Book Release

Monday, October 14, 2002

The father of an old, old, old — possibly the oldest — friend of mine is celebrating the release of his first collection of short stories this Thursday. Here’s the data:

Sunflower Press invites you to the release party for a new book!
AN ATMOSPHERE OF ETERNITY: Stories of India by David Iglehart

Time: 3:30 pm - 8:00 pm
Date: Thursday, October 17, 2002
Place: The Mansion at 4100 Red River, Austin, Texas

For more information, please visit:
www.storiesofindia.com

and

AN ATMOSPHERE OF ETERNITY is a collection of short stories set in India, dealing with the unpredictable effects of contact between those who live there and visiting westerners. The stories give us a rare opportunity to see life through the eyes of Indians and Americans living, working, loving, and dying in a country steeped in the spiritual—in an atmosphere of eternity.

“…perfect stories, written with great purity and a wonderful economy of language. Words cannot express my reactions.” —Raja Rao, author of The Serpent and the Rope

There you go. The old, old friend, by the way, is Brooke Iglehart, who I have known since I was about eighteen months old. We attended preschool, kindergarten, elementary, junior high, high school, and a year of college together. (She spent her other years up in some girls’ school in Massachusetts — “Wellesley,” or something.)

So, anyway. Book release. If you ever wanted to see one.

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The Truth About Charlie

Wednesday, October 9, 2002

A fantastic documentary about the military leadership of the North Vietnamese Army during the 1960s… Wait. No. It’s a remake of Charade, starring Thandie Newton, Mark Wahlberg, and Tim Robbins. Regina Lambert’s husband has been murdered. She though he dealt in art, but it turns out that both some covert wing of the US gov and a renegade group of mercenaries want to “talk” to her about some missing money. Takes place in Paris. And premeired tonight in Austin, Texas, at the Paramount. Jonathan Demme, the director, was on hand to say a few words and answer questions. A fun film. Recommended. And Thandie Newton is oh-so-cute. Joe and I went, checked it out, had some sushi at Pango’s, and visited the premeire afterparty for a while afterwards. Jon Demme was there, hanging around, which was kind of cool. Got free wine, cake, and carrots. Otherwise, nothing really was happening.

On the walk to the truck between Pango’s and the afterparty, though, Joe and I did come across two young women kneeling on the sidewalk, clutching each other, laughing in that I’m-incredibly-drunk way. Their cellphone and keys were scattered about. Not sure what happened. We got them up, gave them their stuff, and walked one of them to her car.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” She was obviously not.

“If I don’t get home soon by boyfriend’ll kill me anyway, so it doesn’t matter!” In a horrible laughing Texan drawl. Made me want to hit her.

Ugh.

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Microsound

Monday, October 7, 2002

So I’ll be playing a set as The Clearing Stages during Cross Product 3 — Saturday, October 19th.

In preparation, I’ve been listening to a few other microsound composers. (Microsound is a genre of electronic music built upon very spare, minimal structures, sort of ultra-ambient sonic explorations often involving glitch elements: clicks, pops, high-frequency feedback, and such.) Right now Taylor Deupree’s “Occur” is coming out of the old Alesis Monitor Twos. Earlier I had on Tetsu Inoue’s “Psycho Acoustic” and “Waterloo Station,” and yesterday afternoon I took in Vladislav Delay’s albums “Entain” and “Multila” (both of which I highly, highly recommend). And, of course, I’ve been enjoying Mille Plateaux’s “Clicks & Cuts 2” compilation (featuring a very nice track by AMODA Digital Showcase musician Tomas Jirku) for some time, now.

If you feel like checking out some new unusual music, maybe think about giving these guys a listen. And come out to the show on Saturday.

So I’ll be playing a set as The Clearing Stages during Cross Product 3 — Saturday, October 19th.

In preparation, I’ve been listening to a few other microsound composers. (Microsound is a genre of electronic music built upon very spare, minimal structures, sort of ultra-ambient sonic explorations often involving glitch elements: clicks, pops, high-frequency feedback, and such.) Right now Taylor Deupree’s “Occur” is coming out of the old Alesis Monitor Twos. Earlier I had on Tetsu Inoue’s “Psycho Acoustic” and “Waterloo Station,” and yesterday afternoon I took in Vladislav Delay’s albums “Entain” and “Multila” (both of which I highly, highly recommend). And, of course, I’ve been enjoying Mille Plateaux’s “Clicks & Cuts 2” compilation (featuring a very nice track by AMODA Digital Showcase musician Tomas Jirku) for some time, now.

If you feel like checking out some new unusual music, maybe think about giving these guys a listen. And come out to the show on Saturday.

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Naqoyqatsi

Thursday, September 26, 2002

The final of the “Qatsi” trilogy. Naqoyqatsi. October 18th, folks.

I watched the trailer on their website. Looked like a lot of hype went into this, which worries me. That and the cheesy Adobe After Effects that have been added to nearly every scene in the trailer. If the entire film looks like that, I will probably walk out. The first two films expressed an elegant natural simplicity, not a dopey fascination with digital effects. And I’m not enamoured by the subject: “War as a way of life.”

Another thing I can’t stand that occurs in the trailer: Wired-magazine-style “pronouncements” such as: “There is no more nature.” Whatever. Comments like that are so broad as to have almost no meaning — they only have force because they’re printed in huge, blocky, red letters on the screen. And because some people naively assume that other people have access to some mystical information that tunes them into the true nature of things, allowing them to make such pronouncements. Again: Whatever.

WIRED-MAGAZINE-STYLE “PRONOUNCEMENTS” SUCK.

Thank you, thank you.

But — Koyaanisqatsi is such a beautiful piece, you have to give Godfrey Reggio (the director) the benefit of the doubt. I’ll probably see this movie in the theaters next month. Hopefully I’ll like it, even though the trailer has me rather worried.

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Rollercoasters

Monday, September 16, 2002

Here’s what always happens: I carry on fine with the synths and sequencers until about two days before the performance, when I decide that everything that I have put together — all of it — blows monkeys and I just want to destroy my gear. If history’s any indicator, this feeling will last until a couple days after the performance. And yet, two weeks from now I’ll (think I) remember how cool it was and I’ll start preparing for the next go round…

The questions I can’t get out of my head: Is this interesting? A waste of time? Fun? Boring? Does anyone give a shit? Will this ever lead anywhere? Why does my head hurt? Ugh. Makes a guy want to go back to watching “Cheers” reruns all night… ?

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Half of a Whole Lot is still A Lot

Wednesday, September 4, 2002

McDonald’s will introduce a lower-fat french fry. That it’s been all over the news today indicates two things:

1. Today has been a slow news day.

2. Press releases work.

The only interesting thing about this story is that it reminds me of something I remember Moby (of all people) saying on Dennis Miller’s HBO show. The subject of the show was Fast Food and Moby’s a vocal vegan / animal right advocate — that’s the connection. When asked what he thought the future of fast food was, Moby predicted that within twenty-five years they’d all serve nothing but vegan food. Why? Because the people of the future would be smarter consumers (what with those brain implants and flying cars) and, anyway, fast food chains would prefer avoiding lawsuits such as those currently in the courts.

Moby’s “thing,” it seems, is taking other people’s ideas and running with them, kind of misinterpreting them along the way — so don’t readjust your investment portfolio quite yet. But I think he’s got the right idea. Fast food will become healthier in the coming years. But only as an afterthought — taste and marketing must remain the foremost concerns.

So I say: Continue avoiding McDonald’s. And fast food in general.

Thanks for your time. Transcripts of this speech will be handed out at the exits.

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Passing

Friday, August 9, 2002

Harold sent a bunch of people e-mails this afternoon, asking if we’d like to come out to the Crown and Anchor for drinks after work/school/whatever. So I got down there at about six and had drinks with a rotating crowd of AMODA volunteers, Harold’s CS departmentmates, and art scenesters — until about eleven, when I finally got just a bit too tired to really participate much.

I came home and the first message on my voicemail was from my mom. She’s up in Pennsylvania right now with my dad, on an unexpected visit to my grandparents to help out with my grandfather. A few weeks ago he was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. The message said, briefly, that my grandfather had passed away in his favorite chair, at the house at about six-thirty this evening. Five-thirty Austin time. While I sat out in the west mall downloading mp3s with my laptop.

I called my mom at eleven-thirty, as soon as I got the message. Twelve-thirty PA time. I woke her up, but she was happy to hear from me. She told me the more complete story, that he seemed to feel better this morning, that she and my dad left the house to go to the bookstore (my dad picked up some Entenmann’s doughnuts for my grandfather while they were out). They came home and my mom was considering what to do for dinner while they took him downstairs and set him in his favorite chair. He fell asleep and when they checked him a few minutes later he had died.

Chris McCambridge, the neighbor, came over and they called the coroner to take the body. I don’t know what happened after that. I can’t imagine. I honestly can’t. I have no idea how I would behave the evening after my father or spouse died in our home. Mom said my grandmother is taking it well. Don’t know what that means, either.

We agreed that I should come up to PA Sunday, to console and to attend the funeral. To speak a few words. My mom wants me to write a little something to say, but I don’t know what to say, exactly. I don’t think I want to broadcast whatver I’m feeling about it. Seems private. Private to me. But I don’t know. But I’ll be in Pennsylvania for a couple weeks, so don’t look for me at my usual haunts.

The best private memorial I could think of was to dig up and listen to a tape recording I made of him a couple years ago (almost exactly two years ago). Something had put me into a documentarian mood that summer — I blame Claire — and I decided to take my little handhelp cassette recorder and talk to my grandparents. Seperately. Asking about their younger lives, their growing up, trying to figure out a little more about the reality of their lives seventy and eighty years ago.

I remember writing out a structure for questions on white paper and sitting my grandfather down — outside on the front porch, I think — sitting him down and asking what questions I could think of. So I’m listening to it now (and just passed a funny section about the differences between Diefendurfers in different towns — Diefendurfer differences). Feels strange to have access to these stories that do feel very old, so much different from anything I ever knew, and really idyllic in a way. Like all those stereotype images of kids in the nineteen-twenties with brown caps running along dust roads, getting excited about the quirky uncle who had a device that would let them watch a live motion picture on a little screen for a half-hour, between three and three-thirty int he afternoon. But you had to turn the crank to watch. Now he’s talking about enjoying silent Tom Hicks cowboy serials. They lasted about an hour, maybe less. Hoot Gibson. Bill Cody. Other cowboy picture stars of the time. Then the talkies came in around the late-twenties.

It’s like excavating a time capsule. I feel like I should transcribe them and put them up on the web. The idea in the first place was to put together a radio documentary piece with them. Such a thing might only really appeal to me and my family — but maybe not. Seems like a treasure-trove of great detail about life before the second world war. And he’s not making it sound like it was great or terrible. He’s simply reminiscing. It’s very simple.

Anyway. Time for bed, now, I think. I’ll have the chance to reflect upon this during the next few days. When events like this take place, I feel older. Like the world has changed forever. It’ll be my turn soon enough, I guess. Can’t ask for a much better deal than to have eighty-seven good years and to pass calmly, painlessly in your own home, with your wife and child nearby.

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Politics in Art

Friday, August 2, 2002

So I’ve been closer to the inside of the Austin art scene than ever before. I volunteer with AMODA, which includes performing electronic music and getting to know other digital artists. I lived with Kurt (“the Buddy System”) for a while. I spend a lot of time with Joe Stern, who takes me to all sorts of film events — shoots, parties at directors’ homes, screenings. And I’ve been spending some time going from gallery to gallery, hocking my wares as a freelance web developer (or web designer, which I use when I want to come off more arty and less techie). So, I’m getting all sorts of new input about how the whole “arts” thing really works.

One trend I’ve noticed in the art word… Someone gets so involved in their own project that they loose sight of the project’s actual value (or “coolness” if you live in Austin, where many of those in the arts have heard myths and rumors about “money” but have never actually seen any themselves). One film project Joe and I have been keeping an eye on, for example, seems to be suffering from this. Joe complains that they bring in too many PAs (“production assistants” — the lowest rung on the filmmaking ladder) to work, leveraging the excitement and educational value of being on the film set to get free manual labor. If you can find someone who understands the consequences will to go along with it, fine — but calling twenty people to come out and move lighting around for an evening while you make creative decisions doesn’t sit well with me.

I can speak from personal experience: Sometimes the process becomes the focal point when the artist becomes insecure about the art. Even if the art isn’t that great, having a big production involving many people makes it feel important. If you’re a filmmaker (continuing to use this example), getting that known star becomes an important thing. And sometimes artists feel other artists are doing better not because of their actual output, but because they “know the system” better. Or know someone who can help them out. So they begin to focus on figuring out the system and meeting that person. And then art starts slipping into the realm of politics. This rubs me the wrong way.

Especailly when I have to talk about it excessively.

To me, playing political games is not a free-time activity.

Both Harold and Joe have said something to me along these lines recently: “But don’t you want to maximize the effect of whatever art you produce? Don’t you want to get the most out of it?”

Sure. But let me bring up a point about art that you may have heard me harp on before.

I remember hearing Dr. Paul Woodruff (head of the Plan II Honors program at UT and one of my freshman lit profs) mention that students should learn to appreciate poetry so that they could write it themselves. Writing poetry represents a simple way to process ideas and lay them out on paper; it’s healthy for the mind to have that sort of creative outlet. (This isn’t an exact quote and I’m probably adding some colorations that weren’t originally there — I think Dr. Woodruff would agree with my phrasing, though.)

I don’t write much poetry. But I agree with the sentiment.

Art, to me, isn’t about politics, commodification, or economy. (This is more difficult to defend as someone who doesn’t make much money and for whom focussing on the art “industry” could change that.) Art is the tangible leftover of play. I play with sound in my music. I play with color when I do graphic design or paint. And play is very important and healthy for the brain. Play is inspiring. That’s why people like to watch other people having playful experiences — then they feel a part of that experience. And that feels good.

When art becomes focussed on setting a goal and achieving that goal, then it becomes work. It becomes gray, dull, and much less interesting. And if it’s work that someone is after, there are much more useful, valuable, and creative things to do that paint, write poetry, or make audio tracks. The value of those endeavors comes from the play involved. Remove that, and they are worthless.

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