“The way different people have come to the same discovery independently,” wrote William H. Whyte in his 1956 book The Organization Man, “refutes the ‘great-man’ concept we cherish. It’s mostly luck who makes a discovery. If there had been no Einstein there would, in all likelihood, still be a relativity theory.”
Over the past several years, Suss Müsik has enjoyed a fruitful collaboration with visual artist B.G. Madden. Madden’s work explores unresolved systems in environmental surroundings, revealing hidden relationships between the natural world and the structures humans impose upon it.
The very first collaboration emerged in 2018, near the close of Suss Müsik’s bombastic “fake orchestra” phase. A pigmented photograph by Madden was digitally rendered into instrumental fields as a form of graphic notation. The result could retrospectively be considered a transitional piece.
Later works dispensed with “instruments” in favor of a more abstract sonic palette. Madden’s images were scanned using a computer algorithm to produce blobs of indecipherable static. These raw artifacts were made more “musical” by identifying tones that fit neatly into major pentatonic (five-tone) scales in D# and F# keys. What emerged was a rich library of material that could be manipulated into a number of fascinating juxtapositions. One piece from this period was named after the astronomer Jan Oort, who discovered a sphere of icy objects at the edge of our solar system from which comets are believed to originate.
Another piece, titled Domus, was inspired by the sculpture of Richard Serra and the architecture of Tadeo Ando. The piece recalls the brute aesthetic of each artist, bringing to mind delicate patterns of ever-shifting light and sound.
The collaboration continued during pandemic conditions in 2020. Madden mailed Suss Müsik a number of handmade index cards on fine art paper. These strange works in graphite and collage felt almost like automatic writing, perhaps a way to translate the isolation of that period into a visual language. Or it may have been the a furthering of the Serra/Ando influence; on Madden’s studio wall was a sign written in huge letters: “NOT AN ILLUSTRATION.” Perhaps this was a way to transform an imaginary state to reality, in any event, Suss Müsik interpreted these works in the form of clicks, beeps, and static grit.
These explorations were compiled into two volumes, both titled Co-Process, which to this date represent the most popular Suss Müsik releases on Spotify.
A third volume has now emerged, coincidentally titled Co-Process Volume 3. This new body of work reflects a slightly different approach. Madden’s works have become less structural and more symbolic, their imagery operating almost as a simulacra. Line drawings of ceramic vases, heads of statues, and ancient artifacts bring to mind treasures excavated from an imaginary archaeological site.
The drawings gain a peculiar resonance when coupled against a grid system of blocks, dots, and lines. And within this strange universe of configurations resides what appears to be a xeroxed photograph of a young skateboarder, perhaps representing some sort of past-present boundary.
Suss Müsik scanned Madden’s artworks, just as before, but given the comparatively more figurative aspects of this work it was clear that something else was needed.
Noting the similarity in patterns with the keys of a piano and digital sequencing software, Madden’s abstracted grids resembled a chord structure and melodic progression. Eight chord sequences formed the spine of several new compositions, sometimes broken out into arpeggios and sometimes played straight. The progression were then played using a combination of traditional (piano, percussion, fake strings) and handmade electronic instrumentation.
After several rounds of demos were reviewed by both artists, Suss Müsik recorded the best six pieces live to 8-track in a single weekend. This work comprises what the listener hears when experiencing Co-Process Volume 3.