Object Lesson: Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe
I’m a multidisciplinary artist, and a large portion of my work is based in sound. Sound is so interesting because it encourages the witness or spectator to have a takeaway beyond the tangible object. It’s about memory. But of course, certain objects have been particularly influential in the making of my own work. Tools can be used in a multitude of ways, and I like the concept of taking them out of their context to explore new ideas. There are always fixed notions about how something was made and what it should be used for. If you employ objects differently than intended, perhaps you will cultivate techniques that not only push you forward but also push the energy of those objects forward. The best way for one to expand their practice and increase their vernacular is to challenge their own ways of thinking and doing. I’m constantly trying to learn and as such, I consider the majority of my works to be in progress. Here are a few of my favorite things.
Sonambient Sculptures by Val Bertoia
I had the great fortune of being able to acquire a few Sonambient sculptures by Val Bertoia, Harry Bertoia’s son. They are based on Harry Bertoia’s original kinetic sound sculptures, clusters of heavy rods and gongs, which he made from the ‘60s up until his death in 1978. Bertoia was of course known for his furniture, his cast jewelry and monoprints, among other things. But the Sonambient sculptures are just so aesthetic and unique in the way that they were made. He used metals that weren’t necessarily resonant, so they have these distinctive sounds that sort of echo chimes and church bells. Val worked with his father and has continued his legacy, also managing his property, studio and the barn where all of these sculptures are stored. I had the opportunity to work with the sculptures themselves when, in 2017, New York’s Museum of Arts and Design commissioned me to respond to their exhibition. I choreographed a movement through the barn, where I played the sculptures and used my voice throughout the space. I was lucky to be able to keep a couple of the pieces, and I continue to use them in my work to this day. I find the way in which I engage with these objects and their sonic qualities really magical.
Henri Chopin’s 1972 Exhibition Catalogue
Henri Chopin’s 1972 exhibition catalogue from the Ceolfirth Arts Centre is a book—a collection of his concrete poems and electronic performance documents—that I have had for some time and that has been hugely inspirational for me. Our practices obviously both have relationships with sound. Though very different in execution, I think we come from the same schools of thought. I feel a real kinship to Chopin, his use of language and his ability to recontextualize. There is so much out there, yet we gravitate to the familiar over and over and over again. I’m excited anytime someone is able to move a new idea forward that isn’t rooted in something that came before. Chopin was just so interesting in that way, in his ability to push beyond the familiar.
The Crank Sturgeon Bow Buddy
The Crank Sturgeon Bow Buddy was an important compositional tool for the Candyman score. It’s essentially a contact microphone embedded in a block of wood. There’s a plate on top where these metal rods sit next to springs attached to screws. It’s an incredibly simple idea—the rods are actually made out of bicycle spokes cut down to different lengths—but once you have spent time with it and understand how it functions, it has so many possibilities. It is sort of unwieldy and unpredictable, but it’s not unlike learning to play any other instrument. The Bow Buddy is an object that allows me to explore different tonalities. It’s quite difficult to adhere to any sort of tuning or scale, but I’ve always enjoyed what is in between the notes. I use a violin bow to create unique, strange sounds and also sounds that echo other acoustic instruments, like brass and reeds. It can have a very ethereal quality to it—ghostly, almost unknown—and I really enjoy exploring the unknown.
Risograph Prints of Hypnogogic Mask Forms
About ten years ago, I began making Risograph prints of drawings I have done—an exploration of hypnagogic mask forms. These prints were born from my love for mask forms from all over Africa, as well as sculptural forms from Oceania, combined with my passion for illustrations from artists like Jean Giraud Moebius. I’m fascinated by this idea of sitting on the periphery of these cultural forms and while not exploiting them, creating works from them that are meant to live in the future. When I’m intrigued by a work aesthetically, it’s a thought-provoking exercise to try and investigate it with my own hand. I go see the works in museums, look at them up close and try to glean how they were made. At home, I research their meanings. I then draw these forms myself and make Riso prints from them. I love the Risograph machine, and the vibrant nature of the inks that they use. They’re really tactile, graphic. These prints provide a sense for my drawing practice but also for what’s going on in my head—I often return to them. A lot of my work looks at the cyclical nature in which we exist and how things happen. My practice investigates remaining present, while simultaneously looking to the past and the future.
Make Noise Mysteron Eurorack Module
I love the Make Noise Mysteron because it allows me to play with illusions. It’s an electronic music module that’s no longer in production. With it, I’m able to explore this concept of physical modeling—to create sounds that to the ear might seem like an acoustic instrument but in reality, are just made by voltage being moved around. I just love the company’s designs, too. They have an almost mid-century aesthetic. I appreciate that they have gone so far to inject this very specific visual that is their own while also doing work that is truly innovative in the sonic sphere. They’re able to reference mid-twentieth century electronics but with a twenty-first-century perspective. Things are so much more interesting when they are referential and not derivative, and the Make Noise modules are enormously successful in that sense.
Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe is a Brooklyn-based artist, curator and composer. Lowe sang and performed in various bands including 90 Day Men, with whom he had a six-year run. His solo project, which operates under the moniker Lichens and marries modular synthesizers with his own voice, has toured extensively, opening for bands like Explosions in the Sky. He releases work, both new and archival, on Bandcamp. In recent years, Lowe has pivoted to focus on composition for film and collaborated with the likes of Johann Johannsson and Hildur Guðnadóttir. He recently earned much acclaim for scoring the 2021 adaptation of Candyman directed by Nia DaCosta and co-written with Oscar-winner Jordan Peele.