Martyna Kosecka
Timbral Microperspectives.
Transformations with sound. Prelude
Stagṓn. Retunings and vibrations
Isorropía. In search of balance
Ruba’i. Transformations of Persian poetry
Passaggio III. Harmonics and harmonies
Hypertexture. The fight with tinnitus
Timbral Microperspectives.
Transformations with sound. Conclusion
Hypertexture
With steady painful clanking
I am all ears
Breathing every day
In the infra frequencies
Covered in noises of reality
Of myself
This symphony does not stop
The needle relentlessly shuffles
Am I ending now?
Or my hearing falls apart?
Or the world forbids the calm?
With whistle Rasping Grumble Screech
Evil whispers of unrest
Drown me be all ears
Ruba’i
A letter with a letter do not comply with norms
Putting the synapses into motion, like a storm
Before you notice their wavy figure, wisdom’s sense
The words disperse with procession’s pliant forms
Stagṓn
That is nothing.
I am in the multiplicity
Of the unextracted
Drop of time.
Melting and merging
Well, the never ending process
Mother Nature does not predict the stops.
So much?
These are the impressions created over reflecting on my own compositional works. They take the form of five short videos dedicated to each composition I made during this year. The video contains a commentary in the form of sound, picture, and text combined in one. The poems – a text component of this form – are spontaneously created in Polish original, thoughts on music and not only.
The poem translations to English are of my own authorship.
Passaggio. Phantom
I stroll through the corridors of sounds
Slides, glissandos and phantoms
Of lucid harmonic shade
Humming with satisfaction
The ideal paths of notes
The road before me stretches
Into the endless space
Of imagination stroke
With murmuring wood
Purring words
I follow the unknown
Isorropia. In search of balance
Through the pieces of a second
Flashes of sound
The balance pours out on the scale
Of portato shredded
Sirens
It did not ask for manifesto
In whisper crying
And the silent scream vibrates in the empty space
Of unwillingly closed hearts
Through the glimpses of a second
The hope remains adamant
And the fully stretched wings of the revolution
Blurred with noise
Last