We come to a cattle market alongside the road as we are leaving Artashat, an Armenian regional administrative capital. Sheep, cows, dogs and men standing in the grass and the gravel, making deals. We strike up a conversation with one of the men and, as commonly happens in the Caucasus, we are invited for a visit.
Part of World Listening Day 2020.
This series of images was made during a week-long journey through the southerly part of Bohemia, a week of rain, roads, heavy clouds, lofty spires, weighty castles, afternoon sun, buzzing flies, beer, nettles, tombstones, statuary, fountains, arched doorways, and receding light.
For historical context, see also: ⨀.
A dawn recording of birds and rain from my window overlooking a wooded park. The park is home to many doves, jays, magpies and numerous kinds of little birds I don’t know the names of. It forms my contribution to the compilation Pass it on ~ Early Morning Soundscapes ⨀.
How heavy the blackness is, yet how easily pierced by light. The night reluctantly recedes from the advance of electricity; a grid of incandescent windows, the shreik of a bright advertisement, the swinging beams of a passing vehicle. The fragments of night scuttle off in all directions, to hide in the glades, and collect the in dark corners, the lightless caverns of the imagination.
This anthology draws acousmatic portraits of reveries or direct experiences of the night, whose interchange with the day forms one of the most fundamental dichotomies of human existence.
- night poem 8 m
- milky way 10 m
- passage 18 m
- nocturne 15 m