After Friday's radio premiere, Slovnik metod (Dictionary of Methods) is finally online.
CZ: Kolářův Slovník metod, vlastně Kolářovy koláže vůbec, na mě vždycky působily dojmem grafických partitur nebo, šířeji, děl latentně nabitých hudbou. Sám Kolář ke kolážím údajně dospěl poté, co mu jako básníkovi prý „došla slova.“ Ve Slovníku metod často používá termíny skladba a kompozice.
Při stém výročí jsem neodolal.
Kolářova koláž není zcela prosta narace, ve srovnání s drtivou většinou kolážistů od Teigeho po například Stevena Stapletona je ale výrazně strukturální a rozhodně nevytváří surrealistická setkání deštníku a šicího stroje na operačním stole. Spíš se snaží ve formálně traktovaných předlohách zachovat to, čím je obtěžkal jejich autor – to v případě reprodukcí uměleckých děl – nebo zkrátka život, to v případě využití novin, žiletek, kamínků, známek, bankovek, blanketů… I já jsem komponoval na ploše, tedy na ploše DAW, a jednotlivé zvuky, ať již nalezené nebo pro ten účel nahrané, řadil vedle sebe do přehledné struktury, používaje zejména metod proláže, roláže (tedy známý kolářovský postup „rozkrájet na nudličky“ několik obrázků nebo víc kopií jednoho a pak je „fázově“ řadit a posouvat).
Kolář pro svá díla volil důvěrně známé stavební prvky, nejčastěji reprodukce slavných uměleckých děl, proto jsem se rozhodl pracovat s běžně dostupnými „reprodukcemi zvuku“ – tedy nahrávkami hudebních skladeb na LP a CD. Nejčastěji použitou skladbou je Dvořákův Violoncellový koncert h moll op.104, který jsem měl k dispozici v několika verzích. Různí sólisté = různé stopáže. Ve výsledné skladbě je Dvořákova melodičnost dobře rozpoznatelná, přestože h moll tohoto koncertu bylo doplněno hámoly Stamicovými a Brahmsovými.
Na další hámol byla aplikována metoda muchláže. Kolář muchláním deformoval reprodukce, aby sérii završil svým slavným autoportrétem, já jsem muchlal partituru jednoho z Dvořákových Slovanských tanců v úpravě pro housle a klavír. Noty, které byly na povrchu papírové koule vidět, jsem barevně označil, ostatní nahradil pomlkami a převedl partituru do MIDI.
Dvořákův opus 104 posloužil i při uplatnění metody gramofonové básně – poškrábané elpíčko vracející se stále na začátek (neboť neleželo přesně uprostřed talíře gramofonu, ale opíralo se o jeho osu, trčíc do výše) bylo doplněno i přeskakujícím kompaktním diskem.
Jeden z Kolářových nejúžasnějších a nejčastěji uplatňovaných vynálezů – chiasmáž, tedy jednolité plochy například z natrhaných novin a jiných vytištěných textů – byl zvukově funkčně napodoben rozstříháním a náhodným řazením jisté audioknihy.
Do toho všeho byly zrovna tak pravidelně nasázeny další zvuky, především podle metody sluchových básní: zvuky pití kávy, čtení knihy, řezání papíru, balení dárku. Ty lupance, to si stříhám nehty na ruce.
Na hutný, ve vztahu k receptům otrocký galimatyáš byla posléze uplatněna metoda amputace, a to dvojím způsobem: Odřízl jsem se od Koláře a začal komponovat „svýma ušima“. A ve shodě s Kolářovou metodou jsem mazal a odřezával kousek po kousku až do prosvětlení, zprůzračnění a zjasnění výsledku, který teprve po radikálním proklestění začal dýchat a dávat smysl.
PS: Ve skladbě nejsou žádné pozvolné, natož prohnuté či vyboulené fejdy, všechno je pokolářovsku řezáno hezky rovně, vodorovně nebo svisle, ostrou žiletkou, rozumíte, ostrou žiletkou. Click!
At the 100th anniversary I could not resist.
Kolar’s collage is not entirely devoid of narration; in comparison to the whole majority of collage makers from Teige to e.g. Steven Stapleton, it is markedly structural, and decidedly does not generate surrealist meetings of an umbrella and a sewing-machine upon an operation table. Instead these collages attempt to preserve, in formal and declarative musters, that which the author has laid upon them – as it is in the case of reproductions of works of art – or, in short, life – in the case of using newspapers, razor blades, stones, stamps, bank notes, blankets… Even I have composed on a surface, that is on the surface of DAW, and I have lined up the individual sounds (whether found or recorded for the purpose) one next to another into a well-arranged structure, using especially the methods of “prollage”, “rollage” (a well-known approach by Kolar which consists of “cutting up into pieces” several pictures or several copies of one, and then to line them up and shift them in “phases.”)
For his works of art, Kolar chose architectural elements he was familiar with, most often reproductions of famous works of art. That is the reason I decided to work with “reproductions of sound” that are commonly accessible – that is, recordings of musical composition on LP and CD. The composition which is used most frequently is Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104 which I had at my disposal in several versions. Various solo artists = various footages. Dvorak’s melodiousness is very well discernible in the resulting composition, although the B minor of this concert was complemented by B minors of Stamic and Brahms.
The method of “crumplage” was used for another B minor. By means of crumpling, Kolar distorted the reproductions so that he could let his own self-portrait culminate the series; I was crumpling up the score of one of Dvorak’s Slavonic Dances in the arrangement for violin and piano. The notes that were still seen on the surface of the paper ball were marked in colours, others were replaced by pauses, and I converted the score into a MIDI format.
Dvorak’s op. 104 was also used in applying the method of a gramophone poem – a scratched LP that keeps on coming round to the beginning (for it did not lie exactly in the pivot of the gramophone but was leaning against its axis instead, sticking up) was complemented by the loop of a compact disc.
One of Kolar’s most amazing and most frequently applied inventions – chiasmage i.e. monolithic surfaces made of e.g. torn up newspapers and other printed texts – was acoustically imitated by cutting up and a random lining up of a certain audiobook.
To top it off, other sounds were regularly set up as well, chiefly in accordance with the method of auditory poems: sounds of drinking coffee, reading books, cutting papers, wrapping up a present. That snapping sounds, that’s me trimming my fingernails.
The method of amputation was used for the dense, recipes-wise rather slavishly concoction, and that in two ways: I have cut myself off from Kolar and started to compose “with my own ears.” And accordingly to Kolar’s method I erased and cut off piece by piece until the result was cleared up, luminous and brightened, which started to breathe and make sense only after the radical and thorough cleanse.
P.S. There are no gradual, let alone deflected or bulging fades in the composition; everything is in Kolar’s way finely cut, either horizontally or vertically, with a sharp razor blade – you know, sharp razor blade. Click!
EN (translated by Linda Fořtová): Kolar’s Dictionary of Methods, or actually Kolar’s collages in general, have always made me feel as though they were graphic scores or, perhaps, works which are latently charged with music. Kolar himself allegedly came to the composition after he found out, as a poet, that he “ran out of words.” In the Dictionary of Methods he frequently uses terms such as composition and composition piece.
At the 100th anniversary I could not resist.
Kolar’s collage is not entirely devoid of narration; in comparison to the whole majority of collage makers from Teige to e.g. Steven Stapleton, it is markedly structural, and decidedly does not generate surrealist meetings of an umbrella and a sewing-machine upon an operation table. Instead these collages attempt to preserve, in formal and declarative musters, that which the author has laid upon them – as it is in the case of reproductions of works of art – or, in short, life – in the case of using newspapers, razor blades, stones, stamps, bank notes, blankets… Even I have composed on a surface, that is on the surface of DAW, and I have lined up the individual sounds (whether found or recorded for the purpose) one next to another into a well-arranged structure, using especially the methods of “prollage”, “rollage” (a well-known approach by Kolar which consists of “cutting up into pieces” several pictures or several copies of one, and then to line them up and shift them in “phases.”)
For his works of art, Kolar chose architectural elements he was familiar with, most often reproductions of famous works of art. That is the reason I decided to work with “reproductions of sound” that are commonly accessible – that is, recordings of musical composition on LP and CD. The composition which is used most frequently is Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104 which I had at my disposal in several versions. Various solo artists = various footages. Dvorak’s melodiousness is very well discernible in the resulting composition, although the B minor of this concert was complemented by B minors of Stamic and Brahms.
The method of “crumplage” was used for another B minor. By means of crumpling, Kolar distorted the reproductions so that he could let his own self-portrait culminate the series; I was crumpling up the score of one of Dvorak’s Slavonic Dances in the arrangement for violin and piano. The notes that were still seen on the surface of the paper ball were marked in colours, others were replaced by pauses, and I converted the score into a MIDI format.
Dvorak’s op. 104 was also used in applying the method of a gramophone poem – a scratched LP that keeps on coming round to the beginning (for it did not lie exactly in the pivot of the gramophone but was leaning against its axis instead, sticking up) was complemented by the loop of a compact disc.
One of Kolar’s most amazing and most frequently applied inventions – chiasmage i.e. monolithic surfaces made of e.g. torn up newspapers and other printed texts – was acoustically imitated by cutting up and a random lining up of a certain audiobook.
To top it off, other sounds were regularly set up as well, chiefly in accordance with the method of auditory poems: sounds of drinking coffee, reading books, cutting papers, wrapping up a present. That snapping sounds, that’s me trimming my fingernails.
The method of amputation was used for the dense, recipes-wise rather slavishly concoction, and that in two ways: I have cut myself off from Kolar and started to compose “with my own ears.” And accordingly to Kolar’s method I erased and cut off piece by piece until the result was cleared up, luminous and brightened, which started to breathe and make sense only after the radical and thorough cleanse.
P.S. There are no gradual, let alone deflected or bulging fades in the composition; everything is in Kolar’s way finely cut, either horizontally or vertically, with a sharp razor blade – you know, sharp razor blade. Click!