NOISE-BRIDGE// MUSES, 20 Uhr
Janneke van der Putten, 21:15 Uhr

Felix Behringer – Klarinetten
Christie Finn – Stimme
Janneke van der Putten – Stimme

NOISE-BRIDGE: EINTRITT 8,- € / erm. 5,- €
Janneke van der Putten: EINTRITT FREI

Wir alle haben unsere Musen: besondere Menschen oder Dinge, Theorien oder Ästhetiken, die uns als Künstler inspirieren. Dieses Konzert erforscht unsere Musen in all ihren Formen und Gestalten, besonders wie Künstler ihre Musen oft an sehr unerwarteten Orten finden und wie zwei Personen sich gegenseitig Musen sein können.

Aus solch einer kreativen Symbiose, der gegenseitigen Beeinflussung der beiden Musiker von NOISE-BRIDGE und den Komponisten Anthony Green und Martin Iddon im Schaffensprozess, entstanden die beiden Uraufführungen für diesen Abend.

IN KOOPERATION MIT Kunstraum 34 und S-K-A-M e.V.
GEFÖRDERT DURCH Stadt Stuttgart

‘Bleating Glottis and Overtones’
https://soundcloud.com/jannekevanderputten/sets/solo-acoustic-voice

Employing techniques learned during years of training, Janneke van der Putten uses her voice as an instrument in order to explore different environments physically, sonically and intuitively. Her work moves away from the usual modern parameters of amplification and synthesis, focusing instead on the space’s and body’s resonance in the here and now.

When Echo was changed into a stone her calls reverberated in honour of her name, and the trees shivered and responded with their voices. And how do we relate to these returns? The voice as an expression that stands at the base of what defines us as humans, and drags us back to our intuitive animal-like being. Returning to that embedded knowledge is like walking into a relentlessly unfolding horizon. Listening is a way to immerse in one’s environment. But as much as one inhales and exhales – inspiring and extending – the walls are with us.

They do vibrate too. It was not until I performed in the underground vaults of the Reina Sofía Museum, a former hospital, that I could imagine what the people described in Foucault’s ‘Histoire de la folie’ were pulled into. It was not one’s inner voices and secret tuning forks that hit the cranium – instead those cellars spoke for me, shadowed all that came out of my mouth. Turning around myself in expanding circles, it wasn’t possible to point a finger to the sound-source.