While I sat in the performance room of Christian Marclay‘s musical exhibit at the Whitney Museum and listened to his music being played, I thought I heard dripping water, a train, a UFO, trees rustling, and multiple cicadas.  Though I’m sure that others interpreted the music differently, it evoked many clear images in my head.  Despite the fact that I found the music to be even annoying at times, the performance really showed the relationship between what was heard and what was seen. The music had its ups and downs, much like the exhibit itself.

Before going in to the actual performance, I watched part of the two films playing in the performance room, though I didn’t realize that the themes of the films and of the music seemed to be quite similar.  One film was split into two screens, showing two separate films.  One screen would show a picture or movie scene, while the other would often display sheet music, which seemed to be playing out the scene that was pictured.  This shows how linked our ears and eyes are, as did the other film.  The second film showed movie scenes without sound, letting the viewer see how empty they are, and how when we process things that we see, sound plays a major role in what we are experiencing.

My favorite part of the exhibit wasn’t the music itself, or the films, but the chalkboard wall in the performance room.  Viewers are encouraged to write something on the massive chalkboard that is covered in staff lines (much like music paper used by composers).  From reading the wall, I learned that ‘Teresa ♥’s Julian,’ ‘Emma wuz here,’ another museum was advertising their own new exhibit, and what was perhaps my favorite: a regretful sentiment somebody wrote about how they wish that they had taken piano lessons.  Though all of these visual statements seem random, they were connected by the staff-lines on the chalk board, seemingly suggesting how music holds together the chaos and randomness of a very visual world.  This theme was present not only in the music, performance room, and films, but in the room next door.  It was full of items that would all seem random (picture a rack of clothes, bells, and even tissues…) had they not been covered in musical notes and other music-related symbols and pictures.  The room was tied together by a stream of words that seemed to describe the music that you either just heard or were about to go hear.  The words provided a constant string that held it all together, and it seemed as if the whole thing would have fallen apart had they not been there.

The last room of the small exhibit appeared to be an oasis in a museum of standing and walking around: it looked like a living room (complete with couches).  However, Marclay has the final word.  Just as you are starting to relax, music that could only be described as annoying and occasionally ‘painful unto thy ears’ starts to blast, prompting you to leave.  As you’re going home, you’ll be sure to notice the chatter of the people waiting for the subway train, and the roaring sound accompanying the train that passes by.

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Check out a mini-documentary on turntable sound pioneer Christian Marclay: