A recent mailing from the Rubin Museum of Art opened with a quote from Robert Schumann in a letter to his wife that "Music is nothing but resonating light."
Accordingly, this will be the theme of an up coming music series at the museum.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Of The Wind Dying Down
This evening at the New York Public Library, George Prochnik was interviewed about his book, In Pursuit of Silence: Listening for Meaning in a World of Noise.
The dialog was rich with discussion points applicable to p mobile.
Some snapshots for future research and elaboration:
We must find a copy of the BBC recording of the two minutes of silence that were observed for the first Armistice day. It is a notable recording of silence because there is a lot of noise. There is likely a copy of the recording in the British Library sound archives, but I am wondering if as a Harvard student you might have access to it through inter-library loans. Signal to noise is a recurring theme in our dialog. I am curious how you will respond to the recording. I think it would be brilliant if we were to transition from the audience sitting in the dark to the Armistice day recording before the musicians take the stage. In fact, it could also be quite interesting, since it is your working plan to compose a number of individual pieces, to have them interspersed with historic and/or otherwise interesting recordings of subtly noise-infused recordings of silence. As a study of signal to noise.
Prochnik writes: Let's hold a moment of silence in memory of silence.
He also explained that the drafters of the US Constitution had the road outside Independence Hall covered in soil so that their thoughts and deliberations would not be interrupted with traffic noise.
Speaking of hamsters: he explained that research has shown that humans find soothing the sound of water running over small, irregularly shaped boulders. In contrast, the sound of water running over metal brings to mind an unpleasant association with drainage. I wondered if anyone has ever written a score for the sound of water hitting objects and called that a percussion piece.
The concept of sound as a stimulant was discussed.
I learned that the equivalent of applause in the deaf community is to hold your hands in the air and shake them. I also learned that it is pretty spectacular to have a room of people hold their hands up and shake them, as this was the prescribed method for applauding at the event. I have never liked applause. Neither the tactile sensation nor the aural. From now on, I might just raise my hands and shake them whenever I approve.
Prochnik also described the "mystical silence of the hunt," underscoring the importance of silence to stalking and catching prey.
One thought that struck me during his description of urban "pocket parks" like Paley Park in midtown Manhattan was how relatively easy it is to create absolute darkness compared to absolute silence. For complete darkness, I can simply close and tape the frame of the closet door. Complete silence would be a much more high tech undertaking, and then I would still likely be left with the sound of blood rushing through my ears or the pseudo-sound of my thoughts. This is something we should explore further.
The cherry on the Prochnik sundae was a short lecture on tactile sound sensation by biologist Sheila Patek, a pioneer in crustacean communication. Before Patek's work, it was believed that crustaceans were deaf, but she realized that they hear through small vibration sensitive hairs covering their bodies. The highlight of the evening was hearing a chorus of California spiny lobsters. More on this in a separate entry when I have time to research more.
Finally, I learned that deep in the etymology of the word "silence" is the phrase "the wind dying down." There is a melancholy beauty in that image. Of the wind dying down. It brought to mind a memory of Texas in late spring. Vaporized tar mirages on the highway horizon. Track and field practice. Wind drying sweat on my sunburned checks and high ponytail. In that moment, the only sound I can remember is the rush of the wind. And then the wind dying down.
The dialog was rich with discussion points applicable to p mobile.
Some snapshots for future research and elaboration:
We must find a copy of the BBC recording of the two minutes of silence that were observed for the first Armistice day. It is a notable recording of silence because there is a lot of noise. There is likely a copy of the recording in the British Library sound archives, but I am wondering if as a Harvard student you might have access to it through inter-library loans. Signal to noise is a recurring theme in our dialog. I am curious how you will respond to the recording. I think it would be brilliant if we were to transition from the audience sitting in the dark to the Armistice day recording before the musicians take the stage. In fact, it could also be quite interesting, since it is your working plan to compose a number of individual pieces, to have them interspersed with historic and/or otherwise interesting recordings of subtly noise-infused recordings of silence. As a study of signal to noise.
Prochnik writes: Let's hold a moment of silence in memory of silence.
He also explained that the drafters of the US Constitution had the road outside Independence Hall covered in soil so that their thoughts and deliberations would not be interrupted with traffic noise.
Speaking of hamsters: he explained that research has shown that humans find soothing the sound of water running over small, irregularly shaped boulders. In contrast, the sound of water running over metal brings to mind an unpleasant association with drainage. I wondered if anyone has ever written a score for the sound of water hitting objects and called that a percussion piece.
The concept of sound as a stimulant was discussed.
I learned that the equivalent of applause in the deaf community is to hold your hands in the air and shake them. I also learned that it is pretty spectacular to have a room of people hold their hands up and shake them, as this was the prescribed method for applauding at the event. I have never liked applause. Neither the tactile sensation nor the aural. From now on, I might just raise my hands and shake them whenever I approve.
Prochnik also described the "mystical silence of the hunt," underscoring the importance of silence to stalking and catching prey.
One thought that struck me during his description of urban "pocket parks" like Paley Park in midtown Manhattan was how relatively easy it is to create absolute darkness compared to absolute silence. For complete darkness, I can simply close and tape the frame of the closet door. Complete silence would be a much more high tech undertaking, and then I would still likely be left with the sound of blood rushing through my ears or the pseudo-sound of my thoughts. This is something we should explore further.
The cherry on the Prochnik sundae was a short lecture on tactile sound sensation by biologist Sheila Patek, a pioneer in crustacean communication. Before Patek's work, it was believed that crustaceans were deaf, but she realized that they hear through small vibration sensitive hairs covering their bodies. The highlight of the evening was hearing a chorus of California spiny lobsters. More on this in a separate entry when I have time to research more.
Finally, I learned that deep in the etymology of the word "silence" is the phrase "the wind dying down." There is a melancholy beauty in that image. Of the wind dying down. It brought to mind a memory of Texas in late spring. Vaporized tar mirages on the highway horizon. Track and field practice. Wind drying sweat on my sunburned checks and high ponytail. In that moment, the only sound I can remember is the rush of the wind. And then the wind dying down.
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