Andrius Arutiunian

In his essay Resonance of Sense, the French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy proposed that “Resonance is an oscillation of the world to myself and of myself to the world via which the two take place.” Starting with this proposal, in the You Do Not Remember Yourself Arutiunian builds a new, fully-functioning brass instrument. Made out of a thin brass sheet, the instrument is flexible in its shapes and forms – not remembering itself – and was curved specifically for this installation. The idea of tension and natural resonance of the material itself is explored here by using a set of surface transducers attached to the body of the instrument. As they vibrate the instrument, resonant sounds emerge through the surface of the brass, all generated by electronically manipulated voice recordings.

In his essay Resonance of Sense, the French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy proposed that “Resonance is an oscillation of the world to myself and of myself to the world via which the two take place.” Starting with this proposal, in the You Do Not Remember Yourself Arutiunian builds a new, fully-functioning brass instrument. Made out of a thin brass sheet, the instrument is flexible in its shapes and forms – not remembering itself – and was curved specifically for this installation. The idea of tension and natural resonance of the material itself is explored here by using a set of surface transducers attached to the body of the instrument. As they vibrate the instrument, resonant sounds emerge through the surface of the brass, all generated by electronically manipulated voice recordings.

In his essay Resonance of Sense, the French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy proposed that “Resonance is an oscillation of the world to myself and of myself to the world via which the two take place.” Starting with this proposal, in the You Do Not Remember Yourself Arutiunian builds a new, fully-functioning brass instrument. Made out of a thin brass sheet, the instrument is flexible in its shapes and forms – not remembering itself – and was curved specifically for this installation. The idea of tension and natural resonance of the material itself is explored here by using a set of surface transducers attached to the body of the instrument. As they vibrate the instrument, resonant sounds emerge through the surface of the brass, all generated by electronically manipulated voice recordings.

In his essay Resonance of Sense, the French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy proposed that “Resonance is an oscillation of the world to myself and of myself to the world via which the two take place.” Starting with this proposal, in the You Do Not Remember Yourself Arutiunian builds a new, fully-functioning brass instrument. Made out of a thin brass sheet, the instrument is flexible in its shapes and forms – not remembering itself – and was curved specifically for this installation. The idea of tension and natural resonance of the material itself is explored here by using a set of surface transducers attached to the body of the instrument. As they vibrate the instrument, resonant sounds emerge through the surface of the brass, all generated by electronically manipulated voice recordings.

The installation is centred around an open score. This score was modelled after an enneagram – a world ordering system first introduced by the Armenian-Greek mystic and philosopher (some also call him a trickster) G.I.Gurdjieff. Written for four hands and a grand piano, the score is open in duration, while the performers are invited to follow a set of simple, yet limiting musical rules. In the installation, a hand-made vinyl record of the score is being played continuously throughout the day, while the room acts as a gathering and communal space of the exhibition. The enneagram score is frescoed on the adjacent wall overlooking the canal.

In the installation, a hand-made vinyl record of the score is being played continuously throughout the day, while the room acts as a gathering and communal space of the exhibition. The enneagram score is frescoed on the adjacent wall overlooking the canal.

In the installation, a hand-made vinyl record of the score is being played continuously throughout the day, while the room acts as a gathering and communal space of the exhibition. The enneagram score is frescoed on the adjacent wall overlooking the canal.

The Book of Gharīb is a limited-edition artist book published in collaboration with the Lucerne-based Hallow Ground label, as part of Armenia Pavilion at the Venice Biennale 2022. The hardcover book contains essays by Andrius Arutiunian, Jason Bahbak Mohaghegh and Anna Della Subin, together with monochrome photos connected to the notion of Gharīb.

The Book of Gharīb is a limited-edition artist book published in collaboration with the Lucerne-based Hallow Ground label, as part of Armenia Pavilion at the Venice Biennale 2022. The hardcover book contains essays by Andrius Arutiunian, Jason Bahbak Mohaghegh and Anna Della Subin, together with monochrome photos connected to the notion of Gharīb.

Supported by: Performing Arts Fund NL, The Creative Industries Fund NL, Stroom Den Haag, Hertz Lab and ZKM | Center for Art and Media Karlsruhe, BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead, EMARE/EMAP & FACT Liverpool.

Supported by: Performing Arts Fund NL, The Creative Industries Fund NL, Stroom Den Haag, Hertz Lab and ZKM | Center for Art and Media Karlsruhe, BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead, EMARE/EMAP & FACT Liverpool.

Four Essays is a collaborative online publication initiated by Andrius Arutiunian, with contributions by Isabelle Sully, Raimundas Malašauskas, and Marianna Maruyama. Supported by Stroom Den Haag

We, The Chorus is named after a chapter in Valentinas Klimašauskas’ 2018 book Oh, My Darling & Other Rants. This book was written using an auto-correction and virtual assistants, which scanned and transformed the whole text. The book is also based on a song by Rajah Rajasingham – a street musician who has been singing one and same song in Münster, Germany for more than twenty years. As Klimašauskas writes: “Rajah has sung the single line “Oh my darling” for hours and years in the same streets of the same Münster. Originally from Sri Lanka he repeats the same line as if it was a mantra or a techno track." We, The Chorus uses an auto-tune system, which filters and auto-tunes the choir throughout the piece. Similar to the auto-correct function in text editing, the auto-tune (based on a Max4Live patch) automatically adjusts and retunes the sung notes. This automated choir is coupled with the slowed-down audio of Rajah Rajasingham singing in the streets, recorded together with racist comments of the teenagers who have filmed him. It is followed by the repetitive electronics, based on common techno-music harmonies. As all the voices get slowed down, and mixed with echoes of techno and Rajasingham’s chant, a different narrative emerges, in which the migrant/local roles have been blurred, instead generating a new, artificial sonic environment.

Installation repurposing Voyager's Golden Record materials

The 45-min-long work Atomic B for ensemble, electronics and two video screens is connected to nuclear power issues and various histories that nuclear energy has accumulated since its beginning. The work takes its starting point at Visaginas – an “atomic” town built in 1975 as part of a newly-constructed power plant in the Lithuanian territory of the former USSR. The town was designed to host the engineers, scientists and military personnel working in the power plant, and therefore it was considered a strategic and high-security zone. Taking post-soviet urbanistics and ecology as its starting point, the multimedia piece Atomic B explores the topic of nuclear power, unstable utopian ideas and their larger, societal impact.

Armen is an installation and a limited-edition lathe LP release made using sound and video materials produced by the Armenian diaspora musicians. Due to the Armenian Genocide, Armenia has one of the largest diaspora in the world, spread across various continents. I chose to work with a selection of tapes and vinyls from the 1970s and 80s made by Armenian diaspora producers, same generation as my father, an Armenian émigré himself. This material, which I collected throughout several years, shares a certain sense of nostalgia and often uses and reshapes elements of traditional Armenian music. Armen was commissioned and first shown at the Contemporary Art Centre (CAC), Vilnius and broadcast by Radio Papesse Süden Radio and documenta14 SAVVY FUNK radio program.

Together with Marianna Maruyama, first performed at Documenta 14, Parliament of Bodies

What a Strange Way I Have to Take to Meet You! is a 45′ long multimedia piece for a small ensemble, electronics and video. The video material is based on excerpts and stills from Robert Bresson’s “Pickpocket” – 1959 black & white film based around the themes of pickpocketing, morality and guilt. Having singled-out the frames and sequences of the movie that directly show the acts of stealing, I have combined them with a set of texts assembled from tourists books, in particular – advice for tourist on how not to get pickpocket. As well as that I have used some excerpts and illustrations from various books and guides of pickpocketing. After assembling these texts, I have erased particular nouns and verbs, which transformed the sentences into rather abstract and open-ended linguistic constructs (for instance “Avoid carrying sentimental value” or “If you cannot help but visit a foreign place, create an invisible zone of distance between you and others“). “Imagine a pickpocket, quietly strolling through an unknown, crowded city, carefully looking for people to participate in his fatal show. What about his eyes, do you really think they are full of guilt? He is convinced he is about to do you a favour; some things go unappreciated though.“ “- In any case, even the most skillful pickpocket won’t help humanity progress. – I never said that. It’s absurd. – Tell me, do you think there are many around? – Many of whom? – Those supermen of yours. – Who can say? They don’t get caught. – But you claim those people exist. Perhaps you know one? – If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

MO Museum, Vilnius, Lithuania.