INTRODUCTION
If we think of music (or the organisation of sound) as, the creation of a sonic environment to inhabit, a transparent, temporal architecture (where architectural terms such as density, light, perspective, air and so on, can be applied to the sound world).
If we think of it as the design of an aural object to be viewed, touched, used etc.
If we 'see' in the sound we hear, colour, texture, line, movement, shape etc.
If we allow music to exist as we do the sounds of our environment.
If we perceive music through the parameters usually used in comprehending other artforms;
then there is a freeing up and a broadening of possibility for structuring and conceiving composition and performance of music. Anything and any combination of sounds can be used to produce a result.
In my artistic life, I wander happily through the fields of style and genre (agreed upon conventions evolved over time) and have always enjoyed playing with, within and without these forms. Following instinct is the way of absorption in the activity. Here is true joy.
I do indeed engage in a disparate and diverse musical and artistic life.
WHATEVER TURNS YOU ON
I have been invovled in multifarious approaches to music making from my early teens. When the sounds of heavy rock; Blue Cheer and Cream, the classic jazz of Bill Evans and Joe Pass, the progressive rock of King Crimson (Robert Fripp) and the contemporary jazz of Escalator Over The Hill (Carla Bley, John McLaughlin) were swirling in my ears. My one and only guitar teacher, Peter Roberts, aided and abetted this scenario by introducing me to the wonders of the 4-track tape recorder, constructing sonic collages, undoubtedly stimulated by the appearance of Monty Python's Flying Circus on TV. The lesson was that any sonic element can be partnered with any other, creating an alchemic reaction to produce a (often unpredictable) result.
This fervour for experimentation probably had it's origins in observing my father's work in abstract art, which often involved the use of 'foreign' materials, and a 'by any means necessary' attitude. He was equally at home using pen and ink to illustrate the latest model Ford car, as he was with charcaol nudes, landscapes or sloshing paint on a canvas with a broom (he later became a very successful portrait painter).
He always insisted on finding your own way, making your own mind up about things, being as individual as possible. By extension, the way of trial and error.
In the early 1970's, Art schools (Brighton Tech. Preston Institute) provided study programs of extraordinary variety, further encouraging an openness and inquiring attitude to the nature of art, in whatever form. Most importantly, as a young man, I was given the space and context (and permission) to explore, virtually unfettered, whatever drew me in. Cushioned, stimulated by tutors who were primarily practising artists. The boundaries were pushed personally, socially, artistically. The art of music, the art of guitar slowly emerging as the point of reference for all else.
I was reminded recently of comments uttered by 3 of my peers on 3 seperate occasions, that in some strange way seemed related. All older men, the first I believe was Ted Vining (who wasn't particularly fond of the guitar!) some time in the late '90's. It went something like this; "Ren is the only guitarist I like because his playing doesn't sound like a guitar!". In early 2000, the late Gary Costello, in a flurry of enthusiasm after a play, said; "....but you're not really a guitarist!". David Tolley during a recent discussion declared I had; "no style!". Whilst the original context from which these quotes were taken has blurred over time, the basic ideas seem to create a picture of a character.
Perhaps this background goes some way to explaining my position and perspective on music and art.
For information on current activities see PROJECTS page.