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Thursday, October 24, 2013
Soundwalk
My sound walk began at 12:30am on St. Mark's Place, when, my obligations ended and I was able to start walking towards the trains at W4th St. The initial sounds I heard, which could be regarded as Soundmarks, given the neighborhood, was the low chatter and clinking utensils of all the different outdoor restaurants, all of which together settles into a kind of background hum.
Occasionally, the sound of a radio, or the music from a restaurant, would draw my attention, becoming foreground noise.
Over all, and remaining constant in every part of the city, was the low steady rumble of cars, much louder than I am used to thinking about it. But this noise is pervasive and therefore quickly becomes invisible, despite one's best attempts, like a universal hum from the beginning of the world.
Walking past Broadway into the little network of streets that surround Washington Square, two men came unexpectedly walking past the park, playing guitar, becoming, in the silent streets, the definition of foreground sound. After that, the only sound was my shoes on the street, a very insistent click-clack.
Throughout, because of the late hour, there were pockets of dead silence (other than the rumble of the cars), no people, and no sounds of living things. The default background sounds being machines: cars, air conditioners, the low clicks of traffic lights changing, the buzz of streetlights.
At W8th St, foreground noises resumed, particularly large cliques of people, drunk, playing on their cell phones and, occasionally retching. A bouncer yelled, "All you ladies get your ID's out," as a police car "woop-woop"ed a few blocks away. The traffic noises continued at a low rumble, and at 34th the foreground noises became dominant, first CBS FM at the Papaya stand, then endless laughing, giggling, and the occasional ringtone.
My sound walk began at 12:30am on St. Mark's Place, when, my obligations ended and I was able to start walking towards the trains at W4th St. The initial sounds I heard, which could be regarded as Soundmarks, given the neighborhood, was the low chatter and clinking utensils of all the different outdoor restaurants, all of which together settles into a kind of background hum.
Occasionally, the sound of a radio, or the music from a restaurant, would draw my attention, becoming foreground noise.
Over all, and remaining constant in every part of the city, was the low steady rumble of cars, much louder than I am used to thinking about it. But this noise is pervasive and therefore quickly becomes invisible, despite one's best attempts, like a universal hum from the beginning of the world.
Walking past Broadway into the little network of streets that surround Washington Square, two men came unexpectedly walking past the park, playing guitar, becoming, in the silent streets, the definition of foreground sound. After that, the only sound was my shoes on the street, a very insistent click-clack.
Throughout, because of the late hour, there were pockets of dead silence (other than the rumble of the cars), no people, and no sounds of living things. The default background sounds being machines: cars, air conditioners, the low clicks of traffic lights changing, the buzz of streetlights.
At W8th St, foreground noises resumed, particularly large cliques of people, drunk, playing on their cell phones and, occasionally retching. A bouncer yelled, "All you ladies get your ID's out," as a police car "woop-woop"ed a few blocks away. The traffic noises continued at a low rumble, and at 34th the foreground noises became dominant, first CBS FM at the Papaya stand, then endless laughing, giggling, and the occasional ringtone.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
I’m a NYC based visual artist, dabbling in photography, illustration, and videography. Much of my work focuses on the juncture of the mundane and the absurd, delving into the vast grey areas of life in which the humorous and tragic sometimes unintentionally meet. In my visual art, I’m inspired by people like Harvey Kurtzman, John Severin, George Grosz, Charles Schulz, William Blake, Joe Coleman, and I find that my photographic and video art follows similar “visual” principles. For that reason I tend to be influenced by more “gritty” or natural filmmakers, like the young Martin Scorsese, James Toback, Sidney Lumet, or more stylized versions of the same, like Nicholas Winding Refn. When doing a project, I tend to look for the most striking visual encapsulation of my overall idea, and then use the writing, acting, and cinematography to build on it.
As overall inspiration, I look to everyday moments in which the problems of mundane life can be shown to reflect broader, impersonal social realities. I’ve always felt successful when people come away from viewing my art with the feeling that they’ve seen something completely relatable to their own experience, yet skewered in a way that highlights its lurking absurdities.
As overall inspiration, I look to everyday moments in which the problems of mundane life can be shown to reflect broader, impersonal social realities. I’ve always felt successful when people come away from viewing my art with the feeling that they’ve seen something completely relatable to their own experience, yet skewered in a way that highlights its lurking absurdities.
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