|Daryl Steven Jamieson||Last modified date：2020.06.30|
Reseacher Profiling Tool Kyushu University Pure
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PhD (University of York), MMus (Guildhall School of Music and Drama), BMus (Wilfrid Laurier University)
Country of degree conferring institution (Overseas)
Field of Specialization
ORCID(Open Researcher and Contributor ID)
Total Priod of education and research career in the foreign country
Research InterestsMembership in Academic Society
- Towards an adaptation of Konparu Zenchiku's methodology for contemporary multimedia music-theatre practice
keyword : Nō, Konparu Zenchiku, contemporary music, multimedia art, field recording
Works, Software and Database
|1.||'Fox’ is used as a verb in some dialects in England to indicate the reddening of wood as it rots, and in other dialects ‘fox-fire’ refers to the phosphorescent light emitted by decaying wood. In both cases, something magical, tricksy, and beautiful in the idea of deterioration and dying is being expressed. This very quiet piece presents four layers of clearly differentiated material, each of which is intermittently flaring up and fading away in its own time..|
|2.||Premièred 28 October 2019, online, as part of the Gene Gort and Ken Steen’s Then, What If? indeterminate multimedia group work (Romakloster is sound art work #55).
|3.||utamakura are place names used in Japanese poetry since it was first written down in the early 8th century. These places were memorialised because of some spiritual significance or a great event being connected to that place. The places which resonated with poets generally were repeated down the centuries, a web of intertextual allusions building up around each place name as generations of poets, composers, and playwrights reused the same place names in their works.
In this series of utamakura pieces, I will go to these storied places in Japan and abroad, make field recordings there, and create works around these recordings which interrogate the associations these places have accrued, the meaning for us today of old tales for our sense of place and our sense of time, as well as the spiritual chasm which widens in the face of idealised evocations of a place and its often- disappointing reality.
utamakura 4: St Dunstan-in-the-East is based on a garden on St Dunstan’s Hill in the City of London. A holy site for more than a millennium, the church presently on the site was first built in the early 12th century and repaired many times over the centuries, most notably when the tower was rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren following the Great Fire of London in 1666. The church roof and some walls were destroyed by German bombing in World War II, though Wren’s tower survived. The ruin today contains a lovely garden and benches and is both a reminder of the destructiveness of war and the capacity of nature to heal.
The piece is in six movements, each with a two-part title. There are two cycles of the minor hours – Terce (mid-morning prayer), Sext (midday prayer), None (mid-afternoon prayer) – reflecting the Catholic heritage of the site and the times at which the field recordings were taken by sound artist Fizz Margereson. Each piece also has a title taken from Shakespeare which references one of the plants actually in the garden at St Dunstan-in-the-East at the time of composition.
|4.||utamakura are place names used in Japanese poetry since it was first written down in the early 8th century. These places were memorialised because of some spiritual significance or a great event being connected to that place. The places which resonated with poets generally were repeated down the centuries, a web of intertextual allusions building up around each placename as generations of poets, composers, and playwrights reused the same placenames in their works. In this series of utamakura pieces, I go to these storied places in Japan and abroad, make field recordings there, and create works around these recordings which interrogate the associations these places have accrued, the meaning for us today of old tales for our sense of place and our sense of time, as well as the spiritual chasm which widens in the face of idealised evocations of a place and its often-disappointing reality.
Mount Kamakura, which traditionally referred to a hillock in what is now the busy resort town of Kamakura 50km south of Tokyo, is associated in traditional poetry with the sound of lumber being harvested, grass being cut, birdsong, and clouds. ‘Kama’ means scythe, so the first two associations are plays on the mountain’s name (‘kura’, incidentally, means storehouse). At present, the hillock (which is no longer called Mount Kamakura) is home to the one of the biggest Shintō (the indigenous animist/nature religion) shrines in eastern Japan, Hachimangū.
Hachimangū shrine has, in my view, somewhat lost its way – commercial considerations seem to trump the spiritual there. However, the shrine does harbour some areas of natural beauty which hark back to the traditional roots of Shintōism. The audio and visual field recordings explore the tension between modernity and tradition on this ‘mountain’, and the instruments offer commentary and reaction.
In addition to the principle focus on Mount Kamakura, I also interpolate three shorter sections focusing on Kamatari Shrine. Kamatari – about 1.5 km east of Hachimangū – is the mythical foundation point of Kamakura, where the sacred 7th-century scythe that lends Kamakura its name is supposedly interred. It’s a very small shrine, enveloped in greenery, untroubled by tourists. It feels to me, still an outsider to Japanese religious life, as more in touch with nature, the traditional source of Shintō spirituality.
This piece is concerned with the ancient and contemporary associations of Kamakura, and as I lived in Kamakura (five minutes walk from the shrine) for six years, this is the most personal of the seven utamakura pieces. The piece is structured as a journey from the present to a contemporary imagining of the past: gradually spreading out from the aimless and blurry vermillion noise of modernity to the crisp, rich, green nature of both the imagined past and the hoped-for future.
- The Musicological Society of Japan
- Japanese Society for Aesthetics
- European Network of Japanese Philosophy
- Japan Society for Contemporary Music
- The prize is three performances by three different pianists of the winning work, called 'variation [detail]' to be broadcast online in July 2020
- On 23 January it was announced that Daryl Jamieson was the recipient of the 3rd annual Toshi Ichiyanagi Contemporary Prize, given to contemporary works – by composers, performers, or critics resident in Japan, irrespective of age or nationality – which enrich the field of new art music and advance the cause of a more creative and musical society. Ichiyanagi, who is one of Japan’s most important living musicians and a laureate of the Japanese Order of Culture, solely chooses the winning works.
The citation reads: ‘The third work in a trilogy begun in 2014, Is nowhere free of bad tidings? (2017) is based on a deep consideration of the flux of Japanese history. Taken together, the trilogy is an epic musical work of extraordinarily elegance and contemporary topical perspective.… The piece succeeds in theatrically expressing, by means of its original notational system, the transient spirit of various times and societies, rendering a picture of the world darkly tinged by the harshness of reality.’