All posts by Michaël Samyn

The Unreal Forest: step 6

Even if progress is made more slowly than we would like, remaking The Endless Forest only becomes more exciting every day. In no small part thanks to the enthusiastic support from the lovely community of players.

We have added and tweaked forest magic, most visibly the ability to pick up flowers from a patch of hyacinths and give them to another deer. This required creating a new system for growing hyacinths, much like the one for creating mushroom circles.

After some searching through our archives, we collected the assets that make up the floor of Phase One of The Endless Forest: meshes and textures. We adapted them to the new tiling system we had created earlier, the system that makes the forest seem endless, and implemented it in Unreal Engine. Back when we had created this floor, shaders barely existed. So we had to come up with all sorts of tricks to get the look we wanted. Since the floor is very big, we needed to tile textures that are much smaller but we wanted to prevent all too visible repetition. And then there’s, of course, the shadows and lights which are also textures. Amusingly, some things that we had set up in the old game but didn’t quite work, now do! The new Endless Forest will not look the same as the old one. But instead of striving to get as close as possible, we will use the new technology (and the old assets) to create something equally beautiful.

Setting up the ground also required the deer to walk over hills and down valleys. We initially set up a system as in the old game that basically checks where the ground is below the deer and then moves the deer there. But then we realized that, as opposed to the old engine, Unreal has a physics simulation built in. So we are now simply using the built-in gravity simulation to keep the deer on the floor. This may break the old bug that allowed some deer to fly. Sorry about that.

We are making maps of the old game to use as a guide for placement of trees, plants and flowers (like the hyacinth patches). We want the forest to feel familiar. But it is virtually impossible to make an exact copy. The systems we used for doing that are integral to the old engine and very opaque. So we’re making an artistic copy rather than an exact one (something like landscape painting). The atmosphere will be the same and things will be more or less where you expect them.

Major features will, of course, be placed exactly where they are now. We found the meshes and textures that make up the church ruin based on the floor plan of the former abbey church in Ename where The Endless Forest was launched. So we created the appropriate materials and implemented it in the remake. It’s good to see it again (although it’s a bit embarrassing to be confronted with the amateurish way it was modeled!).

Remaking things in a new engine is turning out to be a lot more involved than we had anticipated. We have a pretty good system now for retrieving assets. But every element in the game needs to be first researched in the old engine and then rethought for implementation in the new one. Not only does Quest3D work very differently from Unreal Engine, we have also learned a lot about using videogame technology in the past decade. So we want to apply that knowledge. Towards optimizing the game’s performance, for instance (which is the primary requirement for future expansion). Even though I remember struggling over some systems back in the day, sometimes it seems that it takes even more time to re-make them, despite all our experience.

Another reason why progress is slow is that we are also not the young eager game developers that we were back then. We no longer make ourselves sick by working 14 hours a day. We work more efficiently now but that may not make up for raw energy.

And then there are all the other things that we do. We don’t focus on single short-term projects anymore. But instead, we work simultaneously on multiple projects that span many years. One of those is Auriea’s full-time job in the Kunsthochschule in Kassel. Another is Cricoterie, a VR project that will launch in September… until that happens, work on The Endless Forest will be on hold.

In November, on the other hand, there’s a festival in Scotland where The Endless Forest will be featured! It’s organized by some of the people that made the Halloween features in The Endless Forest possible. And this time too, it was they who complete the Second Decade budget. They are interested now in showing both the current game and the remake, in whatever state it will be. We will want to pour some energy into the project to make a good show.

So, expect much excitement in November!

Have a lovely Summer.

―Michaël & Auriea.

Cricoterie: a virtual theater of death

Virtual Reality is bound to die. We don’t believe that the technology can survive in the current sociopolitical context. That’s why it provides a perfect medium for a project inspired by theater of Polish artist Tadeusz Kantor (1915-1990). He referred to his work as Theater of Death. Is there a better way of describing Virtual Reality?

Cricoterie is named after Kantor’s theater company Cricot 2. It does not aim to reproduce any particular play or represent Kantor’s work in some way. But it is inspired by his spirit. And many elements are directly taken from stage props and characters that recur in his plays.

It is especially the license to be completely sincere that excites us. A sincerity that exposes its fragility in the absurd and the ridiculous (“cricot” is the reverse of “it’s a circus” in Polish). Kantor’s work is haunted by death and explores the ambiguity offered by the stage between living actors, static characters and limp mannequins. This haunting was illustrated acutely by the director’s persistent presence on the stage during each play. He seemed to surround himself with spectacles from his memories and dreams, a sort of self torture in an desire for catharsis, perhaps.

In Cricoterie the VR user performs the role of the director. Objects and characters are moved and manipulated by virtual hands to create dramatic scenes on a simulated theater stage. A wardrobe supplies a never ending stream of props. Every time you open its doors, a new element appears. Some of these are inanimate objects, others life-size ball-jointed dolls whose life-like eyes stare directly at you, all inspired by Kantor’s world.

Cricoterie in its current state

In computer simulations such as those presented in Virtual Reality objects are neither alive nor dead. The wooden cross is as alive as the marching soldier. We emphasize this in Cricoterie by driving all animation with physics simulation. The awkwardness of the motions and the many errors this produces greatly intensify the tragedy.

Art residency in Kantor’s former summer residence in southern Poland

The initial prototype for Cricoterie was created during a residency in Kantor’s former summer home in Hucisko, near Krakòw. This VR prototype consisted of a wardrobe on stage from which the user, equipped with VR motion controllers, could grab objects such as a cross, a chair, the bride and a soldier, and move them around on stage. Over the past few weeks, we have added a cage, gallows and a horse skeleton in a wheeled frame (all directly taken from original stage props). A major addition to the interaction in the piece is scaling. By holding a button on the VR controller the scale of the world is increased or reduced. This allows the user to move around with giant steps. And when holding an object while releasing the button, the object retains its relative scale and becomes either tiny or gigantic. The effect is astoundingly dramatic in virtual reality, and almost imperceptible in screenshots.

Tadeusz Kantor: Impossible Monuments (1970)

Cricoterie is an incredibly satisfying project for us. Not only because of the subject matter and the technology but also because of the way we are approaching production. We work more slowly now than we did when we were making videogames (a necessity for our health). This provides a real boost for both motivation and inspiration. We also work “without a script”. Rather than breaking our heads over a grand master plan and then producing many little puzzle pieces towards a glorious end result, we allow the prototype to inspire us and we work in collaboration with the actors and props on the virtual stage. There’s a certain mood that we do strive for, certain rhythms and flows that we want to implement, and long lists of ideas. But we’re not forcing anything. And ideally, for us, this project would never end, and we would just present different stages in its evolution to the public. This permanent state of unfinishedness seems highly appropriate for interactive art, where it is the spectator who creates the spectacle. In this sense, Cricoterie is merely a toolbox, a playset. It’s a stage with props and actors. And you have to make the play.

The Unreal Forest: step 5

We didn’t get as much done in January as we wanted to in the Eternal City. But we made up for that in February at home in Ghent.

All of the Forest Magic has been implemented! So now the deer can collect antler spells (by rubbing a tree and eating the pine cone that fell out), mask spells (by eating mushrooms growing on the side of a tree), pelt spells (by keeping a sleeping deer company) and shape-shifting body spells (by sleeping in  a mushroom circle) and cast them on another player to change their appearance with any of the antlers, masks, pelts and bodies in the current game. And the other deer can remove them, by sneezing.

All the deer masks neatly arranged in the Unreal editor.

Finding all the models, textures and sounds required a lot of searching in old files and folders. The Endless Forest was our first release and we only learned how to organize things during its production. To make matters worse, the file server we were using back then had crashed beyond repair. Or so we thought. Thanks to a little program called R-Studio we were able to recover most of the data on that disk.

Adding the antlers, masks and pelts to the remake of the game was fairly straightforward, but the animations of the frog, dove, bat, squirrel, rabbit and raven bodies that the deer can shape-shift into took a bit of extra work. Luckily Unreal Engine is well streamlined for these sorts of jobs.

Little old low poly frog can sit, jump and swim.

The visual effects for spell casting are done in a different, more efficient way than in the old engine. But they look similar enough, if not slightly better (although we’re not exactly working on aesthetics yet).

We’re quite pleased with the progress we’ve made. And wish we could just keep going. But in the next few months some other projects will be demanding our attention too. We will still try to make as much time for The Endless Forest as possible. But we need to be patient.

Our gratitude goes out to all the backers for their support!
You should have received a message about 3D printing the deer models a few weeks ago. The file for printing it yourself will soon be available. We’re running a test on our Ultimaker as we speak.

You can still join the project. The budget for a full remake has nearly been collected. Less than 1000 Euros to go.

―Michaël & Auriea.

The Unreal Forest: step 4

It has been too long since we updated you on our progress remaking the Endless Forest. The main reason is that we have been away from our studio for over half a year due to art residencies in Poland and Italy where we concentrated on other projects.

But that doesn’t mean nothing happened on The Endless Forest. Quite the contrary!

We have extended the tiles of the game world to match the size of the forest of Phase One. We have added proximity detection of trees and the matching rubbing activity. This served the implementation of Forest Magic: when a deer rubs a pine tree, a pine cone falls out. And when the deer eats this pine cone, it gets the magical power to change the look of another deer’s antlers. We have implemented this entire routine so that it can be easily expanded to include the other magical spells, which we will add next month. We have also worked on the action bar with the buttons to make it behave as it does in the current game.

Our art residency in Rome lasts one more month. But we are bringing our computers and file server so we can continue development, even if it only happens at a fraction of our normal speed. If all goes well we should be able to post another update by the beginning of February.

Thank you for your support and your patience. We apologize for our slowness. But please trust that we are fully dedicated to this project. The thought that we will be able to spend more time on it soon makes us glad.

Meanwhile, we hope you’re having the best of holidays and wish you a wonderful 2018, in the Forest and beyond.

—Michaël & Auriea.

Tips from the black box

The very gifted Thomas Viloteau has shared some of his at times original approach to learning and improving classical guitar playing in his booklet “In the black box”. It can be downloaded from his website. I found it a refreshing and inspiring read. Here’s some of the tips I found most memorable and helpful, in order of relevance to me, at this point in my studies.

Most technical mistakes will be corrected with better placement of the left hand.
The hand should stay parallel to the neck so that the fingers are perpendicular to the strings.

Like many others, I am inclined to move the left hand into some weird angles when I’m not paying attention. The result is often awkwardness and mistakes when moving fingers or shifting position. And indeed, very often the problem is greatly alleviated by taking care to position the hand perpendicular to the neck. The extra stretching that this sometimes requires is often worth the effort because it greatly improves fluency of playing.

Achieve a certain slowness of movement in the left hand (through preparation). Move the fingers at constant speed.

When I move from one position to another in a sort of panic to keep up with the tempo I now know I’m doing it wrong. The trick is to find a way for your fingers to gently walk across the fretboard. So much so that if playing doesn’t feel calm and leisurely, I know I haven’t mastered a passage yet.

You should be able to produce the same tone playing free stroke or rest stroke. If the rest stroke sounds too different from the free stroke, it means that the attack is not controlled. The free stroke attack should imitate the movement of the rest stroke one.

I have a lot of trouble with this. I love playing rest stroke. But ever since Hubert Käppel pointed out to me that the rest stroke is becoming increasingly rare in modern playing, I have been trying to play free stroke as much as possible. I am still very far removed from being able to produce the same sound as with a rest stroke but it’s a clear goal to strive towards. I think my nails are still too long to imitate the rest stroke with a free stroke.

Never try to play the piece a tempo before having integrated the fingerings securely.

Do not make mistakes. When repeating a passage, it should be played perfectly every time.

I am always eager to hear the music, to play through the entire piece to experience its emotional impact. But it takes me ages to master a piece. Indeed I hesitate to say that I have mastered any single piece that I have ever learned. And I think the reason is that I move on too quickly. I need to stick to passages and slow down the playing speed to a point where I can indeed play it in the correct rhythm without making mistakes. A nice rule of thumb that I read somewhere else is to never proceed before you can play a passage perfectly five times in a row. It’s surprising how hard this is!

Staying alert is more effective than repeating a movement over and over again. If you feel tired or not focused, stop or take a break.

I often play in the evening, or after eating. Moments when I tire easily. That’s a bad idea. Thomas Viloteau’s method focuses greatly on efficiency. It’s better to not play when you feel tired. I also try to switch between pieces and passages more now. Simply continuing to repeat the same thing until I get it right is tempting but in the end it doesn’t work for me. Progress needs to be gradual.

The musician gives life to a piece, like an actor does to a role.

There’s two very distinct ways of practicing for me: keeping strict tempo and allowing expression through rubato. Sadly, for me, as I feel more emotional, my accuracy declines, even to the point of forgetting parts of the score completely. Maybe the idea of acting a piece is a good compromise. It’s not about self-expression, or about my emotions. It’s about playing the role, shaping, breathing life into the music. But with a certain distance. Sometimes it helps to pretend I’m somebody else, another musician, and to imitate, not so much his or her sound, but their approach, their attitude.

The legs can contract to lift  the guitar up to play in the higher positions.

One of the reasons why I prefer playing with a foot rest rather than a more ergonomic support is the fuller body contact with the instrument. A support forces me to some extent to play only with my hands in a rather stiff position (somewhat essential to avoid pain when playing long sessions). But with a simple footrest I can feel more united with the guitar and move organically along with the playing.

The upper side of the guitar should be directly under the chin.

This is a useful reference when checking my posture in the mirror or deciding on the position of the support. When the upper side of the guitar is directly under the chin and I hold the instrument at a 45 degree angle, the sound hole is over my heart, where it belongs.

The left  hand should not need to grip the neck but should instead rest on it.

I tend to squeeze my left hand too strongly on the neck, especially when playing forte. So this is a good thing to watch out for.

To shift position move the elbow first, and look ahead where the hand is going.

This simple idea of looking ahead has helped me a lot already! I don’t know why but I often just move my left hand and sort of hope for the best, I guess. But just looking at the position on the fretboard where the hand needs to end up before doing the shift almost guarantees correctness.

Keep the barré perfectly still while the other fingers play.

This is very difficult for me. But it makes a lot of sense. So I work on this.

In ascending slurs, speed is more important than force.

Using force requires us to move the finger further away from the fretboard. Something to be avoided. But I’m having trouble with achieving sufficient speed to make the note ring loud enough. Not sure how they do it.

To avoid scratches when shifting position, put the finger on its side (lay it down to the right when shifting to a higher position or to the left when shifting to a lower one). To avoid scratches when lifting fingers, lift the finger straight up from the string before it starts moving.

Putting the finger on its side doesn’t work too well for me yet. It’s often hard to do and I seem to have calluses everywhere so it’s difficult to find a more fleshy spot on my fingers with which to slide over the strings. For now, when shifting, I simply lift any fingers from the bass strings to avoid scratching. I used to have a lot of trouble with noises made by lifting my fingers. But making sure I lift them up straight, and before they start moving to another position, really helps a lot. I just need more practice. I agree with Thomas that it is quite possible to virtually eliminate scratching sounds.

Keep a finger on a string that is not played to keep the right hand stable. In most cases this will be done by the thumb, but the i, m and mostly a can be used as well. Keep the same spacing between the resting thumb and the other fingers: keep it as close as possible to i, m and a.

This is very useful now that I am trying to play more free stroke. The rest stroke has stability built in to some extent.

A too round entry point of the nail causes scratches when playing in the basses.

Longer nails are easier to play with since the attack doesn’t need to be as precise, while shorter nails can give more control for tone production.

When I shape my nails to play the treble strings well, I need to turn my hand in order to avoid scratching on the bass strings. I intend to start playing with shorter nails but I’m shortening them gradually in order to not need to relearn tone production if switching too abruptly.

A brief contact with the flesh is essential when attacking the string because the nail cannot transmit information to the brain regarding the attack and the strings.

This is a very curious point. My teachers always advise in favor of using some flesh for tone production, famously contradicted by Hubert Käppel in his “bible”. But to require flesh because the nerves in it improve the contact with the brain is an interesting thing to keep in mind.

Do not wait until you think you’ve mastered the piece to play for one or two people. Having someone with a fresh ear listen to you is probably the best way to get better.

Ah. My Achilles heel. I only really want to play for myself. But I realize now that playing for others greatly helps progress. To learn how to deal with nerves helps to develop a more efficient approach to studying as well. But I don’t want to bother other people.

Thomas Viloteau also dedicates a considerable amount of space to relaxation techniques before a concert. Very helpful! And his analysis on how guitar competitions are won is greatly illuminating, even if it sounds sadly somewhat cynical.

All in all a super useful read for an amateur player like me. I’m very grateful that Thomas Viloteau shared all of this with us. Highly recommended!

―Michaël Samyn.

 

An amateur in the land of aspiring professionals

From 29 May to 5 June 2017 I attended the Guitar Festival in Koblenz, Germany, a 4 hour train ride away from my home in Ghent, Belgium. I originally intended to simply sit in on masterclasses passively but the organizers assured me that the festival welcomes students of all levels. While I never felt unwelcome, as far as I have seen, I was the only student with such a low level. I have been studying the classical guitar for four years now, through weekly evening classes, but most -if not all but myself- festival attendees were young conservatory students who have been playing since early childhood. I asked one of them how long they had been playing guitar. “Twenty-one years,” they said. “How old are you?” “Twenty-five.”

The teacher in my first masterclass set me at ease by pointing out that I was an amateur, meaning a lover, of the classical guitar. True enough, I have no ambitions of becoming a professional musician. And most of these conservatory kids most definitely do. So any comparison is not even fair. “At least I’m not an adolescent boy,” I reassured myself.

Still, it was quite nerve-racking to participate in masterclasses with Hans-Werner Huppertz, Dale Kavanagh and Hubert Käppel. I seriously considered skipping the class each and every time. I already have considerable issues with performing in public. And I didn’t really see the point of confronting these master players with my amateurism at this stage. But in the end I thought of it almost as a joke, or a challenge or provocation for the maestros: let’s see what you can do with an amateur like this!  In the end, though, each of the masterclasses turned out to be a very nice encounter and left me encouraged and inspired.

Next to actively participating in masterclasses I also sat in on classes with other students. That was almost as interesting, if not more. And most of what you will find below is based on these sessions. Next to the ones of the musicians mentioned above, I also sat in on masterclasses by Pavel Steidl and Marcin Dylla. And I saw some of the competition contestants perform and attended concerts by Marcin Dylla, Pavel Steidl, Pepe Romero, Scott Tennant, Manuel Barrueco and the Beijing Guitar Duo, and David Russell. Marcin Dylla made me cry. Lots.

What follows is a summary of the many things I have learned at the Koblenz Guitar Festival (and that will take me years to integrate in my practice), arranged according to subject and with the sources omitted to improve readability. Several master players addresssed related topics. So their words complement each other.

INTERPRETATION

The score.

The score used to be just a reminder of the music. It was not intended as a prescription.
Initially accept everything written by the composer, except if it is a misprint. And try to find out what happens when played exactly.
Figure out what the character of the music is. Is it sad? Brutal? Dignified? That is the primary question.
Not everything is written in the score. Especially dynamics can feel rather random. Feel free to change them according to your own feeling.

Opening.

The first chord decides how people will listen. The first chord draws people in. Play the first chord with gravity. Open your ears and draw people in from the first moment.
The first note of a piece should always be longer.

Phrasing.

Think of the dynamics in music as waves. A crescendo does not need to be linear. Chords succeed each other as waves of tension and release.
Forte does not mean simply playing loud. Let the volume grow. When building a long crescendo, start silently, go up and then take back a bit. A crescendo in steps feels lighter. Crescendo can mean playing piano for a long time and ending with a loud note. Sometimes the top of a phrase can be piano. Practically, on the guitar, a long note can never be pianissimo because it will not ring long enough.
Sometimes you can make a crescendo in warmth or beauty, rather than volume.
Combine crescendo with accelerando, decrescendo with ritenuto.
Play a wind instrument to learn about breathing between phrases.

Tempo.

Support tension with tempo changes. Rubato is okay in old music too.
If you repeat something more than three times you need to change the tempo to avoid monotony.
In romantic music, Dolce implies a change in tempo.
Activate rests by thinking “and”.
Think of the chord on the first beat of a bar as the result of the previous bar.
When Bach writes a bow, the last note is played short. In general, for Bach, short notes are better. But be careful not to make them sound funny or ironic.
The last note before a group of fast notes needs to be played faster.

Accents.

When there’s a surprising change in the music, show the note. Dissonances should ring a little longer. Pronounce the most tense chord more, through arpeggio. But don’t exaggerate broken chords. Avoid the kitschy harp effect.
On a rhythmical accent, pronounce the note longer. Rubato can be used to create accents.
You don’t always need to bring out the melody. Sometime that sounds too heavy.
Shape the bass note, don’t let it ring as part of the harmony in polyphonic music.

TECHNIQUE

Simplify.

Fingering doesn’t matter if you have a musical idea. Just choose the easiest. Make the left hand fingering easy and compensate for musicality in right hand intonation. Simplify unimportant bass chords and bring out the melody. If you have too much trouble with the fingering, remove one note from the chord.
Sometimes you can simulate legato by letting overtones ring. This is often easier, more relaxed and more musical.
The melody may be played on multiple strings.
Use slurs as a technical solution for fingering. Triplets are more exciting and clear with slurs from the first to the second note.

Energy.

Play efficiently. Use the right amount of energy. When you lift a finger move it to the place you’ll need it next.
Relax the hand immediately after arpeggio.

Volume.

To play Forte push the string deeper. Stress the string first, release in the highest tension. Pretend you’re playing apuyando when playing tirando.
Don’t try to get from the guitar what’s not there. Be careful to not exceed the instrument’s capacity when playing Forte.
On the guitar, playing too loud is a bigger problem than too silent. Loud guitar playing can sound dirty (which is fine in Flamenco but not in classical music).

Right hand technique.

Have the resting thumb follow the playing fingers so they always attack with the same angle. If thumb stays on E, for example, different strings will sound differently because of the different angle.
The three fingers produce different sounds. We need to figure out how to make them sound similar to each other. Different fingers may need different nail shapes. But also different angles. Get to know your hand, and the differences between your fingers.
Tremolo is just an arpeggio with a balanced sound.
Always have your right hand fingers come out immediately after playing. Don’t keep the fist closed. The finger joints have to behave like mechanical springs.
To play chords on the treble strings, hold the fingers close together. To make one string louder, slightly extend the corresponding finger.

Left hand technique.

The left hand is important because it’s controlled by the right hand side of the brain, the creative side. The right hand is controlled by the mathematical part of the brain. We can think of the left hand as the hand of the piano player, the artistic element, and of the right hand as the piano hammer, the mechanical element.
To get the right tension in the left hand, pretend you’re holding an orange or an egg that you can’t break.
You can move to the comfortable position gradually, by finger walking, rather than shifting quickly. Compensate for color differences between positions.

Shifting & glissando.

A position shift creates an accent, so avoid shifting when an accent is undesirable.
When shifting, lift fingers on bass strings, to avoid scratch sounds. But keep the fingers on the treble strings for stability and legato. Slide with more flesh and push harder to avoid scratches. You can cheat on a shift by making legato on only one note.
A glissando does not need to be linear: speed up at the end and add pressure. No need to hit every fret.

POSTURE

Don’t hold the guitar too high because a high hand requires more energy.
To find the right position, open your arms and close them so you hold the guitar like baby in your arms.
Move the whole body forward when playing vibrato.
Change body positions throughout the piece. Act out different roles to embody the emotions. Assume irregular poses where they fit the expression.
Look up when you go to the first beat, like coming up from under the water.
You need to feel the vibration of the guitar in your body. Hear the resonance.

NAILS

A nail shape that follows the round shape of the fingertip allows for attacking the string from all sides of the fingertip.
Try to play apuyando with same hand position as tirando. This doesn’t work when nails are too long.
You create lower overtones with the flesh of the fingers.

TONE

Imagination.

When you play only think about the sound, not the fingers. Our imagination makes the sound. More than your nails and such. Your sound will never be more beautiful than you can imagine. To change the sound, change the imagination.
Do a sound search until you find the feeling.
Pretend you’re a cellist. Especially with melody in the bass. This helps legato flow more.
Think of how wonderful the guitar can sound.
You have to force your imagination to a higher level.

Right Hand.

Modern guitarists rarely play apuyando these days. Most sounds can be achieved through tirando.
Different attacks correspond to sounds the voice makes: staccato tirando produces the sound i (ee), staccato tenuto sounds like a (ah) and staccato apuyando is o (ow).
Use your entire arm to attack the string. As an experiment, try to make the sound starting with the right arm stretched out sideways behind your body, circle up towards the string and attack. Then make smaller circles with the arm. Like moving through water. Then, with the same feeling, play with the arm resting on the guitar, Then only from the shoulder. Then only from elbow. Then just from the wrist.
You need to feel the tension of the string before the sound. A guitar is like bow, You need energy to shoot.

Left Hand.

We can also help articulate the sound with the left hand. While pressing the string, put pressure on the fretboard after playing a note, with the weight of your arm. The weight of the arm can produce much more beautiful sound than energy can. Make circles with the elbow and hear how the sound changes. This helps the guitar sing. You can move your torso forward when you do this. Without actually changing the pitch! It’s not vibrato. You can make the sound swell by adding pressure. And on the highest pressure, you can add vibrato.
Always use vibrato, always make the guitar sing, if only for projection. But only start the vibrato when the sounds stops growing. Then the vibrato reanimates the sound somewhat, extending the note.
A secure left hand improves the sound.
Move the guitar after plucking to manipulate the sound.

PRACTICE

Fast passages.

In general, practicing slowly is good. But if the music ultimately needs to be played fast, like tremolo for instance, it’s a bad idea. You make different motions when you practice slowly. You study walking, not running. But if the passage needs to run, you need to study running motions. When you play slowly you can make motions that are not possible when playing fast. When playing fast your motions become more relaxed because they are smaller.
To practice fast arpeggios, divide the passage in small parts and start playing them as unarpeggiated chords with long pauses in between. Start with only the right hand on open strings. It takes longer to learn both simultaneously. Then slow down the arpeggios and decrease the length of pauses. Then you make the correct movement, without excess.
Always try to put as many fingers as possible on the strings beforehand. That makes the motion smaller.
Play with the right hand only until it feels easy. Then, practice slowly to coordinate with the left hand. Since you’ve practiced with the right hand correctly, it will do the right motions, even when playing slowly.
Practice this on piano level. Dynamics are extra work. You only need to learn the motions at first.

Research.

Just repeating something is a waste of time. Experiment with different fingerings until you find the easiest. You can always change fingerings later. The brain can learn this easily when you’re familiar with the piece.
Change approach during practice. Don’t just repeat. When you played a phrase well figure out how to you did it instead of repeating over and over. By listening to your own experimentation you enter the zone: open your ears to hear the connection.
Find phrases that create tension by exaggerating slowly.
Play the first chord in five different ways to find the one you like. Just play the first two chords. That’s your whole world.
Try to sing the overtones. Breathe abdominal. Sing along with the string, modulate your voice to find the overtones. Put energy in the note.

Memorization.

Memorization includes phrasing.
Speak along with the melody -by saying the note names for instance- to help concentrate on the music when playing for others.
You should figure out the right hand fingering beforehand, including which string the thumb will rest on.
The fingers will do what you want but they need to know what you want.
Observe yourself.
Recording yourself is your best teacher.
Play around with left hand motions in a mirror.

Organization.

Practice each part until it becomes easy. Set goals for a few bars at a time. But also play the piece fully every day to retain an overview. Make sure to end every practice session with satisfaction.
Practice from the end to the beginning. So later when playing the whole piece you find security.
If you practice more than 3 hours per day, you’re doing something wrong. Be concentrated.
And also study and think without the guitar. With score and guitar. With score without guitar. Without score with guitar. Without guitar without score.
Do the hard part 20 times every day for a couple of months.
Take your time in details. Don’t go too fast. Sometimes it’s better to practice a few passages instead of the whole page.
Play the melody separately to shape the phrase. And then try to keep the phrasing when the rest is added.
Don’t hurry towards difficult pieces. Playing a piece of level 3 on level 10 is better than playing a piece of level 10 on level 3.

Rhythm.

Practice the chords first without arpeggios because they affect the rhythm. First make sure you play in time.
Body movement is better than a metronome. Sing or speak the rhythm as you play.

Exercise to avoid squeaks.

Walk on 4th or 5th string while skipping a fret with thumb and index finger, and prepare to mute. Move the elbow when changing positions, while the finger is relaxed.

Technique.

To play guitar you need arpeggios, scales and slurs, in that order. Practice them for hours.
Arpeggio practice is relaxing for the right hand. It takes no effort.

PERFORMANCE

Personal observations.

It’s not attractive when it the player seems to be having difficulty. Apparent ease is more important than playing correctly.
Passion is attractive. Some musicians seem to be able to convert their nervousness into energy, or even aggression if it is appropriate for the piece or a passage.
Playing silently on stage is an act of courage. When done well, the audience will become very quiet in order to hear.
Some players have a little routine before they start playing, to help concentration. Others prepare very little. Maybe they become concentrated while tuning between pieces. Or they find their concentration in the first notes. They find peace in the music, they settle any nerves in the sound.
Ending a piece with a bang provokes applause.
Maestros make music feel important. Students are just going through the motions.

EPILOGUE

I have learned a lot about playing the classical guitar during one intense week. This will keep me going for several months, if not years. But I have also seen a darker side of the classical guitar world.

Many students, and even some masters, seem to approach learning to play as a kind of sport. They want to achieve. Things are categorized in levels, as in a game. They treat scores like puzzles to solve. A lot of the work they do seems to involve mindless practice.

Perhaps this correlates with the bad visual aesthetic taste I have observed in many musicians. Their music isn’t born from an artistic sensibility. (How could it? They are too young, they start too early, like sports people.) There’s a certain rather well defined way the guitar is supposed to be played and they learn it. This includes rules about interpretation as well as technique. Maybe working like this is required to reach the high level of the superstars. But many seem to get stuck in this competitive mindset and never actually become artists.

The few that do, however, the few that manage to create art on the instrument, sounds that move the heart, are immensely inspiring. They make music feel exciting. Their enthusiasm is infectious. It’s hard to believe that their attitude grew out of the rather sports-like training that seems to be the norm.

The master players do insist time and again that it’s about music, it’s about art, it’s about emotions. But they don’t seem to have a method to transfer this concept to the students. Classical guitar technique is so difficult that students are almost forced to ignore the artistic aspects in favor of continuously improving their technical skills, playing by the rules.

This makes me happy that I’m just an amateur. I can take my time to explore the sound that the instrument makes. Of course I want to play Asturias or Recuerdos or Chaconne one day. But not at the expense of creating beauty. And there’s a lot of beauty in much simpler music.

Rant against the popularity of double top guitars.

―Michaël Samyn.

The Unreal Forest: step 3

We have implemented some new features in what will one day be the glorious remake of The Endless Forest in Unreal. Some of these can be seen in the video below, taken in the Unreal editor in a local multiplayer session.

The deer now brakes or even sometimes stumbles and falls after running a certain distance. Similarly it now also stretches after sleeping for a long time. And when it is standing idle it will bite its side or scratch its ear once in a while. All of these make the avatar feel much more alive. We have also implemented point-and-click navigation. And have taken the opportunity to smooth out the deer’s motion. We have added the emblematic black border around the screen. For now the only thing it does is scale up when the deer assumes its new alert stance. And finally we have added the logic for the deer to know if any other deer are near, illustrated by the new sniffing functionality.

We’re concentrating on the avatar for the moment because it’s a major part of the game (and a lot of fun to see the deer come alive). But also because it’s something we can do without requiring much network functionality – we’re still hoping that networking (especially the server part) will be made easier in an Unreal update during development.

We have now officially prioritized the remake of The Endless Forest above all other projects. That doesn’t mean other projects will not happen (they certainly will) but that we will not allow them to interrupt work on The Endless Forest. We are still figuring out how to do game development without falling into all the unhealthy traps we experienced before we quit the industry. We’re not giving ourselves deadlines anymore. And we’re allowing ample time for non-professional activities (art and music, most notably). As a result, we will not be producing output with the same hectic frequency as we did before (8 game releases in 12 years!). But our dedication is more sincere than ever.

We will continue to update you on our progress. But if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask (in the comments below, or via email or Twitter).

The Endless Forest fundraiser is gradually collecting the remainder of the budget. We’re only 2331 Euros short of a complete remake.

 

—Michaël & Auriea

Synthetic Image research in April

Apart from a delightful visit to the National Gallery in London which allowed me to study especially the work of Carlo Crivelli, not much happened this month. I have abandoned the Blender tutorial about modeling a human figure because it felt useless. In an attempt to understand the style of the Old Masters better, I did model a face based on the wonderful Portrait of a Young Woman by Petrus Christus. But while the exercise was useful for technical reasons, I didn’t make me much wiser artistically.

This month I experienced a rather intense “crisis of faith” caused primarily by the realization that I am involved in way too many projects to actually get any satisfying results in any of them. These are all rather elaborate projects and given that I am approaching the age of half a century, I decided to prioritize and focus.

A major factor in my choice of priorities is the contrast between the considerable know-how that I have already acquired and my desire to learn new things. It would be wasteful to not apply and deepen the skills I possess in favor of becoming an amateur at something new (like 3D modeling). Of course working with computers implies a certain level of continuous learning. But I want to stop trying to do everything in favor of actually getting something done.

I have realized that, while I enjoy research and study, not actually creating and working towards a release frustrates me immensely. And it causes a vicious circle where research increasingly feels like it is holding me back, rather than informing creation. Having a multitude of things on my mind renders it unclear what I should be doing next. The result is in fact very often procrastination, to escape the insecurity I presume. But given the overload of work, of course losing time only aggravates the problem.

I still intend to create the diorama of the Archangel Michael, but I will attempt to do so applying mostly skills that I already possess. After all, the goal of this project is to create a scene that encourages contemplation, in the way of the art of the Old Masters, and not for me to learn how to model better. I think I possess enough know-how to make something interesting. And the research that I have been doing, especially of Old Master art, will allow me to redirect this know-how towards this new goal.

So far my creative life has been focused on things that bring joy to others. But as the age of fifty approaches, the importance of things that bring me joy is growing. They started as hobbies vital to my mental balance while creating for others, and also inspiring creatively. But I feel that half a century of working for other people earns me the right to indulge myself a little in the time I have left. So yes, I will continue to learn music and practice classical guitar, and I will devote more time to projects that I feel especially passionate about, even if they may not be of any use to anybody else.

Ironically, having a much clearer structure in my life, and a sense of priorities, may end up being the only way to actually make all of the things on my list anyway. In my experience, creative satisfaction in one project can motivate and inspire others. While lack of focus reduces the possibility any creative output at all.

With many projects going on simultaneously, it’s easy to become cynical. I may deeply care for all of them but when they don’t live up to my expectations, as a direct result of spreading my energy thin, I lose courage. Dedication will allow me to pay attention to all aspects of a project. Not just the broad strokes. And I think that can be highly rewarding.

The main focus with Tale of Tales has been on the medium of videogames. Each one of our creations was a stepping stone, an experiment in a different direction, to see what could happen there with that medium. We were dedicated to that exploration more than to any project in particular. And while that is perfectly understandable in such an under-explored context, it doesn’t necessarily make for the best possible art.

While in Brussels for a classical guitar festival, I noticed that the top of city hall is decorated with a golden Archangel Michael. So I leave you with this image search result page that inspires the next step in the project.

— Michaël Samyn.

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An Italian Primitive in London

The National Gallery in London was on my list of places to visit for The Synthetic Image research project because I wanted to see Carlo Crivelli’s picture of Saint Michael, of which I have studied a reproduction in detail. As always, of course, there were many other works to enjoy as well. But also one disconcerting experience.

An entire wing of the museum is filled with paintings from the era that I’m most interested in. The Sainsbury Wing to the side of the main building on Trafalgar Square is dedicated to paintings from 1200 to 1500. Room 59 is almost exclusively devoted to the work of Carlo Crivelli. Crivelli is a bit of an exception in the reference collection for The Synthetic Image project, and indeed Cathedral-in-the-Clouds as a whole. Most of the project is inspired by the work of Flemish Primitives but Crivelli is Italian. Yet it’s difficult to imagine he wouldn’t have been familiar with the work of Van Eck and Van der Weyden. There are very strong correlations in terms of subject matter, aesthetic style and expression. But Crivelli adds a nice dose of Italy in the mix. So much so that when I entered the gray room in the museum I couldn’t help but feel that the golden masterpieces really belong in a sunnier climate.

Many of Crivelli’s works are altarpieces. The National Gallery displays the gilded woodwork that frames one of them. It made me wonder about the craftspeople responsible for this marvelous aspect of the work. Especially the many three-dimensional elements in Crivelli’s paintings create a strong connection with the frames.

Saint Michael is displayed within its frame as well. But sadly not in the complete altarpiece it once belonged to, even though three other parts of this altarpiece are on display in the same room. Being in its physical presence allowed me to answer some questions I had when perusing the photographic reproduction. The headband of the angel is indeed three-dimensional, for instance, with what looks like a real gem on his forehead. But I also experienced something a lot less enjoyable.

Nothing. I felt nothing when I saw Crivelli’s Saint Michael in the flesh. I had made myself so thoroughly familiar with a reproduction of the piece that the real thing felt closed to me. I guess I usually “open up” artworks by exploring them. Looking at different elements and interpreting them functions as the opening of windows and doors, or as removing layers of clothing. Bit by bit the artwork allows me to enter, and I am transported. But with Saint Michael I had already done a lot of this work at home, albeit not with the same aesthetic effect. So I guess my mind was like “Been there done that”. I have similar feelings for the Mona Lisa or the Nike of Samothrace. I don’t seem to be able to see those very famous works of art. I look at them and nothing happens, no matter how hard I try.

This reminded me of an essay that I read a long time ago, when postmodern thinking had made it pertinent again in the 1980s. In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction (published in 1935), Walter Benjamin talks about an aura that surrounds physical objects and that seems to be affected by photographing them. The more photographs are taken of something, the less impressive it becomes. Or that’s at least what my young mind got out of the essay. I’ll reread it one of these days.

Ironically the reason why we were able to go to London this time was to speak at a symposium about the preservation of digital art organized by Rhizome and Google Arts & Culture. The latter, of course, is deeply involved in meticulously photographing and distributing mechanical reproductions of art and museums. As an art fan, I applaud this to some extent, but my experience with Saint Michael and Walter Benjamin’s observation do make me wonder if they are not basically destroying all art.

Luckily there were many other Crivelli’s in the room. And even in their dry London presentation (compared to the drama of the Crivelli room in the Pinacoteca di Brera), being able to explore these works in person is always a feast. Strangely I had discovered Crivelli’s work only a few years ago. Somehow he doesn’t belong to the cannon that is taught in art school. And his work does indeed not fit very easily in the nicely linear story that art history often tries to be. It’s very clear to see why, though. Art history has a tendency to elevate masters from the past whose work displays some relationship with modern art. The golden, mystical atmosphere of Crivelli with his grumpy saints and refined lines and postures isn’t exactly the kind of stuff that would have inspired Cézanne or Manet. Although surely the surrealists must have adored the strange gherkins and apples that randomly populate almost all of Crivelli’s pieces.

Next to the typical depictions of saints and virgins for polyptychs, the National Gallery also shows his striking Annunciation with Saint Emidius. I was surprised by the size of this work. It’s two meters tall! In reproduction it somehow feels like a miniature. What a glorious picture! It’s a very odd annunciation scene that shows part of a city street that anyone who has visited Italy will find familiar. Virgin Mary is just one of the people who live in this town and God sends his spirit to her through a conveniently located little window which turns parts of the wall around it gold. It’s a strange and puzzling piece that has your eyes continuously bouncing from one element to the next. Especially the symbolism of birds and cages is particularly amusing in the context of the immaculate conception.

All the Crivelli’s in this room are beautiful! I was very moved by The Dead Christ supported by Two Angels, especially because baby looks so sad!

It’s wonderful to see how well Crivelli’s work has been preserved. Most of his pictures appear bright and sharp to us, with very few cracks. Maybe this is because they hung in cool dark churches most of the time. Or perhaps he painted on top of a layer of gold leaf. Paintings on metal tend to preserve much better than on canvas. I understand that the mobility of canvas offers great advantages but the wood that the Primitive Masters painted on is just a superior surface. Not only because it tends to preserve better, but also because it’s even, so we just see the picture not some woven texture. I guess this is another thing that relates the old paintings to work in the digital medium: a clean flat surface.

Many of Crivelli’s figures look down. Saint Michael has a reason for that as he’s keeping his eyes on Lucifer beneath his feet. But the others just seem immersed in thought. They make no eye contact with the spectator but invite them to join in their meditation. And although it is especially striking in Crivelli’s depictions, this is not unique. It is in fact rather common for “primitive” painters to depict characters with half open eye lids. This adds a lot to the feeling of intimacy of such works and encourages us to imagine a sensual connection with the scene rather than only a visual one. It draws us into the work.

I feel like some kind of patriot. In every museum I visit, I look for the Flemish masters. I love looking through the windows in such paintings in a foreign land and seeing views of what could be my home town of Ghent. In fact, our apartment is just around that corner! The National Gallery houses two beautiful Virgin and Child pictures, one by Memling and another by Bouts. I was moved by the contrast between the silent posture of the virgin and the brilliant golden rays behind her head in Memling’s picture. And Bouts reminded me that we can have fun with such elevated themes. A tender loving sort of fun. Not mockery or irony. Gentle, sympathetic. Baby Jesus seems to be laughing as Mary offers her nipple.

As always I found several other depictions of Saint Michael in the museum, or of his counterpart Saint George. In the light of my decision to follow the path of mystery, I was particularly drawn to the depiction of the devil (or the dragon) as a grotesque monster. To our modern eyes, their ridiculousness is very challenging. It is hard not to laugh with such a silly looking creature. But if you think about the history of evil people, or indeed very recent events in politics, doesn’t evil often appear as a clown?

In a rather unique depiction of Saint Michael, by Piero della Francesca, the angel actually kills the devil, having cut off the head of a serpent. The serpent that seduced Eve in the Garden of Eden presumably, which is Lucifer in disguise. It’s extremely rare to see Michael commit such violence. Usually he just subdues the devil, pushes him into hell (or onto earth!). Maybe he cannot kill him. Maybe God won’t allow it.

It’s a fascinating topic that I hope I can do justice in my own piece.

—Michaël Samyn.

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The Path of Mystery

I am a modern person. Even when I purposely seek inspiration in old art, I can’t help but come up with modern ideas for my own creations. I have a tendency to twist, to subvert, to play. I should probably give in to these tendencies: follow what comes natural to me. That makes sense. After all, I am a modern person working for a modern audience. And perhaps a modern twist can make ancient sentiments more palpable to my contemporaries.

I can enjoy art that emerges from such tendencies. I like how already in the late renaissance and definitely in the baroque era and the 19th century, artists interpret traditional themes in very personal ways. But none of those make me feel what the work by the Flemish Primitives and some other medieval and early renaissance artists do. I delight in the spectacle of the baroque and even salon painting and sculpture. But I am deeply moved by the sincerity and mystery in -slightly- older work.

So I have decided that, at least for the diorama of Archangel Michael that I am creating for Cathedral-in-the-Clouds in the context of the Synthetic Image research project, I will attempt to delve deeper into the mystery. To reject my modern tendencies and to follow my passionate heart (not my clever brain), even if I don’t understand where it is taking me. Curiously this requires me to think less, to invent less, and to accept traditional ideas about depiction.

The one huge caveat in this idea is that our times are drastically different from the Middle Ages. Particularly with respect to faith. Being so intensely immersed in a mysterious religion must have been a tremendous help for artists to imbue their work with sensitivity and depth. We don’t live in such times now. We have no solid shared belief in an immaterial world of gods and angels. Saints have become freaks that fascinate rather than models we admire. We think of ourselves as cartographers of the universe. Rather than of the universe as an unknowable whirlpool of which we know we form a part in an order that exceeds our understanding.

We live simultaneously in more emotional and less emotional times. We respond quickly to extreme stimuli but are insensitive to things that are hard to grasp, that escape us, that are so vast that their slowness makes them almost unperceivable to us. But if we find the silence in ourselves we can sense in the very tips of our capacities our connection to it.

I want to create work that helps us find this stillness. Work that is not extroverted, or clever, or ironic. Work that is not personal, that does not seek admiration for its creator (it is no coincidence that the name of many medieval artists is not even known to us). Work that is still. Majestic in its modesty. This does not mean distant, or cerebral, or ethereal. Physical sensuality is very much a part of this experience. We have bodies. We know fruits, the air, the landscape. We know stories, places, we are connected, not only to the spiritual world but also to the material one.

The concept of Paradise might be key here, the Garden of Eden that we forever seek to return to, but that we never really left. It is still there, underneath whatever we have created with our Knowledge of Good and Evil. The plants, the animals, humans, the wind. Our voices, our poems, our music. We are still in Paradise! And we can find it again through art. Not as an escape but as firm ground.

Maybe that is what faith is. Firm ground. The gods, the myths, the legends, they are all true. They are ways to imagine the unimaginable. Like three-dimensional realities drawn on a two-dimensional plane. Not fantasies, not even symbols. They are true. They are doors, pathways, connections. Without them we would be lost. Without them we are lost.

Mystery is an inadequate word because it implies vagueness, a lack of knowing, a lack of familiarity. But what I feel in the presence of great art is the exact opposite. Mystery is clarity. To know is but a game on the surface. Mystery is solid and strong and we are very closely and intimately connected to it. We are children of this mystery. And like children we don’t need to understand why or how. We accept. We love.

This is not the easiest path. It leads away from success, away from applause, away from sympathetic smiles and fond expressions of gratitude. I know I could make something cool and contemporary based on ancient themes. And there will be opportunities for that too. But in this particular case, I have chosen the path of mystery, the one that is even hard to see and impossible to know where it leads. Not for adventure, because I’m not expecting any of this to become clear at any point. But for devotion, as a prayer, as an exercise in submission.