I’d like to start by saying I’ve already met Gordon Hempton, virtually that is. I emailed him on enquiry about my dissertation process and it came a bit too late for it. Instead, we spoke about field recordings, and being an acoustic ecologist, the process that it takes and following your calling. This then leads me to purchase his book One Square Inch of Silence. I’ve been waiting to read it, and being my final piece of research it felt fitting. I’ve read through the half in the first sitting and feel I’ve gotten what I need, this being a skill I learnt during my research, sometimes you need to be smart and get the information that affects your practice, even though I will finish it after my portfolio module, I gathered enough intel to really get what this is about. Perhaps the most important is his writing or at least in this book, a form of field notes, a story perhaps as well. It’s his experience of being in the field and travelling east coast to west coast across America in search of understanding how this soundscape has changed while visiting the national parks of the areas he goes across. His passion is inspiring, and it’s been a huge inspiration. Here are some quotes.
Today silence has become an endangered species. Our cities, out suburbs, our farm communities, even our most expansive and remote national parks are not free from human noise intrusions.
To consider this as endangered is true, he’s also personifying sound as something that’s alive, which is interesting to consider that although some say silence is death, silence can also mean living away from humans, the natural ecosystem in its balance. Forests are very quiet after all.
We’ve reached a time in human history when our global environmental crisis requires that we make permanent life-style changes. More than ever before, we need to fall back in love with the land. Silence is our meeting place.
I also discussed this within my dissertation but falling back in love with our planet is key to our existence and our relationship with this planet and other living species. This is a crisis currently, sonically, physically and spiritually.
One Square Inch of Silence is more than a book; it is a place in the Hoh Rain Forest, part of the Olympic National Park-arguable the quietist place in the United States.
This book is centred or inspired by Gordon’s relationship to this national park and the stone he put in the quietest square inch he could find, arguably in the whole of the USA.
Silence is not the absence of something but the presence of everything.
Again this idea of silence being death is incorrect, silence is the presence of everything, and we can hear, understand and learn a lot from listening.
If asked to choose my favourite sound in the world, I doubt that I could do that easily. If forced, I might say it’s the dawn chorus of songbirds
I shall record the dawn chorus and try to see why this is true.
This noble fall has by far the richest, as well as the most powerful of all the falls of the valley, its tones vary from the sharp hiss and rustle of the wind in the glossy leaves of the live Oaks and the soft, sifting, hushing tones of the pines, to the loudest rush and Roary of storm winds and thunder among the crags of the summit peaks. The low bass, booming reverberating, tones, heard under favourable circumstances five or six miles away, are formed by the dashing and exploding of heavy masses mixed with air upon two projecting ledges on the face of the cliff.
These are the notes or field notes from John Muir who was a naturalist who lived in the 1800s, Gordon recites this field note within his book, explaining that he feels that Muir was field recording with text long before the first field recorders existed. This is inspiring for me, as reading this I can listen and imagine what this soundscape would have been. Such powerful words are written here.
From the sound of the water alone I’ve learned to distinguish the age of a tumbling stream. Older flows, such as those in Appalachia that escaped the last glaciation, have been tuning themselves for many thousands of years. Their watercourses and stony beds, smoothed to paths of least resistance by the ageless cycles of torrents and floods, sing differently. To my ears, they’re quieter, more musical, more eloquent. Youthful streams, with their newly exposed and angular, unsmoothed rocks, push the water aside brashly, with a resulting clatter. In all cases, the rocks are the notes. I sometimes attempt to tune a stream by repositioning a few prominent rocks, listening for the subtle changes in sound.
These are words from Gordon, we can imagine again what these rivers sound like, although his book first seemed like a story, there are huge amounts of field recordings throughout, even dated times and daily updates of what he can hear and did. I think field notes when accompanied by field recordings really do bring this level of situation that lacks when just heard by themselves.