July 9, 2015 § Leave a comment
July 7, 2015 § Leave a comment
Sal Randolph, David B. Smith, and Audra Wolowiec will each present a performed sound work integral to their broader practices, which include visual, textual, and sculptural projects dealing with themes such as language, imagination, and memory.
Sal Randolph Airport Scores for Drift
These Airport Scores are part of an experimental novel, Drift, being written on Twitter and other social media, with elements distributed in real space and on the web. They are “ambience scores,” transcriptions into language of the ordinarily unheard sounds of place; from this alphabetically rendered sound composition, places may then be performed in voice or imagination.
David B. Smith Forgetting Your Name (extended version)
Smith will lead a participatory ceremony where members of the audience are invited to speak a name of their choice as raw material for an electronic sound composition. The composition will unfold organically and unexpectedly and will waver between found sound and music, and between evolution and deterioration. The words the audience speaks will, like memories, fade in and out of legibility, repeating and building, yet obscuring and changing original meanings and intentions.
Audra Wolowiec ( )
( ) is a language based short film with two slide projectors and sound components. Held by punctuation, signals from two lighthouses begin to flash across the screen, communicating through fragments. As the sound of breaths continue to locate each other, waves allude that geometry is of no use to calculate a proximity that is felt. This work was first performed at the Poetry Project at St. Marks Church, Jan 2015.
July 6, 2015 § Leave a comment
A description of the sounds of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.
“Witnesses reported, variously, that as it collapsed, they felt the ground shake and heard a roar, a long rumble similar to the passing of an elevated train, a tremendous crashing, a deep growling, or a thunderclap-like bang! and, as the rivets shot out of the tank, a machine-gun-like rat-tat-tat sound.”