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Listening research and performances
During my master at Artscience interfaculty I started researching different foci, methods and modes of listening. This resulted in a thesis and three performances/perfomative installations.
My thesis was titled: Listening, reinventing the aural wheel.
It is a record of an artistic research that was mostly practice-based and partly a dip into the vast world of sound and listening studies. As the title suggests, my research was not focused on producing new knowledge. It was focused on my intrinsic understanding of listening and finding ways of experiential research. As a result, this is not a text of great academic value. However, the text could be interesting as a place to start your own listening research, for its listening exercises or as a personal account of someone trying to understand their passion.
Here is a chapter that stayed with me since writing it:
Sonic ghosts One of the realities that sound can open is an ethereal one. Ethereal meaning spiritual/ghostly/ beyond (besides) the physical. Although listening and sound-sensitivity has a big role in many shamanistic practices, that’s not what I am talking about here. I rather think that the simple physical properties of sound creates the possibility of a subjective ethereal experience, without forgetting that its ‘just’ vibrating air. Sound is able to (partly) pass through things, bend around things and travel very far. This makes it possible to perceive the presence of things you can not see. If a blackbird produces sound it forces air through its syrinx (the avian vocal apparatus), making parts of its body and the air in its body vibrate. The air and vibration passes the tongue and the beak that define its sound and directionality even further.3 The energy of the vibration brings all the air between the bird and your eardrums into movement. In a way the act of singing enlarges the presence of the bird. From being just 25 cm from beak to tail, the bird has become as big as the area in which it is audible. But besides size, sound carries a part of the birds identity as well. In its sonic presence lies its will. Blackbirds have different vocalisations and even fitting directional patterns for different intentions. An alarm for danger, called the “cheer”, is projected omnidirectional to alert as many blackbirds as possible, while the precopulatory call (mating call, also known as the “ti-ti-ti” call) is very directional to avoid attracting competition.4 Together the size, shape and the character of these different calls form a ‘body’ of vibrating air with a short lifespan, a clear goal and hurdles to take before it dies. A body that we can’t see and can travel through walls. You could think of this body as a ghost. When you listen to an environment and visualise the sounds to be these kind of ghosts you can let yourself enter an ethereal reality where things relate to each other in a different way. Instead of heaving clear borders, the bodies that inhabit ‘the ethereal’ gradually fade out at their edges and merge into one-another. When we hear a train station for instance, we could identify it as one thing; a train station. But the sound of a train station consists of many things. Trains, check-in beeps, announcements, people walking fast, people calling, pigeons, all projecting multiple sonic ghosts that radiate through space and disappear again. These entities literally take up parts of each others space since they are all audible at the same time at the same place. The air at this listening position is vibrating in an incredibly complex pattern which contains information about all of their identities and locations. In this way the sonic world is filled with transparent intangible shapes carrying meaning and intentions, hence ghosts. As a listener/ perceiver you have an active role in the way these ghosts and their world appear. Both the separation of ‘bodies’ and the interpretation of intent is subject to personal focus. Which sounds belong to which intention and body? When we hear a train braking it could be interpreted in a number of ways. The machinist doing his job, the train shouting out its arrival, or, if your imagination is allows it, you could hear the material of the wheels and brake-disk screaming of pain. If you were waiting on the train and looking on your phone it means the train has arrived. If you are the maintenance engineer you are probably listening to the material of the brakes and are checking if they might need replacement. Because of this subjectiveness the identity of a soundghost is even more fluid. “Clink”, “Did you just hear the bottle or the knife or me?” Is what a friend asks after I tried to explain the sonic ghosts to him. My answer? It depends what you listen for, but if you’d like you could very briefly hear the human, the knife and the bottle become one.
Here is the full thesis:
Clockroom. was a polyrhytmic installation/performance which was an effort to research the relation between sound, focus and different experiences of time..
The instrument/installation consisted of 5 cooking pans hanging from the ceiling, with drips falling into them, creating a bell-like sound. The parameters of the instrument were carefully hand-controlled by the listening performer who kept looking for 'a temporal shift'.
The parameters of the 'instrument' where:
the height of drip in relation to the pan, determining volume
the water pressure per dripping tube, determining the time-interval between the drips,
the amount of water in the pan, determining the pitch and eventually replacing the bell sound with splashing water.
the rhythm of the swinging of the pan itself, determining where in the pan the drip would fall, leading to different overtone combinations.
If air vents were singing... was a minimalistic, strongly site-dependant physical sound-performance in which multiple performers made a trajectory through different ways of listening to space and objects (both belonging to and placed in that space).
What emerged was a composition of improvisations that brought out different sounds, movements, imaginations and relations. Relations between human-space-materiality, listening-sounding-moving, performer-audience, real-unreal, here-there.
It just happens to be... was the installation/performance I showed as graduation piece. The installation was a collection of instruments and soundobjects I made and collected over the years carefully placed around the area where the audience could sit. Pieces of broken glass, sidewalk tiles, secondhand pans, tea kettle's, a busted metal plate, a broken bell on a string and more objects that you wouldn't necessarily pick up from the street if you saw it lying. After some time looking around, the room becomes completely dark. No outlines, no shimmer of light, nothing.
Then the sounds begin.
I tried to find a performative space where I would feel the instruments and objects would play me as much as I would play them, resulting in a cascading soundscape of associations that had little to do with the trashy objects you saw before.
How did their voice come to be? Do they have something to say? It just happens to be...