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Likestarlings is a place for talking in poems and pictures. We pair poets with poets and photographers with photographers. Each pair produces a sequence of new works responding in turn to one another. Our palaver blog goes beyond poetry and photography to discuss collaboration in theory and in practice in a wide range of places. Please take a look, and feel free to add comments, opinions and suggestions here. Read poems here, look at photographs here.
January 8th, 2010

With three conversations in progess and more coming online in the next few weeks, it’s been a good yuletide for Likestarlings. Thanks to these poets still at work, and all who slung back and forth with one another in plain view of the e-public last year.

In 2010, we are not planning on any radical (or, indeed, any) changes to the formula. But there are things from 2009 I’d love to see more of…

More transformations

My favourite so far is an exquisite flip along a homonym axis by Jeremey Over, who took Tim Atkins’ Italian father of the sonnet, ‘Petrarch #5’, and made him ‘Petroc Trelawny’, the presenter of the proms on Radio 3 and BBC4. Their conversation continues to probe the Romantic inheritance, parenthood and bees.

More investigation of the anthropocene

The conversation between Jared Stanley & Siddhartha Bose is exciting not only for its use of prose poems, rare on the site, but also the explicit, but by no means straightforward concern with anthropogenic climate change. Bose has taken Stanley’s compelling post-pastoral landscape firmly into an urban context and I’m looking forward to seeing how he responds. In their elegant but turbulent back and forth, Fergus Allen & Stephanie Bolster also worked with a palette of ‘creatures/Eternally eating and being eaten’ (Allen). Bolster’s poems, I think, have a wonderful sound play: ‘A cricket does what crickets do and the air quickens’.

Which reminds me: More transatlantic (and other more distant) connections

Because interesting things seem to happen when languages meet.

More explorations across the screen

Simon Smith & Ryan Murphy are involved in a conversation which breathes in and out with each poem, Smith exploding into clouds, and Murphy contracting. There is a very careful attention to formal echoes between these two, where ‘i/Phone’ becomes ‘i-/Solation’. Still going, it feels like this has the energy to run and run: as Smith’s poem has it, ‘And it doesn’t stop.    None of it/stops, ever’.

More pictures

Because so far we’ve had only a tantalizing glimpse of what’s possible.

More contact

We love to hear from people who are visiting the site, as well as our poets. Do let us know what you’re up to. On that note, congratulations to George Ttooulli, whose collection ‘Static Exile’ came out late last year and is a treat.

October 21st, 2009

Philosopher and musician David Rothenberg specializes in interspecies communication. Currently sailing as part of the Arctic Circle project, here he answers some questions on the nature of process and inspiration.

Likestarlings: As a jazz musician and composer you were obviously familiar with making ensemble sounds. But what first alerted you to the possibility and potential of communication/ collaboration with species other than our own?

David Rothenberg: You know I think it started in high school when I heard that Paul Winter was playing with whale and wolf sounds. He had a lot of influence on me back then. After a while I started to think that he would bend natural sounds into his own very sweet and beautiful music, while I wanted my music to be more changed by the encounters with other species’ worlds of sound.

Ls: What was the feeling (if you can articulate such a thing in words) when you first KNEW you had a response, a musical response?

DR: I write about this in the beginning of Why Birds Sing and the end of Thousand Mile Song. At these rare moments, with some birds and some whales (though not MOST of them!), I feel as if I reach beyond my species’ lines, to communicate where words cannot. I don’t KNOW if it is happening, and don’t want to make myself the hero of any kind of grand story, but there are these humbling moments when it is possible reach just a tiny bit the edges of human understanding to make music with other creatures.

Ls: These sorts of communications of course require a special kind of listening. To those interested in jamming with whales you say: ‘One piece of advice I would offer is: listen more than you play. If you can’t hear the whale, you’re playin’ too much.’ How does listening with a view to forming your own response inform the way you listen?

DR: It’s always important not to play too much, especially as an improviser. I imagine I’ve entered into a world of musical interaction where each of us is trying to contribute something…

Ls: And have there been any times when you’ve been silenced?

DR: Sure. By the moment. By people complaining. By the sheer fact that nature’s music is fine as it is, that it doesn’t need us!

Ls: The Peruvian singer Yma Sumac is, perhaps fancifully, supposed to have learnt to sing in response to the birds. What have you learnt musically from these sorts of collaborations?

DR: Well, Yma Sumac could do anything! Plenty of human musicians have learned from birds, and in my book I argue that as the human sense of music becomes more open to new rhythms, tones, and scales, it is better able to make musical sense of nature.

Ls: It’s great to read you on English poet John Clare and his close listening to and interpretation of birdsong. Have any of your own compositions been directly inspired by your unusual interlocutors?

DR: So many of them! Both Why Birds Sing and Whale Music are my CDs most inspired by encounters with these creatures.

Ls: There seems to be something profound about the fractal nature of some birdsong and of whalesong, its seeming endlessness, with minute and infinite variations. It’s both ephemeral and enduring…

DR: I’m glad you think so! How much fractals can help explain music is an open question, but they may help. I’ll have to ask Mandelbrot about it next time I see him at the Cornelia St. Café…

Ls: Finally, what’s blossoming in your brain as the next possible collaborative project?

DR: My next book BEAUTY SECRET: How Art Informs Evolution, begins with the puzzle of why is it that if you speed up a humpback whale song it sounds like a nightingale. Are there certain patterns in nature that have been produced by evolution to be simply beautiful, with no real adaptive purpose? Darwin thought so, and that’s how he came up with idea of sexual selection. But are sexually selected traits RANDOM, arbitrary, or might they reveal certain rhythms at the root of nature itself? More of a big concept book.
After that I think I’ll do something with the music of insects, their trance-like qualities, the way different species listen to each other in some great hive-mind kind of way…


David Rothenberg [felicitously pictured there with a starling] is the author of Why Birds Sing, also published in Italy, Spain, Taiwan, China, Korea, and Germany. It was turned into a feature length BBC TV documentary. Rothenberg has also written Sudden Music, Blue Cliff Record, Hand’s End, and Always the Mountains. His articles have appeared in Parabola, Orion, The Nation, Wired, Dwell, Kyoto Journal, The Guardian, The Globe and Mail and Sierra. Rothenberg is also a composer and jazz clarinetist, and he has seven CDs out under his own name, including On the Cliffs of the Heart, named one of the top ten CDs by Jazziz Magazine in 1995. His latest book is Thousand Mile Song, about making music with whales. His first CD on ECM Records, with pianist Marilyn Crispell, will be released in 2010. Rothenberg is professor of philosophy and music at the New Jersey Institute of Technology.

www.thousandmilesong.com
www.whybirdssing.com


Philosopher and musician David Rothenberg specializes in interspecies communication. Currently sailing as part of the Arctic Circle project, here he answers some questions on the nature of process and inspiration.

Likestarlings: As a jazz musician and composer you were obviously familiar with making ensemble sounds. But what first alerted you to the possibility and potential of communication/ collaboration with species other than our own?

David Rothenberg: You know I think it started in high school when I heard that Paul Winter was playing with whale and wolf sounds. He had a lot of influence on me back then. After a while I started to think that he would bend natural sounds into his own very sweet and beautiful music, while I wanted my music to be more changed by the encounters with other species’ worlds of sound.

Ls: What was the feeling (if you can articulate such a thing in words) when you first KNEW you had a response, a musical response?

DR: I write about this in the beginning of Why Birds Sing and the end of Thousand Mile Song. At these rare moments, with some birds and some whales (though not MOST of them!), I feel as if I reach beyond my species’ lines, to communicate where words cannot. I don’t KNOW if it is happening, and don’t want to make myself the hero of any kind of grand story, but there are these humbling moments when it is possible reach just a tiny bit the edges of human understanding to make music with other creatures.

Ls: These sorts of communications of course require a special kind of listening. To those interested in jamming with whales you say: ‘One piece of advice I would offer is: listen more than you play. If you can’t hear the whale, you’re playin’ too much.’ How does listening with a view to forming your own response inform the way you listen?

DR: It’s always important not to play too much, especially as an improviser. I imagine I’ve entered into a world of musical interaction where each of us is trying to contribute something…

Ls: And have there been any times when you’ve been silenced?

DR: Sure. By the moment. By people complaining. By the sheer fact that nature’s music is fine as it is, that it doesn’t need us!

Ls: The Peruvian singer Yma Sumac is, perhaps fancifully, supposed to have learnt to sing in response to the birds. What have you learnt musically from these sorts of collaborations?

DR: Well, Yma Sumac could do anything! Plenty of human musicians have learned from birds, and in my book I argue that as the human sense of music becomes more open to new rhythms, tones, and scales, it is better able to make musical sense of nature.


Ls: It’s great to read you on English poet John Clare and his close listening to and interpretation of birdsong. Have any of your own compositions been directly inspired by your unusual interlocutors?

DR: So many of them! Both Why Birds Sing and Whale Music are my CDs most inspired by encounters with these creatures.


Ls: There seems to be something profound about the fractal nature of some birdsong and of whalesong, its seeming endlessness, with minute and infinite variations. It’s both ephemeral and enduring…

DR: I’m glad you think so! How much fractals can help explain music is an open question, but they may help. I’ll have to ask Mandelbrot about it next time I see him at the Cornelia St. Café…

Ls: Finally, what’s blossoming in your brain as the next possible collaborative project?


DR: My next book BEAUTY SECRET: How Art Informs Evolution, begins with the puzzle of why is it that if you speed up a humpback whale song it sounds like a nightingale. Are there certain patterns in nature that have been produced by evolution to be simply beautiful, with no real adaptive purpose? Darwin thought so, and that’s how he came up with idea of sexual selection. But are sexually selected traits RANDOM, arbitrary, or might they reveal certain rhythms at the root of nature itself? More of a big concept book.
After that I think I’ll do something with the music of insects, their trance-like qualities, the way different species listen to each other in some great hive-mind kind of way…

David Rothenberg is the author of Why Birds Sing, also published in Italy, Spain, Taiwan, China, Korea, and Germany. It was turned into a feature length BBC TV documentary. Rothenberg has also written Sudden Music, Blue Cliff Record, Hand’s End, and Always the Mountains. His articles have appeared in Parabola, Orion, The Nation, Wired, Dwell, Kyoto Journal, The Guardian, The Globe and Mail and Sierra. Rothenberg is also a composer and jazz clarinetist, and he has seven CDs out under his own name, including On the Cliffs of the Heart, named one of the top ten CDs by Jazziz Magazine in 1995. His latest book is Thousand Mile Song, about making music with whales. His first CD on ECM Records, with pianist Marilyn Crispell, will be released in 2010. Rothenberg is professor of philosophy and music at the New Jersey Institute of Technology.

www.thousandmilesong.com
www.whybirdssing.com

Philosopher and musician David Rothenberg specializes in interspecies communication. Currently sailing as part of the Arctic Circle project, here he answers some questions on the nature of process and inspiration.

Likestarlings: As a jazz musician and composer you were obviously familiar with making ensemble sounds. But what first alerted you to the possibility and potential of communication/ collaboration with species other than our own?

David Rothenberg: You know I think it started in high school when I heard that Paul Winter was playing with whale and wolf sounds. He had a lot of influence on me back then. After a while I started to think that he would bend natural sounds into his own very sweet and beautiful music, while I wanted my music to be more changed by the encounters with other species’ worlds of sound.

Ls: What was the feeling (if you can articulate such a thing in words) when you first KNEW you had a response, a musical response?

DR: I write about this in the beginning of Why Birds Sing and the end of Thousand Mile Song. At these rare moments, with some birds and some whales (though not MOST of them!), I feel as if I reach beyond my species’ lines, to communicate where words cannot. I don’t KNOW if it is happening, and don’t want to make myself the hero of any kind of grand story, but there are these humbling moments when it is possible reach just a tiny bit the edges of human understanding to make music with other creatures.

Ls: These sorts of communications of course require a special kind of listening. To those interested in jamming with whales you say: ‘One piece of advice I would offer is: listen more than you play. If you can’t hear the whale, you’re playin’ too much.’ How does listening with a view to forming your own response inform the way you listen?

DR: It’s always important not to play too much, especially as an improviser. I imagine I’ve entered into a world of musical interaction where each of us is trying to contribute something…

Ls: And have there been any times when you’ve been silenced?

DR: Sure. By the moment. By people complaining. By the sheer fact that nature’s music is fine as it is, that it doesn’t need us!

Ls: The Peruvian singer Yma Sumac is, perhaps fancifully, supposed to have learnt to sing in response to the birds. What have you learnt musically from these sorts of collaborations?

DR: Well, Yma Sumac could do anything! Plenty of human musicians have learned from birds, and in my book I argue that as the human sense of music becomes more open to new rhythms, tones, and scales, it is better able to make musical sense of nature.

Ls: It’s great to read you on English poet John Clare and his close listening to and interpretation of birdsong. Have any of your own compositions been directly inspired by your unusual interlocutors?

DR: So many of them! Both Why Birds Sing and Whale Music are my CDs most inspired by encounters with these creatures.

Ls: There seems to be something profound about the fractal nature of some birdsong and of whalesong, its seeming endlessness, with minute and infinite variations. It’s both ephemeral and enduring…

DR: I’m glad you think so! How much fractals can help explain music is an open question, but they may help. I’ll have to ask Mandelbrot about it next time I see him at the Cornelia St. Café…

Ls: Finally, what’s blossoming in your brain as the next possible collaborative project?

DR: My next book BEAUTY SECRET: How Art Informs Evolution, begins with the puzzle of why is it that if you speed up a humpback whale song it sounds like a nightingale. Are there certain patterns in nature that have been produced by evolution to be simply beautiful, with no real adaptive purpose? Darwin thought so, and that’s how he came up with idea of sexual selection. But are sexually selected traits RANDOM, arbitrary, or might they reveal certain rhythms at the root of nature itself? More of a big concept book…
After that I think I’ll do something with the music of insects, their trance-like qualities, the way different species listen to each other in some great hive-mind kind of way…

David Rothenberg is the author of Why Birds Sing, also published in Italy, Spain, Taiwan, China, Korea, and Germany. It was turned into a feature length BBC TV documentary. Rothenberg has also written Sudden Music, Blue Cliff Record, Hand’s End, and Always the Mountains. His articles have appeared in Parabola, Orion, The Nation, Wired, Dwell, Kyoto Journal, The Guardian, The Globe and Mail and Sierra. Rothenberg is also a composer and jazz clarinetist, and he has seven CDs out under his own name, including On the Cliffs of the Heart, named one of the top ten CDs by Jazziz Magazine in 1995. His latest book is Thousand Mile Song, about making music with whales. His first CD on ECM Records, with pianist Marilyn Crispell, will be released in 2010. Rothenberg is professor of philosophy and music at the New Jersey Institute of Technology.

www.thousandmilesong.com
www.whybirdssing.com

August 4th, 2009

Better late than never, here’s the first half of our event from June (the tape ran out, huge apologies to all those not in it…).

Livestarlings from Caleb Klaces on Vimeo.

July 14th, 2009

The Cante Jondo (or ‘Deep Song’) of Andalusia, popularized and made heroic by Lorca, was designed to bounce through the valleys of the Sierra Nevada. Farmers and villagers, washerwomen and shepherd boys would cry its pithy distillations of life on earth from rooftops and hillsides. Succinct, simple folk lyrics and tunes in endless permutation, the wind would carry these clear and melodious fragments like seeds, enabling them to take strong root in the land and bring forth the next generation of songs and singers.

There is a sea-borne ‘deep song’ too of course: that of the whales. Undeniably haunting and intricate, humpback whale songs flux across vast distances, penetrating deep hollows of the sea. Blue whales (possessors of the most potential decibels in nature by far) could once converse across the whole span of the globe. Marine noise pollution has ground down their wave-lengths now alas, but some think they can still burst the brains of giant squid with a well placed aural smash!

Whale bodies are hypersensitive to sound, like massive eardrums catching tiny sonic nuance between raucous waters. There is even research which suggests these creatures might be playing with fractals in their singing. The idea is of an endless song, always being continued somewhere, picked up by different singers, gradually shifted (perfected? – but never made perfect, finished) into new registers and clusters of resonance. But it is the same song underneath, sprung from the same multifarious urge to communicate and bridge distance and silence by filling it with the sound of being alive. The whales channel their music, that carries on as long as the species exists.

Back on land, closer to home, we can happily announce the completion of two new conversations, poetic and human. Sarah Hymas & Jo Brandon discuss, among other things, the breakdown of language, the desire and need to communicate – ‘Each of us hanging by our own tongue.’ It feels like there is a real seeking running through these poems, an earnestness, a quest for balance – so tenuous and tentative a thing.

David Tait and Kay Syrad have crafted a chain both intimate and expansive. The poems feel closely linked yet autonomous. Here, also, words themselves and the instruments of communication come under close scrutiny. There are some powerful and enigmatic encounters on this adventure, and we see a version of nature that seems like it might be able to impart some message too.

June 28th, 2009

Just posted the brand new conversation between Luke Kennard and Richard Price, revealed live at our first flock last Thursday night. Richard walked straight through the door into a world-exclusive first ever hug with Luke and onto the stage to read. It was neck-bristling, as are their poems.

An emerging way of working, or trope, in quite a few Likestarlings chains is that one poet fractures and scrambles, or opens out, while the other tidies up, makes concrete and stays for longer on particular details. That’s one feature of this conversation, where after his initial turn, Luke Kennard works over lots and lots of images in each dense poem (and similes, this one a cracker: ‘The crows, necessary and solemn as bad excuses’). Each time, Richard Price’s poems appear more personal – number 4 in the chain: ‘For me [...]‘ and ‘I accept [...]‘ – but no less sharp and surprising in their imagery.

Finishing the conversation with Andrea Porter, Heather Taylor’s poem ‘The six’ consista of two six-line stanzas (’sextets’ as it says in the poem), which responded to Andrea Porter’s snowflakes, but also that it was the sixth and last poem of the sequence. Richard Price’s finisher also plays on its place. The whole conversation wanders around ski slopes and ‘Pinnacle wordfinder’ is like a mountaineer who’s breathing thin air’s memory of the previous five poems; ‘Don’t think: absorb’.

CK