I decided to read into field recordings away from the Western European narrative showcased predominantly. I purchased a book called Making It Heard, a History of Brazilian Sound Arts.
This specific essay I discovered was of interest to me, discussing field recordings and being in the field, what it means to the individual, and why they partake in it, with specific research into these two Brazilian Artists.
Here are some quotes.
To wright, the first documented recording of the singing of a bird, performed by Karl Koch in 1899 on a wax cylinder, is also the inaugural instance of the figure of the prototypical nature sound recordist, an archetype that defined “a precedent for the next century, wherein environmental sound recordists will not be heard within the capture and mediation of nonhuman subjects and phenonmena”
This idea of silence among recordists is really interesting, why do we do this? Wright here establishes a notion to figure out why that is.
Researchers Isobel Anderson and Tallis Rennie, there is a tendency in the sonic arts to face field recordings as bearers of objectivity, with the predominant idea that these recordings represent authentic, impartial and neutral documents. This neutrality is the result of the erasing of subjectivities in a practice that, historically, “has not clearly represented narrative of how, when, why and by whom a field recordings is made.” Instead, “The qualities of accuracy, validity and objectivity have, in many circumstances, historically been favoured over expression, interpretation and subjectivity.” In other words, “scientific knowledge has been favoured over narrative, for scientific knowledge is seen as holding within it an unshakable truth”
Scientific knowledge is favoured over actual artistic expression, something like that field recording has within its practice. Also to consider a field recording as something objective, authentic, impartial or neutral documents is not what I would agree with. Unless we think of them relatively.
With the aim of rupturing this paradigm, the Swiss researcher and artists Salomé Voegelin lists a series of artists who, by attributing an essential role to the act of exposing their presence in their field-recording work, try to dismantle the recurrent archival and scientific impetus. More than wanting to collect, or to sonically document, an environment convincingly to Voeglin, the real ”intrigue” or poetic potential of the recordings would be in localising the “position” of the recorder, a form of “tension created by transforming the heard through participation, collaboration, expansion and play, through which we can try a humbler humanity of shared spaces, and renegotiate what is real”
To showcase oneself is important, it can help create more interesting field recordings, Salomé here says that the interest comes from showcasing the position of the recordist.
Problematic the removal (as poetic and practical strategy) of one’s presence in recording, since for them, it is an obvious oxymoron. For instance, Wright suggests that “amongst the birdsong and pops of sonic materiality, is a notable absence. Inaudbily present within the media-animal crackles, Ludwig Koch, the recordist, is also captured somewhere and inscribed into the wax”
The absence is also recorded within it, to think they are not there is ridiculous. The recordist is present within the worker even if they are not, for example in this piece of work described by Wright.
The Japanese artist Hiroki Sasajima—whose work in the genre might stand out due to its supposed purity—describes this presence as follows: “The choice of microphone and the choice of the recording equipment are the listening points of myself: my presence in the recording is created by the recording method, the choice of place, the sense of distance, the angle of microphone and so on.”
Microphones and recording equipment not only change the perspective but also the presence of the artist to counteract Wright’s opinion on the matter. The choice of place, distance and even angle.
Field recordings can be subjective, expressive, meaningful and personal to the recordist, rather than purely objective documents of sound environments … The meaning of the sounds within these recordings may have a personal significance to their recordist, which may bring greater meaning to the overall soundscape for the listener
Field recordings can be that, it is not about collecting or recording to use for further material. Listening perhaps could be the greatest experience of the experience.
Among the recording situations that interest Cristovam are those in which he is able to perform recordings that have no explicit sonic traces of his presence or that of anyone else. “My goal,” he says, “is to be someday able to record the whole day, a cycle in which you can listen to the world without any human interference, whatever that may be.”
Purist but interesting, I had in the past been really keen to experience this idea of no human sounds but I have encountered that perhaps it is more accurate to experience the human sounds within the world.
But why is Cristovam interested in this type of recording? To Cristovam, it is a political stance. Besides considering this to be legitimate research by itself, his search encompasses a will to oppose and a desire to have access to that which is denied to him. As the artist states: “It is not the search for silent places; it is a search what is being taken from me… I think that this is very important aesthetically and politically.” Cristovam wishes to listen to a world that is not enslaves by the human sound, because, to him “it is obvious that, no matter all the crap we are making with the world, the world itself is not ours. So, there are things that you can—and I feel it almost as a duty—search that is not from the human world”
I had never considered it a political stance, and he also considers it research for himself, sound as knowledge or knowing. Silence is being taken from him. He wants to seek this out.
It is clear to me that Cristovam does not adopt a purist stance regarding his recordings. The most important thing for him is to include poetically in the resulting phonogram the “field” produced by his listening. In order to do so, he might include a sensible post-production process. Besides this tendency, Cristovam understands that presenting or publishing the recorded material is not part of the work per se, these are just consequences of the recordings process:
Part of his work is listening, and the consequences of it are releasing and showcasing the recordings, he does not consider himself a purist. But also a reflection of the field he hears.
Paradoxically, this helps me to imagine a function for the enormous number of works that Cristovam publishes on his Bandcamp profile: the the most adequate would be to think of that webpage as an archive of registries of works already done, works who’s essence is in the recording process. These registries function as proof that acts were performed: the act of listening at a particular place, and the act of recording per se.
Hi work although not concentrated as pieces are a form of archival. He is showing where he’s been, and what he’s done, almost what Salomé speaks about it is more interesting to know the context of the recording and the position of the recordist and the field.
It is an idea of delving deeper in this depression of the city, but to delve deeper in an active way: instead of staying at home, suffering, I went for a walker. Also, to record is an excuse for you to go for a walk, isn’t it? So, initially, there was no such functionality [to record as a stage of an artistic project]. No type of idea, except that of going out and record.
Field recordings and recordings can take you outside and really push you to engage with the environment.
In this case, recording in the field assumed, first a sort of therapeutic function. Once the process had started, however, unforeseen interests emerged.
Listening or engaging with art is a therapeutic reflection and the outcomes can be anything.
What I would like to emphasise is that an idea such as this—central for a work such as CPdS—may reveal itself during an impromptu field-recording activity. The act of recording may be performed as stimulus for wandering and discovery. You leave the house without a destination.
I’m inspired by this idea here, and it is how I approach my field recording sessions, sometimes I think about it sometimes I go on walks and figure out what I have recorded.