lighting and interior

hey,

not much time. but today we finished up the lighting, some of the final details, and installed a sound component in the interior--basically 35 minutes of me trying to keep my guitar and voice in pitch. but the illusion works, you can sit in the gallery space and experience a singer tucked into a yurt of felt, trying to work out his issues between himself and the cosmos.

Tomorrow is the opening reception, which I hope I won't be too stunned to enjoy it, in a few weeks we will bring in some musicians to test it out live with an audience.

All in all, a very good experience, and hopefully the dawn of some further experiments in performance venue design.

cheers
t

well hoopass,

everything trucked over without incident and got dumped into the Art Gallery of Hamilton, into a little room called the Young Gallery. Even laid out in pieces on the floor the sculpture started to percolate with a strange kind of kabuki-eskimo ceremonial hut-like energy. Mostly I think that's good. It will certainly add some gravity to the performances when they happen.

We had the structure assembled in about 15 minutes or so, and with a team of four people, came together fairly effortlessly (my props go out to greg, paula, tina, and ben for their help). I then cut two flaps for the entrance and was able to join the entranceway into the dome. The felt sags in some places, and I have managed to bleed on it twice, but it's hopefully nothing a little creative lighting can't fix.

I'll write a little more on the interior next time.

felting

hey,

so just as i finish tweaking my frame, with the thought of what i might use as a skin just beginning to eek into my brain, doesn't the owner who rents me my studio tell me about the abandoned bale of industrial felt in the parking lot. It's been there for a year. No one wants it, and boy wouldn't it be great if someone could make use of it.

The felt has illustrated what I feel are the basic issues surrounding serendipity. I mean if an opportunity comes along that may not be within your aesthetic parameters, but will work, will change the nature of your structure in a host of interesting ways, and will allow you to claim without fudging that your entire sculpture has been made from reclaimed, salvaged, and abandoned materials, you have to jump at it, no? The presence of the felt is almost cosmic, revealing itself only at the moment I was ready to receive it, and literally presenting itself no more than 50 yards from my studio door. I think the only answer is, 'the monotheatrum must be made from felt, because the heavens decree it'.

The felt has been mostly a joy to use. It's heavy enough to add strength to the pieces, holds its shape pretty well, is easy to cut and apply, gets dirty just by looking at it, and acquires strange dents for no reason. Most importantly, it's translucent, so i will be able to light the structure from the inside.

Tomorrow, the felted skeleton will be assembled on site at the Art Gallery of Hamilton. It will be the first time the monotheatrum will be functional. Ho-yay!