Journal articles on the topic 'Waltzes (Piano, 4 hands)'

The article is aimed at presenting piano and chamber music written by the forgotten composer of the period of the Young Poland. Born in Cracow to a family with rich music traditions, Jerzy Gablenz learned to play the piano, flute, cello and organ. But his main interest was to write music himself. As early as in his youthful years, he wrote songs and piano miniatures mainly dedicated to Małgorzaa Schoen, his future wife. He graduated from law school, but he also studied composition and theory of music with Władysław Żeleński, Feliks Nowowiejski and Zdzisław Jachimecki. His main occupation was managing the vinegar and mustard factory. Despite that, he found time for writing symphonic, opera, chamber, piano and vocal pieces. His piano works – due to their tunefulness, diversified texture, mysteriousness and ballroom elegance – are unquestionably worth promoting. They include: 4 Small Bagatelles op. 1 no. 1, 4 Improvisations op. 1 no. 3, 3 Improvisations op. 1 no. 4, Intermezzo a la mazurka op. 2, 2 Morceaux op. 3, Two Small Bagatelles op. 8, 2 Skizzen op. 24 Es war niemal…, or Suite op. 35. Gablenz’s chamber works cover: Canzona op. 1 no. 2 for flute and piano, Sonata op. 15 for cello and piano, 5 Waltzes op. 28 for piano 4 hands, Arabesque op. 28 no. 6 for oboe and piano, Trios for three female voices and piano to lyrics by Leopold Staff op. 4 and op. 19. Unfortunately, Gablenz’s tragic death on 11 November 1937 in a plane crash near Piaseczno made the further development of his great talent impossible. I believe that his creative output deserves promoting among music lovers not only in the Dominican Republic and Canada, but first of all in Poland, where some of his works still have not had their premiere performances, despite numerous efforts of Tomasz Gablenz, the composer’s son.

Statement of the problem. Recently, there has been growing interest in the personality of the outstanding Polish composer, pianist, teacher and conductor M. Moszkowski (1854–1925), whose creativity occupies a significant place in the history of European musical art of the second half of the nineteenth – early twentieth centuries. The multifaceted composer’s legacy of M. Moszkowski gives a large variety of materials for researchers. His piano creativity, which encompasses composing, performing, teaching and editorial activities, is an outstanding phenomenon in the European musical culture. One of the key genres of piano music by composer is a miniature. The miniatures that were created by M. Moszkowski during his life, reflects the evolution of his individual style, clearly representing his creative method, aesthetics and piano performance features. However, the question of the genre of miniatures in the work of M. Moszkowski has not been considered by the researchers yet. Thus, there is a need for scientific analysis of M. Moszkowski’s piano miniatures in the context of the general stylistic norms of his creative work. The purpose of the article is characterization of stylistic features and attempt to classify of M. Moszkowski’s piano miniature in view of the role of this genre in the Polish composer’s creativity. Methods. The methodological basis of the study is the unity of scientific approaches, among which the most important is a functional one, associated with the analysis of the genre as a typical structure. The desire to realize the fundamental principles of scientific knowledge, comprehensiveness and concrete historical approach to the study of the target problem requires the combination of musical analysis with historical-cultural, stylistic generalizations, considering piano works by M. Moszkowski in the unity of historical, ideological, stylistic and performing problems involving the conceptual apparatus of theoretical musicology and the theory of pianism. Results. The vast majority of piano pieces by M. Moszkowski are miniatures. According to their place in the performing practice, miniatures are differentiated into concert-virtuoso, pedagogical, household directions. According to the internal genre typological features, they are divided into etudes, dance pieces (waltzes, mazurkas and polonaise serve as confirmation of the musical-historical experience of romantic composers) and others. In the palette of the latter are scherzo, capriccio, fantasia-impromptu, musical moments, arabesques, barcarole, lyrical pieces – that is, almost the whole arsenal of the most common types of miniatures of the Romantic era. The analysis of piano miniatures reveals the composer’s individual attitude to tradition, free choice of figurative and stylistic priorities by him. Under consideration are the piano cycles “Spanish dances” op. 12, “Arabesque” op. 61, the piece-fantasia “Hommage à Schumann” op. 5, Suite for 4 hands “From all over the World op. 23” and other miniatures that were creating throughout the life of the composer. These samples of the salon style of the late XIX century became a kind of generalization of creative searches of the previous constellation of composers – salon performers. Throughout his life, M. Moszkowski repeatedly turns to ancient forms and finds for creation of his miniatures an entirely new impulse: the small forms of the Baroque age. By rethinking, “romanticizing” them, the composer creates his own modifications of the genre models of ancient music in such works as “Canon” (op.15, op. 81, op. 83), “Rococo” op. 36, “Burre” op. 38, “Siciliana” op. 42, “Gavotte” (op. 43, op. 86), “Fugue” op. 47, “Sarabande” op. 56, “Prelude and Fugue” op. 85, as well as numerous “Minuets”. The latter carry out the traits of the aesthetics of the gallant style. Since 1900, Moszkowski prefers etudes. The arsenal of techniques he uses in these works is rich and diverse and emphasizes the artistic qualities of these compositions. Sometimes Moszkowski interprets the genre of the etude very freely: as a substitute for another genre (“Two miniatures” op. 67), as part of the cycle-diology (“Etude-Caprice” and “Improvisation”, op. 70), etc. Modern pianists seldom perform the piano music by Moszkowski. At the same time, the pieces represent a very interesting material that clearly reflects the originality of the musical language of the late romantic pianists, to which Moszkowski belonged. Perhaps, performers confused by the overload of musical material with various technical difficulties. The composer used a wide range of romantic pianistic means. The typical stylistic feature of his music is improvisation, based on the tradition of a brilliant piano style of performance with a romantically impulsive change in emotional states. The performance seems to be more unattainable, because the composer’s bold innovation in virtuoso texture is combined with a refined romantic manner of writing. This circumstance explains the fact that the works by Moszkowski were forgotten for many years. And only now, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, when many values and priorities are revised, art salon style and Moszkowski’s compositions are becoming of great interest. Conclusions. The piano “workshop of miniatures” is the most important component of the composer’s legacy of M. Moszkowski, reflecting the peculiarity of the author’s aesthetic position – cultivating a positive mood, elegance, refinement, virtuosity as signs of ownership of the instrument. It is these aesthetic principles – the feeling of Beauty as preciosity, delicacy, non-conflict state of reality – formed his attitude to the genre of miniatures. M. Moszkowski’s piano miniatures marked by the features of virtuoso style creating associations with the music of F. Chopin and R. Schumann. Chopin’s influences can be traced in the choice of genres of miniatures – among them there are waltzes, polonaises, impromptu, etudes, scherzo and barcaroles. However, for M. Moszkowski, as a composer of Polish origin, was simply necessary to be “native” to the musical heritage of F. Chopin. At the same time, the “similarity” of certain techniques to Chopin’s in the piano works by Moszkowski, always appears in the updated version without duplicating the original sources. The influence of R. Schumann is manifested in the dominance of melodious lyric and playful scherzo’s spheres, the tendency toward the characteristic images and the cycling of pieces, often combined with a certain artistic idea, specified by the programmatic subtitles or by the suite principle. Moszkowski’s piano works are perfect in a form, in possessing of specifics of the piano texture and the richness of figurative thinking. Moszkowski’s miniatures represent a very high level of piano skills, technically, they often require the ability to have a good command of the instrument, but technical difficulties submit to a vivid, meaningful image. Piano miniatures by M. Moszkowski became a significant contribution to the development of Western European art of the second half of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The numerous piano pieces by the composer, distinguished by high artistic qualities, today should rightfully take a worthy place in the concert practice of modern pianists.

Background. The article is a step towards a modern comprehension of the creative heritage by M. Karminskyi, whose work in the second half of the 20 century contributed to the development and international fame of Ukrainian music. Analysis of scientific publications (Heivandova, K., 1981; Ivanova, Yu., 2001; Kushchova, E., 2004 etc.), memoirs (Hanzburg, G., 2000) and a huge array of periodicals devoted to the composer allows us to single out the characteristic features of his creative personality, which determine the originality of his talent as a composer, explaining the constant demand for his music and its successful functioning in the pedagogical process, in particular, in children’s music schools. The purpose and objectives of this study – to consider the artistic and aesthetic orientation of the creative heritage by M. Karminskyi and identify its distinctive features, focusing on the genre and style aspect of his works for children and youth and their methodological significance in pedagogical practice. Research methods are based on general scientific principles of systematization and generalization. The most important role was played by the interdisciplinary approach to the analysis of the composer’s creative heritage from the standpoint not only of musicology, but also of history, culturology, and pedagogy. For reflecting the spiritual atmosphere, where the composer’s talent was formed, the historicalbiographical approach was of great importance. Research results. The way of formation of M. Karminskyi’s individuality, development of his innate musical inclinations to successful realization of talent is crowned with creation of compositions of various genres, both largescale – partitas, operas, music to performances, and chamber – vocal-choral and instrumental miniatures, among which the piano music for children and youth audiences appealed to the style of Ukrainian folklore occupies a significant place. Ukrainian literature, in particular, works by Taras Shevchenko, Lesia Ukrainka, and Ivan Franko, which were carefully studied by M. V. Karminskyi as a student of the Faculty of Journalism at V. N. Karazin Kharkiv State University, had a significant influence on the formation of the composer’s worldview and aesthetic priorities. Probably, it was the love for literature that determined the programmatic narrative nature of M. Karminskyi’s compositions. However, the love for music itself prevailed: M. Karminskyi continued his studies at the Kharkiv Conservatory in the class of Professor D. Klebanov possessed in perfection by the musical artistic heritage and was able to transfer creatively this knowledge to students. M. Karminskyi’s later applied the skills acquired from him in his work. In those years, the Kharkiv School of Composition stood out among other music unions of Ukraine with a high level of creative competence: composers sought their own way and artistic individuality, creating a modern musical language. However, even in this highly educated environment, the personal potential of Mark Veniaminovich, his highly artistic taste and erudition rose. Mark Veniaminovich is sometimes called “the knight of the country of childhood” thanks to his brilliant compositions for children. The composer speaks to the children’s audience with the help of intonations and artistic techniques available to the child’s worldview, but he does not adapt to the child, but teaches him to develop thinking, show strong emotions. Pupils like program music with interesting content that evokes familiar associations, specific ideas. Therefore, in many of his works M. Karminskyi turns to the literary basis, clear concrete and dynamic images, heightened emotionality (“Steppe, steppe...”, “Autumn Day”, “Lyrical intermezzo”, etc.). Such approach motivates children not to perform works abstractly and mechanically, but to bring their own emotions and understandings into them. M. Karminskyi uses clear three-part or couplet forms that contain repetition (the plays “Favorite Tale”, “Ancient History”, “Merry Trumpeter”, etc.), he is characterized by conciseness of melodic phrases. The texture is convenient for children’s hands: parallel intervals, counterpointing voices, organ points of the lower voice, melodic figurations and harmonic degrees sustained in the middle line, register dynamics are used. These and other techniques promote students’ technical capabilities by developing mobility and finger strength. Continuing the traditions of the Ukrainian singing school, M. Karminskyi pays a lot of attention to the techniques of cantilena performance, forcing students to master the art of playing the pedal, which requires careful sound control. Piano ensembles, unique in their poetic beauty, were created by the composer at the end of his not too long life. These plays use themes from the music to the play “Robin Hood”, and the musical images of the pieces are extremely clear even in the names: “Old Grandfather Kohl”, “Lady Tambourine”, “Road to the Temple”, “Crazy Waltz”. M. Karminskyi, feeling a passionate interest in theatrical action with its playful moments and the task of embodying specific images, created music for performances. The radio production “Robin Hood” with the participation of the country’s leading artists, based on the poems of the famous Scottish poet R. Burns translated by S. Marshak and imbued with romantic sublimity, lyricism and sincerity, received a special resonance; it contains expressive melodies that are quickly memorized. In 1978, the company “Melody” released a stereo disc “Robin Hood” with a recording of this radio show. The variety of artistic tasks of the ensemble music of M. Kaminskyi leads to the formation of a variety of pianistic skills. The predominance of playful, moving images in plays develops motor technic and synchronization in performing. The meter and the rhythm of the works are complicated using the measures 6/8, 9/8 or size change in one work: 2/4; 3/4; again 2/4; then 4/4. This technique allows you to transmit movement and free breath of a musical phrase. Karminskyi actively uses chords from fourths and fifths intervals characterized the repertoire of Ukrainian bandura players. Conclusions. The composer gave the children a lot of strength and inspiration, creating music for them in accordance with high moral and ethical criteria and filled with vivid emotions, theatricality, and visible concrete imagery. Miniatures for the children’s choir, the master’s piano pieces have a high spiritual meaning and are among the best achievements of Ukrainian children’s musical literature. The piano music of M. Karminskyi is marked by a tendency to search for a new national style: the composer does not quote folk melodies, creating original musical images in the spirit of folklore. The multi-genre works of M. Karminskyi embody the eternal themes of good and evil, love and death, betrayal and fidelity with the emotional strength inherent in his music, demonstrating the composer’s deep erudition and human decency, originality, uniqueness of his personality and his talent.

С фортепианными переложениями как неотъемлемой частью музыкальной культуры XIX века Чайковский был связан на протяжении всей жизни. Обширную часть наследия композитора составляют переложения для фортепиано в 2 и 4 руки его собственных сочинений и произведений других авторов. Но если последние перекладывались Чайковским преимущественно в силу различных внешних обстоятельств, то переложениям собственных сочинений композитор уделял всегда особое внимание. Круг музыкантов, пользовавшихся доверием композитора в этом отношении, был весьма невелик и с течением времени неуклонно сужался. Чайковский стремился перекладывать свои сочинения самостоятельно, несмотря на постоянные жалобы на несовершенство переложения как формы представления оркестрового произведения и различные трудности при его создании. Всего композитором переложены более сорока его собственных сочинений. Помимо определенного этапа в истории самих произведений, переложения становились также частью фортепианного наследия Чайковского. Композитор неизменно настаивал на творческом характере создания переложений. В качестве примеров работы Чайковского в предлагаемой статье подробно рассмотрены переложения трех оркестровых сюит для фортепиано в 4 руки. With piano arrangements as an integral part of the musical culture of the XIX century, Tchaikovsky was associated for all his life. A large part of the composer’s legacy consists of arrangements for piano in 2 and 4 hands of his own compositions and works by other authors. But if Tchaikovsky made the latter ones mainly due to various external circumstances, he always paid special attention to the arrangements of his own compositions. The circle of musicians who enjoyed the composer’s confidence in this respect was very small and with time steadily narrowed. Tchaikovsky tried to make piano arrangements himself, despite the constant complaints about the imperfection of the transposition as a form of representation of the orchestral work and various difficulties in creating it. In total more than 40 of his own compositions have been arranged for piano by the composer. In addition to a certain stage in the history of the works themselves, the arrangements also became part of Tchaikovsky’s pianistic heritage. The composer invariably insisted on the creative nature of piano arrangements. In the proposed paper the four hands piano arrangements of three orchestral suites are considered in detail as examples of Tchaikovsky’s approach.

Among 703 professional pianists with medical problems in their hands seen by the author between 1981 and 2000, there were 27 patients who had interosseous muscle pain (23 women, 4 men; mean age, 30 yrs). The main symptom was dorsal hand pain during piano performance, especially when striking the keys with each finger rounded, mainly in the scale technique. Tenderness was noted in the deep part of the dorsal hand in the interosseous muscles, but not along or around the finger extensors. Patients sometimes complained of muscle weakness on abduction of the index, ring, and/or little fingers when performing octaves or chords on the piano keyboard. Resisted abduction and adduction testing of the fingers reproduced the pain which they experienced during or after performance. Pain occurred in the right hand in 10, left hand in 5, and bilaterally in 12. The pain was localized in the 4th and 5th interossei in 15 patients, in the 3rd and 4th in 14 patients; in the 2nd and 3rd in 11 patients; and in the 1st and 2nd in 1 patient.

This article characterizes development trends in jazz piano from its origins in the “third-layer” (Konen, V., 1984) of music (ragtime and other “pre-jazz” forms) to the present time (avant-garde and retro styles of the late 20th – early 21st centuries). Main attention was devoted to the stylistic sphere, which represents an entirety of techniques and methods of jazz piano improvisation and combines genre and style parameters. In this context, the currently available information about jazz pianism and its sources (Kinus,Y., 2008; Stoliar, R., 2017) was reviewed, and sociocultural determinants, which contributed to the advent and changes of jazz piano styles were highlighted. Standing out among them at the first (traditional) stage are the schools and individual creative techniques known under generic name “stride piano” and based on the ragtime technique. At the second (contemporary) stage beginning from bebop, jazz piano stylistics gradually diverge from standardized textural formulas of homophonicharmonic type and attain fundamental diversity depending on creative attitudes of leading jazz pianists. The question of jazz piano stylistics is one of the least studied in jazz theory. The existing works devoted to this subject address mostly the sequence of the advent and changes of jazz piano styles along with the general characteristics of their representatives. Beginning from approximately the 1920s, jazz piano styles appeared and changed so fast that they left no time for their comprehension and perception (Kinus, Y., 2008). Only in the newest stylistics of the period after bebop, which divided the art of jazz into traditional and contemporary stages, did these styles attain a certain shape in new modifications and become the components of a phenomenon defined by the generic notion “jazz pianism”. It was stated that the genesis of this phenomenon is usually seen in the art of ragtime, carried in the United States of the late 19th – early 20th centuries by itinerant pianists. This variety of “third-layer” piano music playing produced a significant impact on the art of jazz in general, which is proved by its reproduction in the Dixieland and New Orleans styles as some of the first examples of jazz improvisation. The stylistics of ragtime influenced the entire first stage of jazz piano, which traces its origins back to approximately the 1910s. It combined mental features and esthetics of two traditions: European and Afro-American, which in the entirety produced the following picture: 1) popular and concert area of music playing; 2) gravitation toward demonstration of virtuosic play; 3) domination of comic esthetics; 4) objectivity of expression; 5) tendency toward the completeness of form; 6) inclination toward stage representation. In technological (texturalpianistic) aspect, ragtime, reproduced in the jazz stylistics of stride piano, demonstrated the tendency toward universalization of piano, which combined in the person of one performer the functions of solo and accompaniment, derived from the practice of minstrel banjoists related to the percussion-accented rhythmics of dance accompaniment (Konen, V., 1984). It was stated that ragtime as the transitional bridge to jazz piano existed simultaneously with other forms of “third-layer” music playing found in the Afro-American environment (unlike ragtime itself, which was an art of white musicians). These were semi-folklore styles known as “barrel house” and “honky-tonk(y) piano” cultivated in Wild West saloons. The subsequent development of jazz piano stylistic went along the lines of more vocal and specific directions related mostly to peculiarities of playing technique. Among the more global origins equal in significance to ragtime and stride pianists derivative, blues piano stylistics is worth noting. It represents an instrumental adaptation of vocal blues, which had the decisive influence over the melodics and rhythmics of the right hand party of jazz pianists (ragtime and stride piano highlighted and consolidated the typical texture of accompaniment, i.e., the left hand party). Blues piano style is a multicomponent phenomenon that shaped up as a result of efforts taken by a whole number of jazz pianists. It was developed, and continues to exist until presently, in two variants: a) as a solo piano variant, b) as a duet variant (piano and vocal). Along with blues piano, a style known as “boogie-woogie” was cultivated in jazz piano stylistics of the period before bebop as the new reminiscence of the pre-jazz era (with rock-n-roll becoming a consequence of its actualization in the 1950–1960s). A stylistic genre known as “Harlem piano style” (its prominent representatives include Luckey Roberts, James P. Johnson, Willie “the Lion” Smith, and Thomas “Fats” Waller) became a sort of compendium that combined genetic components of traditional jazz piano. This school has finally defined jazz piano as a form of solo concert music playing, which also determined the subsequent stylistic varieties of this art, the most noteworthy of which are “trumpet piano style”, “swing piano style” and “locked hands style”. Their general feature was interpretation of the instrument as a “small orchestra”, which meant rebirth at the new volute of a historical-stylistic spiral of the “image” of universal piano capable of reproducing the “sounds” of other instruments, voices and their ensembles. Outstanding pianists of various generations have been, and are, the carriers (and often “inventors”) of jazz piano styles. It should suffice to mention the names of such “legends” of jazz as Art Tatum, Oscar Peterson, Thelonious Monk, Bud Powell, Bill Evans, and also Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett (older generation), Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Brad Mehldau, Vadim Neselovskyi, Robert Glasper (middle generation), Eldar Djangirov, Tigran Hamasyan, Cory Henry (younger generation). Conclusions. The description of the stages of development of jazz piano pianism made in this article proves that its polystylistic nature is preserved, and the main representative of certain stylistic inclinations were and remain the texture. Textured formulas serve as the main objects of stylistic interpretations for jazz pianists of different generations. These readings are represented by two vectors – retrospective (revival of jazz traditions) and exploratory, experimental (rapprochement with the academic avant-garde). Of great importance are the styles of personalities, in which polystylistic tendencies are combined with the individual playing manners and improvisation, which, in general, is the most characteristic feature of the current stage of development of jazz piano art.

When training bimanual skills, such as playing piano, people sometimes practice each hand separately and at a later stage combine the movements of the two hands. This poses the critical question of whether motor skills can be acquired by separately practicing each subcomponent or should be trained as a whole. In the present study, we addressed this question by training human subjects for 4 days in a unimanual or bimanual version of the discrete sequence production task. Both groups were then tested on trained and untrained sequences on both unimanual and bimanual versions of the task. Surprisingly, we found no evidence of transfer from trained unimanual to bimanual or from trained bimanual to unimanual sequences. In half the participants, we also investigated whether cuing the sequences on the left and right hand with unique letters would change transfer. With these cues, untrained sequences that shared some components with the trained sequences were performed more quickly than sequences that did not. However, the amount of this transfer was limited to ∼10% of the overall sequence-specific learning gains. These results suggest that unimanual and bimanual sequences are learned in separate representations. Making participants aware of the interrelationship between sequences can induce some transferrable component, although the main component of the skill remains unique to unimanual or bimanual execution. NEW & NOTEWORTHY Studies in reaching movement demonstrated that approximately half of motor learning can transfer across unimanual and bimanual contexts, suggesting that neural representations for unimanual and bimanual movements are fairly overlapping at the level of elementary movement. In this study, we show that little or no transfer occurred across unimanual and bimanual sequential finger movements. This result suggests that bimanual sequences are represented at a level of the motor hierarchy that integrates movements of both hands.

One of the greatest challenges in reducing high rates of performance injuries among musicians is in providing them usable tools to address playing-related musculoskeletal problems (PRMP) before they become disorders. Studies in biomechanics have the potential to provide such tools. In order to better understand the mechanisms through which PRMP manifest in pianists, especially in the distal segments of the upper limbs, the current study quantifies wrist internal loading (WIL) and wrist impact loading frequency. It does so while discussing pianists’ motor behaviours and observed effort-reduction strategies in the wrists as a function of anthropometry. This concept has great utility for performers. A VICON 3D motion capture system documented two expert pianists performing a B major scale, hands together, at 4, 6, 8, 9, and 10 notes/sec. Biomechanical modeling quantified WIL. Changes in motor behaviour were observed at 8 notes/sec. Individualized anthropometry influenced the range of motor strategies available to each pianist. The pianist with the larger hand span employed a flexion/extension wrist strategy as a compensatory means for effort reduction, while the pianist with the smaller hand span employed a radial/ ulnar deviation strategy. The current study provides a new perspective in addressing PRMP among pianists by rationalizing anthropometric potentials in terms of ergonomic parameters and documenting the availability and utility of effort-reduction strategies in the wrists during piano performance as performers consider PRMP risk and avoidance.

Background. Stroke is one of the most common causes of physical disability worldwide. The majority of survivors experience impairment of movement, often with lasting deficits affecting hand dexterity. To date, conventional rehabilitation primarily focuses on training compensatory maneuvers emphasizing goal completion rather than targeting reduction of motor impairment. Objective. We aim to determine whether finger dexterity impairment can be reduced in chronic stroke when training on a task focused on moving fingers against abnormal synergies without allowing for compensatory maneuvers. Methods. We recruited 18 chronic stroke patients with significant hand motor impairment. First, participants underwent baseline assessments of hand function, impairment, and finger individuation. Then, participants trained for 5 consecutive days, 3 to 4 h/d, on a multifinger piano-chord-like task that cannot be performed by compensatory actions of other body parts (e.g., arm). Participants had to learn to simultaneously coordinate and synchronize multiple fingers to break unwanted flexor synergies. To test generalization, we assessed performance in trained and nontrained chords and clinical measures in both the paretic and the nonparetic hands. To evaluate retention, we repeated the assessments 1 day, 1 week, and 6 months post-training. Results. Our results showed that finger impairment assessed by the individuation task was reduced after training. The reduction of impairment was accompanied by improvements in clinical hand function, including precision pinch. Notably, the effects were maintained for 6 months following training. Conclusion. Our findings provide preliminary evidence that chronic stroke patient can reduce hand impairment when training against abnormal flexor synergies, a change that was associated with meaningful clinical benefits.

Abstract. Many daily activities, such as typing, eating, playing the piano, and passing the ball in volleyball, require the proficient coordination of both hands. In this study, the effects of anodal transcranial direct current stimulation (atDCS) on the acquisition, retention, and transfer of bimanual adaptive motor tasks were investigated. To this end, 64 volunteers ( Mage = 24.36 years; SD = 2.51; 16 females) participated in this double-blind study and were categorized randomly into 4 groups. During the pretest, posttest, 24-h and 48-h retention, and transfer tests, two forms of bimanual coordination (BC) of the Vienna test system were performed. Between the pretest and posttest, all participants were trained in a bimanual coordination adaptive task with concurrent brain stimulation (1.5 mA for 15 min) for two consecutive days. The first experimental group (parietal-stim) received atDCS over the right parietal cortex (P4), while the second experimental group (cerebellar-stim) received atDCS over the bilateral cerebellum (2.5 cm bilateral to the inion). The third group (sham) received a sham stimulation. Finally, the control group did not receive any stimulation at all (control). Repeated-measure analysis of variance (ANOVARM) results indicated that parietal tDCS affected motor performance in the posttest, while overall mean duration and overall error mean duration of movement decreased. The results also revealed a significant impact of cerebellar tDCS on the posttest, 24-h and 48-h retention, and transfer tests. The overall mean duration and overall error mean durations of movement in this group were significantly lower than those in the other groups. Accordingly, we found evidence that atDCS over the cerebellum leads to more improvement in motor performance and transfer in a bimanual coordination task than atDCS over the right parietal. Finally, these results point to the possibly beneficial application of atDCS for learning and recovery of bimanual motor skills, especially when subjects are faced with a new challenging situation.

In rejoinder to a New York Times’s article claiming, “the value of used pianos, especially uprights, has plummeted … Instead of selling them … , donating them … or just passing them along … , owners are far more likely to discard them” (Walkin), artists Kathleen Irwin (scenography) and Jeff Morton (sound/composition) responded to this ignoble passing with an installation playing with the borders delineating music, theatre, digital technology, and economies of value using two upright red pianos, sound and video projection—and the sensibility of relational aesthetics. The installation was a collaboration between two artists who share a common interest in the performative qualities of public space and how technological augmentation is used in identificatory and embodied art processes as a means of extending the human body and enhancing the material space of person-to-person interaction. The title of the installation, PLAY, referenced the etymology of the word itself and how it has been variously understood over time, across artistic disciplines, and in digital and physical environments. Fundamentally, it explored the relative value of a material object (the piano) and how its social and cultural signification persists, shifts, is diminished or augmented by technology. The installation was mounted at the Dunlop Art Gallery, in the Regina Public Library (Saskatchewan, Canada, 14 June - 25 August 2013) and, as such, it illustrated the Library’s mandate to support all forms of literacy through community accessibility and forms of public outreach, social arrangements, and encounters. Indirectly, (as this was not the initial focus), it also exemplified the artists’s gentle probing of the ways, means, claims, and values when layering information and enhancing our visual experience as we interact with (literally, walk through) our physical landscapes and environments—“to see the world for what it is,” as Matt Turbow says “and to see the elements within” (Chapeau). The installation reflected on, among other things, the piano as a still potent cultural signifier, the persistent ability of our imagination to make meaning and codify experience even without digital overlay, and the library as an archive and disseminator of public knowledge. The artists questioned whether old technologies such as the piano will lose their hold on us entirely as technological augmentation develops the means to enhance or colonize the natural world, through graphics, sounds, haptic feedback, smell and, eventually, commodified experiences. This paper intends to reflect on our work and initiate a friendly (playful) interdisciplinary discussion about material objects in the age of physical and digital interactivity, and the terms of augmentation as we chose to understand it through our installation. In response to the call proposed by this journal on the subject of augmentation, we considered: 1. How audio/visual apparatuses in the gallery space augmented the piano’s expressivity; 2. How the piano augmented the social function of its physical situation; 3. How the technology augmented random and fragmentary musical phrases, creating a prolonged musical composition; 4. How each spectator augmented the art through his/her subjective engagement: how there is always meaning generated in excess of the artists’s intention. Image 1: Piano installed outside Dunlop Gallery/ Regina Public Library (photo credit: Jeff Morton) To begin, a brief description of the site of the installation is in order. The first of the red pianos was installed outside the main doors of the Central Library, located in the city’s downtown. The library’s entrance is framed within a two-story glass atrium and the red piano repeated the architecture’s function to open the space by breaking down perceived barriers, and beckoning the passersby inside. Reflecting Irwin’s community-oriented, site-specific practice, this was the relational catalyst of the work—the piano made available for anyone to play and enjoy, day or night, an invitation to respond to an object inserted into the shared space of the sidewalk: to explore, as Nicolas Bourriaud suggests, “the art as a state of encounter” (16). It was the centerpiece of the exhibition's outreach, which included the exhibition’s vernissage featuring new music and performance artists in concert, a costume and prop workshop for a late night public choir procession, and a series of artist talks. This was, arguably, a defining characteristic of the work, underscoring how the work of art, in this case the piano itself, its abjection illustrated by the perfunctory means typically used to dispose of them, is augmented or gains value through its social construction, over-and-above any that is originally ascribed to it. As Bourriaud writes, any kind of production takes on a social form which no longer has anything to do with its original usefulness. It acquires exchange value that partly covers and shrouds its primary “nature”. The fact is that a work of art has no a priori useful function—not that it is socially useless, but because it is available and flexible, and has an “infinite tendency”. (42) In the Dunlop’s press release, curator Blair Fornwald also confers a supplemental value ascribed to the reframed material object. She describes how the public space in front of the library, as a place of social interaction and cultural identification—of “being seen”—is augmented by the red piano: its presence in an unfamiliar setting underscores the multitude of creative and performative possibilities inherent within it, possibilities that may extend far beyond playing a simple melody. By extension, its presence asserts that the every day is a social, cultural, and physical environment rich with potentiality and promise. (Fornwald) Juxtaposed with the first red piano, the second was dramatically staged within the Dunlop gallery. The room, painted black, formally replicated the framing and focusing conventions of the theatre: its intention to propose other ways of “being seen” and to suggest the blurring of lines between “on stage and off,” and by extension, “on line and off.” A camera embedded in the front of the piano and a large projection screen in the space provided a celebrity moment for anyone approaching the instrument and implied, arguably, the ubiquitous surveillance associated with public space. Indeed, a plausible way of reading the red piano in the darkened gallery was as a provocation to think about how the digital and physical are increasingly enmeshed in our daily lives (Jurgenson). Lit by a chandelier and staged on a circular red carpet, this piano was also available to be played. Unlike the one outside of the building, it was augmented by speakers, a microphone, and a webcam. Through a custom-built digital system (using MaxMSP software), it recorded and played back the sound and image of everyone who sat down to perform, then repeated and superimposed these over similar previously captured material. Enhanced by the unusual stark acoustics of the gallery, the sound filled the reverberant space. Affixed to the gallery’s back wall was the projection screen made up of sheet music (Bach, Debussy and Mozart) taken from the Irwin family’s piano bench, a veritable time capsule from the 1950s. Image 2: Piano installed inside Dunlop Gallery (photo credit: Jeff Morton) In addition to the centrally placed piano, a miniature red piano was situated near the gallery entrance. It and a single red chair placed near the screen, repeated the vivid colour and drew the eye into and around the space underscoring its theatrical quality. The toy piano functioned as a lighthearted invitation, as well as a serious citation of other artists—Eikoh Sudoh, Margaret Leng Tan, John Cage, and Charles M. Schulz’s “Schroeder”—who have employed the miniature instrument to great advantage. It was intended as an illustration of the infinite resonances that material objects may provide and the diverse ways they may signify contingent on the viewer. Considered in a historical context, in the golden age of the upright and at the turn of the twentieth-century, piano lessons signified for many, the formation of a modern citizen schooled in European culture and values. Owning one of these intricately engineered and often beautiful machines, as one in five households did, reflected the social aspirations of its owners and marked their upward economic mobility (Canadian Encyclopedia). One hundred years later, pianos are often relegated to the basement or dump. Irretrievably out of tune, their currency as musical instruments largely devalued. Nonetheless, their cultural and social value persists, no longer the pervasive marker of status, but through the ways they are mediated by artists who prepare, deconstruct, and leave them to deteriorate in beautiful ways. They seem to retain their hold on us through the natural impulse to engage them kinetically, ergonomically, and metaphorically. Built to be an extension of the human hand, body, and imagination, they are a sublime human-scale augmentation of a precise musical system of notation, and a mechanism evolved over centuries through physical augmentations meant to increase the expressivity of both instrument and player. In PLAY, the use of the pianos referenced both their traditional role in public life, and our current relationship with forms of digital media that have replaced these instruments as our primary means of being linked, informed, and entertained—an affirmation of the positive attributes of technology and a reminder of what we may have lost. Indeed, while this was not necessarily clear from the written responses in the Gallery’s guest book (Gorgeous!: Neat!; Too, too cool!; etc.), we surmised that memory might have played a key role in the experience of the installation, set in motion by the precise arrangement of the few material objects – red piano, the piano bench, red chair, and toy piano, each object designed to fit the shape of the body and hold the memory of physical contact. These were designed to trigger a chain of recollections, each chasing the next; each actively participating in what follows. In the Gallery’s annual exhibition catalogue, Ellen Moffat suggests that the relationship the piano builds with the player is important: “the piano plays and is played by the performer. Performing the piano assigns a posture for the performer in relation to the keyboard physically and figuratively” (Moffat 80). Technically, the piano is the sum of many parts, understandable finally as a discrete mechanical system, but unbounded in imagination and limited only by our capacity to play it. Functionally, it acts as an affective repository of memory and feeling, a tool to control the variables of physical and expressive interaction. In PLAY, the digital system in the gallery piano captured, delayed and displayed audio and video clips according to a rubric of cause and effect. Controlled by computer software designed by Morton, the installation captured musical phrases played randomly by individuals and augmented these notes by playing them back at variable speeds and superimposing one over another—musical phrases iterated and reiterated. The effect was fugue-like—an indeterminate composition with a determinant structure, achieved by intertwining physical and digital systems with musical content supplied by participants. The camera hidden in the front of the piano recorded individuals as they sat at the instrument and, immediately, they saw themselves projected in extreme close up onto the screen behind. As the individual struck a note, their image faded and the screen was filled again with the image of a previous participant abstracted and in slow motion. The effect, we suggest, was dreamlike—an echo or a fleeting fragment of something barely remembered. Like the infinite variations the piano permits, the software was also capable of expressing immense variety—each sound and image adding to an expanding archive in an ever-changing improvised composition developed through iterative call and response. Drawing on elements of relational aesthetics, scenographic representation, and digital technology, in PLAY we attempted to cross disciplines in ways that distinguished it from the other piano projects seen over the past several years. Indeed, the image of the upright piano has resonated in the zeitgeist of the international art scene with colourful uprights placed in public places in urban centers across Europe and North America. Wherever they are, individuals engage enthusiastically with them and they, in turn, become the centre of attention: this is part of their appeal. The pianos seem to evoke a utopian sense of community, however temporary, providing opportunities to rediscover old neighbours and make new friends. In PLAY, we posed two different social and aesthetic encounters—one analogue, real, “off-line” and one digital, theatrical, and “on-line,” illustrating less a false binary between two possible realities that ascribes more value to one than the other, than a world where the digital and the physical comingle. Working within a public library, this was a germane train of thought considering how these institutes struggle to stay relevant in the age of Google search and the promise of technological augmentation. The piano also represents a dichotomy: both a failure to represent and an excess of meaning. For decades replete with social signification, they have now become an encumbrance, fit only for the bone yard. As these monumental relics come to the end of their mechanical life, there is more money made in their disposal than in musical production, and more value in their recycled metals, solid wooden bodies, and ivory keys then in their tone and function. The industry that supported their commodification collapsed years ago, as has the market for their sale and the popular music publishing industry that accompanied it. Of course, pianos will be with us for a long time in one form or another, but their history, as a culturally potent object, has diverged. The assumption could easily follow that they have been rendered useless as an aesthetic, generative, and social object. What this installation offered was the possibility of an alternative ending to the story of this erstwhile entertainment console even as we seek our amusement by other means and through other devices. Not surprisingly, the title of the installation suggests that the consideration of “play,” as social and recuperative engagement, is significant. In his seminal work, Homo Ludens, Johan Huizinga discusses the importance of play, suggesting that it is primary to and a necessary condition of the making of culture. He writes, “In play there is something in play, which transcends the immediate needs of life and imparts meaning to the action” (Huizinga 97). According to games theorist Mary Flanagan, playing may serve as a way of creating something beautiful, offering frameworks for new ways of thinking, exploring divergent logic, or for imaging what is possible. She writes, “Games, both digital and analog, offer a space to explore creativity, agency, representation and emergent behaviour” (Flanagan 2010). In reaching out to Regina’s downtown community, the Dunlop Art Gallery dispersed some of the playfulness of PLAY in planned and accidental ways, as the outdoor piano became a daily destination for individuals who live rough or in the city’s hostels, some of whom who have enviable musical skills and considerable stage presence. One man came daily with sheet music in hand to practice on the indoor piano—ignoring the inevitable echo and repeat that the software triggered. Another young woman appeared regularly to perform at the outdoor piano, her umbrella raised against sun and rain, wedged under her arm to keep both hands free. Children invariably drew parents to it as they entered or exited the library—for some it may have been the first time they had touched such an instrument. Overall, in press, blogs, and the visitors’s book, responses to the pianos were enthusiastic and positive. One blogger wrote in response to an online publication, Art, Music, News (Beatty), chapeau June 13, 2013 at 11:51am this is most definitely up and running, and it would be interesting to see/hear all that will go on with that red piano. my two-and-a-half year old daughter and i jammed a bit yesterday morning, while a stranger watched and listened, then insisted that i play the same mostly crappy c-blues again while he sang! so i did, and he did, and my daughter and i learned a bit about what he feels about his dog via his singing. it was the highlight of the day for us—I mean really, jamming outside on a very red upright piano with strangers—good times! (Simpson) As evidence of public approbation, for the better part of the summer it stood unprotected on the sidewalk in front of the library encountering only one minor incident of defacement—a rather fragile tag in white spray paint, someone’s name in proper cursive writing. Once repaired and retuned, it became a dynamic focus for the annual Folk Festival that takes over the area for a week in August. In these ways, PLAY fulfilled the Library’s aim of encouraging literacy and reinforcing a sense of community—a social augmentation, in a manner of speaking. As Moffat writes, it encourages the social dimension of participation through community-engagement and dialogic practices. It blurs distinctions between spectator and participant, professional and amateur. It generates relationships between people or social actions. (Moffat 76) Finally, PLAY toyed with the overtones of the word itself—as verb, noun, and adjective—signifier, and metaphor. The title illustrated its obvious current potential and evoked the piano’s past, referencing the glittering world of the stage. While many may have more memories of seeing pianos in disrepair than in the concert hall, its iconic stage setting is never far from the imagination, although this too changes as people from other cultures and backgrounds recognize little cultural capital in such activity. In current vernacular, the word “play” also implies the re-imagination of ourselves in the digital overlays of the future. So we ask, what will be the fate of the piano and its meme in the 22nd century? Will the augmentation of reality enhance our experience of the world in inverse proportion to a loss of social interaction? Conclusion In her essay, Moffat notes that as digital technology replaces the analog piano, a surplus of second-hand uprights has become available. Citing artists Luke Jerram, Monica Yunus, and Camille Zamora (among others), she argues that the use of them as public art coincides with their disappearance, suggesting a farewell or memorial to a collective cultural icon (Moffat 76). What is there in this piece of furniture that speaks to us in art practice? The answer, it would seem, is potential. In a curatorial interview, Irwin suggested the possibility that beyond the artist’s initial meaning, there is always something more—an augmentation. The pleasure of discovering this supplement is part of the pleasure of the subjective experience of the spectator. Similarly, the aleatoric in music composition, refers to the pursuit of chance as a formal determinant and its openness to individual interpretation at the moment of reception. For Morton, the randomness of memory and affect are key components in composition. They cannot be predicted, controlled or quantified; nor can they be denied. There is no correct interpretation or response to music or, indeed, to relational art practice. Moffat concludes, as a multi-faceted media installation, PLAY proposed “a suite, chorus or a polyphony of things” (Moffat 76). Depending on your point of reference, the installation provided a dynamic venue for considering our relationships with material objects, with each other and with new technologies asking how they may or may not augment our reality in ways that supplement real-time, person-to-person interaction. References Beatty, Gregory. “Exciting Goings-On at Central Library.” Prairie Dog Blog 11 June 2013. Bourriaud, Nicolas. Relational Aesthetics. Trans. Simon Pleasance and Fronza Woods. Paris: Les Presses du Réel, 1998. Canadian Encyclopedia. “Piano Building.” ‹http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/en/article/piano-building-emc/›. Chapeau [David Simpson]. “One Response to ‘Exciting Goings-On at Central Library.’” Prairie Dog Blog 13 June 2013. Fornwald, Blair. PLAY. Regina, Saskatchewan: Dunlop Art Gallery. 2013. Flanagan, Mary. “Creating Critical Play.” In Ruth Catlow, Marc Garret and Corrado Morgana, eds., Artists Rethinking Games. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2010. 49-53. Huizinga, Johan. Homo Ludens. Boston: Beacon Press, 1995. Jerram, Luke. Play Me, I’m Yours. Site-Specific Piano Installation. Multiple Venues. 2008-2013. Jurgenson, Nathan. “Digital Dualism versus Augmented Reality.” Cybergology: The Society Pages 24 Feb. 2011. 1 Dec. 2013 ‹http://thesocietypages.org/cyborgology/2011/02/24/digital-dualism-versus-augmented-reality/›. Moffat, Ellen. “Stages and Players” in DAG 2 (2013). Regina: Dunlop Art Gallery, 2013. 75-87. Walkin, Daniel J. “For More Pianos, Last Note Is Thud in the Dump.” New York Times 29 June 2012. Yunus, Monica, and Camille Zamora. Sing for Hope Pianos. Site-Specific Piano Installation and Performance. New York City. 2013.

The loop is one of the primary means of structuration for electronic music from mainstream to avant-garde styles. Indeed, during forums at the recent 2002 AD Analogue 2 Digital event, organised as part of the Adelaide Fringe Festival, many practitioners of electronic music gathered together and, often, quizzed each other about the loop: why does everybody seem to be using it and just how useful is it? With very few exceptions, the loop was considered to be an important if not essential tool for electronic music, and it is perhaps easy to understand why if one considers the "one-man band" nature of the majority of purely electronic music. Moreover, the loop is a trope common in many forms of contemporary music such as disco, minimalism, funk and hip-hop, all of which, as David Toop writes, "explor[e] entrancing elaborations and variations on repetition" (92). While Western musical forms have, for many centuries, been characterised by recurring elements (pedal notes, refrains, choruses, variations and so on are all musical tropes that rely on the recurrence of repetitive elements), there is perhaps a difference in the kind of repetition that is deployed in many of these musical forms and that deployed in consumer-driven and much avant-garde electronic music. When looping elements return in many pre-electronic (or non-electronic) compositions they present an elaborated form of the original iteration of that element, whereas it can be argued that the break in hip-hop or the loop employed by electronic music forms a stable basis on which other changing, shifting, modulating and developing elements are laid. (It should not of course be surmised from this that all hip-hop uses breaks nor that all electronic music uses loops.) Rather than presenting an active repetitive element creating difference in itself, the kind of looping employed in much electronic music proposes a banal, Platonic form of repetition in which, as Deleuze states, "the model is supposed to enjoy an originary superior identity [...] whereas the copy is judged in terms of a derived internal resemblance" (126-127). In the terms of our discussion, then, the sampled fragment of music or break (the "original" which some take endless pleasure in trying to identify) constitutes an originary identity which is repeated or looped in a form identical to itself to create an absolute internal resemblance across a contiguous whole. This reading of looping in electronic music finds extension in Jean-Charles François's criticism that electronic music produces only trigger timbre. François argues that in electronic music, the "performer is reduced to a triggering device, and does not participate in any real physical production of the sound" as opposed to the dynamic timbre of "traditional" acoustic instruments which can be varied by the performer in an interpretation of a work ("Fixed Timbre" 113). Trigger timbre, then, signals the exact reproduction (or, rather, a copy with internal resemblance, for an exact reproduction is an impossibility for a number of reasons, some philosophical, some temporal, some physical) of a prior moment, an originary identity, a movement analogous to that created by the looped element in electronic music. The problem with this in regards to musical production as artistic creation is that such modes of structuration are, according to François and Deleuze, eminently un-artistic or un-musical. For François, trigger timbre "strikes our ears like a symbol and threatens the essence of pure music" ("Fixed Timbre" 116), whilst for Deleuze a model employing banal repetition such as the repetition of a decorative motif "is not how artists proceed in reality. They do not juxtapose instances of the figure, but rather each time combine an element of one instance with another element of a following instance" (19). It might then be argued that electronic music is doubly prone to a Platonic mode of production removed from artistry, devoid of the desire with which, for Deleuze, all artistic creation is necessarily injected. To do so, however, is to propose a technologically determinist argument which maintains that electronic music is shaped by the very technology available to the artist, and emphasises the role of the engineer over the artist (even when the engineer and the artist are one and the same person, as is often the case in such music). That such a technologically determinist view might be levelled against electronic music is, nonetheless, perhaps not surprising since whilst most composers of any genre using acoustic instruments essentially have a set of instruments to draw on that has been relatively stable for a number of years (how many years will depend on the genre), it might be suggested that many electronic artists remain within the bounds of their tools' immediate and obvious possibilities because they do not have time fully to master them because the technology behind electronic music is still developing at an exponential rate. Whilst this is in many respects a gross overgeneralisation that neglects composers from both acoustic genres such as Luigi Russolo and Harry Partch who invented new instruments to broaden their sonic palette as well as electronic artists such as Kraftwerk or Aphex Twin who built or radically modified / deconstructed their own instruments, I do not think it entirely unfair given the technophile nature of many electronic artists, eager to keep abreast of the latest developments and software or hardware releases, and believe that it goes some way towards explaining the rate at which "movements" arise and disappear in contemporary electronic music. None of this would be of the least concern, of course, if this did not imply that the music made by many electronic artists is created as much by the hands of the engineer (and by engineer I refer not simply to a recording engineer but anyone involved in the development or programming of the hardware or software used for electronic) as in those of the artist. Even for those artists who serve as their own engineer, then, it is sometimes the case that their productions' bounds of possibility are determined not only by the artist's imagination but also by the very hardware and software used. Electronic music can, then, fall prey to technological determinism, can function in a Platonic manner, relying on a priori principles encoded in its tools and deploying banal repetition, and can be negatively critiqued in the terms of François's argument. This does not imply by any means, however, that it must be so. Indeed, in both her workshop and performance at the 2002AD conference, Kaffe Matthews proposed ways in which this quandary might be broached. Matthews takes her samples not from pre-existing recordings or intricately programmed "timbre objects" ("Fixed Timbre" 114), but from the "live" environmental sounds of the venue in which she is playing or the surrounding area. In this way, Matthews does not merely produce an exact repetition of an historical or prior moment (the sentimental potential of recorded media and electronic music which, according to François, explains their seductive power and thus popularity (François 1990, 114)), rather ensuring that every performance will indeed be an interpretation, a live performance which has no originary identity to refer back to or repeat. To build a complete musical text from fragments such as this, Matthews does rely on the loop, but one of the primary means that she uses to create her loops does not rely on the pattern of banal repetition observed above. Rather, Matthews places microphones around the venue in which she is playing and into which, therefore, her work is being amplified, so that the work itself is looped back into itself, each successive iteration of the loop being altered by the shifting acoustics of the environment into which it is emitted. In this manner, the entire venue is used as the "resonant cavity", the "giant membrane", the "environment", the "atmosphere" that render possible a discursive structure and that, for François, are the preserve of true timbre which cannot be produced by electronic technology ("Writing" 16). This is not, of course, the first time that such loops have been used in experimental music: the notion of the loop is very frequent in the work from the 1960s and 1970s of Steve Reich, who lets series of loops fall into and out of phase with each other, Terry Riley and Pauline Oliveros. Perhaps the most significant precursor to Kaffe Matthews's approach, however, is Alvin Lucier's I am Sitting in a Room (1969). For this piece, the performer chooses the room whose musical qualities are to be evoked, then reads a text in that room. The recording is played back through a loudspeaker in the room, the playback itself recorded and amplified again with the original recording, the process being repeated over a number of generations. Lucier's piece and, indeed, all of the pieces employing loops by the aforementioned composers, use analogue tape technology in order to create their loops, however, which is to say that a deliberate manipulation of the hardware that rips it from its normalised and intended use is required for that hardware to create loops. This is not to say that the misuse of technology at one's disposal is particularly revolutionary; indeed, one might claim that it is a very common feature among avant-garde or progressive artists of the past and present in all musical genres using both digital, analogue, electro-acoustic and acoustic instruments — should Oval do that to compact disks? isn't that the wrong direction for a record to spin? did anyone really intend Hendrix to play a guitar like that? did Cage actually know how a piano should be played? does Jim Denley actually know how to play the flute? What this does suggest, however, is that the use of loops in the work of these artists in the 60s and 70s was the result of a willed aesthetic decision and not a mode of construction dictated by the bounds of the immediately possible hardwired into the technology being used. If the loop used as one of the primary means of structuration in electronic music is to escape the technologically determinist arguments seen above, then, its coming into being must similarly be the result of a willed aesthetic decision and not merely a symptom of the technology used to produce it; it must, in other words, be infused with an artistic sensibility. Much electronic music being pumped out of bedrooms and studios at an alarming rate, however, is not infused with this kind of artistic sensibility, a situation which, although I oversimplify once more in saying so, would only appear to be aggravated the closer one moves to the mainstream (hence phenomena such as "the Balearic sound"). By its nature more prone to banal Platonic repetition (because of the primacy of the loop) and the a-dynamism (and, by inference, stultification) of trigger timbre, those sections of the electronic music scene who are content merely to remain within the obvious uses of the music-making technology, whether their démarche is born of a desire to pander to market forces or an inability or unwillingness fully to master the technology offered because of the speed at which it is moving, consequently produce songs which are themselves little more than banal copies of each other. Constructing music around loops within a technological domain that no longer requires hardware manipulation for the creation of loops since the loop is encoded within it, Matthews, however, by integrating into this realm the kind of compositional démarche noted in Lucier, liberates electronic music from these pitfalls. More than this, however, her approach also allows for an improvisational and dynamic aesthetic which is uncommon even in the avant-garde of electronic artists who do extend the possibilities of the technology they use. For the majority of artists who can be included in this group generally rely, when processing samples in real time, on a bank of pre-recorded samples, regardless of how these were created, through the use or misuse of technology. In using the very space in or around where she is performing as a live sample bank and processing those samples in real time as they are looped and transformed by the very setup she has defined, Matthews simultaneously surrenders and reclaims her creation, reinstating an authorial presence into the absence around which Cage's 4'33" is based (his "silent" piece in which the ambient sounds of the audience, venue and surrounding space constitute the only sound matter), seeming, like the performer of 4'33" who merely marks off time in three movements, not to be involved in the physical production of sound that François deems necessary for dynamic musical production ("Fixed Timbre" 113), only to reassert her presence in the text as a physical and dynamic entity. Acknowledgement With thanks to Kaffe Matthews and M/C's reviewers and editors. References Deleuze, Gilles. Difference and Repetition. Trans. Paul Patton. London: The Athlone Press, 1994. François, Jean-Charles. "Fixed Timbre, Dynamic Timbre." Perspectives of New Music 28.2 (1990): 112-118. François, Jean-Charles. "Writing without Representation." Perspectives of New Music 30.1 (1992): 6-20. Toop, David. "HIPHOP: Iron Needles of Death and a Piece of Wax." Modulations: A History of Electronic Music: Throbbing Words on Sound. Ed. Peter Shapiro. New York: Caipirinha Productions, 2000: 89-101. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Hainge, Greg. "Platonic Relations" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.4 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0208/platonic.php>. Chicago Style Hainge, Greg, "Platonic Relations" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 4 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0208/platonic.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Hainge, Greg. (2002) Platonic Relations. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(4). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/mc/0208/platonic.php> ([your date of access]).

Cyborgs already walk among us. (“Cures to Come” 76) This essay was begun as a reaction to a Hallmark Hall of Fame television movie called Sweet Nothing in My Ear (2008), which follows the lives of two parents, Dan, who is hearing (played by Jeff Daniels), and Laura, who is deaf (Marlee Matlin), as they struggle to make a decision about whether or not to give their 11-year-old son, Adam (late-deafened), a cochlear implant. Dan and Laura represent different perspectives, hearing and deaf perspectives. The film dramatizes the parents’ conflict and negotiation, exposing audiences to both sides of the cochlear implant debate, albeit in a fairly simplistic way. Nevertheless, it represents the lives of deaf people and gives voice to debates about cochlear implants with more accuracy and detail than most film and television dramas. One of the central scenes in the film is what I call the “activation scene”, quite common to cochlear implant narratives. In the scene, the protagonists witness a child having his implant activated or turned on. The depiction is reminiscent of the WATER scene in the film about Helen Keller, The Miracle Worker, employing a sentimental visual rhetoric. First, the two parents are shown seated near the child, clasping their hands as if in prayer. The audiologist, wielder of technology and therefore clearly the authority figure in the scene, types away furiously on her laptop. At the moment of being “turned on,” the child suddenly “hears” his father calling “David! David!” He gazes angelically toward heaven as piano music plays plaintively in the background. The parents all but fall to their knees and the protagonist of the film, Dan, watching through a window, weeps. It is a scene of cure, of healing, of “miracle,” a hyper-sentimentalised portrait of what is in reality often a rather anti-climactic event. It was certainly anti-climactic in my son, Michael’s case. I was taken aback by how this scene was presented and dismayed overall at some of the inaccuracies, small though they were, in the portrayal of cochlear implants in this film. It was, after all, according to the Nielsen ratings, seen by 8 million people. I began to wonder what kinds of misconceptions my son was going to face when he met people whose only exposure to implants was through media representations. Spurred by this question, I started to research other recent portrayals of people with implants on U.S. television in the past ten years, to see how cochlear implant (hereafter referred to as CI) identity has been portrayed by American media. For most of American history, deaf people have been portrayed in print and visual media as exotic “others,” and have long been the subject of an almost morbid cultural fascination. Christopher Krentz suggests that, particularly in the nineteenth century, scenes pairing sentimentality and deafness repressed an innate, Kristevan “abject” revulsion towards deaf people. Those who are deaf highlight and define, through their ‘lack’, the “unmarked” body. The fact of their deafness, understood as lack, conjures up an ideal that it does not attain, the ideal of the so-called “normal” or “whole” body. In recent years, however, the figure of the “deaf as Other” in the media, has shifted from what might be termed the “traditionally” deaf character, to what Brenda Jo Brueggeman (in her recent book Deaf Subjects: Between Identities and Places), calls “the new deaf cyborg” or the deaf person with a cochlear implant (4). N. Katharine Hailes states that cyborgs are now “the stage on which are performed contestations about the body boundaries that have often marked class, ethnic, and cultural differences” (85). In this essay, I claim that the character with a CI, as portrayed in the media, is now not only a strange, “marked” “Other,” but is also a screen upon which viewers project anxieties about technology, demonstrating both fascination fear. In her book, Brueggeman issues a call to action, saying that Deaf Studies must now begin to examine what she calls “implanting rhetorics,” or “the rhetorical relationships between our technologies and our identity” and therefore needs to attend to the construction of “the new deaf cyborg” (18). This short study will serve, I hope, as both a response to that injunction and as a jumping-off point for more in-depth studies of the construction of the CI identity and the implications of these constructions. First, we should consider what a cochlear implant is and how it functions. The National Association of the Deaf in the United States defines the cochlear implant as a device used to help the user perceive sound, i.e., the sensation of sound that is transmitted past the damaged cochlea to the brain. In this strictly sensorineural manner, the implant works: the sensation of sound is delivered to the brain. The stated goal of the implant is for it to function as a tool to enable deaf children to develop language based on spoken communication. (“NAD Position”) The external portion of the implant consists of the following parts: a microphone, which picks up sound from the environment, which is contained in the behind-the-ear device that resembles the standard BTE hearing aid; in this “hearing aid” there is also a speech processor, which selects and arranges sounds picked up by the microphone. The processor transmits signals to the transmitter/receiver, which then converts them into electric impulses. Part of the transmitter sits on the skin and attaches to the inner portion of the transmitter by means of a magnet. The inner portion of the receiver/stimulator sends the impulses down into the electrode array that lies inside the cochlea, which in turn stimulates the auditory nerve, giving the brain the impression of sound (“Cochlear Implants”). According to manufacturer’s statistics, there are now approximately 188,000 people worldwide who have obtained cochlear implants, though the number of these that are in use is not known (Nussbaum). That is what a cochlear implant is. Before we can look at how people with implants are portrayed in the media, before we examine constructions of identity, perhaps we should first ask what constitutes a “real” CI identity? This is, of course, laughable; pinning down a homogeneous CI identity is no more likely than finding a blanket definition of “deaf identity.” For example, at this point in time, there isn’t even a word or term in American culture for someone with an implant. I struggle with how to phrase it in this essay - “implantee?” “recipient?” - there are no neat labels. In the USA you can call a person deaf, Deaf (the “D” representing a specific cultural and political identity), hearing impaired, hard of hearing, and each gradation implies, for better or worse, some kind of subject position. There are no such terms for a person who gets an implant. Are people with implants, as suggested above, just deaf? Deaf? Are they hard of hearing? There is even debate in the ASL community as to what sign should be used to indicate “someone who has a cochlear implant.” If a “CI identity” cannot be located, then perhaps the rhetoric that is used to describe it may be. Paddy Ladd, in Understanding Deaf Culture, does a brilliant job of exploring the various discourses that have surrounded deaf culture throughout history. Stuart Blume borrows heavily from Ladd in his “The Rhetoric and Counter-Rhetoric of a 'Bionic' Technology”, where he points out that an “essential and deliberate feature” of the history of the CI from the 60s onward, was that it was constructed in an overwhelmingly positive light by the mass media, using what Ladd calls the “medical” rhetorical model. That is, that the CI is a kind of medical miracle that promised to cure deafness. Within this model one may find also the sentimental, “missionary” rhetoric that Krentz discusses, what Ladd claims is a revival of the evangelism of the nineteenth-century Oralist movement in America. Indeed, newspaper articles in the 1980s and 90s hailed the implant as a “breakthrough”, a “miracle”; even a quick survey of headlines shows evidence of this: “Upton Boy Can Hear at Last!”, “Girl with a New Song in Her Heart”, “Children Head Queue for Bionic Ears” (Lane). As recently as January 2010, an issue of National Geographic featured on its cover the headline Merging Man and Machine: The Bionic Age. Sure enough, the second photograph in the story is of a child’s bilateral cochlear implant, with the caption “within months of the surgery (the child) spoke the words his hearing parents longed for: Mama and Dada.” “You’re looking at a real bionic kid,” says Johns Hopkins University surgeon John Niparko, proudly (37). To counter this medical/corporate rhetoric of cure, Ladd and Blume claim, the deaf community devised a counter-rhetoric, a discourse in which the CI is not cast in the language of miracle and life, but instead in terms of death, mutilation, and cultural oppression. Here, the implant is depicted as the last in a long line of sadistic experiments using the deaf as guinea pigs. Often the CI is framed in the language of Nazism and genocide as seen in the title of an article in the British Deaf News: “Cochlear Implants: Oralism’s Final Solution.” So, which of these two “implanting rhetorics” is most visible in the current construction of the CI in American television? Is the CI identity presented by rendering people with CIs impossibly positive, happy characters? Is it delineated using the metaphors of the sentimental, of cure, of miracle? Or is the CI identity constructed using the counter-rhetorical references to death, oppression and cultural genocide? One might hypothesize that television, like other media, cultivating as it does the values of the hearing hegemony, would err on the side of promulgating the medicalised, positivist rhetoric of the “cure” for deafness. In an effort to find out, I conducted a general survey of American television shows from 2000 to now that featured characters with CIs. I did not include news shows or documentaries in my survey. Interestingly, some of the earliest television portrayals of CIs appeared in that bastion of American sentimentality, the daytime soap opera. In 2006, on the show “The Young and the Restless”, a “troubled college student who contracted meningitis” received an implant, and in 2007 “All My Children” aired a story arc about a “toddler who becomes deaf after a car crash.” It is interesting to note that both characters were portrayed as “late-deafened”, or suddenly inflicted with the loss of a sense they previously possessed, thus avoiding any whiff of controversy about early implantation. But one expects a hyper-sentimentalised portrayal of just about everything in daytime dramas like this. What is interesting is that when people with CIs have appeared on several “reality” programs, which purport to offer “real,” unadulterated glimpses into people’s lives, the rhetoric is no less sentimentalized than the soaps (perhaps because these shows are no less fabricated). A good example of this is the widely watched and, I think, ironically named show “True Life” which appears on MTV. This is a series that claims to tell the “remarkable real-life stories of young people and the unusual subcultures they inhabit.” In episode 42, “ True Life: I’m Deaf”, part of the show follows a young man, Chris, born deaf and proud of it (his words), who decides to get a cochlear implant because he wants to be involved in the hearing world. Through an interpreter Chris explains that he wants an implant so he can communicate with his friends, talk with girls, and ultimately fulfill his dreams of having a job and getting married (one has to ask: are these things he can’t do without an implant?). The show’s promo asks “how do you go from living a life in total silence to fully understanding the spoken language?” This statement alone contains two elements common to the “miracle” rhetoric, first that the “tragic” deaf victim will emerge from a completely lonely, silent place (not true; most deaf people have some residual hearing, and if you watch the show you see Chris signing, “speaking” voluminously) to seamlessly, miraculously, “fully” joining and understanding the hearing world. Chris, it seems, will only come into full being when he is able to join the hearing world. In this case, the CI will cure what ails him. According to “True Life.” Aside from “soap opera” drama and so-called reality programming, by far the largest dissemination of media constructions of the CI in the past ten years occurred on top-slot prime-time television shows, which consist primarily of the immensely popular genre of the medical and police procedural drama. Most of these shows have at one time or another had a “deaf” episode, in which there is a deaf character or characters involved, but between 2005 and 2008, it is interesting to note that most, if not all of the most popular of these have aired episodes devoted to the CI controversy, or have featured deaf characters with CIs. The shows include: CSI (both Miami and New York), Cold Case, Law and Order (both SVU and Criminal Intent), Scrubs, Gideon’s Crossing, and Bones. Below is a snippet of dialogue from Bones: Zach: {Holding a necklace} He was wearing this.Angela: Catholic boy.Brennan: One by two forceps.Angela {as Brennan pulls a small disc out from behind the victim’s ear} What is that?Brennan: Cochlear implant. Looks like the birds were trying to get it.Angela: That would set a boy apart from the others, being deaf.(Bones, “A Boy in the Tree”, 1.3, 2005) In this scene, the forensics experts are able to describe significant points of this victim’s identity using the only two solid artifacts left in the remains, a crucifix and a cochlear implant. I cite this scene because it serves, I believe, as a neat metaphor for how these shows, and indeed television media in general, are, like the investigators, constantly engaged in the business of cobbling together identity: in this particular case, a cochlear implant identity. It also shows how an audience can cultivate or interpret these kinds of identity constructions, here, the implant as an object serves as a tangible sign of deafness, and from this sign, or clue, the “audience” (represented by the spectator, Angela) immediately infers that the victim was lonely and isolated, “set apart from the others.” Such wrongheaded inferences, frivolous as they may seem coming from the realm of popular culture, have, I believe, a profound influence on the perceptions of larger society. The use of the CI in Bones is quite interesting, because although at the beginning of the show the implant is a key piece of evidence, that which marks and identifies the dead/deaf body, the character’s CI identity proves almost completely irrelevant to the unfolding of the murder-mystery. The only times the CI character’s deafness is emphasized are when an effort is made to prove that the he committed suicide (i.e., if you’re deaf you are therefore “isolated,” and therefore you must be miserable enough to kill yourself). Zak, one of the forensics officers says, “I didn’t talk to anyone in high school and I didn’t kill myself” and another officer comments that the boy was “alienated by culture, by language, and by his handicap” (odd statements, since most deaf children with or without implants have remarkably good language ability). Also, in another strange moment, the victim’s ambassador/mother shows a video clip of the child’s CI activation and says “a person who lived through this miracle would never take his own life” (emphasis mine). A girlfriend, implicated in the murder (the boy is killed because he threatened to “talk”, revealing a blackmail scheme), says “people didn’t notice him because of the way he talked but I liked him…” So at least in this show, both types of “implanting rhetoric” are employed; a person with a CI, though the recipient of a “miracle,” is also perceived as “isolated” and “alienated” and unfortunately, ends up dead. This kind of rather negative portrayal of a person with a CI also appears in the CSI: New York episode ”Silent Night” which aired in 2006. One of two plot lines features Marlee Matlin as the mother of a deaf family. At the beginning of the episode, after feeling some strange vibrations, Matlin’s character, Gina, checks on her little granddaughter, Elizabeth, who is crying hysterically in her crib. She finds her daughter, Alison, dead on the floor. In the course of the show, it is found that a former boyfriend, Cole, who may have been the father of the infant, struggled with and shot Alison as he was trying to kidnap the baby. Apparently Cole “got his hearing back” with a cochlear implant, no longer considered himself Deaf, and wanted the child so that she wouldn’t be raised “Deaf.” At the end of the show, Cole tries to abduct both grandmother and baby at gunpoint. As he has lost his external transmitter, he is unable to understand what the police are trying to tell him and threatens to kill his hostages. He is arrested in the end. In this case, the CI recipient is depicted as a violent, out of control figure, calmed (in this case) only by Matlin’s presence and her ability to communicate with him in ASL. The implication is that in getting the CI, Cole is “killing off” his Deaf identity, and as a result, is mentally unstable. Talking to Matlin, whose character is a stand-in for Deaf culture, is the only way to bring him back to his senses. The October 2007 episode of CSI: Miami entitled “Inside-Out” is another example of the counter-rhetoric at work in the form of another implant corpse. A police officer, trying to prevent the escape of a criminal en route to prison, thinks he has accidentally shot an innocent bystander, a deaf woman. An exchange between the coroner and a CSI goes as follows: (Alexx Woods): “This is as innocent as a victim gets.”(Calleigh Duquesne): “How so?”AW: Check this out.”CD: “I don’t understand. Her head is magnetized? Steel plate?”AW: “It’s a cochlear implant. Helps deaf people to receive and process speech and sounds.”(CSI dramatization) AW VO: “It’s surgically implanted into the inner ear. Consists of a receiver that decodes and transmits to an electrode array sending a signal to the brain.”CD: “Wouldn’t there be an external component?”AW: “Oh, she must have lost it before she was shot.”CD: “Well, that explains why she didn’t get out of there. She had no idea what was going on.” (TWIZ) Based on the evidence, the “sign” of the implant, the investigators are able to identify the victim as deaf, and they infer therefore that she is innocent. It is only at the end of the program that we learn that the deaf “innocent” was really the girlfriend of the criminal, and was on the scene aiding in his escape. So she is at first “as innocent” as they come, and then at the end, she is the most insidious of the criminals in the episode. The writers at least provide a nice twist on the more common deaf-innocent stereotype. Cold Case showcased a CI in the 2008 episode “Andy in C Minor,” in which the case of a 17-year-old deaf boy is reopened. The boy, Andy, had disappeared from his high school. In the investigation it is revealed that his hearing girlfriend, Emma, convinced him to get an implant, because it would help him play the piano, which he wanted to do in order to bond with her. His parents, deaf, were against the idea, and had him promise to break up with Emma and never bring up the CI again. His body is found on the campus, with a cochlear device next to his remains. Apparently Emma had convinced him to get the implant and, in the end, Andy’s father had reluctantly consented to the surgery. It is finally revealed that his Deaf best friend, Carlos, killed him with a blow to the back of the head while he was playing the piano, because he was “afraid to be alone.” This show uses the counter-rhetoric of Deaf genocide in an interesting way. In this case it is not just the CI device alone that renders the CI character symbolically “dead” to his Deaf identity, but it leads directly to his being literally executed by, or in a sense, excommunicated from, Deaf Culture, as it is represented by the character of Carlos. The “House Divided” episode of House (2009) provides the most problematic (or I should say absurd) representation of the CI process and of a CI identity. In the show, a fourteen-year-old deaf wrestler comes into the hospital after experiencing terrible head pain and hearing “imaginary explosions.” Doctors Foreman and Thirteen dutifully serve as representatives of both sides of the “implant debate”: when discussing why House hasn’t mocked the patient for not having a CI, Thirteen says “The patient doesn’t have a CI because he’s comfortable with who he is. That’s admirable.” Foreman says, “He’s deaf. It’s not an identity, it’s a disability.” 13: “It’s also a culture.” F: “Anything I can simulate with $3 earplugs isn’t a culture.” Later, House, talking to himself, thinks “he’s going to go through life deaf. He has no idea what he’s missing.” So, as usual, without permission, he orders Chase to implant a CI in the patient while he is under anesthesia for another procedure (a brain biopsy). After the surgery the team asks House why he did it and he responds, “Why would I give someone their hearing? Ask God the same question you’d get the same answer.” The shows writers endow House’s character, as they usually do, with the stereotypical “God complex” of the medical establishment, but in doing also they play beautifully into the Ladd and Blume’s rhetoric of medical miracle and cure. Immediately after the implant (which the hospital just happened to have on hand) the incision has, miraculously, healed overnight. Chase (who just happens to be a skilled CI surgeon and audiologist) activates the external processor (normally a months-long process). The sound is overwhelming, the boy hears everything. The mother is upset. “Once my son is stable,” the mom says, “I want that THING out of his head.” The patient also demands that the “thing” be removed. Right after this scene, House puts a Bluetooth in his ear so he can talk to himself without people thinking he’s crazy (an interesting reference to how we all are becoming cyborgs, more and more “implanted” with technology). Later, mother and son have the usual touching sentimental scene, where she speaks his name, he hears her voice for the first time and says, “Is that my name? S-E-T-H?” Mom cries. Seth’s deaf girlfriend later tells him she wishes she could get a CI, “It’s a great thing. It will open up a whole new world for you,” an idea he rejects. He hears his girlfriend vocalize, and asks Thirteen if he “sounds like that.” This for some reason clinches his decision about not wanting his CI and, rather than simply take off the external magnet, he rips the entire device right out of his head, which sends him into shock and system failure. Ultimately the team solves the mystery of the boy’s initial ailment and diagnoses him with sarcoidosis. In a final scene, the mother tells her son that she is having them replace the implant. She says it’s “my call.” This show, with its confusing use of both the sentimental and the counter-rhetoric, as well as its outrageous inaccuracies, is the most egregious example of how the CI is currently being constructed on television, but it, along with my other examples, clearly shows the Ladd/Blume rhetoric and counter rhetoric at work. The CI character is on one hand portrayed as an innocent, infantilized, tragic, or passive figure that is the recipient of a medical miracle kindly urged upon them (or forced upon them, as in the case of House). On the other hand, the CI character is depicted in the language of the counter-rhetoric: as deeply flawed, crazed, disturbed or damaged somehow by the incursions onto their Deaf identity, or, in the worst case scenario, they are dead, exterminated. Granted, it is the very premise of the forensic/crime drama to have a victim, and a dead victim, and it is the nature of the police drama to have a “bad,” criminal character; there is nothing wrong with having both good and bad CI characters, but my question is, in the end, why is it an either-or proposition? Why is CI identity only being portrayed in essentialist terms on these types of shows? Why are there no realistic portrayals of people with CIs (and for that matter, deaf people) as the richly varied individuals that they are? These questions aside, if these two types of “implanting rhetoric”, the sentimentalised and the terminated, are all we have at the moment, what does it mean? As I mentioned early in this essay, deaf people, along with many “others,” have long helped to highlight and define the hegemonic “norm.” The apparent cultural need for a Foucauldian “marked body” explains not only the popularity of crime dramas, but it also could explain the oddly proliferant use of characters with cochlear implants in these particular shows. A person with an implant on the side of their head is definitely a more “marked” body than the deaf person with no hearing aid. The CI character is more controversial, more shocking; it’s trendier, “sexier”, and this boosts ratings. But CI characters are, unlike their deaf predecessors, now serving an additional cultural function. I believe they are, as I claim in the beginning of this essay, screens upon which our culture is now projecting repressed anxieties about emergent technology. The two essentialist rhetorics of the cochlear implant, the rhetoric of the sentimental, medical model, and the rhetoric of genocide, ultimately represent our technophilia and our technophobia. The CI character embodies what Debra Shaw terms a current, “ontological insecurity that attends the interface between the human body and the datasphere” (85). We are growing more nervous “as new technologies shape our experiences, they blur the lines between the corporeal and incorporeal, between physical space and virtual space” (Selfe). Technology either threatens the integrity of the self, “the coherence of the body” (we are either dead or damaged) or technology allows us to transcend the limitations of the body: we are converted, “transformed”, the recipient of a happy modern miracle. In the end, I found that representations of CI on television (in the United States) are overwhelmingly sentimental and therefore essentialist. It seems that the conflicting nineteenth century tendency of attraction and revulsion toward the deaf is still, in the twenty-first century, evident. We are still mired in the rhetoric of “cure” and “control,” despite an active Deaf counter discourse that employs the language of the holocaust, warning of the extermination of yet another cultural minority. We are also daily becoming daily more “embedded in cybernetic systems,” with our laptops, emails, GPSs, PDAs, cell phones, Bluetooths, and the likes. We are becoming increasingly engaged in a “necessary relationship with machines” (Shaw 91). We are gradually becoming no longer “other” to the machine, and so our culturally constructed perceptions of ourselves are being threatened. In the nineteenth century, divisions and hierarchies between a white male majority and the “other” (women, African Americans, immigrants, Native Americans) began to blur. Now, the divisions between human and machine, as represented by a person with a CI, are starting to blur, creating anxiety. Perhaps this anxiety is why we are trying, at least in the media, symbolically to ‘cure’ the marked body or kill off the cyborg. Future examinations of the discourse should, I believe, use these media constructions as a lens through which to continue to examine and illuminate the complex subject position of the CI identity, and therefore, perhaps, also explore what the subject position of the post/human identity will be. References "A Boy in a Tree." Patrick Norris (dir.), Hart Hanson (by), Emily Deschanel (perf.). Bones, Fox Network, 7 Sep. 2005. “Andy in C Minor.” Jeannete Szwarc (dir.), Gavin Harris (by), Kathryn Morris (perf.). Cold Case, CBS Network, 30 March 2008. Blume, Stuart. “The Rhetoric and Counter Rhetoric of a “Bionic” Technology.” Science, Technology and Human Values 22.1 (1997): 31-56. Brueggemann, Brenda Jo. Deaf Subjects: Between Identities and Places. New York: New York UP, 2009. “Cochlear Implant Statistics.” ASL-Cochlear Implant Community. Blog. Citing Laurent Le Clerc National Deaf Education Center. Gallaudet University, 18 Mar. 2008. 29 Apr. 2010 ‹http:/ /aslci.blogspot.com/2008/03/cochlear-implant-statistics.html›. “Cures to Come.” Discover Presents the Brain (Spring 2010): 76. Fischman, Josh. “Bionics.” National Geographic Magazine 217 (2010). “House Divided.” Greg Yaitanes (dir.), Matthew V. Lewis (by), Hugh Laurie (perf.). House, Fox Network, 22 Apr. 2009. “Inside-Out.” Gina Lamar (dir.), Anthony Zuiker (by), David Caruso (perf.). CSI: Miami, CBS Network, 8 Oct. 2007. Krentz, Christopher. Writing Deafness: The Hearing Line in Nineteenth-Century American Literature. Chapel Hill: UNC P, 2007. Ladd, Paddy. Understanding Deaf Culture: In Search of Deafhood. Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Limited, 2002. Lane, Harlan. A Journey Into the Deaf-World. San Diego: DawnSignPress, 1996. “NAD Position Statement on the Cochlear Implant.” National Association of the Deaf. 6 Oct. 2000. 29 April 2010 ‹http://www.nad.org/issues/technology/assistive-listening/cochlear-implants›. Nussbaum, Debra. “Manufacturer Information.” Cochlear Implant Information Center. National Deaf Education Center. Gallaudet University. 29 Apr. 2010 < http://clerccenter.gallaudet.edu >. Shaw, Debra. Technoculture: The Key Concepts. Oxford: Berg, 2008. “Silent Night.” Rob Bailey (dir.), Anthony Zuiker (by), Gary Sinise (perf.). CSI: New York, CBS Network, 13 Dec. 2006. “Sweet Nothing in My Ear.” Joseph Sargent (dir.), Stephen Sachs (by), Jeff Daniels (perf.). Hallmark Hall of Fame Production, 20 Apr. 2008. TWIZ TV scripts. CSI: Miami, “Inside-Out.” “What Is the Surgery Like?” FAQ, University of Miami Cochlear Implant Center. 29 Apr. 2010 ‹http://cochlearimplants.med.miami.edu/faq/index.asp›.