r e v e r i e : n o i s e c i t y
Venue (map location) description
 

 

 

ears plugged / closure(s): by Igor Santizo

 

Description of the Venue

: a simple experiment in perception



plug: (n) blockage consisting of an object designed to fill a hole tightly.

closure: (n) The act of closing or the state of being closed: ie: "closure
of an incision."


At one time, while I was in art school, I experienced
heightened sensitivity to noise and tried out
earplugs. (I have since then noticed that other
people also close off the din.) Wearing the plugs
led me to an awareness that was experientially
interesting and altered, in a ‘parallel-world kind of
way’–a meta-view.
The following are thoughts that resulted from trying
this experiment again, intentionally–this time as a
study in attention, listening and being. I wore the
earplugs during a wander of the city, thinking of
myself as a kind of flaneur: making observations
through a filtered listening. This variant of
situationist ‘derive’ took place during an hour I
spent going from East Vancouver to downtown,
when, rather than navigating with a work-oriented
purpose or on a desire-filled shopping mission, I
walked with a "purposeful purposelessness," as
John Cage might say.

noise reduction:

As the specifications state, the orange earplugs I used were: "soft,
hypoallergenic foam [that] rolls down for easy insertion and fit into
small ear canals. Low pressure inside the ear canal [makes] for improved
comfort." They have a noise reduction rating (NRR) of 29dB.
To my sensibility, this meant that I could still hear. These little items
were not silent, portable, anechoic chambers. Many sounds were still
audible, though filtered, while some were cut out completely. The plugs
provided an experience that was a step closer to silence through an
experiential emptying out amidst the active world. I could hear only
vestiges of sounds: cars swooshing, some muffled voices and the odd
loud sound. I also became very aware of my body as a resonating
inner space: footsteps, drinking water, once a sneeze. All enclosed
by an interior quiet.

listening walk:

I recently became interested in the work of Pauline Oliveros and
Hildegard Westerkamp, and have been considering ‘deep listening’ and
‘acoustic ecology’, as they relate to aesthetic meditative attention. I
have been writing an essay on listening and consciousness, as well
as participating in joint ‘listening walks’. My interest lies in how perceptual
changes in listening are consciousness-revealing. As Oliveros states:
"We interpret what we hear according to the way we listen." Walking
with earplugs is a filtered alteration of my normal hearing ability, and
means re-engaging with the sound-scape through a kind of ‘prosthetic’
listening. By altering my listening, I might be able to further understand
something about perception. The walk involved: meandering / sitting
in sunny spots / observing / note-taking / listening / Being.

aesthetic bubbles:

Supposing that aesthetics is the generating of meaning through
perception, then part-teritorry of any aesthetic orientation pivots on
subjectivity. People exist in individual aesthetic bubbles, that are both
discrete and interdependent with other (sub)cultural bubbles. Earplugs
are worn in compliance with a ‘culture of safety’ and for the preservation
of hearing. Wearing earplugs, in this case for the purpose of aesthetic
use, creates a phenomenological bubble founded in pleasure. Similiar
to ‘headphone culture’, the plugs create an explicitly personal sound
environment; a way of perceiving.

final note:

What I find interesting in all this is to recognize just how malleable
perception is. Listening is indeed "creative" as Oliveros states. The
conscious shaping of our attention and its qualities–direction, method,
context, attitude and prescence–are modalities that shape our realities
and cultures. It is through the temperament of mere observation that
the world of phenomena responds.

(text first published in "Closures" issue of FRONT magazine; nov / dec. 2004, p.17)
(thanks Andreas Khare and Leanne Johnson, Eds.)