DG1: Gary Ferrington

Estes dois textos de Gary Ferrington pretendem servir de referência para a componente escrita do projecto 1.3. O pequeno texto que vos é pedido, terá como ponto de partida o exercício que Ferrington propõe no seu texto, "Take A Listening Walk and Learn To Listen", obviamente, o método de análise não terá forçosamente que concretizar-se através de uma caminhada. Aliás, o seu segundo texto aqui presente, "On A Clear Day I Can Hear Forever" constitui um bom exemplo de escuta a partir de um ponto fixo. O texto pedido poderá constituir uma abordagem completamente independente do exercício prático.


Take A Listening Walk and Learn To Listen

Author: Gary Ferrington
http://www.acousticecology.org/writings/ferr-walk.html

Have you ever noticed how much time you spend making noise each day? There are friends and family to talk to. Music to play on the stereo, television programs to entertain you, grass to mow, dishes to wash and laundry to do. Your days are full of sound making.

Some of these sounds are important in that they provide useful information. Other sounds entertain. And still others are the by-products of human activity which form an ambient background for daily life.

It's interesting that even when we have a moment for reflective quiet we try to fill it with sound. For many of us quiet seems empty and void and because of that we seemingly become anxious without sound.

Taking time to listen to the sounds around us is worth the effort. We live in an acoustic environment full of subtle and not so subtle sounds that both enrich and detract from our daily life. Giving attention to these acoustical events not only enhances our appreciation of natural and human soundscapes but also makes us aware of endangered sounds and those sounds, which like weeds, may be destroying the soundscape.

We all listen of course. But purposeful listening is learned. By practicing purposeful listening we give attention to the soundscape around us. Here is a simple example. Stop for a minute at the end of this sentence and listen to the immediate sounds around you.

What did you hear? I heard a city bus pass by and a helicopter flying overhead. I also heard birds, the wind, a hall clock, and children playing.

What is important is that we both took a moment to stop and purposefully listen. In doing so, we started the first step to opening our ears and mind to the soundscape which surrounds us every day.

Some sounds may be disturbing to one's personal health. Those sounds that irate like the thumping of a neighbors stereo, or city traffic, can cause one to be anxious and disturb one's rest. In the long run one's cardiovascular system may be effected.

Other sounds are relaxing and give one a sense of peacefulness. Many believe the sound of the ocean surf or a flowing stream provide restful acoustic experiences.

Purposeful listening can be made into an enjoyable experience when combined with walking. A listening walk is something one can do by oneself, or share with others.

A few simple rules apply. First, talking is not permitted. The purpose is to listen and one's vocal and mental quite is important for a walk to be effective. Second, plan a journey through a soundscape which may initially provide a variety of sounds. Later seek out more quiet soundscapes which require developed listening skills. Third, after the walk reflect about what you've heard and what affect it had on you.

Where to walk and the length of the walk should be determined by personal or collective interests. Sometimes initial walks are interesting if done in places where a variety of sounds can be heard. Then, as noted above, choose increasingly difficult walks which include more and more quiet.

I once took a walk in Vancouver, British Columbia which began on a tree lined West End residential street filled with morning bird song. Then I proceeded onto the promenade along the bay where the subtle sound of waves washing over loose gravel could be distinctly heard. Bicyclists and joggers passed by and I listened to their sounds as well.

I turned from the bay and walked into the lobby of an old hotel and out the back door. The hushed sounds of thick carpet and overstuffed chairs created a aural sense of solitude and elegance.

I then went on to explore the acoustics of an apartment vestibule with hard reflective surfaces echoing every body movement. An empty band gazebo and the sound of a rain storm resonating on the roof brought the walk to a close as I returned to the tree lined street where large rain drops collected and fell from overhead branches thumping onto my opened umbrella.

Allow 30 to 60 minutes for a listening walk. First walks may seem a bit strange especially when participating with a group of people. I recall that on a recent walk strangers passed our listening group and noticed our quietness. One passer-by suggested that we must be some type of religious order given our non-talkative demeanor.

Each listening walk you make will provide you with new experiences. If you walk alone write down your reflections in a journal. If you are with a group spend a bit of time debriefing your shared experiences. Take the same walk at different times of the day or under varied weather conditions. Notice the differences in the quality and quantity of sounds you'll hear.

The more you walk and listen the more you'll discover. Listening walks are not only informative they are entertaining. There's always an ever changing concert of sound around you.

What is important is that you are taking time to listen and to give yourself time to reflect. Such activity openness one to…


On A Clear Day I Can Hear Forever

By Gary Ferrington
http://www.acousticecology.org/writings/ferr-clearday.html

I live in a city. Not a big city, but one large enough to have an array of traffic and human made sounds that can irritate one if allowed. There are still quiet mornings. But the fact is that the quality of this quiet time has diminished over the years as the city has grown.

Sometime around 3 AM and continuing for several hours more, the soundscape beyond my closed windows settles into a momentary period of quietude, broken occasionally by a passing auto.

This is a safe time. A time when one can open the windows and let the inside and outside become a single acoustics space.

It is daylight at this time in the Summer. The birds have already started to vocalize and this quickly becomes a morning chorus. I've never made the time to identify each species, but I nevertheless enjoy their collective voices.

This brief period of relative peacefulness is broken with the gruff arrival of the morning garbage truck. It's hydraulic drive lifts a heavy dumpster up and over it's cab. With a screaming assist from the truck's engine all of the collective waste crashes into the truck's gaping hold. Another two minutes of whining sounds and the dumpster settles back to the earth with a distinctive thud on pavement. The truck departs. But the solitude has changed.

The sound of tire friction against pavement increases as commuters begin their weekday driving rituals. An occasional siren marks and emergency somewhere in the city. Gradually, the songfest of morning birds fades and is lost in the human sound of the cityscape.

I am not one that is totally displeased with the sounds of my city. In many ways the sounds generated by cars on wet streets, or human voices from the sidewalk ten floors below provides a connectedness between myself and an active living world. In fact residing in a high rise apartment provides me with an opportunity to listen to the city in a way that might other wise be impossible to do. Here above the trees and having no other tall buildings around is a space through which distant sounds easily travel.

As I write this article, I hear the horn of a Southern Pacific locomotive some three miles away. The sound of the railroad is such a dominate feature of this city that I've actually learned the engineer's code for approaching a grade crossing, pulling into and out of the depot, and when one train meets and passes an other. I know, from listening, the length of a train, its progress through the city and whether it is carrying passengers or freight.

Interestingly enough I've also learned the acoustic schedule of the many airline flights to and from Denver and Salt lake. The 6:10 AM flight is always prompt in leaving providing there are no delays in it's planned flight to Colorado. Often, given the stillness of morning, I can hear it's engines deep thundering roar for ten to fifteen minutes after it passes overhead flying East over the distant Cascade mountain range. On a cloudy day the sound is amplified and appears more foreboding as it passes.

Come late evening the planes return like birds returning to roost until the light of morning again calls them to take flight. One by one their distant sound is heard and their landing pattern takes them high above my apartment.

It's Sunday and though the commuter traffic this morning is not as intense as it will be tomorrow, it nevertheless forms an ambient background against which any other sound needs to make itself heard. St. Mary's church is one such soundmark. It's original bronze bell brings a soft mellow sound to the ear. It's resonance is not as strong as I imagine it once was in calling the faithful to worship. But it can still be heard within the Parish it serves.

On the other had, the bigger and recently refurbished carillon of the Presbyterian church rings clear even against the ambiance of it's worshipers leaving by car for home or Sunday brunch. This soundmark rises above the city in a tall bell tower allowing the ringing to waft across the city.

When not calling its members to church the carillon chimes out the hour in increments of time from early morning until 10 PM when a city ordinance restricts sound making until the next day. It's tolling now tells me that as I write it is a quarter past the hour.

The sound of the wind is one which is always present in my city. There is a prevailing flow of air from the Northwest which blows most every day. It often brings storms from the coast some sixty miles away. In summer it cools the air heated by the pavement of streets and sidewalks. It also bends the trees and rustles the leaves causing a pleasing, restful sound.

The wind also plays with our tall building which is a definite obstacle in it's path through the city. It squeals and whistles as it blows through opened doors and down hallways or finds its way through unsealed windows. This is especially chilling to hear in the winter while the snow falls outside.

Though I can hear and enjoy the sound of children playing in the distant park, the sound of a crow flying past my window, people chatting over coffee at the market a block away, or skateboarders and bicyclist passing by, it is the absences of these sounds in winter that impresses me the most. When the snow falls and the traffic stops the city becomes strangely quiet.

It's in these brief periods of time that I can hear the very distant Willamette river flowing on its journey to the Pacific. It is a time when I think I can hear forever.


Gary Ferrington is a Senior Instructor in media literacy and technology at the University of Oregon's College of Education. He is currently a member of the WFAE restructuring committee and serves as the webmaster for the World Forum for Acsoutic Ecology. E-mail: gary_ferrington@ccmail.uoreong.edu