The background drawing is the result of drum rolling
on carbon paper for thirty minutes at the same volume, trying to spread
the ticks as equally as possible over the sheet. — T.H.
In fact there is very little activity; it is like an engine that is moving quietly.
I stand very relaxed, and after rolling a while, I am beginning to get the impression
that the sound does not belong to me, that it is not I who brings out the
sound, but that it is living on its own. So that when the sticks stop moving,
the engine keeps moving on.
In this small space it must be a deafening noise, and it is amazing that these
little movements of mine are in a continuing relation to the space; in
such a way that the sound is filling the space in every little corner.
By speaking I stay very conscious of everything that is happening.
In fact my body is in a sort of continual tension, especially there is a unity
between my mind and my body, but it is always as if my body had to stay
aware of the danger to stop, the tension of stopping is constantly there.
Stopping would be terrible; when this enormous mass of sound, in which
I am involved, should vanish; if I don't want this world to fall down,
I must roll on.
Sometimes the ticks of my sticks run out of each other, then there grows an asymmetric
feeling in my body, then there is a large difference between those two
sticks and between the sound that they make, and then I have to rebuild
the balance between left and right, until everything is rolling again.
In this way I constantly have to make corrections.
When I turn my hands very little, the sound changes immediately.
I begin to get used to the tension that is coming into my body, especially in my
right arm; sort of pain.
I have the feeling that sometimes I don't have control over the volume; that it
is getting louder by itself.
Sometimes the risk of stopping is so strong, because I cannot conceive that this
big sculptural sound is made by my rolling; I cannot imaging how the
silence will be after stopping.
Sometimes the sticks hit each other and then I get scared again.
The tension in my body is growing; maybe it is because I have to remain
conscious of this activity; there is no time to dream away or to think about
other things, although that would be possible in this meditative action.
Because of the difficulty in maintaining a constant rhythm I fight a continual
battle with tiredness.
At the moment I have been rolling for 25 minutes; from time to time there
are small waves of new energy going through my body; I am building up
fresh rolls all the time; there is a new rotating movement, yielding a
propelling power that gives me once again the feeling that I could keep going for hours.
It is getting clearer now that my volume is increasing.
I try to roll with my hands but my body has to go on giving impulses for the power.
As if my body was taking on another position, in which the sticks fall
differently on the skin; I need all these feelings as a kind of refreshment.
I have cut the time in pieces, a composition of different fields of movement
and sound, like in a meadow with long grass in which the wind has been
blowing. In fact it is still a green meadow but there is a lot of movement.
I feel that the rhythm of the roll is escaping from me, but then there is
another rhythm, the difference is very subtle. I think that nobody would be
able to notice it.
My irregularities in rolling save me from dreaming, keep me awake.
I have the feeling that the high rustling in the sound forms a streaming
layer, sort of a non-realistic, non-existent layer, that looses itself from
the rest of the sound. So that the ticks of the sticks are real, they have
to take care for the mysterious silver rustling sound brought up by the
snares of the drum. By controlling the movements of my body I can keep
this sound going on; a silver cloud of sound that's constantly passing
by. Maybe this is what makes the snare-drum so exciting for me; by means
of the snares something is happening outside the real movement of the rolling
itself. But the whole thing is able to fall down through one mistake; that
makes it also very tense and difficult to talk.
But in the same time I have the feeling that time is being abolished by
rolling, and that's another exciting thing with these ring-forts: they are very
heavy, massive lumps of stone, but in the same power that makes them
raise from the earth, a vibration.
Sometimes the ticks fall together in such a way that they cancel the roll, and a
very tiny little change is needed to bring them into the roll again, to
equalized the roll.
I feel a strong restrained tension in my body, like the engine is ready to
explode, and I can also hear this tension in the roll.
My sculpture consists of a human being who, for a time, is moving, living
on the tops of his energy, and by this action abolishes time.