ€™t static and canâ€™t always belong to us; these molecules are only finding themselves to exist within us for a passing moment in time. â€œThe breath does not belong to the self. It enters and exists of its own accord. It inhabits the empty space of the lungs for brief periods and the same molecules and particles may never enter again.â€ 
 Personal conversation with Anna Friz and Coppice at the performance, May 25, 2013.
Â Coppice,Â A Vinculum Variation,Â http://www.futurevessel.com/coppice/work/performance-installation/a-vinculum-variation.
Â Joseph Kramer, “Episode 31: Porous Notion: Index Fragments and Interpretation,” Radius (Oct. 2012):Â http://theradius.us/episode31.
Â Personal interview with Coppice, June 5, 2013.
Â Coppice, Vinculum, http://www.futurevessel.com/coppice/work/recordings/vinculum.
Â Personal interview with Coppice.
 Anna Friz,Â You are far from us,Â http://nicelittlestatic.com/sound-radio-artworks/you-are-far-from-us/.
 Anna Friz, Who are the people inside your radio,Â http://nicelittlestatic.com/sound-radio-artworks/who-are-the-people-in-your-radio/.
Â Personal interview with Friz, June 8, 2013.
Â Friz describes the inhalation as suspension.
Â Meredith Kooi, â€œAristophanesâ€™ Hiccups and Relational Spasms,â€ given at Location/Location symposium organized for Field Static: A Group Show About the Object, Co-Prosperity Sphere (Chicago, IL: June 6, 2012), 6.
The following article has been circulating around the art-internet of late and I thought I’d repost it here for your consideration.
A Letter to Goldsmiths art students on capitalism, art and pseudo-critique
written byÂ Prolapsarian
Dear Goldsmiths Art Students, I attended yourÂ MFA showÂ two nights ago. I apologise to an extent: with so many artworks on display it was difficult to digest any of them. That situation was exacerbated by the fact that so few of the works seemed to have it in them to behave destructively towards the others. Maybe this is where I can begin: that the type of co-operation between artworks, their intellectual co-ordination, is something I find troubling. It didnâ€™t seem to me to be the co-operation of a school thinking together, but instead the co-ordination of the school uniform, of a discipline that had been so fully internalised that all of the artworks, under its authority, might comfortably coalesce. That made those artworks difficult to be with. I want to write to you about a single gesture that was performed by a great majority of the artworks in the show (although there were some important exceptions). It is a gesture that claims to determine a relation between artworks and â€œcapitalismâ€. It is of no surprise that under the contemporary situation of global capital, undergoing its most profound crisis in eighty years â€“ creating conditions not only of mass destitution but also of mass resistance and protest â€“ that the relation between art and capital would present itself more explicitly in the new works of art than has been the case in the last decades. But the expression of this relation of art and capital in the work displayed at your show was not only predictable, but questionable on both political and aesthetic grounds. The gesture that I refer to is that of artworks that attempt to parody capitalism, and in this parody hope to effect a critical irony through the apparent distance between the artwork (and its social situation) and the forms of commodity or capital that it parodies. In this gesture the artwork proclaims a radicalism, a dissatisfaction with the actually existing. It proclaims that the object of this dissatisfaction is â€œcapitalismâ€. The modes of making explicit the structure of parody are plural: some take up the bathetic disjunction through a fully instrumental comparison with some hazy far-away classicism or humanism; others exaggerate the shoddiness of capitalâ€™s products; others rely on a revelatory mode whereby it is claimed something of capitalâ€™s seamy underbelly is exposed; while others are just bits of fixed capital â€“ most often employing the high technologies of marketing â€“ transposed into the gallery-space. But the gesture of this parody common to all of them will, I imagine, be familiar to you. read more
Sara Drake posted a thoughtful essay about Daniel Clowes’ MCA restrospective. Her review opens with a well-considered point about the time line the MCA presents at the beginning of Clowes’ show (“the timeline epitomizes a friction still present between comics and art institutionsâ€™ reluctant willingness to accept them as one of their own,”) going on to focus on the show itself:
Comics exhibitions are typically, perhaps even inherently, about process. The work on the walls is unstable and has not yet calcified into itâ€™s final form as a work of art. Clowesâ€™s comics are intentionally built to be read. The focus is on narrative structure and storytelling, as opposed to the flip-side of playing with the visual richness of the medium. Reading desks and large, upholstered nooks with copies of Clowesâ€™s books dapple the space while original pages of his comics span the width of the galleries. The result is claustrophobic in a good way, providing a daunting depiction of the amount of labor involved in comics creation. Clowesâ€™s work is more emblematic of illustration than that of a painter or print maker, albeit his skills as a draftsmen almost render the various changes that occur during printing production invisible: penciling or under drawings are rarely present, Clowesâ€™s adept brush work meticulously cover the initial draft, Â and the gouache painted covers in the show are breathtaking. The flawlessness of the line work and the confidence embedded in Clowesâ€™s drawings almost seem to undermine the self-doubt and alienation present within his stories.
The week began with our ever fabulous gossip report courtesy of Dana Bassett. Everybody loves Keith Haring, Andrew Santa Lucia covers Logan Hardware, and Anthony Romero published a column about Jay-Z’s performance:
Just when we thought the world was safe from appropriating celebrities (#LoveYouMiley) Jay-Z swags in and tries his hand at the most bodily of professions, Performance Art. This, as you may well know, is NOT his first attempt at a durational performance. HOVA and Yeezus reportedly playedÂ Ni**s in ParisÂ a record breaking number of times.* We all did for that matter and in case you were wondering, there are five more works of art from Jay to come. So we can all relax, thereâ€™s plenty of newsfeed fodder forthcoming. Word on the street is that there may be images of a Jesus chain in a jar of urine surfacing soon.
Best of Lists in the summer time… WHAT? That’s right.Â Here is Paul Germanos’ annual top 16 in photos.
Chicago Artist Writers contributed another piece from their most excellent blog. James Pepper Kelly writes about the controversial exhibit,Â Wierd Dude EnergyÂ at Heaven Gallery calling forth other spectral voices to do so:
Walter Benjamin |Â Â At the center of this exhibition is man. Present-day man; a reduced man, therefore, chilled in a chilly environment. Since, however, this is the only one we have, it is in our interest to know him. He is subjected to tests, examinations. What emerges is this: Weird Dude Energy (WDE), a layering of men, a group perspective on masculinity.
Thomas Friel also wrote about Jay-Zâ€™s performance at Pace Chelsea last week, reflecting on the performance and place and celebrity via instant, public documentation:
A celebrityâ€™s presence in our space, instead of the media version we tend to see them as confirms our own existence. At the same time, it complicates that existence. We are seen by those we have saw but here unto unseen by. I see (consume oneâ€™s image) therefore I am, but when I am seen, what am I? It is mindfuck of Turrell like proportions, as we lose our sense of up and down, left and right. We choke on our own vomit, we are paralyzed. In exchange, or maybe as a symbiotic response, we return them to a mediated image from our cellphone capture. Shrinking them to a 2.5â€ x 3.5â€ format, moving at a mere 16fps, they are more manageable as a digital apparition.Â With Jay-Z rapping in our face â€“ a desire of many to be that close to a living legend, to be acknowledged by He who hath created the current state of Hip Hop â€“ we are quickly overwhelmed, and thus respond with our cell phoneâ€™s sad idea of video to return to a sense of normality. It helps us relate to his intangible nature. It is in this way that we treat the celebrity both as a solar eclipse and a stripper at a gentlemenâ€™s club. At at least one point during â€œPicasso Babyâ€, a tight circle forms around Jay-Z. We see his professional camera crew which is typically meant to be invisible. They are anything but in the many cell shots taken, reminding us that this is a planned operation, to be dissected and re-edited later.Â However, their visibility being an anomaly, suggests a future that is somewhat less imminent than the rapidity of the cell phone.
and a list of opportunities….
1. Plan your show proposal for APEX Art in NYC. Between October and November, they are looking for usolicited proposals. What I like about their submission process is that it’s clean and easy, prioritizing clarity and concept over credentials:
â€¢ Exhibition proposals will be accepted from October 11 to November 8, 2013.
â€¢ Submissions are limited to 500 words maximum, emphasizing and explaining the idea behind the show.
â€¢ No catalogs, resumÃ©s, cv, or other support materials will be accepted.
2. Artslant offers a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity with its Georgia Fee Residency. If you get this gig you get to go to and live in Paris for free to work on a project. Seriously. Like a situationists’ dream:
The Georgia Fee Artist/Writer Residency has been established in memory of ArtSlant’s Founder who passed away December 8th, 2012. Georgia was dedicated to supporting and investing in young artists and writers, and she had a deep connection with the city of Paris. This residency, which offers artists and writers the opportunity to create work in Paris, has been created in Georgia’s memory.
The goal of the Georgia Fee Artist/Writer Residency in Paris is to support and invest in emerging artists and writers, to provide an opportunity for them to advance their work and explore and engage with the cultural landscape of Paris, to encourage experimentation, and to increase exposure of their work to an international audience.
The Residency is open to visual artists of all mediums, art writers and critics, 24 years or older. Recent graduates are especially encouraged to apply. The selection will be made based on the merit of past work and the potential for future success, the ability to independently develop new work, and the proposed project’s relevance to the city of Paris.
Recipients will be required to maintain a blog, which will be posted on ArtSlant.
The Georgia Fee Artist/Writer Residency in Paris provides the recipient with lodging for 2-3 months in an apartment in the 14th arrondissement, travel to and from Paris, and a stipend to be used for studio space, materials, and other costs. Check it out and learn how to apply.
3. CANNONBALL (FORMERLY LEGALART) IS NOW ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS FOR ITS VISITING RESIDENCY PROGRAM. Applications due August 12.
The Visiting Residency Program provides a platform for cultural producers to think, conduct research, produce new work, engage the local art community, and develop professional relationships in Miami. Who is eligible: Artists of all disciplines, curators, arts writers, scholars, museum professionals, and other cultural producers based outside of Miami-Dade County. More info here.
4. Need a break from the city? Banff Film & Media Artist-in-Residence
Fall: November 18â€“December 6, 2013
Winter: February 10â€“March 21, 2014
Apply by September 6, 2013 here: www.banffcentre.ca/film-media/
It’s a slow weekend in Chicago, and I’m in California, but here’s at least two goo looking things!
Work by Michael Endo, Kendra Larson, Emily Nachison, and Lauren Payne.
The Milk Factory is located at 907 North Winchester Ave. Rear Apt. Reception Saturday, 6-9pm.
Works selected from the collection of 65Grand.
65Grand is located at 1369 W. Grand Ave. Reception Friday, 6-9pm.