Jean Luc Hervé, An Aesthetic of Surroundings

The Oxford Handbook of Spectral Music
(In Progress)
Amy Bauer (ed.) et al.
https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780190633547.001.0001
Published: 2021 Online ISBN: 9780190633578 Print ISBN: 9780190633547
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CHAPTER
Jean Luc Hervé, an Aesthetic of Surroundings 

Jean Luc Hervé
https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780190633547.013.30
Published: 18 March 2022
Abstract
In the music of Jean-Luc Hervé, the ideas that founded spectral music take on new meaning. The
concept of the acoustic model—composition based on the physical properties of sound—is interpreted
as a relationship between music and the environment as the musical material, and as part of the
surroundings. The idea of process is central to his music. The initial material at the conception of the
work is reduced to a minimum in order to make way for its development in time. Jean-Luc Hervé uses
as a model the organic energy contained in acoustic phenomena in contrast to the idea that sound is
reduced to its physical and mathematical characteristics. This chapter, accompanied with examples
taken from his works, will discuss various compositional techniques as well as the form he calls
“concert-installation” that extends the music concert beyond the musical performance, into the
surroundings.
Keywords: music and the environment, process, organic sound, acoustic model, in situ art
Subject: Musicology and Music History, Music Theory and Analysis, Sound Studies, Music
Series: Oxford Handbooks
Collection: Oxford Handbooks Online
1
The composer, like any artist, “ceaselessly reconceives and rede nes the nature of what is possible.” There
must be no dogma in art, everything must be subject to critical examination. This utopian ideology is
essential for any form of artistic creativity. The language of spectral music is connected to the generation of
composers who rose to prominence in the 1970s and 80s. However, despite the fact that this language
belongs to the past, it constitutes a revolution whose key ideas and concepts remain pertinent for the
composers of today. In my view, the most important concept associated with spectral music is the
positioning of sound itself, that is, a physical phenomenon, at the core of the process of composition.
Throughout history composers have consistently shown a fascination for “natural” sounds—from Vivaldi’s
imitations of dogs, ies, and birds, to Xenakis’ stochastic rhythms which sought to imitate the sound of
raindrops falling on a windowpane. However, by drawing upon and applying scienti c theories of sound and
acoustic phenomena, the nature of this relationship changes radically. A meticulous auscultation of sound
reveals new levels of complexity, a complexity which gives rise to sonic identity. Sound may not be de ned
merely in terms of abstract parameters operating in a neutral space; rather, like a living organism, it is a
dynamic entity which is in relationship to the context in which it occurs. As such, the notion of the note is no
longer a foundation: it is not intrinsically connected to the origin of the sonic material in question, but
rather, simply one means (of many) through which a sonic idea may be communicated. Pitch is always
relative, and subordinate, to sound itself.
Such an ideology is in opposition to styles that attempt to incorporate “just intonation” and which, despite
their foundation upon acoustic principles, view natural models as static, neutral, abstract, and reducible to a

series of parametric structures, or in other words, as sterile entities, rather than phenomena which exhibit
movement, organicity, and through their vital energy, concrete emotion. Nature may not necessarily be
2
“pure” and systematic—it can be dirty, and disorderly—but it is invariably endowed with energy. Thus the
aforementioned aesthetics are founded upon themselves upon an idealized view of nature and demonstrate
no consideration for the true nature of sound, rather like a sort of transcendental art which seeks
detachment from the world. In opposition to such idealistic abstraction—and detachment from the world
around us—I advocate “immanent” art, characterized by a willingness to listen, an attentiveness to the
buzzing and swarming nature of our sonic environment. I have established my own work upon the
relationship between art and the world, the aesthetics of our surroundings.
Owing to our current knowledge and understanding of sound’s richness, the so-called “exploration of
pitch”—which was, in the past, dependent upon abstract parameters for the construction of harmonic
material—has come to represent an exploration of the potential of sound itself, and of the ways in which
sounds may be musically organized through the extrapolation of the principles of pitch’s “physical
construction” and its potential for enrichment through interactions with other concurrent sounds. Such an
approach (in other words, “composing with timbres”) necessitates a complete revision of traditional
notions of orchestration.
To base composition upon acoustic phenomena is to establish relationships between a musical work and the
physical world which surrounds us: that is, to position a given work of music in the observable world. This
notion also characterizes the role of time in my work; I draw, in my compositions, upon a natural,
“directional” form of time. The relationship between music and context has also led me to question
established paradigms of musical representation. The traditional concert hall, its architecture, and also
associated conventions of scenography, and relationships to public places.
Thus, in this chapter I will discuss my work through an examination of three notions which de ne, for me, a
work of music: sound, time, and place.
Sound
The revolution brought about by spectral music and its substitution of the notion of the “note” with the
notion of “sound” essentially made obsolete any attempt to establish a clearly de ned harmonic syntax.
Nonetheless, the question of material, at the core of any creative act, is not so easily dispensed with.
Attempts to avoid the problem by neutralizing perception of pitch, or by depending upon theatrical
elements, do not represent real solutions. My own method, especially in my recent works, is based upon the
use of the acoustic potential of a sound reduced to a bare minimum (i.e. typically, detached from
instrumental characteristics), thus allowing the creation of a harmonic-timbral universe which exhibits an

acoustic logic. To compose is to orchestrate, if one views orchestration not as the transcription of a
prede ned harmony for ensemble, but rather, as the construction of a timbre with constituent parts
(frequencies, instruments, playing techniques, evolutions in internal energies, etc.). Orchestration is also a
tool for unlimited sonic creativity and invention, one which allows the artist to integrate and construct into
an acoustically coherent whole, according to his or her wishes, all natures of sonorities, from sine tones to
pure noise, from orchestral instruments to objects. In the nal part of De près, the ensemble participates in
the globality of the sound, built from a chromatic sequence of low-sounding fundamentals associated with
a distorted timbre (Example 1).
Example 1
De près score p. 54, Edizioni Suvini Zerboni-Milano
The pitches played by the instruments correspond to harmonics associated with a fundamental (C) whose
lower components are out of tune (harmonic 2 is lowered by a quarter-tone). This produces beating which
serves to thicken the sound and to animate it from the interior. This sonority is reinforced by extended
playing techniques, an overblown trill on the ute, a multiphonic for the oboe, harmonic multiphonics in
the bass clarinet, scratch sounds in the strings, and by a polyphony of movement which endows the sound
with an internal energy.
The rst part of the same piece is a long accelerando of held sounds in crescendo. From an initial “surprise,”
a muted B< at> in the lowest register of the piano, the lowest note of the bass clarinet emerges (C,
harmonic number 5 of the low B< at>). From this event all harmonies in the rst section radiate. The
organization of pitches in the three wind instruments is a series of groups of three sounds of which one is
the di erential of the two others, which constitutes a minimal, harmonic object which is uni ed by a
physical acoustic phenomenon (shown in Example 2). The three string instruments complete this object
built upon harmonic interactions by playing harmonics 3 or 5 of the pitches played by the wind instruments.
Example 2
De près harmony first part (JL Hervé)

In the third part of Germination ascending lines are repeated. With each repetition they slow down and are
enriched with new sounds which result from frequency modulation between each of the intervals of the
scale. Here, once again, complexity is achieved not through the addition of external material but
“naturally,” through the use of the potentials which are latent in the original material, i.e., the intervals
between each degree of the scale (see Example 3).
Example 3
Germination p. 28, Edizioni Suvini Zerboni-Milano
The phenomena of acoustic interference, such as amplitude modulation, summation and subtraction tones,
frequency modulation, etc., give rise to a growth of frequencies and an enrichment of timbre without the
addition of extra sonic material, in a manner which brings to mind the interactions between living
organisms, which are capable of reproducing and thus, of establishing populations and ultimately of
evolving into new species. This way of developing harmonic-timbral material from virtually nothing (a
single note, an interval, a scale), like the colonization of arid regions, or the appearance on a rock of lichen,
then moss, and nally of soil, and bigger and bigger plants, prioritizes processes of development of
material. Such development takes place largely within the realm of orchestration. To orchestrate is to
compose a timbre. It is to construct an imaginary instrument using several instruments present in the
ensemble. When several instruments participate in the construction of a sound, the listener loses his/her
ability to clearly identify the sound’s origin. Even for a simple combination, such as that of a clarinet with a
violin and a piano, the resulting sound corresponds to none of those three instruments. Rather, it is a
composite instrument built from several sonic materials, an invisible instrument which only exists
sonically. To orchestrate is to obscure the provenance of sound, to make it mysterious. It is this mystery of
the sound of the orchestra which attracted me to music, from Rameau to Grisey. Seen from this angle,
orchestration is far more than mere craft. To orchestrate is to guide the listener towards a musical form of
listening, towards the incorporeal matter of sound which has been freed from its basic function. The
objective in composing with “pretty” sounds is not necessarily a blissful sensuality nor a super cial
hedonism (a criticism which is often leveled at French music); rather, it deepens potential aesthetic
breadth, allowing one to rediscover the power of music to transport one to unexplored worlds of sound. To
pass from the sound of a visible instrument to an incorporeal musical sound is to acquire the magical power
of music which has been liberated from the visual dimension. The invitation to listen is also o ering an
alternative to a world which is dominated by the visual elements of performance. Humanity’s world is

primarily a visual one, saturated with images which are more and more striking in nature, be they in public
spaces where advertising is becoming more and more aggressive, or in the form of endlessly cascading
windows on a computer screen. Art ought to show us that another reality is possible; it is an invitation to
freedom. To liberate ourselves from the image and discover another reality that enters through the ear and
not the eyes, the composer must play a central role. Within the context of a world obsessed with the image,
the composer has the potential to allow Oneself to rediscover the world, in a di erent way.
Time
The time of nature is a directional form of time which goes from birth to death. It is the time of sunrises and
sunsets, of the lives of living organisms, our temporal path. To construct musical forms which have a
memory of this natural time is a way of placing music into the movement of nature, a notion which is both
pleasant and frightening, familiar and unknown. In the creation of a garden, landscape architect Gilles
3
Clément attempts to work with, rather than against, nature by allowing natural processes to express
themselves, and using these processes to orient himself and to give rise to new forms. I conceive musical
form in a similar fashion: constructing forms which contain a grain of the time of nature, drawing upon the
energy of this, and channeling it in the creation of a musical time.
In En découverte for two violins & electronics, the material played by the violinists follows a long, linear
trajectory—like that of the sun in the sky—over the course of the whole piece: a gesture which was modeled
upon the song of a bird in Japan transforms progressively into another gesture which is idiomatic for the
instrument, a streaking to-and-fro with the bow across all four strings which is evocative of Paganini’s rst
Caprice (Example 4). Through this process of transformation of material, the piece establishes a relationship
between the environment and music because it describes a connection between material which is evocative
of nature and a purely musical gesture.
Example 4
En découverte, gesture evolution (JL Hervé)
In other pieces, this type of directional form is achieved through a multi-level process, one which is similar
to that of living organisms whereby the development of an individual takes places in various successive
steps. Germination takes its structure from the biology of plants; the rate of growth of a root is the basis for a
pattern which dictates most of the work’s rhythmical & melodic structures. This takes the form of a scale
whose rhythms slow down and then accelerate, and whose intervals, similarly, broaden and then contract
(Example 5).
Example 5

Germination, rythmico-melodic pattern (JL Hervé)
The piece is in several sections. In each, the pattern develops di erently. The form develops according to a
linear, multi-step process which changes direction in each new section. The pattern appears clearly for the
rst time in the second section (Example 6). From a foundation of sustained notes played by the wind
instruments, soloistic lines emerge in the strings, like twigs growing out of a branch. These lines, which
initially take the form of short scales, become longer and longer, gradually taking on the form of the
aforementioned scale pattern.
Example 6
Germination p. 15, Edizioni Suvini Zerboni-Milano
The rate at which these events occur in the piece also follows the same pattern, i.e. speeding up and slowing
down. In the third section, these scales are performed in unison, alternating between ascending and
descending forms. With each occurrence, these scales slow down then speed up in sort of fractal form of the
original model. Throughout the remainder of the piece the pattern develops in such a way that it maintains
consistency but reveals a new aspect, in each iteration, of the material.
The form of Dans l’heure brève also follows a multi-step development, but here it unfolds in a linear manner.
In this piece I wished to create the impression of a “directional” work, albeit one whose direction is
constantly changing, thus giving a sense that at any given moment the material that came before was
moving in that new direction. The objective of creating such a form was to maintain continuity between the
past and the future while also creating surprises with each new formal element, thus creating a break in the
form which, once it has passed, gives the impression that it was consistent with the logical sequence that
had theretofore been taking place, i.e., that this structural deviation was inevitable from the outset, given
the processes which were unfolding. In order to achieve this, I drew upon some of the most striking material
I could think of, allowing it to evolve progressively from one extreme to another before abruptly returning
to the point of departure. This process—which may be likened to a saw-tooth waveform—occurs many
times; by dephasing the extreme ends of the process for each aspect, I was able to shift the listener’s
attention and achieve the desired result. Four parameters evolve in this out-of-phase manner: register
(from high to low), instrumentation (from a duo to a tutti), dynamics (from pianissimo to fortissimo), and the

character of instrumental gestures (from “agitated” to “static”) (Example 7).
Example 7
Dans lʼheure brève, diagram of structure (JL Hervé)
In the same way that harmonic/timbral material is enriched through interaction between simple objets
sonores, I often construct rhythms by combining equally simple elements: a regular or almost regular pulse,
an accelerando or a rallentando, etc. Through such interferences (e.g. in rhythm, meter, period) between
temporal structures which operate on di erent time-scales, rhythm may be developed. In the central
section of En mouvement, the rhythm is organized according to three levels of structure, each of which was
created according to a distinct principle of evolution: three long sections, becoming progressively shorter,
in which meters of 3, 5, or 8 beats are irregularly scattered, and this while in each bar a scale in ascending
motion (sextuplet semiquavers) is punctuated with a slowing succession of accents (Example 8).
Example 8

En mouvement, p. 18, Edizioni Suvini Zerboni-Milano
The number of accents and their durations increase. A non-correspondence between comparable time
signatures and slowing rhythms produces a sort of rhythmic interference, a source of irregularity, from
which the work’s rhythms were constructed.
First section: 59 crotches Second section: 51 crotchets Third section: 42 crotchets
Time Signature Rhythms Time Signature Rhythms Time Signature
3 2;3 [5] 3 3;4;5 [12] 5
5 3;4 [7] 3 2;3;3;4 [12] 3
5 4;5 [9] 5 4;5;6 [15] 8
3 3;4 [7] 8 2;3;4;5 [14] 3
5 3;4 [7] 3 2;3;2;3;4 [14] 5
3 4;5 [9] 5 3;4;5;6 [18] 5
5 5;6 [11] 3 4;5;6 [15] 5
3 2;3;4 [9] 5 4;5;6 [15] 3
8 5;6 [11] 5 2;3;3;4;5 [17] 5
3 3;4;5 [12] 3 3;4;4;5 [16]
3 2;3;3;4 [12] 3 2;3;3;4;5 [17]
5 4;5;6 [15] 5 2;3;4;4;5 [18]
3 2;3;4;5 [14]
5 2;3;4;5 [14]
(Time signatures given in crotchets, rhythms in sextuplet semiquavers)

This way of formalizing over the course of the creative process is uniquely possible within the context of
pre-formulated, written composition. In this sense, it distinguishes this mode of creativity from others,
such as improvisation. It represents a stance which is incompatible with immediacy, with surface-level
creativity; given the industrialized widespread culture of instantaneity (in which everything must be visible
with the click of a mouse), it advocates the value of duration. It opposes certain aesthetics which are
prominent today, which attempt in vain to mimic the spontaneity of the improviser at work on stage (and
which may be symptomatic of the frustration felt by certain notation-based composers who would have
rather become rock stars).

Place
A composer, like any artist, ought to question him/herself on all levels of creativity. The concert, which is a
traditional form of listening, is not exempt from this. A wish to establish a relationship between music and
the performance environment has led me to question the meaning of the places of musical representation.
In this endeavor, I imagined forms which, while not seeking to abandon the concert setting, attempt to
establish a relationship between music and context. Taking space into account in art is nothing new; it has
long existed in visual arts, from Renaissance frescos to works in situ by Daniel Buren, and in music in the
form of the works of Giovanni Gabrieli, written especially for the acoustic environment of the Saint Mark
Church in Venice. Another form which establishes a strict relationship between art and its context, and
which has impressed me deeply, is the Japanese traditional garden. The so-called Shakkei technique (the act
of “capturing the landscape”) consists of organizing the various elements of the garden (stones, bushes,
etc.) according to the surrounding landscape. Thus, the garden is integrated into its natural environment. It
roots its architecture in its surroundings and in doing so, takes on a new characteristic: it acquires a
particular artistic energy which reveals the nature of the garden’s surroundings.
I describe my works founded on the notions of Shakkei, i.e. those which integrate elements of the
performance space into the score, as “concert-installations.” These works attempt to emulate the special
qualities of those gardens. My concert-installations establish a relationship between a work of music and
the place in which it is represented. They consist of two related parts: the rst is the traditional concert
venue, i.e., indoors, and where musicians interpret a musical score. The second comprises the di usion of
electroacoustic music outdoors in the spaces nearby the performance venue, using a number of hidden
loudspeakers. During performances the audience is invited to move from one place to another; the
connection between the two parts is reinforced by the relationship between notated, live-performed
material and that di used electronically (and vice-versa). These works develop an aesthetic which moves
freely between two media of sound di usion: the internal ensemble and the external loud-speakers. The
choice of a performance space is, therefore, key; it is essentially the basis for the work. In the same way that
Daniel Buren’s Les deux plateaux reveals the architecture in the Place du Palais Royal in Paris, music may
reveal the particularities of the performance spaces among which connections are suddenly established
through performance.
E et lisière (“Edge e ect”) is my rst work to employ this technique. It was composed for the Hakusasonso
Garden in Japan. In the eld of biology, the edge e ect refers to organisms which are situated between two
places with di erent characteristics, such as where a forest meets a desert; such a setting gives rise to a
tremendous richness of ora and fauna. The “edge” is a place of intense biological exchange between
species which are suited to one or the other milieu. In art, and especially in music, I have always felt that
works which explore the edges of perception (e.g. the thresholds between noise and pitch, harmony and
timbre, or rhythm and arhythm) are far richer in meaning because they exist in the spaces between
opposing modes of perception. One may observe this “edge e ect” in the Hakusasonso Garden; it was built
around an open, central pavilion, which serves as an optimal viewing point. Two spaces are juxtaposed: that
of the building and that of the garden proper. The inclination of the visitor is to sit at the edge of the
pavilion, which is the boundary between construction and nature.
The rst part of the work, which takes place in the garden, consists of electroacoustic material di used by a
network of loudspeakers. It was composed using sounds from nature which, little by little, metamorphosed
into sounds of a violin (the instrument used in the second part). Throughout this rst part, the audience
moves freely around the garden.
The second part, for two violins and electronics, was performed in the central pavilion with the audience
seated. The performance time was chosen to coincide with the sunset, i.e. so that the second part would

begin during the daytime and conclude in darkness. Thus, the transition between natural and instrumental
sounds is associated with a transition in topography (garden/pavilion) and one between day and night.
In Ampli cation/résonance, for three soloists, two instrumental ensembles, and electronics, the performance
space was also the basis of the creation of the piece. It was composed for performance in the Berlin Museum
of Communications. The space’s extremely resonant acoustic, and the signi cance of the museum
(communication, transmission) provided starting points for composing the work. The ground oor space is
a triangle with one side curved into a semi-circle; this brought to my mind the shape of a loudspeaker or a
megaphone. The intention of this work was to metaphorically transform the museum itself into a giant
loudspeaker whose sound would resonate outwardly—in the direction dictated by the gurative
loudspeaker of the building’s design—towards the interior of another building, an o ce block with a large
foyer consisting of four oors of galleries. As such, the piece is in two parts, each conceived for one of the
two performance spaces: the rst, for instrumental ensemble (performed as the nal work on a concert
program) in the museum, and the second an electroacoustic installation in the o ce building. At the end of
the concert in the museum, the audience were directed towards the o ce block for the second part.
Instrumental material in the rst part also contained representations of ampli cation on several levels. The
opening instrumental gesture (Example 9), a held note with a simple crescendo—an object which was
developed over the course of the entire piece—represents the key idea of the piece.
Example 9
Amplification/résonnance, initial gesture (JL Hervé)
The placement of the musicians on stage also followed this idea of ampli cation as it happens within a
loudspeaker. The three soloists ( ute, contrabass, and percussion) were placed in the center, facing the
audience. Their material was developed and “ampli ed” by two identical sub-ensembles (each composed of
a string trio and a harp) which echoed material played by the group of soloists. These two sub-ensembles
were positioned on an oblique line which, along with the soloist group, marked a triangle representing a
loudspeaker whereby the soloists represented the electromagnet (the point where sound is generated) and
the sub-ensembles the membrane (which serves to amplify the sound). The setup was completed by the
presence of eight loudspeakers placed behind the audience, which di used the sound of the ensemble in
moments when the latter was not active. This was intended to give the impression that the music was being
“projected” from outside the building.
In Germination, which has already been discussed here, the starting point was once again the architecture of
the place of the work’s rst performance: Ircam, the discreet but world-renowned institution situated in
the center of Paris beneath the Place Igor Stravinsky, beside the Georges Pompidou Centre. The site is
characterized by the opposition between depth and surface because the concert hall, a center of
contemporary musical creation in Paris, is underground, hidden from the public which crosses the square
above it without imagining what is under their feet. The rst part of the work is a score for thirteen
musicians which was performed in the underground concert hall; the second, an electroacoustic installation
for fty small loudspeakers scattered throughout the Place Stravinsky. The work sought to evoke the idea
that the piece passed upwards through the ceiling of the concert hall and resonated from the ground of the
square upon which passers-by walked. The audience from the concert, in going outside at the conclusion of

the instrumental part, accompanied the “movement” of the piece, which began with instrumental
performance and continued to develop outside through the network of loudspeakers placed in the ground
(Example 10).
Example 10
Germination, diagram of performance (JL Hervé)
It was my intention to illustrate the connection between the underground concert hall and the part of the
square situated directly above, outdoors. This connection was not as simple to establish as one might
imagine. The square is used by many pedestrians but is not a place to stop and rest. Nothing indicates it as a
performance space; as such, passersby are not expecting to witness a musical performance. With the Saint
Palle/Tinguely Fountain, the Pompidou Centre, the Saint Merry Church, and the massive wall murals of
commissioned—and uncommissioned—artists, this space is a theatre of visual elements vying for
attention; the last thing that passing people would focus on in this crowded square would be the ground
beneath their feet. It was therefore necessary to create the conditions to incite attentive listening, to impose
an identity on those conditions, and to establish a connection with what is underground.
The idea was to produce an installation which comprised both plants and the means of sound di usion. It
was also important that it be perceived as coherent with the space at large, and most importantly, that it
draws attention to elements which were already present in the square. The ground in Place Stravinsky is
made up of a series of large concrete slabs placed at a distance of around one centimeter apart. These slabs
are placed on stilts which allow water to drain away. In the spaces in between each slab, organic matter
(typically dead leaves) accumulates which provides a substrate in which weeds may grow. The installation
sought to “amplify” this phenomenon in order to create the impression that the square had fallen into
disrepair, and that the vegetation we installed there had occurred naturally, rather like abandoned cities
which are “reclaimed” by nature and where bizarre organic presences may be observed. The plants that
were placed in the cracks in between concrete slabs were a materialization of the phenomenon of
germination—the title of the piece—which is the process of transformation from an underground seed to a
plant on the surface. The connection between deep and surface levels manifested itself thus. Furthermore,
the emphasis on a natural phenomenon which happens of its own accord in the square was a counterforce—
in spite of, or perhaps owing to its modesty—to the aforementioned visual identity of the public space.

These plants, which seemed to have sprung up much faster than others nearby, also gave the impression
that time had somehow passed on a di erent scale within the square (Example 11).
Example 11
Végétal installation of the premiere for the second part of Germination (Stravinski, Paris)
In the act of prolonging material from a concert and projecting it towards the exterior (thus for one of the
two essential elements of the musical form that I call “concert-installations”), the tools of electroacoustic
music play an essential role. If an outdoor space is ill-suited to instrumental performance, loudspeakers can
nonetheless be used to draw attention to its potential. Thanks to the possibility of placing loudspeakers
virtually anywhere, and being subject to none of the time constraints associated with performance by live
musicians, such tools allow one to explore new dimensions with which concert-based musical forms may
enter into dialogue. With them we may occupy many varied terrains, be they large, open-air surfaces or
traditional concert halls; whatever the case may be, a dialogue with the topography of the space is
established. These properties are elds to be explored if music is to occupy new contexts, to be stretched
into the surroundings of its starting point.
Notes
1 Veronique Verdier, Existence et creation (Paris: lʼHarmattan, 2016).
2 Think of the conclusion of Gérard Griseyʼs Vortex Temporum, a work which takes a sound wave for its model, whereby
sound logically completes its evolutionary process in an increase in entropy.
Gilles Clément, le jardin en mouvement (Paris: Sens et Tonka, 2007).
3

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