White Cube (For a museum)
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Audio portion of "The White Cube" installation, RAM Gallery, Oslo, Norway, in commemoration of its 20th anniversary.
Charts
Peak: #366   (325,709 songs currently in Electronic)
Peak in sub-genre: #71   (26,097 songs currently in Ambient)
Upload date
September 07, 2010
Meta data
MP3 6.0 MB, bitrate 128 kbps.
6:32 minutes
Words/music
music: boomaga - poem: SackJo22 © CC Attribution (3.0)
Story behind the song
Made for the White Cube museum exhibit project (foreground) using the spoken word by SackJo22. Ambient with some rhythmic elements. Made with acoustic guitar, drumsticks, gong, piano, electronics. Walter Murch has famously stated that the brain can really only perceive two and a half sounds as separate entities - any more than this and the discrete sounds become melded into a single mass of sound. The first section of three in this piece has, I would consider, 3 1/2 sounds - the second, 2 1/2, and the third 1 1/2. The piece ends abruptly and cleanly without reverb tail. Abstractly and pragmatically, white gives us the feeling of a lack, a featureless-ness, a potential energy like an object poised to fall from a height, to be converted into kinetic energy, from possible to definite. It is a space for an idea to be borne out, an infant's cradle that is, for the moment, empty. So it is a space in waiting, but it is also a purity, untainted, unblemished. We probably are programmed with emotional reactions to the sight of a field of winter white, our primitive selves crawling from dark warm smoky huddled masses to stand alone and face that astringent sting of cold and austere field of bright nothing. Some people can't tolerate this blankness, this purity, and must put their mark on it, by whatever means, to break up that field. Suddenly this white ceases to exist, and what exists is the mark, framed by a blankness - an abstract replaced by a concrete. This could also be a reaction to the Emperora's New Clothes, the suspicion of a put-on - as silence is the potential for sound, who wouldn't be tempted to cough loudly during John Cage's 4:33 ? And yet in that prescribed silence, there IS a breathless expectation, there is the sound of music unheard, as sound fills our space all of our days long and color fills our vision, a sudden blanket of white and silence will take our breath away.
Lyrics
THE WHITE CUBE You set the tea light on the table its flicker a delicate tease of what you might see the early shadows barely breathe in that intimacy as you look, as you reach recognition bursts! Its brightness the brightest sun reflected on fields of snow so in that moment the whole room explodes! We start as a white cube with a floor and walls where we put up our ideas and watch them hang and then we take them down again. In this space we speak of the color white the color of all colors combined the color of all of our options the color of our connection that traverses space and time. December in the north the darkness lingers so that even the shade of the moon seems bright. You reach out and grab that light the palpable tangible meaning of life. (poem by SackJo22 of ccmixter.org)