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Oskar Fischinger: An Optical Poem
On the 31st of January 1967, Oskar Fischinger died in Los Angeles, California. He was a German abstract animator, filmmaker, and painter, credited for creating the first music video over fifty years before the appearance of computer graphics. His artistic career path can be traced between Frankfurt – where he worked with coloured liquids and three-dimensional modelling materials such as wax and clay; Munich – where he continued experimenting with his “Wax Slicing Machine” and producing his first abstract films with the use of different techniques including multiple projectors; Berlin – where, after setting up his own studio, he started collaborating on various film, animation, and special effects projects with such directors as, for example, Fritz Lang; and Hollywood – where his initially successful and comfortable career at Paramount Pictures turned out to have had an oppressive effect on his artistic vision.
The Berlin period resulted in Fischinger’s first music videos. The Studies (Numbers 1 to 12) received significant public acclaim both in Germany and Europe. Some of them were eventually distributed to theatres in Japan and the United States. His career was slowly progressing, bringing him recognition and his first financial gains. However, after 1933, once the Nazis consolidated power, Fischinger’s abstract films and experimentations were put under the label of “degenerate art,” and his work was reduced to the production of commercials and advertisements. Therefore, in 1935, after receiving a phone call from Paramount Pictures inviting him to work for them in America, Fischinger agreed to go almost immediately.
His “conceptual breakthrough” happened in 1932. “…[T]he abstract designs or “ornaments” he used in his films were very similar to the graphic patterns of sound on the optical soundtrack. Fischinger gave lectures on this insight and his experiments on “Ornament Ton” (Ornament Sound) to the London Film Society and the Bauhaus, and also discussed his experiments with John Cage and Edgar Varèse, who, inspired by these collaborations, would go on to incorporate natural noise and silence into their musical compositions. Similarly, when screened in New York, Fischinger’s films influenced future abstract expressionists such as Jackson Pollock.” (Rewiev by Dr Kirsten Moana Thompson, The life and Work of Oskar Fischinger by William Moritz, Film Quarterly, Vol. 59, No. 1, Fall 2005). Fischinger and Cage collaborated briefly in 1937, during the production of Fischinger’s current project, An Optical Poem – a short video composed to Franz Liszt’s Second Hungarian Rhapsody. Whilst working on the project, Fischinger told Cage “about his Ornament Ton experiments, and his Buddhist-inspired belief that all things have a sound, even if we do not always listen or hear it, just as a stone has as inherent movement even if it is still.” (William Moritz, Optical Poetry, The Life and Work of Oskar Fischinger). This valuable lesson made Cage aware of certain correlation between an object’s sound and its spiritual essence. Years later, Cage regretted abandoning his apprenticeship with Fischinger and wrote a mesostic in memory of this encounter:
The work on An Optical Poem lasted one year. “[The video] was shot using stop motion animation; dozens of individual paper cutouts of geometric shapes were arranged on the shooting stage and then repositioned after each frame of film was exposed. To outline the animation, Fischinger sketched after a graphic-temporal notation of the movement of individual figures across the screen… He used a large scroll of graph paper, where the horizontal plane represented the individual frames. The graph paper was subdivided into individual lines where Fischinger sketched the general movement of the figures over time. The curved lines and straight lines in the example specify a few of the many movements across the screen of the paper cutouts.” (Richard H. Brown, The Spirit inside Each Object: John Cage, Oskar Fischinger, and “The Future of Music”).
Despite the unquestionable high quality and originality of the project, due to the MDM studio’s bookkeeping systems, Fischinger made no profit from this endevour. Then in 1940, he accepted Disney’s proposition to contribute in their new production, Fantasia. Fischinger composed the J. S. Bach Toccata and Fuge in D Minor sequence used in the movie, but quit without credit after learning that some alterations were made to his designs. He said: “The film is not really my work. Rather, it is the most inartistic product of a factory. …One thing I definitely found out: that no true work of art can be made with that procedure used in the Disney studio.” (Thompson). His disillusionment with Hollywood, and the mechanisms of commercial movie production, only grew with time, making him eventually abandon the medium of film in favour of oil painting.
(Featured Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/maaloe/3961602503/)
New Fischinger book, Oskar Fischinger: Experiments in Cinematic Abstraction, by Cindy Keefer and Jaap Guldemond, eds. Distributed by Thames & Hudson worldwide. 240 pages, numerous color illustrations. Co-published by Center for Visual Music, http://www.centerforvisualmusic.org/Fischinger
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I appreciate this blog post because it clues me in on how early visual representation connected to musical pieces began. However, it doesn’t quite help me grasp the technical steps involved (particularly coordination of timing between one art form and another).
Perhaps you are aware of the Stephen Malinowski/Smalin videos on YouTube. O my god! There are dozens of them related to classical music pieces. Here is the URL to a batch of them. Note how the first (“Claire de Lune” is rendered using rectangles, while the second (“Recuerdos de la Alhambra”) is all circles with connecting lines. I also much enjoy the job done on Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor”.
Watching these videos is entrancing; it’s like gazing at a lava lamp. The videos make me wonder just how–if at all–a composer visualizes his/her composition as they notate.
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very helpful link, Bob!! you may be right about creative synaesthesia
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The videos of mine you’ve mentioned are pretty old … here’s a guide to my recent work: http://www.musanim.com/YouTubeHighlights/
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POSTSCRIPT: You are located in the British Isles, I believe, so I wonder how ready an access you have to Harper’s Magazine. I just received my subscription copy for February a couple of days ago and discovered therein an article you might find relevant to your topic in the above essay.
The article–“Some Notes on Song”–was authored by John Berger and can be found on pages 64-49. To capsulize, he postulates that “(t)he essence of songs is neither vocal nor cerebral but organic….a song borrows existent physical bodies in order to acquire, while it’s being sung, a body of its own….(i)t finds its place in the body’s guts–in the head of a drum, in the belly of a violin, in the torso or loins of a singer and listener.” And he quotes the late country-western singer Johnny Cash as saying, “‘I could wrap myself…in the warm cocoon of a song and go anywhere; I was invincible.”
Berger ventures into the graphic arts, too, comparing the uncanny likeness of one of Tato Olivas’ photographs of Spanish flamenco dancer Sara Baras with his own drawing of an iris opening. “You immediately assume that either the photographer or the draftsman painstakingly set out to ‘match’ the other image. But this is not the case. The two images had never been placed side by side until now.
“The likeness is inborn, as if it were genetic–which, in the normal sense of the term, it can’t be. The energy of the flamenco dance and the energy of the opening flower appear, however, to obey some dynamic formula, to have the same pulse despite their very different time scales. Rhythmically they accompany each other, although in evolutionary terms they are far apart.”
It is these correspondences between different art forms and between the forms and various bodies that constitute the substance of Berger’s article. I recommend that you check it out.
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Great post – recently saw the documentary on Walt Disney and Fischinger’s quote on the institutionalisation that occurred at the time definitely rings true
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Visual poem… really?
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