University of Virginia Library

Computer Sights + Sounds

Suffering Cybernetics, Mr. Sumner !!!

By David Giltinan
Cavalier Daily Staff Writer

Upstaged by its own pretensions,
and subjected to Lloyd Sumner's
unremittingly banal monologues,
the "World Premiere" of Aesthetic
Cybernetics Wednesday Night was
only partially redeemed by its intriguing
gimmickry.

The presentation included films,
slides and prints by Mr. Sumner (in
person!)
author of 'Computer Art
and Human Response', several electronically
synthesized compositions
by Donald MacInnis (in person!)
University Professor of Music, one
of which was accompanied by the
Randolph Macon Dance Group in a
specially choreographed routine.

Things got started ten minutes
late when Mr. Sumner appeared
before 150 people in Minor Hall
wearing a white tie embroidered
with one of his designs and announcing
that he "had something to
say" and wasn't "bound by any
previous artistic style" yet sometimes
felt like "the mere tool of
some Higher Artist."

Mr. MacInnis then spoke, describing
himself as "just one of
about 300 people presently composing
for electronic media" and as
part of an "evolutionary not revolutionary,
school of music" before
explaining briefly the principles of
periodic oscillation and frequency
mixture underlying the synthesizer,
which beeped, hissed, or whistled

obediently.

For perhaps 20 minutes Mr.
Sumner displayed slides of his work
as they contrasted with, and evolved
from, simultaneous slides of
his 'inspirations'. During this period
he constantly orated things like
"...the little men who look like
flies/are like a baby when he cries/
from hunger" all of which drowned
out the synthesizer which burbled,
giggled and whined softly to itself
(as it would for the rest of the
evening).

Mr. Sumner proved to be an
undeniably interesting artist, a lousy
poet and a worse public speaker,
leaving the first half of the "World
Premier" to be saved by Mr. MacInnis,
who played a synthesized
piece called "Improvisation for David"
that included faithful reproductions
of short wave interference,
the strangling of a parakeet,
and the suspense music to a 1936
Charlie Chan flick.

Intermission provided an opportunity
to examine prints of Mr.
Sumner's work, on display in Minor
Hall. At least two are quite powerful.
"In Wilderness" overwhelms
the sterile symmetry which is anathema
to computer art, and
"Symphony Number G in Fine Art
Major" has loose, unbalanced
curves which are a pleasure to
behold even a second or a third
time.

Part Two began with an avant
garde dance routine performed by
three slightly musclebound young
ladies from Randolph-Macon wearing
tie-dyed leotards, futuristic
make-up and green corkscrews in
their ears.

The accompaniment, a MacInnis
composition, was impressive and
the women were talented but the
choreographer, someone named Eija
Colli, shouldn't be permitted to
train monkeys.

What transpired ranged from
lackluster gymnastics to a sloppy
caricature, of Walt Disney's version
of stylize: dance in Ancient Egypt —
all interspaced with much dramatic
head-dangling and grimacing. It
was terribly, terribly symbolic.

The finale, an attempt at
syntheses of computer art and music,
included animated films of
writhing, protean geometric forms
which had to be painstakingly
drawn some 10,000 times by Mr.
Sumner.

Occasionally, Mr. Sumner would
forget to open his mouth and the
lyric potential between the visual
and audio extensions of the computer
became apparent. Usually,
however, one endured endless commentary
that was at best drivel, and
at worst farce.

For example — suddenly the
hypnotic living geometry vanishes
from the screen and we find Mr.
Sumner talking about 'inspiration'
(or is it 'life and death'?) once
more, as we watch a man on horseback
ride up to a farmhouse where
he is greeted by a woman who
hands him m mug of something,
which he quaffs, still on horseback,
with tremendous swinging or elbows
and tilting of head. All the
while the synthesizer beeps plaintively
and Mr. Sumner chants, with
the air of a carnival hustler, "to seek...to find...to intermingle... to
make your best effort... to become
married...to become ONE..."

It is at this point, mercifully,
that the horse appears to wander
into the camera as the rider stares
upward, gargling perhaps, or waiting
for the curtain to descend.