ARTISTS TALKING

Stroud Valleys Artspace, Stroud
17-18 June

It was with some trepidation that I waited in the parkland outside the one-time spiritualist church that was playing host to a weekend of experimental sound events organised by Neil Walker. The programme promised, or rather threatened, a mixture of war, riot, football and punk alongside an airing of works-in-progress from the previous week’s bursaries at Stroud Valleys Artspace.

My fears were not dispelled by the event’s curator, Simon Poulter, as he advised the intimate gathering to “listen rather than look”. Richard Layzell’s Vaudevillesque performance Give me a chance emphasised the point. In an aside to himself, whilst hidden behind a speaker, the artist declared: “Now that you cannot be seen, you can be heard.” Yet as the selection progressed, I realised that we were being carefully guided through some rather difficult territory.

The epitome of this was Michael Kosmides’ Loot. Recorded while working as a journalist in Iraq, it involved a cacophony of voices, each attempting to find different explanations for a looting incident in Baghdad. The piece highlighted the participatory nature of listening as it stirred the audience from the centre of the room, where the voices were indistinguishable, to each speaker in the surround sound system, where each voice became clearly audible. The work moved beyond the specifics of recent history, prompting an awareness of personal and collective experiences of chaos.

Two other uncannily successful works mirrored the paradox of participation and detachment of witnessing live art. Dominic Thomas’ I think I can remember that sound was a beautiful and disturbingly elegiac account of being both present and participant in the Poll Tax riot. Duncan Whitley’s My Only City – The Sounds of the West Terrace, was a pleasantly uncomfortable experience of being within a chanting football crowd. It was recorded over the last few games at Coventry City’s Highfield road ground, and at one point I had a curious vision of the assembled art audience rising from their seats to accompany the celebration of a goal.

The harrowing weekend that I had braced myself for turned out to be a troubled yet enlightening journey, rewarded with a good old fashioned gig on the Saturday night by Belfast punk band LaFaro, whose driving bass chords, smashing cymbals and shattering guitar were appropriately accompanied by an influx of testosterone-high teenagers that moshed the night to its troubling yet satisfying conclusion.

Colin Glen

Colin Glen is an artist based in Stroud.

First published: a-n Magazine August 2005