I am a workspace member of the organization instrument inventors initiative and Netherlands coding live [5], sharing on a daily basis my progress with other instrument makers, composers, sound artists and musicians. On a daily basis, we share the same curiosity for what stimulates our context to explore a new music practice and vision by the design of new music instruments.
Most studiomates in the instrument inventors initiative seem to share the same reasons for starting their projects: ‘The frustration of producing electronic music a with computer’[6] (Görkem, creator of Armonium, 2021) or ‘the desire to achieve specific gesture and/or sound’ (Adam, musician and research of contrabass feedback 2021). During our coffee breaks, I asked some friends how creating their instruments has influenced their creativity. Mihalis Shammas, my ex-classmate and creator of the musical instrument known as, Lyrae, answered this question by saying ‘It is actually a result of a creativity that was not manifested with a traditional instrument’[7] (Shammas, 2021), referring to the ones that he was used to playing.
Between the activites and meetups from NLCL (Netherlands coding live), I heard from Anne and Felipe, creators of CodeKlavier, that ‘the role of instrument expansion is part of the story of its tradition’ [8] (Veinberg, 2021). The other members, such as Jonathan Reus, creator of ‘Banjela’ also has a similar perception, relating the Banjo to its history as a cultural crossover between Africa and America. Timo Hoogland, who is a live coder and drummer, recently created a system of machine learning that tracks beats to play drums while decoding live music. Marije Baalman reflects a lot about the integration of creative programming, electronics circuits and live coding as a process of music composition (Baalman, 2019). For most of those digital and analogue music practices, instrumental practice couldn’t exist without the manipulation and interplay of hands and body gestures.
In this context, and with the development of this project, it seems that the formula ‘tradition vs innovation’ haunts most musicians as well as their respective practice. For instance, I based my gestural playing in such a way to reflect my own understanding and expressivity as a cellist; similarly my friends framed their own curiosity with instrument-making to reflect their intentions and musical histories.
At the same time, when we visualize the history of artists related to this practice, especially those who were connected to making and testing out new instruments, such Harry Partch or Ellen Fulman, we see that these musical pioneers spent their whole careers not only defining an instrument and its purpose, but also connecting and reinventing their instrument-making to cultural and physical associations. For example, Partch framed the development of his instruments by composing theatrical/ritualistic works around them, ones that incorporated Indian chants, Japanese Kabuki and Noh, Polynesian microtones, Balinese gamelan, Greek tragedy and so on. At the same time, Fullman dedicated her exploration into the topic of the physicality of resonance over a 30 years period, and realized this through collaborating with a diverse range of artists in artworks and improvisations.
However, the physicality of sound is something ‘extremely personal’ and difficult to describe, as the luthier Duerick concluded from his research when making sound tests using a general list of participants about the definitions of quality from his cellos [9]. Sound quality is defined by your cultural, emotional and personal assets. In this research, while some participants considered carbon fiber cellos ´bright, ´warm´, others preferred fiberglass cellos to describe those qualities. It isn't possible to completely understand the associations about sound that everyone has because each interpretation of sound is a personal oriented decision, based also in other senses (seeing , smelling and touching).
The context of a new instrument, therefore, also has its bounds with musical styles and references. Regarding the musical references of the project, the music of Icelandic, Dutch-based and American artists, who were around during my previous education at The Institute of Sonology (this includes Bjarni Gunnarson’s work, with his simplicity toward programing music; the music composed with the Halldorophone by Hildur Guðnadóttir; or the exploration of polyphony in the cello by Frances Marie Uitii). In particular, I always found it fascinating how Bjarni brought so much lyrism into granular sounds — principally by using hyper-movement through his adept usage of programming skills. I also admired the concept of fear by sound feedback with a self-contained instrument, such as the Haldorophone used in Hildur Guðnadóttir’s music.
Surrounded by all these references, thoughts, inspirations and artistic tendencies, I also became curious about the emotional power that the sound of the cello always evoked for me. During this time, as I practiced my cello I began to combine some of these references with the full and warm sound of the cello’s open strings, as well as its harmonics. Specifically this included the sound of beating between close relationships of frequencies and multiphonics that combined polyphonic layers (please note that these sounds are documented at www.cellomap.org). At the same time, as a composer, I felt and continue to feel encouraged and motivated to explore a more diverse voice control, using an instrument to maintain the lyrism of multiple and different voices, while also showcasing a solo or maybe just making the performer passively listen. In another direction, I also found myself exploring harmonic structures with the application of different tuning systems that are based on open strings (i.e., strings that are played without one having to press on the fingerboard of an instrument).
It became difficult to find a tool that could satisfy those artistic desires. For a long time I tried to explore these elements with a cello. However, since the cello offered me few options to fully explore those particular musical ideas, I gradually felt unsatisfied and instead began aiming at another musical point to explore: namely a type of music that could reflect a personal message about my particular musical context.