As a quick anecdote, I’d like to discuss briefly an application that I found while researching this paper called the ActionPainterPro (MacLarty 2013-14). Essentially it is a game in the style of Mario/Pac-Man, but rather than collect coins, the avatar collects different colours and effects while being tracked through marks in the background. To speed up the process and remove any mediation, the character also needs to obtain three different forms of life which when found allows the procedure to go on longer. And finally, once a colour, effect or life is picked up, the platforms change, immediately removing any familiarity. When you run out of time or fall from a platform, you are presented with a painting. Figure 4 is an example of my best work.
This isn’t automatism of course, as the marks, colours and effects are predetermined by where the character needs to be in order to survive. But it does highlight the inherent curiosity we all share when presented with the unknown. When I first found this application, it was really quite difficult to stop making paintings. Perhaps this is the reason automatism is still investigated today; the idea of exploring the unfamiliar and strange is just too attractive.
Fig. 4: Izett. Untitled no. 208. 2016
The next artist I’d like to discuss in this section is the noise artist, Masami Akita; better known as Merzbow.
Noise, by definition, is ugliness. Living in a city as populated as London, one would find it near impossible to remove it from one’s existence. It can be intrusive, unavoidable and irritating, but largely, is it simple just tolerated. With that said, isn’t the use of noise the most suitable vessel to explore the modern unconscious? After all, we have instinctively learnt to repress noise. If an artist aimed to truly represent a Freudian perspective of unconsciousness, he or she would surely choose an unpleasant medium; thus representing repression with something that is already repressed.
Akita’s use of the name Merzbow pays homage to the life and work of the Dadaist, Kurt Schwitters. Schwitters was one of the most successful artists to be associated with Dadaism as, contrary to the majority of his peers, his practice partnered the movement’s pessimism with the conviction that traditional artistic processes were still viable forms of expression. Schwitters’ existence revolved around one concept – Merz. Merz was a made up term by Schwitters that described the fashioning of found objects (newspaper clippings, pieces of cardboard, discarded possessions, etc.) into great collages, sculptures and walk-in installations. Over the years, this conceptual obsession ultimately escalated to the point where his home and studios became so full of Merz that they themselves became pieces of art, or, Merzbaus.
Informed by Dadaism’s anti-art approach and Schwitters’ use of the found, Merzbow challenges our perceptions of what the relationship between sound and art should be. With a portfolio as prolific as Schwitters’ (the unofficial count of separate releases surpassing 350 and 17 books ((Tobias to Merzbow, 2010)), Akita has truly forged a path for noise as a genre and influenced a wealth of subsequent artists and collectives. Paul Hegarty pays tribute to him here in his seminal book, Noise Music - A History.
Masami Akita, aka Merzbow (there were others on some of his earlier recordings), is the paragon of noise, its godfather, its master. (Hegarty, 2007, p. 115)
Merzbow’s importance is also clear in this paper as his work allows me to bridge the gap between organic electronic art and generative art. But before I do this, I’d like to discuss his overall sound and fascination with sadomasochism.
When heard, what is immediately apparent in Merzbow’s work is it’s utter aggressiveness. Wave upon wave of inexhaustible layered dissonance descends unrelentingly through the monitors, as if announcing the arrival of some demonic entity intent on burying its listener in a sonic blitzkrieg. Describing it as merely cacophonous would truly be an understatement. And, in a similar vein to Kuoppala, the majority of Merzbow’s work has been produced with processes that are reliant on his real-time involvement. What is most interesting however, about Merzbow, in relation to automatism, is his interest in extreme forms of sexuality, as seen here in an interview with Chad Hensley.
M: …Merzbow would be pornography.
CH: In America, pornography is often viewed as vulgar and offensive-- especially to women. Are you implying that Merzbow is for men?
M: No. I mean that pornography is the unconsciousness of sex. So, Noise is the unconsciousness of music. It's completely misunderstood if Merzbow is music for men. Merzbow is not male or female. Merzbow is erotic like a car crash can be related to genital intercourse. The sound of Merzbow is like orgone energy - the color of shiny silver. (Hensley, 1999)
Comparing genital intercourse to a car crash, especially when a crash/accident implies that at least one party doesn’t anticipate the impact, may be troubling to most. But if we remove any thoughts of uneasiness regarding the comparison and replace them with the Freudian theory of unconscious consisting of repressed sexuality, the case strengthens for Merzbow’s work being automatic.
Throughout his career, Merzbow’s work has been linked to BDSM. In fact, He has assembled a number of albums to accompany extreme fetish films, such as ‘Music for Bondage Performance 1 and 2 (1991/1996)’ and ‘Artificial Invagination (1991)’. If we partner Freud’s view on fetishism, ‘the choice of a fetish is an after-effect of some sexual impression, received as a rule in early childhood’ (1905 p.153) with the knowledge that Merzbow creates work in an unmediated manner, the idea that he is expressing his unconscious becomes more accessible.
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