Link to Artefacts
Diagramming was a practice that allowed me to constitute the place as a whole, to grasp the dynamics which shaped our relationship, but I felt the need to take a closer look at some of the specific aspects which had arisen during this process. As I later realised, by exploring some of these specific aspects of the environment, I came to a deeper understanding of its qualities. This is where a practice like descriptive writing proved itself to be useful. The initial rationalisation for my decision to move onto descriptive writing had concerned the similarity of medium—written language. Diagramming had already conditioned the use of singular words, but I felt the need to throw this process of sense-making-with-words into a new context; a context that would enable and constrict my interaction with my surroundings in vastly different ways.
As I started to write, I immediately noticed that the temporality of descriptive writing was conditioning a different engagement with my environment. I was suddenly forced to address aspects of the environment in a specific order positioned in chronological time. It was expected that every sentence would be complementary, if not directly to the sentence before it, then at least to the sentiment communicated until that point. By conditioning my interaction with the environment in such a way, descriptive writing forced me to address my experience one aspect at a time, making the phenomena appear differently.
When diagramming I was able to address the environment as a whole, as an emergent set of dynamic relationships, but when writing, I noticed that my interaction with this practice resulted in a focus on one or two phenomena. Rather than address the environment as a whole by mapping out the dynamic relationship enabling the appearance of the phenomena, writing asked me to focus on specific phenomena in order to help understand the whole. We can imagine these phenomena not like pieces of a puzzle that needs to be completed in order to reveal the whole, but rather as parts of a whole that inherently contain and appear in accordance with the same dynamics which govern the emergence of the whole itself.
I attributed this to the specific temporality (mentioned above) which writing conditioned. Writing conditions an expression of my interaction with my environment within a narrative framework and, as opposed to diagramming, the order in which a text is written and read is determined by a seemingly strict unspoken rule. As we write, we write across and down the page, exaggerating not only its existence in time, but the existence of the phenomena it attempts to make sense of. Due to this constriction, a certain relationship with the emergent phenomena occurs, one which funnelsdown or drillsinto the phenomena. Not only myself, as the writer, but also the reader is forced to dig deeper and deeper into certain phenomena as time progresses. Let’s look at an example from the first text I wrote: “Here is a behaviour filter. It is surrounded by constant movement. Footsteps. Whirring machines. All of which are blurred due to the cavernous space, which surrounds this small island. The quick purposeful movements of travelling bodies become careful and restrained, as they move from the outskirts through the island. The island is a place of quiet, of small, clear sounds.”
It becomes clear when reading this text that it is referring to the same phenomena the whole time, but at the beginning I am not quite sure what these phenomena are or how I should address them in the context of descriptive writing. The first sentence merely refers to a “behaviour filter”, which could be understood as alluding to a dichotomy of ‘out there/in here’. As I continue to write I am forced to filter down this idea - I try to make sense of it. By around the three-quarter mark, I use the word “island” (a word which didn’t appear when diagramming, but I will touch on this later), which indicates that I began to grasp the phenomena I was referring to. I then started the last sentence with “The island”, indicating that this association had now become clear at least in this very moment, and by doing so provided the framework in which I could continue to consider these phenomena. What I am trying to get at with this example, is that the practice of writing conditions this relationship. I started the text with a relatively unclear idea of how this phenomenon appears, but by the end, it starts to become clear. I was almost forced to narrow down my opening remarks, or at least address them in some way. This can only happen as I partake in the act of writing; I write to understand. This process of clarification also occurs during the practice of diagramming, but the difference between it and descriptive writing is that with the latter the process itself is written down on the page for all to see.
After working between diagramming and writing for several days I reached another point, at which I could no longer move forward. In my head, I had already started to consider the potentiality of other practices. Having now moved back and forth between diagramming and writing several times, I felt that the medium of written language, or at least the way these practices conditioned my use of written language, became a little lacklustre. The same formations of phenomena kept constantly appearing and although small amounts of progress were being made, I could see the potential in changing something. At this point I had two choices to make; force a modification of the already existing practices, or; bring in a third practice. I chose to incorporate a third practice, not only to stay coherent with the main research goals, but also because in the context of the process as a whole, and the outcomes which had presented themselves to that point, it made sense. I had only worked within the medium of written language, but through my engagement with these two practices (especially writing), it became apparent to me that there were aspects of the environment that were not completely graspable within the bounds of written language. The medium was, however, not the only reason for a need to re-frame my relationship with the surroundings. I also felt the need to rupture the specific temporality and spatiality conditioned by writing and diagramming. By rupturing the way these tools conditioned the emergence of my environment, I could perhaps expose or reinforce aspects of the environment which hadn’t been apparent until this point. The phenomenon or group of phenomena that appeared to me as ‘constant spontaneity’, triggered a desire to explore them further through composing; the main reason being that this particular phenomenon appeared steeped within a specific temporality; something that I thought a practice like composing might help to expose even further.
The Introduction of Composing
During this project, I worked with the practice of composing as understood within the context of field recording based composition. This meant that one of the most important elements of the compositional process was that I would work with sound material as recorded within my designated surroundings. Of course, within the context of this project, field recording and composing are not understood as representative practices, but rather as practices which allow for a re-framing of the dynamic process of sense-making between subjective and objective correlates.2 The audible material functions in a similar way to words, in that it becomes a potential carrier of meaning. As objectual correlates both words and audible material have potential that, when fulfilled by the subjective correlate, result in a possible emergence of meaning. The subsequent organisation of that audible material over time shows how composing with the use of field recordings can also be a constitutive practice and tool for understanding ourselves and our emergent environment. I, therefore, also understood composition on an extremely basic level, as the organisation of aural events over time.
The beginning of my engagement with composing consisted of making field recordings. As soon as I started to record using the microphone, I felt a change in the dynamic between myself and my surroundings. By pressing record, I was conditioned to hear and listen differently with my surroundings. I was aware that I was making a recording and that the correlates offered to me, by my listening to it, would play a large role in the process of composing. The connection between the way the environment appeared to me as I listened and the way it appeared when I listened back to the recording was an important one. It was a connection that would help guide me through the process of composing and in turn my understanding of the environment. It may seem a little odd to concede that pressing a record button may condition our behaviour differently but a similar point can be made with any other practice. The way that pressing record conditions a different relationship is the same as when I put the pen in my hand in order to write. The tools mediate the experience.