Phonemes, Letters, Words, Vocal Awe-inspiring Encounters .
Phonemes, letters, words, vocalchords, and utterances become artobjects in the collection of works on display for Z Artists Working with Phenomenaand Technology. The exhibition features sixinstallations, two by Ingrid Bachmann(Montréal), one by Paul DeMarinis (SanFrancisco), two by Nina Katchadourian(New York), and one by the artistteam Émile Morin and Jocelyn Robert(Québec City), artists that reflect an agein which technologies have increasinglybecome part of our everyday experience.They explore the long trajectory of communication technologies, how they areframed within a material form, and howsocial practices are framed around them.The readymade objects presented hereno longer present fixed meanings or intended purposes in the practical sense oftechnological progress. But these worksaccumulate adjectives and actions whereeach viewer is allowed to participate inan almost limitless narrative.These artists build digital behaviors,without the use of screens, in order tobring the virtual and material realms intoone gesture. By blurring the mysteries ofnature with the synthetic environment,this exhibition explores the sublime.This is not the conventional sense of thesublime as a vast nature that astonishesus with intense pleasure, but one presented by a generation of artists who seekawe-inspiring encounters with observable and audible occurrences that aremore diminished in scale and ordinaryin material. The result is an enchanting interaction between the viewer andthe ordinary objects, mostly made frompre-industrialized materials such as agrand piano, a Bunsen burner, a birdcage, leather shoes and suitcases, as wellas a theater-style popcorn maker. Theartists offer little alteration to the original material; however, the pieces are allin some way informed by a technological code or phenomena. A flame sings,letters fall like rain, popcorn speaks,shoes tap, suitcases open up to waterfallswhile we are invited to hear sounds fromthe moon in pitch-blackness.From the artists who emerged in the1980s and 1990s that use technology asboth a symbol and an amplification ofthe body, there is a subset who did so inorder to explore and amplify questionsabout bodily violence or despair. In theseinstances, the technological processeswithin the art may appear more mysterious than the rational apparatus thatthey are, and, as such, they become anopportunity for the audience, or theartist, to project anything from deepseated traumas to light-hearted speculations, or personal memories, into thework. For instance, a lack of satisfaction may be projected on the missing9
10bodies implied in Symphony of 54 Shoes(Distant Echoes) by Ingrid Bachmann,where a long line of shoes jolt randomly and nervously like a cadavericspasm. The combination of practicalityand fetishism in the crowd of so manyold-fashioned shoes suggests a forgotten rush hour, bustling factory work,or a situation in which willing and ablebodies are working in unison toward anunknown goal. The idea of a symphony ofwork was coined by the owner of the first19th-century steel factory in Germany,Alfred Krupp,1 who once said that thesounds of his factories at work were morepleasant to his ears than all the symphonies of the world.2 A rush hour discord,or synchronized factory line, the shoesdisplay old-fashioned loafers and laceups, and men’s and women’s shoes withthick practical heels, sometimes adornedwith a big bow, but all are heavy, assertive, and tactile. There’s even a pair ofwrinkled Timberland boots, with vanGogh-like slabs of texture made by theirowner’s heavy use. The varying creasedleather and worn heels formed by theoriginal owners each affect the soundsand motion of the assembly line, whichonly further implies the presence of aforgotten owner. Steel toes and heelsalso amplify the shoes’ unpredictable,nervous stomping action. For all theirefforts, the shoes aren’t moving forward,but are stammering, asserting theirexistence. If there are haunting mysteries, or “distant echoes” as the subtitle suggests, they are specifically embedded inthe digital/mechanical apparatus thatsets up a somewhat irrational channeling of despair, perhaps pain, or anxiety.In the end, the viewer is left to namethe identity of the unheard workers,or at least mechanical stand-ins thatappear to demand attention. In fact,there are only 52 actual shoes in theinstallation and a gap where the 27thpair of shoes presumably belong. Whoseshoes are missing? The feet of the girlon the front page of today’s New YorkTimes, or the sandals, clogs, or ordinaryblack shoes of someone very nearby?1.The typical notion of the sublime isof an awe-inspiring encounter with agrandiose nature, simultaneously overwhelmingly pleasurable and yet somehowfearsome. Distinct from this is insteada newer technological sublime, which,according to philosopher David Nye,looks to the future, presenting not anature that is here and now, but is contained within an awe of what is possible.3The problem, of course, is that thereis always a new promise, scale is alwayssubjective, and, unlike nature, technology quickly becomes antiquated. Thefirst image presented to the public of oneof the most immense ideas of nature waspublished as a diminished form in the1960s, when our whole planet from thevantage point of outer space appeared onthe cover of the Whole Earth Catalog,4 andthis was even more clear in the bewilderment of astronaut Neil Armstrong, whofirst realized “that tiny pea, pretty and blue,was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut oneeye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. Ididn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.”5 Atthat moment, an arguable idea emergedthat a vast, grandiose sublime experiencecould be manifested within the small,diminished, and even the portable.The idea of the portable, traveling, andthe sublime form the title of Bachmann’ssecond contribution to the exhibition,The Portable Sublime. This installation is ateasing of our never-ending thirst formore intense, more convenient, andsafe experiences, where we can imagineourselves beyond our present locationand situation, although it is still probably necessary to encounter a moment ofastonishment, or at least to be surprisedby the unknown, in order to fully experience something sublime. Hidden withineight closed suitcases presented at varyingheights on vintage tables and dressers areold, worn, portable trunks made fromtactile leather and fabric with faded,calligraphic lettering, some with theartist’s name, perhaps painted by herGerman ancestors from a century ago,when nature still offered a refreshingmoment of the unpredictable, and thetechnological sublime was still gripping. Upon opening the first trunk,we may encounter a mechanical redboat traveling the expanse above theblue lining of the interior, while in thenext trunk we may find painted cloudsand the lightness of rising helium balloons along with an altered line from“Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Bachmannpoints out that Salman Rushdie believed this song was an anthem for theimmigrant, because immigrants embody both a promise of the future andthe longing for a return home. There iseven one suitcase that opens up to a fullwaterfall-type fountain, complete withinternal plumbing. The viewer is invitedto travel the room, peeking inside eachmini-universe, of which some are miniature versions of her previous large-scaleinstallations. Bachmann invites us totrace these mysterious fragments, as ifthey were convenient mini-movies randomly uploading on an iPhone.Ingrid’s description of the last centuryis as a time of unprecedented mobility,whether by choice, as in immigration ortravel, or by force, as in exile or refugeseeking. Similar to a traditional notionof Kant’s “dynamic sublime,” hers presentsan astonishingly intense state of fearthat compares the lone, small body tothe enormity of nature, followed by thehuman’s ability to overcome panic, andeven suicidal thoughts (as in vertigoor acrophobia), which are only conquered through rational thought, leading to a feeling of ecstasy.6 Therefore,when a nomad, exile, or refugee is escaping the unbearable or in fear of theenormity of an unknown future, and ifthey are additionally traveling towardssomething more hopeful, mysterious,or ecstatic, then they may be said to bein negotiation with the sublime. Thisaspect of the nomad focuses on thehuman need to penetrate new territories. Like a masochistic artist’s needto penetrate flesh in order to achieve a“blissful union with the infinite,”7 the nomadmay leave behind overwhelming pain,or fear, in the hope that rationalityand possibly being at peace with oneself will prevail. In this situation, thereare only a limited number of personalitems that one can carry; deciding whichobjects are important becomes anirrational experience. Bachmann documents the moment when a decision hasto be made, not about just what is practical for survival or important for us atthat moment prior to mobility, but what“important” is. “A union with the infinite” is the11
2.12last thing one thinks about in a panic;however, Bachmann turns this dualityaround when “thinking about the space of theimagination as this very important site, the site ofcreative and also political action. So when I say thework is practical, I suppose I may be arguing forthe arts, creativity, wonder as necessities in ameaningful life.”8 In her installation Indecision on the Moon,Nina Katchadourian takes on theimmensity of the first spoken wordsfrom the moon, or rather, she removesthe phrase “That’s one small step for man, onegiant leap for mankind.” In fact, she removesmost articulate words from the 32minute audio recording of the Apollo11’s first moon landing. Using a worldwide collective experience of the firsthuman phrase spoken during live transmission from the lunar surface, shedecelerates the rocket speed of the Apollo11, alighting in a half hour of slow moving gaps, crackles, and unintelligibleutterances of the 1969 spectacle. Byfocusing on these unintelligibleutterances, Katchadourian reverses thenotion that the alphabet as a technology teaches us to “move from thingto thing with greater ease and speed and lessinvolvement.”9 She offers a memory thatmost of us recall by heart with everincreasing distance, when she leads usdown a corridor and into a pitch-blackroom. From the sublime’s originalconnotation of both terrifying dangerand delightful pleasure, we are offeredthe raw technological transmission without the orientation of language; we can’thelp but be involved. It was not so longago that we were ignorant of the imageof our small planet hanging in space, oreven when pitch-blackness, with its ability to fill the mind completely, was aneveryday, unavoidable, and terrifying human experience on earth. This type ofsublime sensation is related not only tothe awesomeness of a nature that is solarge and dark that it’s beyond what oursenses can grasp, but to the awareness thatwe are as insignificant as the planet thatNeil Armstrong placed his thumb overand visually obliterated from his vantagepoint on the moon.3.Edmund Burke reminds us that inutter darkness it is impossible to knowhow safe we are, as we are utterly ignorant of objects that may imminentlysurround us. Although the potentialthreat may be vastly distinct if we arein the Amazon forest at night than in apitch-black gallery, “strength is no sure pro-tection; wisdom can only act by guess; (and even)the boldest are staggered.”10 About to encounter his own first step into black space andon the moon, astronaut Pete Conradnoted that the moon's surface seemsvery inhospitable. “Forbidding, a scaryplace ice-cold, black and white and gray.”11The heightened concentration requiredto move around in the lightless roomprepared for Indecision on the Moonrequires the viewer to stagger in anunknown degree of safety over simple things like putting a foot down,thus sensing a disorientation and evenweightlessness.12 Furthermore, meaning, too, needs to be solely retrievedfrom beeps and crackling audio artifacts, such as human vocal ticks such as“uh,” “um,” and “er.” Nineteen sixty-ninebecomes the present; the present becomes 1969.Few first utterances resonate as fixedevidence of the technological sublimeas much as astronaut Neil Armstrong’swords “That’s one small step for man, one giantleap for mankind.” About a month later, another first phrase was sent by the precursor to the internet stating simply: “lo.”13The first telegraphic message ever sentwas “A patient waiter is no loser,” and the firstemail in 1971 seemed so insignificantthat the creator of that email believes itwas “QWERTYUIOP,” but no one remembers for sure. A lesser-known first is theinitial English message by Talking Popcorn,“we.” This humorous, and blunt, translation machine is Nina Katchadourian’ssecond contribution to the exhibition,her invention of a massive, abstractlanguage-producing machine, TalkingPopcorn, whose utterances of nonsensetransmit through its own seemingly random logic.Since Alan Turing asked the questionin 1950, “Can machines think?” there havebeen many attempts in art to express intuition through code and mechanism.Literature often conjures the abilityto invent languages and cultures, suchas the fictitious world of Jorge LuisBorges’s Tlön, where objects don’t reallyexist as more than an ideal. In Tlön, thefleeting meaning of an object is solelyexpressed through context, such as theaccumulation of adjectives, or by impersonal verbs qualified by prefixes and suffixes. In this fictitious culture, words canbe so massive that there are poems madeup of one enormous word.14Talking Popcorn is both an installation and performance piece, inspiredby Katchadourian’s interests in language and translation. In the gallery, aviewer sees a popcorn concession standpopping popcorn and hears a computergenerated voice. Soon the viewer noticesa microphone in the concession standand realizes that the popping sound is alanguage that is being translated in realtime. Hidden in a pedestal below themachine is a computer that is runninga custom-written program, translatingthe popping sounds into Morse Codeand providing a simultaneous spokentranslation. The 180-year-old codeis essentially a binary system that cantranslate almost anything. Guests at theperformance are offered bags of popcorn. Along the wall next to the popcornmachine is Talking Popcorn Journal, a series4.13
of vacuum-formed capsules with popcorn inside, a printed journal of whatthe popcorn said, and a stamp with thedate when popcorn “spoke.” Additionally,the artist bronzed Popcorn’s first words inTalking Popcorn’s First Words, forever castingits speech, and placed them in a velvetlined wooden box.145.Nina uses the phenomena of translation as an accidental occurrence ofpopcorn popping over time. Her translation machine purposefully has no biastowards English or any other particularlanguage (except for the Western alphabet itself, which may phonetically translate into many non-Western languages);therefore it is just as likely that the popcorn will speak in Finnish or French,or a phonetic Korean, as it will speakin English. In fact, Nina prefers to callit “popcornese,” a fortuitous language thataccumulates meaning at an unperceivable scale. As Borges, too, understood,and creatively manipulated, translation expresses the idea that fundamentalidealisms present in any culture wereshaped by the grammatical rules andstructures within their language. “Thefact that no one [in Tlön] believes that nounsrefer to an actual reality means, paradoxicallyenough, that there is no limit to the numbers ofthem.”15 Popcornese may similarly be ameta-language, or a moiré pattern, toobroad in its etymological possibilities tofully translate into anything—although,occasionally, it does translate. The firstEnglish word popcorn spoke was “we,”an ambivalent you and me phrase, aco-dependency of meaning with littlecontext, a binary experience like theMorse Code itself, a mother and baby,on/off, 1/0, yin/yang. But in the end,it was the hot water inside the popcornkernel that made it pop “we.” Whenthe water reaches about 450 degrees,it builds to steam, and the pressurecauses the kernel to eventually express itspoetic necessity the way a motherexpresses milk for a newborn. Of course,popcorn has no intention; its prose is asblank as the longest English word thatpopcorn spoke, “silent.” Only throughour co-dependent hunger for knowledgedoes our psychological need to makeassociative links—where meaning needsto be larger than the random physicsof steam—appear as an edible material,or both the subject and the object ofour desires. Leçon de piano (Piano Lesson) by JocelynRobert and Émile Morin also createsa dynamic relationship between thematerial and the digital. The viewerencounters a grand piano of the iconicglistening black, concert hall type; asthe sparkling white keys are visible andthe curved lid is diagonally opened, itsmagic in brass, wood, and felt isrevealed. However, standing in for theperformer is a single light source, a projection illuminating the keys like 88 tinyscreens. The performer stand-in playscolors and letters that appear to fall likerain on the keys, pressing each note with6.a purposeful delay, as if their drops hada weight, and letters were resonating intorings. The letters play the broad assortment of pitches unpredictably, as when Iwonder if I have just felt a drop of rain,and I then hold out my hand wonderingwhen and where another one will fall.Leçon de piano uses the Yamaha Disklavier,an acoustic grand piano with a digital interface. Therefore it combines the programming abilities of a synthesizer withthe robust sound of the acoustic grandpiano. The approximate 60 phrasesoriginally taken from a child’s piano lesson book play, for instance, the 20 notescorresponding to “in the dark corridor,” orone as minimal as “rain,” where the fourraindrops slowly and randomly descend.The rain is not a downpour, but slow,patient droplets, where a cycle may takemore than an hour to play all its phrasesand colors. Eventually, the letters fadefrom the keys. In order to bring elements of simplicity into somethinglarger and have a free-flowing collaboration, Morin and Robert come up withrules with which to collaborate. LikeJohn Cage, or any software, the uniquecode driving Leçon de piano is a notationsystem based on rules that govern thebehavior of the piano’s performance,in this case the fixed linkage of sounds,letters, and colors, but also the randomorder, and the duration of the phrasing. This synesthetic linkage of sounds,letters, and/or colors is often associatedwith early 20th-century art and religiousmovements. But it has a longer history,and synesthesia is also a real psychological disorder (or ability). The painterWassily Kandinsky discovered his ownsynesthetic abilities while attending oneof Wagner’s operas in Moscow16 andlater explored this ability, along withhis Bauhaus colleagues and students.However, Leçon de piano is more of adeliberate, concrete poem, simple elements that interact in a complex way,letters emphasizing tones, and tonesresonating letters. This intermedia approach of spelling tones slowly performssublime-like phrases such as “the greenvalley” or “songs & riddles.” Occasionally, acolored drop will illuminate a note, or agrayscale or chromatic scale.For the version on display in this exhibit, the artists have built upon this original collection of sublime-like phraseswith more complex interactions betweenphrases, sound, time, and perception.Phrases such as “walk” literally and repetitively walk up the keys, or “now here”slowly becomes “nowhere.” All the textualphrases are simple and performed inthe simple key of C major, the colorsare simple, but the interaction betweencolor, light, text, and sound is complex, similar to a landscape engagingthe viewers in a semicircle around thekeyboard. This display may recall thelight, sounds, and colors of neighborhood children, not noticing the drizzlebecause they’re engaged in their playwhile wearing bright orange jerseys andmoving through a green field at dusk,which is reminiscent of a band or orchestra warming up until a song slowly15
emerges. So, too, the lesson in Leçon depiano appears as a nonsense play warmingup to become puzzle-like word games,or the precise geographic coordinateswhere the piano and viewer are locatedin the gallery space. Leçon de piano doesn’tengage with the sublime in the conventional sense of an encounter with naturethat astonishes us with intense pleasure.It is closer to David Nye’s technological sublime, where modern electronicsdissolves “the distinction between natural andartificial [and in] blurring this line it created asynthetic environment infused with mystery.”1716The original software code writtenfor Leçon de piano has no agenda in thepractical or economic sense, but thisinstallation may have a social use if webelieve that the presentation of an almostBuddhist sense of discovery is potentially a significant contribution toward aculture deeply engaged in software andcode. As modernism is said to frees usfrom ignorance, Morin and Robert freeus from the models of typical technological progress that is economically orsocially linked. These artists are aware ofthe burden of exclusive software entities,with top-down messages regarding thepath to technological core values, andhow these entities are primary inspirers of human behavior qua technology,and our interactions with software. Likeeveryone of their generation, Morin andRobert have seen a system of culturaldesires presented through high-endinventions, gadgets, and screen resolution, or heard the arguments for practical societal needs based on years ofproblem-solving research. One of theoutcomes is that our behaviors begin toform around these technological ideologies as much as they form around ourbehavioral needs. This system of technological progress is often synonymouswith the concept of freedom that modernity offers, but for these artists, whilethe technology is imbued with all itshistorical compromises, the artists lookat the technological form as a freshtemplate, as blank as the white keys awaiting letters and phrases. The top-downmessage may not be reaching Morinand Robert—or they don’t care about it,perhaps laugh at it—but they somehow skirt around the messages that aresupposed to inspire society, including propelling them into a betterfuture. Leçon de piano doesn’t purposefully seek a better future or communication tool; rather, it offers a “a new sensoryexperience” with the objective to inspirethe here and now, arguably creating anew technological sublime form withwhat is ordinary, everyday, and diminished in scale.Leçon de piano is not a child’s lesson inthe conventional sense of learning byheart through attentive repetition anddiscipline, but it reflects an accidentalencounter with color, light, and sound.The installation before us is not nature,but a lesson in the childlike acceptanceof an acoustic sculpture, playing the waynature performs, the sky accompaniedby the earth. For the installation One Bird by PaulDeMarinis, the viewer encounters a yellow birdcage on a floor stand with a neareye-level flame trapped inside. The flameis from a Bunsen burner with a fire largeand soft enough to flicker with a slightdraft. A small metal rod intersects theflame and is connected to an audio player. In front of the birdcage is a musical box with a hand crank, and when theviewer turns the crank, a flame in the cage7.ignites. At first, a few crackly sparks, andthen the fire glows seven or eight incheshigh, emitting the operatic voice of 19thcentury Italian diva Adelina Patti (18431919). No speaker exists. DeMarinis patented his audible flame.But DeMarinis was not the first to explorethe idea of an audible flame. During theheight of Patti’s career, electrical engineers were aware that gas flames could beelectrically conductive and were affectedby audio-wave transmissions. It was anAmerican engineer and inventor, Leede Forest, who was captivated by the ideaof a flame as an audible detector. Whenobserving the flickering candle flameson his gas chandelier, he erroneouslythought the flames were receiving soundsignals, and he pursued to documenthis discovery of what he called a “speakingflame.”18 De Forest was at the top of hisfield in electrical engineering, the mostprestigious science of its day, in partbecause electrical engineers could create the spectacles that distanced us fromnature and for the first time brought usinto the era of the technological sublimethrough their ability to illuminate everything from the Golden Gate Bridgeto cities at night. Rather than using hisknowledge toward producing the vastsublime of grandeur, de Forest used hisknowledge, partially learned from observing his own gas chandelier, to inventthe first audion tube, or vacuum tube.Only a few inches long, the vacuum tubewas as simple as a piece of glass encasing a filament, but it led the path for theinvention of radio to be possible, followed by television, radar, and computers. De Forest documented his findingsin 1906, the same year in which AdelinaPatti recorded her aging voice for theGramophone Company, and used inOne Bird.Prior to recording technologies such asthe Gramophone Company, the ecstasyof professional music was only experienced through live encounters. Patti inspired frenzied reactions in large concerthalls from adoring crowds. While it wasoften said that she sang like a bird, shealso supposedly owned a parrot that shehad taught to curse in French.19 Kings,Queens, Emperors, and Empressescompeted in offering Patti the most rarejewels as gifts of gratitude. In addition toreceiving 5,000 in gold prior to eachof her performances in the 1860s, hundreds of dollars in coins and bills, and alaurel wreath from both an Italian Princeand a Spanish Duke, were tossed to heron many stages throughout Europe andNorth America, along with bouquets andpoems that were “seen whirling through the airattached to the necks of birds.”20 Both OscarWilde and Émile Zola refer to AdelinaPatti’s performances in their respectivenovels as that which is pure and life sustaining, in the context of escaping thehorrors of life and death.But in the end, without Patti’s ability tosustain long and steady breaths as she didin her youth, it’s only the flame that ma-17
terializes her aging voice in a steady flowof propane gas mixed with oxygen for anendless, lyrical exhale. Because Patti was63 when she was recorded, DeMarinissuggests that hers may be the oldestvocal cords ever recorded. The recording technology of the day even offers thecrackling that sounds like a stoking firealong with Patti’s warbling, following thevoice flicker of the flame.18If Katchadourian created utterances materialized in an edible form, DeMariniscasts Patti’s virtuosity into the elementmost associated with danger, fire. Paulfirst came across the concept of fire as anaudible detector when he and his friendsonce clearly heard AM radio comeout of his gas fireplace. Afterwards,and through the suggestion of an artist friend, Maggi Payne, DeMariniscame across a 1967 essay on militaryresearchers at United TechnologiesCorporation in Sunnyvale, California,who published a paper in Nature abouta form of electro-thermal transducerthat mixed a welding gas with potassium items in order to generate a vibration, or an expansion/contractionof heat, strong enough to lead to anomni-directional sound source.21DeMarinis blends technological metaphors that have emerged in the past twodecades not through the invented language of code, but by exploring the invisibility of orphaned audio technologies,with a visible and ephemeral element offire. It is more common to think of fireas something that affects reactions inother elements, rather than thinking offire itself as being the product. However,as a result of the events of 1906, insteadof the familiar LCD screens illuminating our homes with songs from iTunes,DeMarinis conjures images that mighthave been: a culture where gas chandeliers entertain dining conversations withmulti-channel symphonies, or the fireplace as a place where we tune into thedaily news, or where every family enjoys abirdcage that sings the music by the divasof our day. Maybe everyone even dancesaround the technological fire.Notes.1 Kate Woodbridge Michaelis, Otho E. Michaelis, and E. Monthaye, Alfred Krupp: ASketch of His Life and Work, After the German of Victor Niemeyer (1888), trans. Captain O. E.Michaklis, New York: T. Prosser, 1888, p 55.2 William Manchester, The Arms of Krupp: 1587-1968, Toronto: Bantam, 1981, p 89.3 David E. Nye, American Technological Sublime, Cambridge: MIT, 1996, p 152.4 Steve Jobs made note of the Whole Earth Catalog in 2005 as an influence during atime when he was still forming his ideas around creating grandiose experiences indiminished technological forms. Steve Jobs, “’You’ve Got to Find What You Love,’Jobs Says,” Stanford University News, 14 June 2005, Web. 7 Feb. 2012.5 Rachel A. Koestler-Grack, Neil Armstrong, Pleasantville, NY: Gareth Stevens, 2010,p 6.6 Nye, American Technological Sublime, p 7. While Nye compares Kant’s dynamic versusmathematical sublime, comparing the terror of Kant’s dynamic sublime to vertigo,or acrophobia, is my insertion. It appears to me that an experience of vertigo, oracrophobia, is more familiar to contemporary society, who have unlimited access tosafe, mediated sublime-like experiences than the first-hand, real or imagined fearof witnessing shocking terrors, such as a volcano, a century or more ago.7 Mark Dery, Escape Velocity: Cyberculture at the End of the Century, New York: Grove, 1996,p 167. Dery quotes Rachel Rosenthal, “Obsolete Body: Suspensions: Stelarc,”Stelarc, Performance and Masochism, Davis: JP Publications, 1984, pp 69-70.8 Ingrid Bachmann, in a telephone conversation with the author, Feb. 21, 2012.9 Marshall McLuhan, Understanding Media, New York: McGraw-Hill, 1965, pp 79-80.10 Edmu
or synchronized factory line, the shoes display old-fashioned loafers and lace-ups, and men’s and women’s shoes with . Times, or the sandals, clogs, or ordinary black shoes of someone very nearby? The typical notion of the sublime
Final sounds Medial sounds Initial Phonemes Final Phonemes & Rime 2nd letter of Consonant Blend 3-5 phoneme words with mixed vowel sounds 2nd letter of Consonant Blend Initial Phonemes Final Phonemes & Rime Digraphs R Blends R-controlled Vowels Compound Words Syllables Onset-Rime 2 and 3-phoneme words
(Carnatic Music Association of Georgia) 8:30 AM- 9:45 AM 10:00 AM- 11:30 AM # Participants Category 1 Adithya Karthik Upadhyayula Vocal 2 Manvitha Sai Kaza Vocal 3 Pranitha Sai Kaza Vocal 4 Prarthana Bhaaradwaj Vocal 5 Sripoorva Prasanna Vocal 6 Sudarshan Prasanna Vocal 7 Sarah Jeyaraj Vocal 8 Arnav S. Raman Veena
(beginning and final), blending and segmenting words with 2 phonemes cv, vc Level 1 : In this level students practise the skills of rhyme, sound identification (beginning, middle, final), blending and segmenting words with 3 phonemes cvc, (short vowels). Addition, deletion and substitution of single phonemes in words.
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Initial phoneme with blends Mixed Blends Final Sound Onset - Rime Three Phoneme Words Four or more Phoneme Words Repeating sentences and Counting Words Repeating sentences from nursery rhymes and separating into individual spoken words. Compound Words Initial Phonemes Final Phonemes Sy
the ability to break words into phonemes. Remember to teach the steps in order. For example, don't go on to the last sounds of words until your child can comfortably hear and identify the first sounds in words. When your child can comfortably hear and identify the first and last sounds of words, move onto the middle sounds.
Semi-Occluded Vocal Tract Exercises (SOVTE) -used for many years by singers and voice professionals as warm-ups . Watch out for Forceful vocal folds adduction or phonation Do not overdrive any of breath (hyper function) or vocal closure Avoid staccato, more stressful vocal adduction.
“Accounting is the art of recording, classifying and summarizing in a significant manner and in terms of money, transactions and events which are, in part at least, of a financial character, and interpreting the result thereof”. Definition by the American Accounting Association (Year 1966): “The process of identifying, measuring and communicating economic information to permit informed .
