Posts Tagged ‘John Cage’

In memory of Robert Ashley, 1930–2014

Tuesday, March 4th, 2014






Experimental fiction as genre and as principle

Monday, April 22nd, 2013

Mothlight Cut-Up

A few years ago at Big Other I wrote a post entitled “Experimental Art as Genre and as Principle.” That distinction has been on my mind as of late, so I thought I’d revisit the argument. My basic argument then and now was that I see two different ways in which experimental art is commonly defined.

By principle I mean that the artist is committed to making art that’s different from what other artists are making—so much so that others often don’t even believe that it is art. As contemporary examples I’m fond of citing Tao Lin and Kenneth Goldsmith because I still hear people complaining that those two men aren’t real artists—that they’re somehow pulling a fast one on all their fans. (Someday I’ll explore this idea. How exactly does one perform a con via art? Perhaps it really is possible. Until then, I’ll propose that one indication of experimental art is that others disregard it as a hoax.) Tao visited my school one month ago, and after his presentation some folks there expressed concern, their brows deeply furrowed, that he was a Legitimate Artist—so this does still happen. (For evidence of Goldsmith’s supposed fakery, keep reading.)

Eventually, I bet, the doubts regarding Lin and Goldsmith will fall by the wayside. Things change. And it’s precisely because things change that the principle of experimentation must keep moving. The avant-garde, if there is one, must stay avant.

That’s only one way of looking at it, however. Experimental art becomes genre when particular experimental techniques become canonical and widely disseminated and practiced. The experimental filmmaker Stan Brakhage, during the 1960s, affixed blades of grass and moth wings to film emulsion, and scratched the emulsion, and painted on it, then printed and projected the results. Here is one example and here is another example. And here is a third; his films are beautiful and I love them. (The image atop left hails from Mothlight.) Today, countless film students also love Brakhage’s work, and use the methods he popularized to make projects that they send off to experimental film festivals. (Or at least they did this during the 90s, when I attended such festivals; I may be out of touch.)

Those films, I’d argue, while potentially beautiful and interesting, are not necessarily experimental films. As far as the principle of experimentation goes, those students had might as well be imitating Hitchcock.



Monday, February 25th, 2013


[Update: Part 2 is here.]






Another way to generate text #6: “word splitting”

Monday, July 16th, 2012






100 things to do when you have the time

Monday, March 12th, 2012

“There are people who say, ‘If music’s that easy to write, I could do it.’ Of course they could, but they don’t. I find [Morton] Feldman’s own statement more affirmative. We were driving back from some place in New England where a concert had been given. He is a large man and falls asleep easily. Out of a sound sleep, he awoke to say, ‘Now that things are so simple, there’s so much to do.’”
—John Cage, Indeterminacy

100 things to do when you have the time

  1. Doodle. Look for new styles, new approaches.
  2. Draw a picture of a friend. See how many different ways you can do it, such as how few lines you can use.
  3. Recite something you once memorized: a poem, a song, a story, a monologue.
  4. Memorize something new.
  5. Write a review of something you like.
  6. Go over the steps in a procedure or a process.
  7. Explain to a friend a thing you know, or think you know.
  8. Write a song, or cover a song.
  9. List the projects you’re working on, or want to work on. Set a deadline for completing one of them.
  10. Review every thing that you’ve done in the past week, the past month, the past year, the past five years, the past decade.
  11. Reread your diary or journal. If you don’t keep one, reread old sent emails.
  12. Describe something in as many words as possible, then as briefly as possible.
  13. Make up a riddle or joke.
  14. Make a puzzle for others to solve.
  15. Play a Dadaist/Surrealist/Oulipian writing game, such as automatic writing, the Exquisite Corpse, the Cut-Up Technique, homophonic translation, lipograms, …
  16. Write a story or poem entirely in your head.
  17. Observe whoever is around you. Note what they’re doing.
  18. Observe how the energy levels in a room change over time.
  19. Perform John Cage’s “silent piece” (4’33”). Pay attention to both the aural and the visual.
  20. Perform random FLUXUS pieces, then try inventing new ones.
  21. List all of your interests. Prioritize them.
  22. Compose a view.
  23. Explore a texture (a fabric, a liquid).
  24. Examine a nearby text. Why is it the way that it is?
  25. Explore a space: a room, a building, a street, a city.


Silence & Communication

Tuesday, September 27th, 2011

A month or so ago, I was asked to write a response to the work of John Cage. And then, 21 other authors and I stood in a big circle around a crowd and read our responses. I thought I’d share mine with you.



Imagine a long line of people, and a very important person—possibly with his wife, possibly with his security, possibly he is a she. The very important person is walking down the long line of people shaking hand after hand. Three quarters of the way down this line of people, the very important person comes upon a man in an overcoat and top hat. When the very important person sticks out his or her hand, the man in the overcoat and top hat does not in return stick out his own hand, but instead lifts his leg and deposits it in the hand of the very important person. (more…)

Teaching Creative Writing

Thursday, September 8th, 2011




Thursday, April 28th, 2011

Seventy-one years ago today, John Cage debuted his prepared piano on stage at Seattle’s Repertory Playhouse. In honor, edit an old story of yours by adding a few new nouns.

Tuesday, January 4th, 2011


Thoughts about a Televised Performance of John Cage’s 4’33”

Monday, January 3rd, 2011

If I were a person who coughed at such a performance, or held a screaming baby, or whose cell phone rang, or who owned the corporation that operated the train which whistled as it went past the concert hall, I’d probably be embarrassed. I noticed that between the movements, people coughed more than the whole room of people had probably coughed in the entire day, probably because all of them had been so intent on holding their bodies still and holding their coughs during the movements. But the coughs they coughed between movements and the laughter they laughed after they coughed certainly represented the most enjoyable part of the performance, other than perhaps the conductor’s ad lib between movements, when he theatrically took a rag and wiped his forehead as though he had been working up a sweat with his conducting. (Maybe he had, but not because of exertion, but rather because of the tension that attaches to publicly not doing anything, and that was part of the gag, too, when he wiped his forehead with the rag.) (more…)