Starting Fresh

I came to terms with myself this week. I was in love with my idea, but not the process. The truth is, I didn't have enough to do on a day-to-day basis. I decided that what was important to me was not really Detroit, but came from a place far more personal. What I needed were stories people could connect to, and pieces of lives that needed to be shared. My new project idea is to make smaller sculptures, combined with my research from the summer about acoustics and amplification, and my research on multi-sensory therapy. I discovered that I really do need to make something visual, or the sound doesn't seem worth it. I realized that I was missing out on making ceramics. Most importantly I realized that the larger cause I was focused on was distracting me from the smaller details that make up everything that interests me about this work. Below is a photograph of John, whose voice can be heard in my previous post. In our interview he spoke about how he built a lot of the furniture around us with his own hands, and how the smallest things in life can make you the luckiest man. I want to spend less time trying to sum up an entire community, and more time celebrating individuals like John.

What's Missing

I had an epiphany of sorts this week. I think that the appeal of Detroit has worn off a bit since I worked there over the summer. It's become less important to me to be in Detroit, and more important simply to be gathering stories, and focusing on the themes that get me excited to record each day: family and connection to home life. I also realized, I want to be making something visual, and I'm not quite ready to let go of my obsession with natural amplification. Within the coming weeks, you'll see progress on something new and exciting, which in short will combine the concepts of my original IP idea (which I spent months researching over the summer) and my new installation idea.

How A Story Feels

One of the most productive things I did this week was tear a big sheet of butcher paper and tack it to my wall. On it I wrote and illustrated the three ways I foresee people experiencing stories in my installation, and their benefits, elements to consider when editing, and a long list of ways a story can feel. some of the items on the list (so far) include:
Like coffee with a friend
Like a dream
Like pulling weeds
Like going to a show
Like climbing a mountain or descending one
Like hearing a secret
Like being there beside them
Like a scavenger hunt
Like reading a memoir
and the list goes on...

Something I discovered this week is that the experience of listening can hold so many meanings, and although I may be limited by my material, the way I present it to the audience is limitless.

Below are three "sketches" of different ways to shape the material I gathered:

Renewed Challenges

The wonderful thing about working in sound is the chance to renew all of the past challenges I've had, and approach them differently each time. While I know that holds true for many mediums, it's easy to get into a way of making and cling to it. But with sound, you always have that "x" variable. What is the person going to say? How will they react? Will the wind be on my side today? What if she doesn't speak, or what if he won't shut up? What will it take for them to be totally honest? I faced new challenges this week like I do each time I record, but this time it was personal. When my friend's father passed away this summer, I was the first one she told. I packed her things, I picked out the dress she'd wear to his funeral, I drove her to the airport. Though I'd like to think she only loves me more for these things, I can't help but think that she gets a faint tinge of pain remembering that dreadful moment each time she sees me. I didn't ask her to relive that day, but rather to tell a memory of spending time with her father. A funny thing happened though--she told it to me as if she were reading a children's book, showing me each illustrated page with a smile on her face, and a singsong voice. Had I not known my old roommate very well, I wouldn't have known she was putting up a barrier for all the pain she was feeling. Sometimes, the people you think will be so simple to record turn out to be the most difficult. Here is my new challenge, a discovery that has taken me aback before pushing me forward: Make it feel okay, when everything is telling her it's not.

Transferring Discovery

While piecing together this rough cut of a new sound piece, I learned an important lesson: You can't force discovery. While transcribing my interviews last week, I came across two that seemed to mirror each other in a strange way. Both interviewees had squeezed into beds with their siblings in childhood; however one was out of necessity and the other for fun. My natural instinct was to splice them together, to reveal this relationship to the listener (as you'll hear in the rough draft below). What I realized afterwards though was that it loses something when the relationship is spelled out. I've left nothing to the imagination, and no chance for the listener to forge these connections on their own as I did. Discovery is one of my favorite parts of the process, and yet if I can not allow that sensation to my listener, then what have I really accomplished? I have an interesting new task for next week-discovering what makes discovery. I can't wait.

Drawing In Sound

I did a few things I normally don't do. First, I transcribed interviews, which for me is typically counter-intuitive, but I found it really meaningful and helpful. I found that I was noticing lines that were really poignant that I had skimmed over the first time around. By seeing the writing in text I began to notice parallels and interesting contrasts between some of the interviews I had conducted. Next, I drew illustrations based on what I had transcribed. I have always enjoyed drawing, but never thought about pursuing it for an IP project. In the end, I discovered that I wasn't nearly as passionate about drawing as I am about sound, but I am still satisfied that I gave it a try, and now I don't have to wonder "what if". Overall, I think I gained some valuable tools for approaching my IP. It is easy to capture a really beautiful story, and present it as is. However, to revisit, rediscover, and truly craft the story into something unique and memorable can take a piece from beautiful to captivating.