Tag: Oxford Brookes University

Distal Bodies 43.1dBSPL (LAeq)

Woodcote Village Green

Location: Village Green, Woodcote, Oxfordshire, UK

Date: 6th June 2020

Time: 09:01 – 09:16

Weather: Cloudy and dry with a strong wind

Temperature: 10oC

Average Sound Level: 43.1dBSPL (LAeq)

Woodcote Village Green

Put The Needle On The Record #5 : Boston : 20092019

The histories of architecture in the city are ‘scrolls’ waiting to be discovered and ‘read’ (Calvino, 1972). While investigating these scrolls through the practice of walking the streets of the city accompanied by wheeled luggage, I have found a ‘stylus’ for reading the pavement topography, the skin of the city. The wheels of the luggage bag connect directly with the built environment, rather like putting the needle on a record: a record that is city-sized and can be played in any direction. This practice presents a way of recording, mapping, and sonifying the streets of the city. 

Put The Needle On The Record was created by Loz Colbert. Find out more about the project here.

Boston 20092019


From my sound diary 20092019: “My rolling luggage on the driveway to the bus. Big case, smooth rolling sound, small case, a heavier gritty sound. The silence of the bus with no-one in in. Now back to the grey-er white noise and rumble of moving on the road. Why is this sound more boring? How could I find the sound of bus travel interesting and fascinating and delicious now, like a meal to be savoured ? The sound of the juice dispenser at breakfast, industrial, empty, the soulless delivery of liquid refreshment….”

On arrival in Boston the pavement surface was noticeably more intricate compared to both Detroit and Montreal. It was made up of a smaller size of paving slab, and the street ‘space’ was made up of a mixture of sandstone paving slabs and parquet tiles to delineate different areas. I found this more appealing. We are definitely not in Europe, but the floor reflected culture and multiple social usage. The rhythm is more active and steady as the bag rolls over the slabs, which are equally spaced. The faster rhythms you hear are the parquet tiles. Overall the floor surface was far more delicate, defined, there were different (more expensive) choices of colour and texture, and attempts to make what might be perceived as interesting or beautiful shapes. The way that the floor space is broken up into different ‘areas’ is of note, in comparison to Detroit specifically. Perhaps people and their surroundings, their different uses of street space are catered for (e.g. bicycles, skateboards, electric scooters), and one could pay attention to even the appearance of the street surface. I then find we are in a University town. As I walk past Boston University it makes sense: there is a sense of culture to this street paving. This is a younger environment, it is accepted that the street will be purposed in different ways; maybe the community of individuals and voices fits the unfolding street array…

Luggage bag recording: Pleasant Street, Boston 20092019

May 27th

Somewhere near a field in Oxfordshire

I made this recording on Wednesday 27th May:

27052020

At daybreak, my face still turned to the wall, and before I had seen above the big window-curtains what tone the first streaks of light assumed, I could already tell what the weather was like. The first sounds from the street had told me, according to weather they came to my ears deadened and distorted by the moisture of the atmosphere or quivering like arrows in the resonant, empty expanses of a spacious, frosty, pure morning; as soon as I heard the rumble of the first tramcar, I could tell whether it was sodden with rain or setting forth into the blue.

Marcel Proust The Captive (1925)

Leaning out of an upstairs window I can hear the sound of hedgerow birds, chickens running in one of the nearby gardens; a football bouncing on a paving slab and then being kicked into the shrubbery; a lone car heading West on the A4130 sounding the asphalt; a Red Kite circling overhead. I lean out further, listening into the distance, into the future, waiting for the tide of mechanised sound to return, for the drone of tyres on asphalt, not the phasing passage of a single car, but the sweeping tide of traffic sound flooding across fields, down lanes, through dense woodland. Perhaps it is still here, cars pass in groups, the air vibrates, the X2 pauses at the bus stop. Covid 19 has transformed our sounding environment, but how much is that transformation felt in any one place, in a place on the periphery of the situation? Can I hear it from my window? Is it evident in my everyday? And when will the tide of sound turn? and when it does turn how will we feel about it? As the air begins to vibrate with the phasing of distant jets will we want to step back or will we embrace the return to the normative sounding of the world? The soundscape is ambivalent. It represents the reduction of pollutants in the atmosphere but also signals the absence of loved ones. The temporary absence of friends but also the permanent absence of those who have lost their lives. This is a soundscape of hope and a soundscape of loss. It is a soundscape of a brighter future, one where listening to the world is part of the decision-making process we undertake when we chose to travel or not to travel; but it is also a soundscape of a brighter past, a past where now lost loved ones were still with us, where we could hear the sounds of their voices vibrating in the air and not just in memory.

May 25th

Somewhere near a field in Oxfordshire

I made this recording on Monday 25th May:

25052020

At daybreak, my face still turned to the wall, and before I had seen above the big window-curtains what tone the first streaks of light assumed, I could already tell what the weather was like. The first sounds from the street had told me, according to weather they came to my ears deadened and distorted by the moisture of the atmosphere or quivering like arrows in the resonant, empty expanses of a spacious, frosty, pure morning; as soon as I heard the rumble of the first tramcar, I could tell whether it was sodden with rain or setting forth into the blue.

Marcel Proust The Captive (1925)

Leaning out of an upstairs window I can hear the sound of hedgerow birds, chickens running in one of the nearby gardens; a football bouncing on a paving slab and then being kicked into the shrubbery; a lone car heading West on the A4130 sounding the asphalt; a Red Kite circling overhead. I lean out further, listening into the distance, into the future, waiting for the tide of mechanised sound to return, for the drone of tyres on asphalt, not the phasing passage of a single car, but the sweeping tide of traffic sound flooding across fields, down lanes, through dense woodland. Perhaps it is still here, cars pass in groups, the air vibrates, the X2 pauses at the bus stop. Covid 19 has transformed our sounding environment, but how much is that transformation felt in any one place, in a place on the periphery of the situation? Can I hear it from my window? Is it evident in my everyday? And when will the tide of sound turn? and when it does turn how will we feel about it? As the air begins to vibrate with the phasing of distant jets will we want to step back or will we embrace the return to the normative sounding of the world? The soundscape is ambivalent. It represents the reduction of pollutants in the atmosphere but also signals the absence of loved ones. The temporary absence of friends but also the permanent absence of those who have lost their lives. This is a soundscape of hope and a soundscape of loss. It is a soundscape of a brighter future, one where listening to the world is part of the decision-making process we undertake when we chose to travel or not to travel; but it is also a soundscape of a brighter past, a past where now lost loved ones were still with us, where we could hear the sounds of their voices vibrating in the air and not just in memory.

Distal Bodies 71.5dBSPL (LAeq)

Wodcote Village Green

Location: Village Green, Woodcote, Oxfordshire, UK

Date: 23rd May 2020

Time: 09:04 – 09:19

Weather: Sunshine and patchy cloud with a strong breeze

Temperature: 14oC

Average Sound Level: 71.5dBSPL (LAeq)

Woodcote Village Green

May 21st

Somewhere near a field in Oxfordshire

At daybreak, my face still turned to the wall, and before I had seen above the big window-curtains what tone the first streaks of light assumed, I could already tell what the weather was like. The first sounds from the street had told me, according to weather they came to my ears deadened and distorted by the moisture of the atmosphere or quivering like arrows in the resonant, empty expanses of a spacious, frosty, pure morning; as soon as I heard the rumble of the first tramcar, I could tell whether it was sodden with rain or setting forth into the blue.

Marcel Proust The Captive (1925)

Leaning out of an upstairs window I can hear the sound of hedgerow birds, chickens running in one of the nearby gardens; a football bouncing on a paving slab and then being kicked into the shrubbery; a lone car heading West on the A4130 sounding the asphalt; a Red Kite circling overhead. I lean out further, listening into the distance, into the future, waiting for the tide of mechanised sound to return, for the drone of tyres on asphalt, not the phasing passage of a single car, but the sweeping tide of traffic sound flooding across fields, down lanes, through dense woodland. Perhaps it is still here, cars pass in groups, the air vibrates, the X2 pauses at the bus stop. Covid 19 has transformed our sounding environment, but how much is that transformation felt in any one place, in a place on the periphery of the situation? Can I hear it from my window? Is it evident in my everyday? And when will the tide of sound turn? and when it does turn how will we feel about it? As the air begins to vibrate with the phasing of distant jets will we want to step back or will we embrace the return to the normative sounding of the world? The soundscape is ambivalent. It represents the reduction of pollutants in the atmosphere but also signals the absence of loved ones. The temporary absence of friends but also the permanent absence of those who have lost their lives. This is a soundscape of hope and a soundscape of loss. It is a soundscape of a brighter future, one where listening to the world is part of the decision-making process we undertake when we chose to travel or not to travel; but it is also a soundscape of a brighter past, a past where now lost loved ones were still with us, where we could hear the sounds of their voices vibrating in the air and not just in memory.

I made this recording on Thursday 21st May:

21052020

Beth Shearsby

Outside working on laptop
Evening TV On
Dawn Chorus
Car Conversations
Bus

Extract Beth’s work (below) featured in Recording Life In Sound (SARU 2019).

Beth Shearsby is an experimental artist based in Oxfordshire. Her current work heavily explores a combination of caustic + ambient noise. Using synthesisers, tape loops, D.I.Y circuits + other materials during improvised live performance. She is also an active member of creative educational charity Young Women’s Music Project, which supports women in music through workshops, talks, festivals + more.

Bethshearsby.com

Instagram:@bethshearsby

Fi.Ona

Dublin SoundStamp
Den Haag SoundStamp
Prague SoundStamp
Bray SoundStamp
Athy SoundStamp

Extract from SoundStamps (below) featured in Recording Life In Sound (SARU 2019).

Fi.Ona is a scenographer (experiential designer) with a focus on the audible: She is a Sonic Scenographer – a builder of performative worlds out of media, details and fuller informations of the every-day, collecting moments and rhythms in space. Fi.Ona originates in Ireland, and has lived in various places there and overseas in the US. Now she resides in the Netherlands, where she is entering the final term of her Masters of Fine Art Scenography in HKU (fine & performing arts school) with specialisation in spatial audio.

www.researchcatalogue.net/view/601086/601087 www.soundcloud.com/fiodotna

Marlo De Lara

Leeds Art Gallery Cafe

Extract from aural investigation of everyday Britain (below) featured in Recording Life In Sound (SARU 2019).

Born in Baltimore, MD, artist Marlo De Lara received a PhD in Cultural Studies at the University of Leeds. Her research addresses subjects relating to the representation of marginalized populations and creative work as political action. Her artistic practice works within the realms of sound performance and film. Since the 2000s, her films and live improvisations have been screened and performed internationally. Under the Marlo Eggplant alias, her audio/visual compositions and performances aim to blur the definitions of the (un)intentional. As founder/organizer of the Ladyz in Noyz (LIN) international collective, an ongoing project from 2008 to the present, she continues to promote emerging artists/musicians who are women/LGBTQIA+/underrepresented. www.marlodelara.info

IG/Twitter @marlodewawa

Sena Karahan

Extract from Sound Map Postcards // Flip-soundmap-book (below) featured in Recording Life In Sound (SARU 2019).

Sena Karahan is an architect and scholar who finished her MA at Istanbul Bilgi University Cultural Studies Master Program, her thesis looked at Social Reproduction of Space and Soundscapes. Sena trained as an architect at the Faculty of Architecture Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University, Istanbul. Before engaging with academia she worked as an architect at the architecture studio SMA, Selin Maner Architects, and later in the field of sustainable design. She travelled in South America for fourteen months from Argentina to Colombia. Her interest in the relation of sound and space was the key figure of design projects on her architectural training, affecting her journey and understanding of cultural and experienced space.