Having started the 100days project during lockdown at the end of May, I reached day 100 at the beginning of September. Generally, it’s been a lonely process and not particularly comfortable; quite consistently frustrating and also endlessly interesting. A lot of the time it felt like a mechanicalizing of creative practice, and yet I think there are also many things to learn from it. I plan to use the recordings and my ongoing reflections as part of a performative autoethnographic project exploring improvisation, space and self (of which these blogs are a beginning). Perhaps the project has particular relevance in a socially distanced world amidst an ongoing pandemic, but I think it will also be useful to think about in relation to a more socially connected world.
Sometimes, during an improvisation, I noticed a sense that I was moving through a process; perhaps a feeling or some thoughts for example. Whereas at other times, I felt I was clearly articulating something. I began to wonder whether this was an internal experience, or whether that would come across to a listener? As an experiment, I decided to listen back to a few of my improvisations from the 100days (https://soundcloud.com/nickyhaire). Quickly, I noticed that there seemed to be variations between what sounded like process, articulation and articulated process. I wondered about what these categories offered…
I revisited Tim Ingold’s (2013) Making: Anthropology, archaeology, art and architecture and enjoyed his expression of articulation. As I feel it, articulation means a sort of joining up, a coherence of form which embodies both telling (making known) and feeling (inner knowing). Drawing on Michael Polanyi’s explication of tacit knowing, Ingold makes the case for a more holistic and situated understanding of articulation. For Ingold, articulation also contains what is not being said: “… My only objections are to his [Polanyi’s] identification of articulation with telling, and to the inference he draws, namely that what is not articulated remains untold and therefore tacit (p.111).”
Psychoanalyst Paul Williams writes “For something original and authentic to arise [in improvisation], not only is space required but also the functions of another mind with which generative dialogue, external or internal can take place” (2007, p. 351). In my solo improvisations, this could mean an inclusivity of my own selves. Yet, having a conversation with yourself can be difficult. How do you surprise yourself, for example? Or, allow for what might want to remain tacit? When improvising on my own, I often felt that I was engaging with inner characters, voices, selves and they were not always pleasant or welcome. Sometimes, I struggled to know how to sound this without ignoring some voices in favour of others.
At one point during the 100days process, I became struck by the idea of “saying something”. For me, this seemed to encompass my sense of making daily improvisations which meant something. Ingrid Monson (1996) has written extensively about the idea of “saying something” through jazz improvisation: "Improvisation is an apt metaphor for more flexible social thinking, but we'd better keep a basic music lesson in mind: you've got to listen to the whole band if you ever expect to say something (p. 215).”
As I listened to some of my 100days recordings I noticed that the most coherent and interesting improvisations came from a sense of articulated process where I had found form that encompassed feeling and unexpectedness. These improvisations also held the unsaid; the single line sounded multi-voiced as if there was potential for more. Monson’s (1996) work was useful and I reminded myself that maybe I wasn’t listening. Maybe I wasn’t actually allowing space for different internal selves and actively finding ways to engage in conversation with them.
I don’t find it particularly easy to locate (and use) space in an online world; it often feels compressed experientially and to favour a head space rather than a body space, and yet this is in process for me and it is changing all the time. Through this 100days project, I feel I am beginning to be able to articulate how the pandemic has affected a way of being through improvisation. I know my body is complaining. Yet I continue to notice new ways of dialoguing with my selves and possibilities for integrating psycho-somatic experience which in turn enables me to move towards being able to articulate this process in a meaningful way.
References:
Ingold, T. (2013). Making: Anthropology, archaeology, art and architecture. London: Routledge.
Monson, I. (1996). Saying something: Jazz improvisation and interaction. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
Williams, P. (2007). The worm that flies in the night. British Journal of Psychotherapy, 23(3), 343–364. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1752-0118.2007.00032.x
Sometimes, during an improvisation, I noticed a sense that I was moving through a process; perhaps a feeling or some thoughts for example. Whereas at other times, I felt I was clearly articulating something. I began to wonder whether this was an internal experience, or whether that would come across to a listener? As an experiment, I decided to listen back to a few of my improvisations from the 100days (https://soundcloud.com/nickyhaire). Quickly, I noticed that there seemed to be variations between what sounded like process, articulation and articulated process. I wondered about what these categories offered…
I revisited Tim Ingold’s (2013) Making: Anthropology, archaeology, art and architecture and enjoyed his expression of articulation. As I feel it, articulation means a sort of joining up, a coherence of form which embodies both telling (making known) and feeling (inner knowing). Drawing on Michael Polanyi’s explication of tacit knowing, Ingold makes the case for a more holistic and situated understanding of articulation. For Ingold, articulation also contains what is not being said: “… My only objections are to his [Polanyi’s] identification of articulation with telling, and to the inference he draws, namely that what is not articulated remains untold and therefore tacit (p.111).”
Psychoanalyst Paul Williams writes “For something original and authentic to arise [in improvisation], not only is space required but also the functions of another mind with which generative dialogue, external or internal can take place” (2007, p. 351). In my solo improvisations, this could mean an inclusivity of my own selves. Yet, having a conversation with yourself can be difficult. How do you surprise yourself, for example? Or, allow for what might want to remain tacit? When improvising on my own, I often felt that I was engaging with inner characters, voices, selves and they were not always pleasant or welcome. Sometimes, I struggled to know how to sound this without ignoring some voices in favour of others.
At one point during the 100days process, I became struck by the idea of “saying something”. For me, this seemed to encompass my sense of making daily improvisations which meant something. Ingrid Monson (1996) has written extensively about the idea of “saying something” through jazz improvisation: "Improvisation is an apt metaphor for more flexible social thinking, but we'd better keep a basic music lesson in mind: you've got to listen to the whole band if you ever expect to say something (p. 215).”
As I listened to some of my 100days recordings I noticed that the most coherent and interesting improvisations came from a sense of articulated process where I had found form that encompassed feeling and unexpectedness. These improvisations also held the unsaid; the single line sounded multi-voiced as if there was potential for more. Monson’s (1996) work was useful and I reminded myself that maybe I wasn’t listening. Maybe I wasn’t actually allowing space for different internal selves and actively finding ways to engage in conversation with them.
I don’t find it particularly easy to locate (and use) space in an online world; it often feels compressed experientially and to favour a head space rather than a body space, and yet this is in process for me and it is changing all the time. Through this 100days project, I feel I am beginning to be able to articulate how the pandemic has affected a way of being through improvisation. I know my body is complaining. Yet I continue to notice new ways of dialoguing with my selves and possibilities for integrating psycho-somatic experience which in turn enables me to move towards being able to articulate this process in a meaningful way.
References:
Ingold, T. (2013). Making: Anthropology, archaeology, art and architecture. London: Routledge.
Monson, I. (1996). Saying something: Jazz improvisation and interaction. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
Williams, P. (2007). The worm that flies in the night. British Journal of Psychotherapy, 23(3), 343–364. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1752-0118.2007.00032.x
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