Christine Sun Kim: All Day All Night

Synchronous mobile captions in Spanish are available.

(indistinct voices)

(camera shutter sounds offscreen)

(group makes no sound)

(indistinct voices continue offscreen)

(audience laughter)

(indistinct voices continue offscreen)

(audience laughter)

(a performer gasps)

(performers make low rhythmic sounds)

(high rapid sounds)

(sounds intensify)

(group builds to high rapid sounds)

(group joins in a loud roar)

(group stops vocalizing)

Text onscreen. "Face Opera Two. Christine Sun Kim as part of Calder Foundation's They might well have been remnants of the boat. May 2013."

Audience members stand or sit on the ground in a large Gothic-style space. Fade to black.

Lights up on seven people in blue button-downs and jeans milling about.

They stand in two rows, hands in pockets. Kim on a stool next to them, holding an iPad with the display facing out.

All at once, they purse their lips and groove with their shoulders

A conductor sits facing them, watching the iPad. She arches her back and smirks, and the choir mirrors. Kim swipes back and forth between text, “presence-shine,” and the choir’s grimaces and shaking heads, and the words “face-glow,” relaxed with beaming smiles.

On the iPad "early." Bodies stiff. Swipe to "obsessed." Shake shoulders, scowl.

"Sick." Shoulder slump, bend forward, tongues out, retching.

Bolt upright, alert. "Technology."

Kim shakes the word “void.” Lips pursed, slightly open, jaws fluttering.

"Why." Shoulders hunched, eyes clamped shut, mouths open and tense. Pulling "why" into "depressed." They sag, heads lolling.

"Masturbate." Mouths gaping in ecstasy. Heavy breaths.

"Out-of-touch." All lean left, snap their heads back, and freeze.

Kim swipes to a single period, looks at the conductor.

Kim joins the choir, hands in pockets. The group trill lips, mouth a syllable.

A different choir member conducts with iPhone in his hand, display facing him, not the choir.

"Self-pity." Sobbing faces, eyes tight, mouths open. He swipes to "why."

Faces screaming "why," shaking their heads.

Swipe to "depressed," they huff and puff. Some try to hold back a smile or a laugh.

This conductor swipes through letters, and he and the choir members stiffly tilt their heads: R, their right shoulders. N, head back. E, left shoulder. Y, lean a little more forward.

They circle their heads. Whip to the right shoulder, luxurious tilt around back, sweep in front, and start again.

"Out-of-touch" on the conductor's phone. Heads lean right, jolt back. Chins pointed at the ceiling, they wait.

Facing different directions now, they all look to the right, offstage.

Hands in pockets, they step into their two rows, all but one with backs to the audience.

The one facing Kim cradles the iPad. Without looking at it, swipes to "I feel bad."

From the conductor's place, Kim nods. He swipes. "for dogs who have to."

He frowns with "no" on the iPad. Swipes to "Grass, pretty please?" and smiles eagerly.

Swipes to another "no." His shoulders droop and smile melts into a sulking frown.

Now, hands clasped behind their backs. They are in profile with a different choir member standing to conduct them.

She directs her gaze to her right and shifts her body. Movements are bigger now: Lean forward, twist to look past their right shoulders. Up and over their left shoulders.

The conductor crouches. The choir members bend knees, hinge at their waists, look to the left, and back. Now a glance over the right shoulders, mouths wide open, and then again, with broad smiles.

Seven stand in single file, right hand touching the next person. The one in front is perpendicular to the rest and faces one conducting on a stool. They shake their shoulders. One holds a microphone.

Relaxed shoulder-shimmies.

Only the one in front watches the conductor.

The conductor slowly lowers his hand. They are still.

Fade to black. Special thanks and extra thanks, with names listed. Video by Andrew Chugg, Brad Jones, and William Tucci. Edited by Christine Sun Kim. Audio Description by Social Audio Description Collective.

Synchronous mobile captions in English and Spanish are available. 

(footsteps and laughter)

(street noise)

(indistinct voices offscreen)

(shuffling footsteps)

(camera shutter)

(person laughs offscreen)

(street noise)

(footsteps)

(static noise)

(laughter)

(footsteps)

(person laughs offscreen)

(street noise)

(distant indistinct voices offscreen)

(hands rubbing together)

(street noise)

(footsteps)

(street noise)

(laughter offscreen)

(street noise)

(person laughs offscreen)

(street noise)

(laughter)

(applause offscreen)

Text onscreen. "Courtier as courier, Voiceless lecture by Christine Sun Kim as part of Drifter Projects' inaugural exhibition. May 2013."

In a gallery, Kim and two women with iPhones face an audience. The two show black-and-white words on their phones. Kim beckons everyone to follow her.

She stands at two white iPads on a narrow shelf and swipes words on one, then the other.

"Renaissance. Author." And "courtier."

She points to the right and heads to a pair of black iPads on a narrow shelf. Everyone follows.

She swipes the left iPad, then right to display in large letters: "I often confuse courtier as (pause) courier." *Note: Do not say "pause."  It is an instruction for the narrator.*

Repeatedly swiping the right, then left: "tracking down word after word after word." Period. Period. Two dots. Two dots. Ellipses. Ellipses.

Kim invites the group to another wall.

Bright sunlight washes out the white iPad displays.

She swipes: "Story. Italian merchant decides to buy a great amount of sables of."

Swiping both black iPads at once: "Tell this. In my. Own, own." Smiling, she walks away.

She comes back with another iPad, and holds it below the two on the shelf that say "own." The one in her hands displays "words." She smiles, nods, and sets it down.

Now swiping letters on the two iPads: "e. r. a. t. i. o."

"And here. There."

At the white iPads. Sometimes one word on a screen, sometimes several, or a word split between the two. She swipes both at once to reveal: "And there was a wide river that separated. Distance hindered the path of their sounding voices."

"Ungodly cold outside. I cannot barely sign." Rubs her hands together.

"The sellers continued shouting."

Ellipses. Ellipses. She strides away.

Points to the two women, taps on an iPhone.

As they walk, they shake several iPhones, then set them on another shelf that hugs a corner. All the phones' displays blink, flashing dollar signs.

Adding an iPad with one white dollar sign on black. The three phones continue quick-flashing black to white, white to black.

The group comes over and adds more flashing phones and iPads to the collection.

Three iPads on the ground, leaning against the wall, and five phones, all flash out of sync, creating a strobing effect.

At the other black iPads: "They're obviously american dollars in modern times, so just use your imagination."

"Maybe imagine emoji icons of gold or coins to symbolize their currency."

She gives a thumbs up.

Ellipses, ellipses. She watches the blinking dollars signs on the devices a few feet away.

Question marks on the white iPads. She throws her hands in the air, then signs "listen."

More question marks. She smiles.

Swiping both at once: "Those sellers' voices those prices started to thaw and drizzle out of the coldness little murmurs."

Swipes the black iPads: "Sounds. What about their longevity?"

"Wind. Wind. You don't actually don't"

"hear it but."

Dot dot. Two dots, two dots. Ellipses, ellipses.

On the white iPads: Thank you.

Kim claps, then signs applause in ASL. Fade to black.

Special thanks to Johnny Andrew, Christopher Tester, Veronica Torres, and Jordan Robin.

Shot by Andrew Chugg. Edited by Christine Sun Kim. Words fade.

Synchronous mobile captions in English and Spanish are available. 

(indistinct stadium noise)

(muffled song begins)

Vocalist 1: Oh say can you see by the dawn's early light. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming. Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight. O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming. And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. Oh, say, does that star spangled banner yet wave. O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

(song ends)

(indistinct stadium noise)

(fade to silence)

America the Beautiful

(silence)

Announcer: (over indistinct stadium noise) —voice chorus from Miami. Please welcome Grammy Award winning gospel legend, Yolanda Adams.

(muffled song begins)

(instrumentals)

Adams: O beautiful for spacious skies. For amber waves of grain. For purple mountain majesties. Above the fruited plain. Oh, America, America. God shed His grace on thee. And crown thy good with brotherhood. From sea to shining sea.

Choir: O beautiful for spacious skies.

Adams: O beautiful.

Choir: For amber waves of grain.

Adams: Amber waves of grain.

Choir: For purple mountain majesties.

Adams: For purple mountain.

Choir: Above the fruited plains.

Adams: America, America. God shed his grace on thee. And crown thy good with brotherhood.

Choir and Adams together: From sea to shining, shining sea.

(song ends)

(indistinct stadium noise)

(fade to silence)

Subtítulos sincronizados en inglés y español están disponibles.

(ruido indistinto del estadio)

(comienza una canción amortiguada)

Vocalista 1: Oh, di, puedes ver a la luz temprana del amanecer. Lo que con tanto orgullo aclamamos al último resplandor del crepúsculo. Cuyas rayas anchas y estrellas brillantes a través de la lucha peligrosa. Sobre las murallas que observábamos ondearon tan gallardamente. Y el fulgor rojo de los cohetes, las bombas estallando en el aire dieron prueba durante la noche que nuestra bandera estaba aún ahí. Oh, di, aún ondea esa bandera tachonada de estrellas. Sobre la tierra de los libres y el hogar de los valientes.

(canción termina)

(ruido indistinto del estadio)

(desvanecimiento a silencio)

América la Bella

(silencio)

Anunciante: (sobre ruido indistinto del estadio) —coro de voces de Miami. Por favor den la bienvenida a la leyenda del gospel ganadora del premio Grammy, Yolanda Adams.

(comienza una canción amortiguada)

(instrumentales)

Adams: Oh hermosa para cielos espaciosos. Para ondas ámbares de grano. Para las majestades de montaña púrpura. Por encima de la llanura frutada. Oh, América, América. Dios derramó Su gracia sobre ti. Y corona tu bien con hermandad. De mar a mar brillante.

Coro: Oh hermosa para cielos espaciosos.

Adams: Oh hermosa.

Coro: Para ondas ámbares de grano.

Adams: Ondas ámbares de grano.

Coro: Para las majestades de montaña púrpura.

Adams: Para montaña púrpura.

Coro: Por encima de la llanura frutada.

Adams: América, América. Dios derramó Su gracia sobre ti. Y corona tu bien con hermandad.

Coro y Adams juntos: De mar a brillante, mar brillante.

(canción termina)

(ruido indistinto del estadio)

(desvanecimiento a silencio)

Juan Cisneros, 21:05 min.; Melissa Dubbin and Aaron S. Davidson, 3:22 min.; David Horvitz, 1:35 min.; Carmelle Safdie, 2:07 min.; Sonja Simonyi, Nico Van Tomme, and Niels Van Tomme, 0:29 min.; Lotti Sollevi, 7:50 min.; and Alex Waxman, 5:01 min.

Seven soundtracks, wooden bench with colored fabric 

36 x 210 x 16.5 in. (91.4 x 533.4 x 41.9 cm)

Christine Sun Kim's collaborators on this work wrote sound descriptions for each of their compositions. Find them below:

1 Juan Cisneros, Untitled 09:54 and 11:11 min. 
2 lullabies composed with repetition of a melody, slightly evolving patterns of sine waves and fm modulation for additional texture and vibration.-- These were an interesting exercise in composition association for me. My personal association with lullabies is rooted in higher register frequencies and low harmonic timbres (xylophone comes to mind); so to effectively compose the melodies I desired, these were written & then transposed 2-3 octaves down, and using bell & tine types of sounds. 

2 Melissa Dubbin & Aaron S. Davidson, A Lullaby for Roux 03:22 min. 
Making music and recording sounds has always been a part of our practice. During our project Volumes for Sound, we had a weekly rehearsal and recording session with our trio Three Planes of Silver (Aaron S. Davidson, Melissa Dubbin and Shawn Onsgard) as we were preparing for performances in 2012-2013. While we are on hiatus from weekly evening rehearsals, we have continued to process and edit the hours of material recorded during that time and sometimes we release a few tracks. This track always felt like an interlude for the listener, a lullaby to bridge a transition. This version of the track has been made especially for Roux. 

3 David Horvitz, When the Ocean Sounds 01:36 min.
I am making sounds of the ocean with my voice. Specifically, I am making sounds of the Pacific Ocean, as it sounds on the shore of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. I use my mouth, my tongue, my throat. I try to make the sound move up and down my throat, to bounce around the inside of my mouth, all over my mouth, all around it, parts I never use in normal everyday speech. I try to find new sounds. I imagine rocks, waves, bubbles, sand. I imagine waves at my feet and off in the distance, water crashing on water, water crashing on sand. I imagine the sea coming out of my mouth in vibrations, a sea to fall asleep with and to. A place for dreams to happen. 

“When they went ashore the animals that took up a land life carried with them a part of the sea in their bodies, a heritage which they passed on to their children and which even today links each land animal with its origin in the ancient sea. Fish, amphibian, and reptile, warmblooded bird and mammal—each of us carries in our veins a salty stream in which the elements sodium, potassium, and calcium are combined in almost the same proportions as in sea water. This is our inheritance from the day, untold millions of years ago, when a remote ancestor, having progressed from the one-celled to the many-celled stage, first developed a circulatory system in which the fluid was merely the water of the sea. In the same way, our limehardened skeletons are a heritage from the calcium-rich ocean of Cambrian time. Even the protoplasm that streams within each cell of our bodies has the chemical structure impressed upon all living matter when the first simple creatures were brought forth in the ancient sea. And as life itself began in the sea, so each of us begins his individual life in a miniature ocean within his mother’s womb, and the stages of his embryonic development repeats the steps by which his race evolved, from gill-breathing inhabitants of a water world to creatures able to live on land.” —Rachel Carson,
The Sea Around Us, 1950 

4 Carmelle Safdie, O Superbaby 10:02 min. 
When I was pregnant last year my partner and I spent a lot of time listening to Laurie Anderson’s album Big Science. When our baby, Gene, was born he seemed very focused on the music whenever I played the album, and particularly mesmerized during the intro to the song “O Superman.” Whether this is because he recognized the melodies from his time in utero, the breathlike beat of “O Superman” reminded him of the circulatory and respiratory rhythms he heard from inside my belly, or he just has really good taste in music, I do not know. Either way, he clearly liked it. I looped the first few beats of the song into a ten-minute hypnotizing track to play him as he falls into sleep. 

5 Sonja Simonyi, Nico Van Tomme, and Niels Van Tomme, Good Vibrations 00:29 min. 
This recording by Niels consists of sounds Sonja made while our son Nico was sleeping on her. 

6 Lotti Sollevi, Untitled 07:50 min. 
This lullaby is created with low tones based on random poetry of soft syllables, which vibrate my chest. They are mixed with bass and the beat of my heart. I wanted to use elements that soothe my son Ari when I hold him to my chest in the evening. It also contains long tones played on our old piano and the sounds heard through our opened window sometime between 7pm and 8pm. Can I recreate the closeness and the feeling of the vibrations of these elements in a recording? Maybe some of it. Hopefully this will have a similar effect on Roux as on Ari.

7 Alex Waxman, Roux’s Casino 05:02 min. 
This ambient soundscape is built on a heartbeat of sorts made from a slowed down casio drum sound. In the midrange is a bit of fuzzy sawing breath. Little melodic squiggles in the upper register impersonate the nonsensical waves (thoughts) that precede sleep. A ringing string is the bed of sleep.

Synchronous mobile captions in Spanish are available. 

(low, rapid keyboard notes)

(high to low rapid notes and a slide)

(static and clicks)

(short and long notes play as a paintbrush clatters on wood panel)

(static and clicks)

(repeating keyboard notes as the paintbrushes clink on wood panel)

(static and clicks)

(nails fall and make a pattering sound)

(high pitched keyboard notes)

(long, low keyboard note plays and nails rattle)

(static and clicks)

(a long, low note plays again)

(static and clicks)

(nails fall onto an acrylic drumhead and make a pattering sound)

(static and clicks)

(small clusters of nails dropping on wood panel)

(long, low keyboard note plays and nails rattle)

(short, rapid notes play and nails tap in unison)

(low, long note and nails rattle again)

(static and clicks)

Animated two-channel video installation (black and white, sound); Dimensions variable

Christine Sun Kim’s collaborator on this work, Matt Karmil, wrote a sound description for this composition. Find it below: 

The sound is based around noise and some harmonically pleasing content, the far away stars are represented by crackles which have a very quick delay / reverb applied to them, giving a feeling of being in a tube. Each echo from the stars is articulated with a pluck / strike which also echoes, when the stars fill the screen the intensity of the sounds in terms of brightness and volume increases until it is all white and white noise accompanies it. There is a low rumble and crackle present when there are only small stars on the screen - these are both pushed out the way and fading when the screen turns white.

Animation: A curved pipe next to an open hand and forearm. A hand signing the letter A bursts from the top. Touches the other palm, floats to the bottom of the forearm, touches. Letters spell out Account.

Signed letter C comes next, moving down: Constitution.

Pulled into the bottom of the pipe and coming out the top, hand signs E. Ethics.

The E is pulled in, and the pipe bulges as the hand travels through.

Hand signing F pops out, touches the hand, floats down, touches. Format.

The pipe is smooth and pale. The arm textured with a diamond pattern. Signed letter L. Law.

A thin line of watery blue at the bottom of the static forearm. Hand signing P bursts out. Principle.

Back into the pipe, up, around, and out as signed letter R. Rule. Touches high, then low before slipping into the pipe.

ASL sign for letter S emerges, touches the arm high, then low. State.

The S slides into the pipe and bulges around to reach the top.