Soundwalk is a very personal thing for me. Since its inception, it has been a catalyst for my growth as an artist. The very idea of it pushed me in directions I had never before considered, and allowed me to explore ideas that, otherwise, would never have been realized.
I’ve been fascinated by sound for as long as I can remember. Perhaps it is due, in part, to my father’s work as a sound engineer for TV news, or the strong thread of musical talent that runs through both sides of my family. As a young child I was always making recordings, some rather fanciful, with my father’s cassette machine. I began playing music in 4th grade, and studied media production in High School. It didn’t take long for me to wind up in the recording program at Long Beach City College, where I had the opportunity to discover the studio as a tool for creativity. While I was required to record “music”, I also eagerly studied analog synthesis, complex sound processing techniques, and made rather strange recordings of ambient soundscapes. All this, though, was within the context of music production, which seemed like an uncomfortable compromise.
Many years later, I was invited to a meeting of the art group called FLOOD. They had completed a rather ambitious one-night gallery exhibition titled “Reception Perception Deception,” and were exploring ideas for their next big effort. When the words “sound art” were uttered, it was as if the whole of my experience somehow coalesced and, within days, I had roughed out the concept for what turned out to be my first sound-driven kinetic sculpture.
It is endlessly fascinating to see how artists who normally work in more traditional media approach the use of sound in their work. Some artists rely heavily on advanced technical tools while others embrace simplicity. Betsy Lohrer-Hall, for example, tapped the names of religious deities in morse code using egg shells. Another artist created a box that contains 100 wind-up music boxes.
A Soundwalk tradition is the Hop-Frog Kollectiv‘s “cleansing ritual” which, in practical terms, is a 5 hour one-note drone performance. As many as 20 musicians use the power of sound as a spiritual and transformative tool. I’ve participated in 2 of these performances, and I have to confess that, after an hour, I felt like my head was in the clouds.
Another big part of Soundwalk is that works are often hidden in bushes, under the eves of doorways, or even under manhole covers. When I walk through the event I’m often wondering if the sounds I hear are part of an installation, or simply the sounds of the City. That blurring of boundaries is quite intentional, and something FLOOD works hard to maintain.
Two years ago I diverged from my large scale sculptural works and spent 5 hours talking on my cell phone. I had three very specific things I did: 1) I was unavailable to people who wanted to communicate with me directly, 2) I went out of my way to talk in areas that might seem inappropriate to some, and 3) I paid people very specific compliments. I conceived this because of the societal intolerance for cell phone use, and was surprised that many otherwise perfectly nice people acted so openly hostile toward me.
Last year I collaborated with a fellow artist to create Sidewalk Sounds. It was a wooden platform that, when one stood upon it, allowed the participant to ‘hear’ the world through vibrations that came through their feet. It was quite amazing to perceive the wind in the trees, and cars passing by, through one’s feet.
FLOOD has continued to see the event grow and expand. This year, nearly 70 works are being presented, by artists from around the globe. The physical borders of the event have expanded as well.
The event starts at 5 PM, and I encourage everyone to arrive a bit early. The epicenter is 1st and Linden, but works are on Ocean and as far North as 3rd Street. Parking is available on the street, and in nearby lots. Maps of all the works can be found on the back of The District Weekly, so pick up a copy when you arrive. I’ll see you there.