Visualizing William Tyler’s Music
It was difficult to find words to describe the first three songs on William Tyler’s forthcoming album, “Time Indefinite.” He is an incomparable force in instrumental music who continues to find ways to expand his sound. From the tape decay on his sense-engaging 2020 album “New Vanitas” to his dynamic, head-spinning work with backing band The Impossible Truth, Tyler continues to build on his legacy with virtuosic fingerpicking, endearing melodies, and experimental production.
But “Time Indefinite” is a new kind of landscape. Something wholly different within his impressive catalog. Given the complexities of his new canvas, we invited a Birmingham-based visual artist, Melissa Shultz-Jones, to listen to the first three tracks and create a new piece of artwork inspired by the sounds. Here is the stunning outcome…
Shultz-Jones offered a poetic reflection on the work, as well as a broader statement on her art practice. Spend some time with her beautiful words below and also listen to the songs that inspired her piece.
Reflection
The sounds created a daydreaming journey for me. With each track, I found myself in a sequence of suspended moments, full of textures of translucence and opacity, grit, and small sparkling details of an unseen world. The word “umwelt” came to mind, as a way to describe the nuanced environment as the sounds wove together.
“The word ‘umwelt’ came to mind, as a way to describe the nuanced environment as the sounds wove together.”
My mind is often full of thoughts about the natural world. And as I heard the ethereal sounds, I thought how the early flowers, just emerging through a rough and often unwelcoming soil, labored all winter in a subterranean journey. A quiet and gentle strength, unseen by most of us. (“Cabin Six” - track 1)
And then, a primal orchestration that rouses the early risers, here, the West Virginia white butterfly and the birdseye speedwell. Revealing themselves to one another in one fated moment, one beautiful shining moment. Perhaps it is a generational relationship. And maybe, the female butterfly loves her flower so much that she entrusts her eggs, her hope to flower, creating a co parent. (“Concern” - track 2)
I know the butterfly sees in colors we can’t — white colors often appear ultraviolet to their eyes. How vivid and alive this patch of speedwell must appear as she approaches the little patch of blues, purples, and whites. She arrives and tastes the petals and nectar and pollen with her feet, aiding the tiny flowers in their sex. This is an ancient unrolling event, millions of years in development. A holy story of the relationship of winged folk and their flower lovers. (“Star of Hope” - track 3)
ART PRactice
I love learning about the ecology of Alabama’s native habitats. I observe the subtle happenings, oftentimes returning to the same spots, noting the rhythms of the area. I prefer to do this with a sketch book and a head full of research and poetry. Then I daydream on how to convey the ideas I’ve gathered, how to invite the viewer forward in a partnership of learning and wonderment. I typically pick up watercolor and gouache for this part, maybe some pastels or collage materials. Sometimes clay. I hope that through my art practice that I might educate myself and our community towards growing a greater land ethic.
