“27 April
What is the
world of sound? I have been spending some time out of doors trying to respond
to the special nature of the acoustic world. I am impressed by the many
different aspects of reality, the range and depth of the contact points between
myself and something created by sound.
(…)
On Holy
Saturday I sat in Cannon Hill Park while the children were playing. I heard the
footsteps of passers-by, many different kinds of footsteps. There was the
flip-flop of sandals and the sharper, more delicate sound of high-heeled shoes.
There were groups of people walking together with different strides creating a
sort of patter, being overtaken now by one, firm, long stride, or by the rapid
pad of a jogger. There were children, running along in little bursts, and
stopping to get on and off squeaky tricycles or scooters. The footsteps came
from both sides. They met, mingled, separated again. From the next bench, there
was the rustle of a newspaper and the murmur of conversation. Further out, to
the right and behind me, there was the car park. Cars were stopping and
starting, arriving and departing, doors were being slammed. Far over to the
left, there was the main road. I heard the steady, deep roar of the through
traffic, the buses and the trucks. In front of me was the lake. It was full of
wild fowl. The ducks were quacking, the geese honking, and other birds, which I
could not identify, were calling and cranking. There was continual flapping of
wings, splashing and squabbling, as birds took off and landed on the surface,
or fought over scraps of bread. There was the splash of the paddle boats, the
cries of the children, and the bump as two boats collided. Parents on shore called
out encouragement or warning. Further away, from the larger expanse of the
lake, there was the different sound of the rowing boats as they swished past,
and beyond that was the park. People were playing football. I heard the shouting,
running feet, the impact of leather upon leather as the ball was kicked. There seemed
to be several groups playing different games. Here there were boys; further
over in that direction there seemed to be a group of young children playing.
Over this whole scene, there was the wind. The trees behind me were murmuring,
the shrubs and bushes along the side of the paths rustled, leaves and scraps of
paper were blown along the path. I leant back and drank it all in. It was an
astonishingly varied and rich panorama of movement, music and information. It
was absorbing and fascinating.
The strange
thing about it, however, is that it was a world of nothing but action. Every
sound was a point of activity. Where nothing was happening, there was silence.
That little part of the world then died, disappeared.
(…)
The
intermittent nature of the acoustic world is one of its most striking features.
In contrast, the perceived world is stable and continuous. The seen world
cannot escape from your eyes. Even in the darkness, you can use a torch and
force things into visibility, but I have very limited power over the acoustic
world.
Here is
another feature of the acoustic world: it stays the same whichever way I turn
my head. This is not true of the perceptible world. It changes as I turn my
head. New things come into view. The view looking that way is quite different
from the view looking this way. It is not like that with sound. New noises do not
come to my attention as I turn my head around. I may allow my head to hang
limply down upon my chest; I may lean right back and face the sky. It makes
little difference. Perhaps there is some slight shading of quality, but the
acoustic world is mainly independent of my movement. (…) This is a world which
I cannot shut out, which goes on all around me, and which gets on with its own
life. I can, of course, train myself to pay attention to it; I can learn to
distinguish this from that sound, become more practised in judging distance and
so on. Nevertheless, my ears remain fixed in a stationary head, while my eyes, if
I could see, would be darting here and there with innumerable movements in a
head which itself was moving.
Acoustic
space is a world of revelation.”
Hull, John
M. (2017) Notes on blindness. London: Profile books Ltd (str. 64-68) (tropičje
v oklepaju pomeni, da sem izpustila dele besedila)
Če pa bi želeli potovati kam dlje kot po Sloveniji, sem našla tudi zvočne posnetke New Yorka (kjer nisem še nikoli bila). Čisto spodaj na tej spletni strani je povezava tudi do drugih sprehodov po drugih mestih. Nekatera so tudi z govorom.
Zame je sprehod v dežju in z dežnikom zelo pomirjujoč. Imam en CD s klasiko na temo dežja (le kje je seda?), mož pa mi je za prvi porod naredil skupek dežnih zvočnih posnetkov, da me pomiri (tega pa nimam več in glede na to, da je dežja vedno manj, lahko ugibate kakšna sem).
Na Youtubu sem našla potem Nomadic Ambience in Wanna walk kanal, ki imata samo vidne in zvočne sprehode. Toliko o potovanju preko spleta z zvokom.
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