Ars Electronica 1986
Festival-Program 1986
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Festival 1979-2007


Christian Ludwig Attersee: Attersee and his friends


CHRISTIAN LUDWIG ATTERSEE (sings, plays the piano, maybe with violin and accordion)
"Frucht und Form" ("Fruit and Shape"), Linz, version, a cheer of weather and love

GÜNTER BRUS (speaks)
"Günter Brus reads from own scripts"

LUDWIG GOSEWITZ (Tape recorder, piano)
"Variated Variations On Variations On Op. 57 (1975/1985–6)"


A. R. PENCK (drums)

F. WOLLNY (guitar)

H. WOLLNY (bass)
"Triple Trip Touch"

HERMANN NITSCH (playing the Brucknerhouse's organ)
"Nachtstück für Orgel" ("Night Piece for Organ")

DIETER ROTH (does he talk?, does he play the piano?, does he bring along some instruments?, does someone of his family come to play along with him?, does he come at all?)
"Musik mit Geweile, Gewelle …" ("Music with Awhile, Awave …")

GERHARD RÜHM (plays the piano, does he sing, too?)
"Tondichtung" ("Tone Poem")

DOMINIK STEIGER (plays the piano, sings a bit)
"Komm, spiel mir was vor" ("Come, play something for me")

INGRID WIENER (sings, some choir)
"Moritat von der Eisenbahn" ("Railroad Ballad")
by Gerhard Rühm/Konrad Bayer
"Vermutlich" ("Presumably")
by Konrad Bayer/Oswald Wiener

OSWALD WIENER (sings, plays the piano)
"A Lied by Schubert"
"A Viennese Lied"
"A Lied"

EMMETT WILLIAMS (shows, speaks and plays)

(are played and look at themselves at "painting lesson")


GOISERER VIERGESANG (Bad Goisern vocal quartet)
"Oberösterreichische Volksweisen" (Upper Austrian popular songs)

LEOPOLD KÖPPL (singer of songs composed by Schubert)

"Jewish Popular Music"

WIENER MÄNNERGESANG-VEREIN (Vienna Male Choir Association)
"Wiener Chormusik" (Viennese Music for Choir)

—are rainer and schwaiger for a short time at "painting lesson"


painting writers make music
painting musicians write
writing painters make music
writing musicians paint
music making painters write
Music making writers paint from da capo sin al fine in a cycle of unending inspiration by the muses. Attersee and his friends as culmination point horizon.

And maybe GÜNTHER BRUS would "even want to knit a white waistcoat while doing a handstand to show that you can do the plain or the invert in all situations of life. But now the blood races to my head in upright position because already today I must hand in the knitting pattern for the project 'Attersee and his friends'. I only know for sure: 'I won't create a marble sculpture.' "

And all this and even that by GERHARD RÜHM regarding "music language—language music": "under this title I group acoustic creations which are borderland works or mixtures between poetry and music. The term 'language music' refers to products of art based on language and penetrating the sphere of music, that take into account musical parameters—that is poetry, which requires an exact presentation and which must be heard. The term 'music language', on the other hand, stands for instrumental music showing intentional linguistic characteristics or even functions: either in a non-verbal speech-gestic sense or in that it holds an established code which enables music itself (and not as setting of a text) to actually generate semantic expressions—for example if certain sounds are assigned to certain letters, which permits the immediate translation of one medium into the other. This method—so consequently applied—is new, but rudimentarily known as musical name encoding. Apart from the musical-graphical range of phenomena, by "music language" I also understand acoustic representations of ideas and physical phenomena in as conclusive forms as possible."

And there the entire unlimited inspiration of the muses meets in a borderland, in a no-man's-land, where the armour is shed and the artist is simply artist. Not in a puristic sense painter, musician writer, but in the entire entity of his versatility.

And in the hall the guests devour CHRISTIAN LUDWIG ATTERSEE's "musical tidbits": the dining parlour to the "dramatic feast" awaits the hungry guest with chirping grilled sausages.

I cream coloured china dishes food happiness pleasantly smells on the tables. Proprietresses of model schools pick at the skin of their soup with cherry handled brushes. Piercing sounds accompany the users of flute forks, bite for bite. From the kitchen penetrates cooking noise, hot or cold playing pleasure.

In gray artist's hair turrets on both sides of the toilets, male dachhounds beat the bongos and the xylophone. My vagabond drift girl leans in a raisin and nut lined vanilla coloured slip. Her face resembles fishing and melon ice cream.

At home musical notes are stored in the bottom apertures of mouth blown glass chow-chows.

As a mature musician my grandfather describes his daily radio as "hodgepodge", "scramble" and fritter".
Like Chopin, my brother is also called "etüderl" by the family. Uncle Hagen muffles saxophone sound with gull meet.

For father driving is grand opera "this is music", he pronounces and brakes cat smooth.

We children on the back seat "hey the blood pudding, hey the liver sausage", "this has happened to Romy Schneider before, and she sucks olives with it" mother in front.

Sings somewhere Mario Lanza, gets my sister sweat wet like spiced currant bread, she rolls marzipan from her thighs and smells like chamois blood.

I love breakfast glamour, dedicate myself with top and tail to teacup architecture, or arrange picture title this-and-thats in my head.

The high delicate sounds when cuffing into the morning sausage, the pleasurable murmur of bread and buffer, the strident scale of the cherry jelly, the bathtub noise from the toaster, the egg yolk aubade my sun rise domain.

Castanets knock on my cheek. In comes Red Riding Hood and cuts bacon on my tooth gold.

World the heart of a horsefly and the heart of a chocolate swallow, melted together in the service shadow.

Dagmar the zitherstring crochets mourning lace onto your brows. Juicy fooling around. Waltz-giblets piece by piece splash into my food. Violin clef steam floats on plaited soup grease into my vis-a-vis.

The plectrum of the stewed fruit misses

Women with too loud a menstruation please go right.

The musician is instructed to play the viola in the bar in case of accidents.

The handle end of the bow is called frog, the mouthpiece of the oboe toad.

On the Karawanken echo producers are scalded with punch by fattened angles.

Danced bossa nova for a change, with ethnic German upper plate. Hallo fanatics eat violin necks in chili sauce.

The lovely Aida as fretwork drips, that costs music.
(Attersee 74)

And so you look up and around and in the evening you stand with eyes and ears agape, in the sense of the senses, and HERMANN NITSCH plays the great organ in the Brucknerhaus. A hundred pipes in the salto mortale of music. For years already ATTERSEE events on the subject "music by painters, music by writers"—so different from that of the professional musicians, because free and uninhibited by puritans wearing blinders. An evening putting aside the commonplace. And in former times OSSI WIENER was a jazz musician and ATTERSEE a pop singer, just always music in the veins and elsewhere. Always escapades to hybrid forms of language/music. And the threads are pulled inextricably towards an inevitable, inescapable meeting of the first multimedialists in the contemporary. In the middle of the sixties "Wiener Aktionisten", and always music. Constant companion. HERMANN NITSCH invents his own score language, ATTERSEE language is also published. Again and again those inspired by the muses met and launched records with wordpainting and instrumental sculptures (eg "Selten gehörte Musik", ATTERSEE, BRUS, NITSCH, DIETER ROTH, RÜHM, STEIGER and WIENER make music). Association of people who have been making music for twenty years now. Pressed into black vinyl as a document of artistic activity. An evening at the Brucknerhaus with live music by painters, writers and Schubert and Viennese songs and the Goiserer Quartet. Music grown. Final song together, otherwise individually and singly. Music as a way of expressing oneself directly. To go to the stage and to try something. To leave the spontaneous to the spontaneous, who knows more?

Music so light and free, makes professionals jealous, structures, sounds of nature making ripples. Self-portrayal and comic and music and everything. The pendulum beats music-speech-painting-music-speech painting- and back. Unrestrained by the commercial cloak the inspiration of the muses can do caprioles and somersaults. Independent of sales, self-produced in editions with a small number of copies for connoisseurs. Often produced with the cheapest of means, and yet existing beyond the bla bla bla of the hit parades. And so they sing, or don't sing, warble on instruments, or don't warble on instruments, let music pass, let themselves pass, who knows what passes? Take risks, pluck up courage for the unusual experience, let themselves fall in contrasts. A song by Schubert and Nitsch and folk song and contemporaries. Quotations in between from existing music as educational aspect of comparison. New vistas in variety as dimension of this matinee. Brigitte Schwaiger talking with Arnulf Rainer. That means poetry talking with painting, means art talking with art, in dialogue. Brigitte Schwaiger asking stubborn, provokes. Rainer provokes his side as well.—This game of question and answer turns to a play called "malstunde—painting lesson". One scene in Brucknerhaus. Arnulf Rainer sitting beside "Arnulf Rainer", Brigitte Schwaiger sitting beside "Brigitte Schwaiger". Painted dialogues from extreme to happy, from intellect to sensuality, from poetry to hair-splittings. The unplanned and surprising at the summit of a caleidoscopic evening. Like fireworks music spurts as sparks from the loudspeakers and buzzes from the stage. The audience is virtually the sensor for new events. New music, played in a family circle, so to speak, as a counterweight, as non-electronic evening at Ars Electronica. As a query to technology by conceding priority to art made by people themselves. And art dances ring-around-a-rosy.

Irene Judmayer