Origamibiro - The multimedia face of Nature

The interplay between audio and video is perhaps the most overused art form in recent years, especially among musicians and video artists engaged in research across the various fields of electroacoustic or experimental electronic music. Eliminating any relationship of dependency between the two components: this is the goal of director Jim Boxall, aka The Joy Of Box, sound artist Tom Hill and double bassist Andrew Tytherleigh in Origamibiro, one of the most original multimedia projects of recent years, spotted and launched by the ever-attentive Denovali. An ambitious intent, brilliantly realized in a few but excellent releases and, above all, in a handful of spectacular live performances. Jim and Tom, respectively the “visual” side and the founder of the project itself, agreed to answer our questions in an attempt to reconstruct the genesis of their adventure.

First of all, what does Origamibiro mean?

Jim Boxall: We're hoping it can mean something different for everyone. We'll let others decide that...

At the start it was a solo project of Tom's alone, right?

J.B.: Yes, that's true, and then it evolved into something we hope is greater than the sum of its parts...

How did things develop over the years? Where did you meet Andy and how did you decide to bring him on board? What changed once he joined?

J.B.: Well, Andy came on board almost immediately, before our very first show. He listened to the first record and asked to join Origamibiro. Back then Tom and I were talking about how to turn the record into a live set, and it felt like a good idea to bring him into that process too. That was a fairly intimate piece of work, one that was very much shaped by the fact it was essentially Tom's solo project, so Andy's arrival changed things a lot in terms of sound, especially through his instruments (the double bass in particular) and his love of sound manipulation. In the period after our first show we played live a great deal, and we managed to integrate each of our approaches better and better, as well as the music and the visuals. That process never really stopped, and now it's an integral part of how we work on a set: we're always ready to rearrange, revise and rework what we do, to keep it fresh, as if we were starting from scratch every time.

What was the path that led you to “Odham's Standard“?

J.B.: For a while I was immersed in studying various treatises, and one day I came across a book about spirit photography that really excited me. There's a particular atmosphere to that kind of photograph, a contrast between their nature as amateur images and the rawness of the depictions of these supposed spirits. They struck me as incredibly close, emotionally tangible, and so transparent in how they were constructed. Originally they weren't made for aesthetic reasons, but simply as objects capable of establishing a connection with people who had passed away, satisfying a need that was otherwise impossible to fulfil. To me there's something fundamental and inversely cinematic about all that, which I thought would suit our performances well. I didn't actually know that Tom was also getting interested in EVP recordings, and when I found out, we immediately realised it could be an interesting direction for the new record.

I noticed that starting with “Shakkei” you began introducing new elements: on “Cracked Mirror And Stopped Clocks” it was almost entirely electroacoustic constructions, then strings arrived... On “Odham's Standard” you used a lot of them, they almost play a bigger role than the electronics! How would you explain this gradual shift?

Tom Hill: It's simply nice to try things you've never tried before, every uncharted territory is fun. Especially when there are challenges to overcome or limits to push past. Ninety percent of the string parts on “Shakkei” are actually made with an electric guitar played with a bow: it was exciting to see what we could do using it that way instead of a violin or cello. Sometimes you can tell it's not a traditional bowed sound, but it works well, it's become its own thing entirely. On “Odham's Standard” it's actually mostly Andy's bass used in the same way. It's no secret that none of us has a huge studio full of instruments, so we have to make do with what we've got, push it as far as it will go, exploit every bit of its potential. Again, that's part of what's fun about making music for us, I'm genuinely happy it works out that way, creative challenges are part of the passion.

But this record also features piano. Quite a nice dialogue, almost “symphonic”, between several instruments, don't you think?

T.H.: Maybe. It certainly wasn't planned that way, but it's often something the music itself needs to tell us. We just put down a few sketches, then we stop and wait for the ideas themselves to tell us what they need in order to work.

Is electronic music still an important part of what you do?

T.H.: We always try to make sure technology doesn't take over. In the end it often comes down to understanding when a particular instrument is needed and when you can do without it. It has to stay something in service of the music, not something that dictates the direction. It depends on the circumstances, but in the end the ideas come first, and only then, if needed, come the tools to realise them. I'd miss those aspects of electronic music if they weren't there, but I'd equally miss sitting down and playing classical guitar if I could no longer do that.

What does nature represent for you? It seems to be an important source of inspiration, especially given how much you use field recordings!

T.H.: When work on "Shakkei" was in its very earliest stages, I was reading books like "The Soundscape" by R. Murray Schafer, "Haunted Weather" by David Toop and "The Great Animal Orchestra" by Bernie Krausse... Shortly after that I got hold of a portable recorder and started gathering samples outdoors to use in the tracks. I've never been interested in making music by shutting myself away in a studio, I've always preferred to create authentic atmospheres, so it was great to bring "the outside in". That was perhaps the most important theme of "Shakkei" itself.

I think one of the most interesting aspects of your project is its contact with reality: your music is based on abstract principles, but it always stays connected - through field recordings or the atmospheres more generally - to images, to nature, to the real world. Does that happen by chance, or is it a deliberate, sought-after approach?

J.B.: I suppose that from the very start there was a bond between Origamibiro and physical, tangible things, whether that was instruments, space, breath, phenomena, and so on... I don't think it was ever a deliberate approach, more something we all shared and were interested in. Nobody knows what we might do next time, or what directions we might end up taking.

Each of your tracks is a bit like a photograph: some older ones in black and white, others recent and highly detailed, but always with different subjects... Do you ever pay attention to the images a track might represent?

J.B.: From my point of view it's fantastic that music connects so directly to images, it makes my job a lot easier! But really it all depends on where the ideas come from. It's interesting that you mention photos, Tom had quite a few pinned to the wall in the studio while we were working on "Odham's Standard", but they were more sources to draw from than central subjects. Anyway, the beauty of instrumental music is its potential ambiguity, and its ability to reflect whatever each individual listener wants to associate it with. That said, I think it's risky for music to be dependent on images, because that could limit its room to manoeuvre. You need to find a kind of balance.

How do you handle the interaction between music and video?

J.B.: As we said, our work originally grew out of an attempt to carry the music from the studio into a live development, and over time that interaction has taken on more facets. On "Shakkei" Tom worked on the music starting from footage I'd shot in Bulgaria, which he then reworked with pieces from another recording of his shot in England. The result was a kind of rhythmic and spatial parallel, as if we were walking together in two different places following the same music. For "Odham's Standard" Tom passed me some sound material he was working on and I transferred it onto a videotape and kept copying it until the tape fell apart. At that point he re-transferred what was left back into audio form to get a different shape of what he'd been working on. "Feathered", one of my favourite tracks on the record, came about almost entirely through this process, while "Butterfly Jar" is built around a sample of a toy sound we used live. In terms of performance, interaction is a good word because we're always trying to refine and reconfigure what we do. Ideas can change or evolve, disappear and reappear even from something said a long time before that wasn't particularly relevant until that moment.

Your first work came out on Benge's Expanding! What do you remember from those days? Did you ever get to see his collection of analogue wonders?

T.H.: Expanding has a really great roster of artists on its catalogue. I already knew Leigh (Flotel, ed.), he lived just round the corner from my house: that's how I discovered the label. But I also have a fairly close relationship with other artists like Orla Wren, whose artwork inspired me a lot because of its organic nature. It was only when I went to Benge's studio, though, that I realised just how far his analogue obsession went. I don't think I've ever seen so many Moogs and modular synths in my life, it's like a museum. And when he uses them he's truly a wizard, it's nice to know they have such a loving owner.

Joining Denovali marked a decidedly important moment for you. How did you get in touch with them, and what do you think of what they're doing?

J.B.: Actually it was them who came looking for us, quite by chance. We were looking for a new label because we wanted to move forward beyond what Expanding could offer us at the time. I met the Denovali guys during the first of their Swingfest events in London and they made a great impression on me straight away, focused and professional but at the same time friendly and approachable. They knew what we were doing and where we wanted to go, so it felt a bit like coming home.

T.H.: We already knew Piano Interrupted before signing with Denovali. We'd played with them in London several years earlier, which is why we wanted to follow them by signing to the label. Denovali is fantastic, I've never known a label so willing to dedicate this much time and attention to making sure every artist has the right creative platform and the level of exposure their work deserves. They genuinely take care of you. We're only at the beginning of our journey with them, but everything points to it being a very long one.

I'm sure you must be very pleased with the care they put into designing the artwork, am I wrong?

T.H.: On that front too we're very much on the same wavelength. From the moment the artwork is conceived, it has an important connection to the music for us, since it follows it through every stage: from the record cover to the live performance, by way of the inspiration found in the studio. We're glad to have the freedom to get these aspects right as well.

J.B.: Yes, the way they worked on the artwork for our older releases was great, especially the vinyl version of the box set "Collection": that image is made up of a series of overlapping 35mm slides. We've got plans for several more covers made using unusual objects.

Do you think that the live setting is the best dimension for letting music and visual elements interact?

J.B.: Well, if we didn't think so, we wouldn't be here. If everything goes as it should, then a live show can mean a whole lot of fun and satisfaction. During performances you can do things you can't allow yourself in the studio, like syncing everything up, running music and visuals in parallel. Either way, I've learned over time that it's far nicer to let several elements intertwine while keeping their own identity than to force them at all costs into a single whole. That way, it becomes hard for anyone who hasn't already experienced a given set to predict what's coming next. Right now we're working on a new video project, which will probably see the light of day in August, and I'd like to keep making more and more videos, maybe in high resolution.

Have you ever played in Italy? If not, I don't know how satisfying it would have been given that the audience is often extremely noisy, but I hope you'll come back soon!

J.B.: Yes please! (laughs) I played in Milan a few years ago at a festival for VJs, but never with Origamibiro. As long as people appreciate what we do and enjoy themselves, we're happy. As for playing over there, we'll try to jump at the first chance that comes up!

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