 ABOVE: Studio 50 at the Lucas Artists Residency. | Composer Scott Miller arrived at Montalvo’s Lucas Artists Residency (LAP) on a Tuesday, and by the end of the day he had already rigged up his studio as a living sound ecosystem. Evening found him sitting thoughtfully at the piano bench, listening. I brought him a power cord, and when I walked around the grand piano, sound responded like water around me — I could feel the resonance responding in waves. |
At dinner, he talked about light: he was working toward adding it to his sound ecosystems. This was new for him, he said, and everything was an experiment. Two nights later, there were great flashes of light coming from his studio. And no sound but the crickets in the grass.
ABOVE: Scott Miller’s second night in residence at the LAP.
Scott worked quickly, and with a great sense of play. Over squash soup on Friday, LAP Director Kelly Sicat told him about Studio 50, designed by Richard Serra—a glass cube at the top of the hill, backed up against the forest. The studio was vacant this month. We showed it to him, gave him the keys, and went home for the weekend. By Monday, Scott had Serra’s cube wired for light.
For the rest of Miller’s residency, after artists’ dinner, he spent hours sitting in the dark with the lights of Silicon Valley at his back and the forest sounds around him, playing in light and sound. After dinner, the artists visited, and we watched Serra’s cube pulse like a heart to the crickets’ thrum. We sang, and it responded. A plane overhead brought up greens that scattered and faded, but the little purple throb inspired by the crickets’ song continued. You could spend hours watching it, and Scott did, sitting in front of his laptop, controlling little digital levers and watching the environment respond. Behind the studio, the trees flickered with reflected color, and behind the trees, the blue-black sky and the stars. It was different every night.
For the rest of Miller’s residency, after artists’ dinner, he spent hours sitting in the dark with the lights of Silicon Valley at his back and the forest sounds around him, playing in light and sound. After dinner, the artists visited, and we watched Serra’s cube pulse like a heart to the crickets’ thrum. We sang, and it responded. A plane overhead brought up greens that scattered and faded, but the little purple throb inspired by the crickets’ song continued. You could spend hours watching it, and Scott did, sitting in front of his laptop, controlling little digital levers and watching the environment respond. Behind the studio, the trees flickered with reflected color, and behind the trees, the blue-black sky and the stars. It was different every night.
| We tried to capture the effect of standing there under that wide sky with that living kaaba of light, but our cameras couldn’t capture the experience. We complained about this. One night, artist Kija Lucas , at work in Studio 40 creating lush stills of flora against velvet-black backgrounds, brought her tripod to the top of the hill. Kija captured some long exposures of the studio and stitched them together for us: |  ABOVE: Studio 50 illuminated, captured by Kija Lucas. |
One September evening, Scott invited a handful of guests to the top of the hill, and shared a few thoughts. Toggling down the flittering light, he said, “Everything about this is a fiction.”
ABOVE: A candid moment: Scott Miller shares his ecosystemic light installation with guests.
Scott Miller’s residency at the Lucas Artists Residency Program was supported by the McKnight Foundation. To learn more about Miller and his creative process, read this post featuring his reflections on his work while in residence at Montalvo.
The LAP’s Studio 50, named after donor Peter E. Doyle, was designed by artist Richard Serra in collaboration with Jim Jennings Architecture.
The LAP’s Studio 50, named after donor Peter E. Doyle, was designed by artist Richard Serra in collaboration with Jim Jennings Architecture.
BY LORI WOOD