aldoweb

In a circumscribed human space, an anthroposphere keeps its own rhythm. It encloses, projects, becomes the productive center of itself and its relations. How does the space of interactions shift? At what rhythm does the interstitial space move? This void, which is space, is sound. Can we listen to it? What happens when we do? Salomé Voegelin describes sound as honey-like, a density vibrations move through. All of us, constantly, emitting and receiving, co-creating ourselves with the environment of the living and the non-living. Listening, distinct from hearing, becomes the epistemological act of our relationship with the world. The word soundscape is tempting, it's everywhere now, but its pretense to objectivity feels obsolete, what's left is the attempt to make audible what isn't: not the totality, but the intermediate space, the continuously mutable, imperfect sound of relation, the poles excluded.