I had two questions for Ernesto Arrendell after his performance at National Institute of Art (NIA) last weekend. How? And more importantly: Why?
Twice now I’ve seen him perform: At the Boardwalk Jazz series last year and now at NIA’s Black Box Series; and I have to admit, I’m starting to get him. It’s like an artist that studies the quality of light, the shape of a horse on a hillside or the translucent layers of a flower’s petals. To appreciate the details of the natural world around us, every shade of green in a forest, the vibrant red-orange of a flamboyant blossom, or the dark grey-blue of a rainstorm on the horizon; we understand an artist that seeks to represent these visions in paintings or drawings – these are passions we are used to. But what about an artist that has that level of devotion for not what is seen with the eye, but for what is heard with the ear? We understand it for vision; why not sound?
Arrendell answered my more important question easily. Why does he do it? He can’t help himself. “Every sound tells a story, if you listen,” he said. “I listen.” It started in his early childhood, like so many kids that love to bang on pots and pans, making the kinds of sounds their parents heartlessly call noise. It’s a phase that he never grew out of, instead he grew into it. He had a passion for music, but that for him included the music of everyday sounds. “When a lady walks by in high heels on a hard floor and you hear that ‘da-ta-ta-ta-da, da-ta-ta-ta-da,’ or rumble of thunder, low and deep; I want to collect all those sounds; I want to save them in my head.”
The question of how is also easily answered. To recreate all the sounds he has collected, he experiments with various items, “found objects,” unlikely instruments in his orchestra of the abstract. Arrendell works his magic with tubes of rubber, plastic, bamboo and metal, buckets of water, bowls, spoons, paper, wires and rope. A talented percussionist by any measure, he taps, toots, drums and drips, moving from device to device like a conjurer of dreams, a shaman in a trance, telling stories through his collections of mystical sounds.
Yeah, I’m starting to get him. He’s a kid that never grew up; he’s an artist out on a limb. He’s playing his own game and loving it – and he’s taking us along for the ride. The audience sat enthralled smiling, laughing, moving with the rhythms and occasionally looking at each other with surprised glee – especially the children.
Arrendell punctuated his performance with an invitation to the children to join him at NIA for workshops on Tuesdays to try their hand at creating their own “sound stories.” Any and all youth are encouraged to check this out and by the end of March, there will be a concert in which Arrendell and the youth will show off their interpretation of the sounds of St. Maarten.
Ernesto Arrendell’s Sound Workshops are Tuesdays 2:00-4:00pm at National Institute of Arts (formerly Motiance-Imbali Dance Center) in the John Larmonie Building on Longwall Road in Philipsburg. Call 543-0600 for more information.
By Lisa Davis-Burnett
