Ren Shang laptop

The banded springtail is a small, striped, and lively bouncing soil arthropod - much like this recording.
They both share a special jumping organ and a variable pause before landing.
A single leap may trigger a micro-landslide or simply rearrange the silence.


xxorx is one of Ren Shang’s recent projects. It enjoys manipulating sound along a timeline by generating movements, revisiting earlier stages, repeating, erasing, and iterating trajectories.

"Through continuous practice and performances, I developed a unique way of engaging with digital software. It involves a nested structure and the manipulation of time flow. This nesting consists of both large and small-scale randomness, and small ones sometimes lead to significant changes. Time manipulation might sound easier, but it’s actually the tricky part. I constantly go back and move forward, ready to randomise to some ‘future’ at any moment. In large-scale random movements, these actions need to be both careful and swift. Some moments need to be held, while others need to be switched quickly - almost to the point where the audience hardly notices."
www.renshang.info/projects/xxorx


some translated words on "banded springtail" by Mabu:

While listening, I started reading the release notes, and as I read and listened, my mind wandered. It's hard to make sense of two parallel levels simultaneously, even if they might be talking about the same thing.

The notes explain that the album's name is based on symbolic relationships. Springtail is a springtail, not a flea. Fleas drink blood, while springtails eat corroded organic matter. This recording seems to be an experiment in movement and pause, about slightly disrupting time and the "mini-disasters" such disruptions can cause—a kind of butterfly effect in a dynamic system, perhaps turbulent, but definitely small. Or perhaps, it's a representation or performance of randomness.

It's so hard to multitask. Now, without reading the text, let's listen again.

But both movement and time are grand narratives. Words are pictographic, but how can sound convey movement? Is it symbolism, imitation, or physical embodiment? Don't forget that sound waves are movement itself—in these less than twenty minutes, the colors and textures of sound are actually quite diverse. Thus, during the listening process, this inherent vibration of sound (meta-movement?) can sometimes pleasantly overshadow the rest. So, initially, this recording doesn't seem unpleasant.

The question of time is even more profound. We know that the "flow" of sound is also time (meta-time?), so how can one time be revealed within another? Is it through repetition, nesting, or hovering on the edge of rhythm? Establishing a binary distinction between the "flow" and "jump" of sound, while inevitably predicated on concepts, might be an attempt.

I listened to it again.

But I think the delusion of manipulating time always leads to hubris—time is always the controller, the ultimate dictator. Is there a more cruel parable than the summer insect chirping on ice? In this sense, movement is also a form of resistance, a life in the face of death. Without randomness, there is destruction; with growth, there is life. So let's have a little more chaos.

——————— Early morning of September 9, 2025