brianasechoes

[brianasechoes]

Title: We are Angry, and that’s okay

Anger is necessary, it is unavoidable, and it is universal. Yet, anger is policed or dismissed if it is felt by Black and brown womxn. In this work, eight women describe the feeling and their dealings with anger. It opens with society’s portrayal and response to Black and brown women’s anger - usually violent dismissal, silencing or demonization. From this point, the work is a descent. The women describe the height of their anger over the sounds of a thunderstorm, but there is so much more to it. As the trembling thunder moves into the soft crash of waves on a beach, the women discuss their emotions before and after experiencing something angry or frustrating, oftentimes mentioning sadness, guilt, and isolation. Finally, as the waves turn into nightlife, anger is released and transforms into laughter. The image I chose to contextualize this work is

This work is a practice of humanization, active listening, and understanding, and aims to reevaluate and reframe anger as a deeply personal and complex experience. It puts anger in a sonic framework that challenges the notion of “the angry black woman,” and represents it as a fluid and changing emotional process. In the context of this class, I think this piece relates to our many discussions on representation in sound work. I knew I wanted to do a piece on anger, but going a step further and focusing on folks with marginalized identities was really important for me and for this project, as these are the people whose voices are the most policed. I think that making sound art and radio work for and by folks with marginalized identities should always be a concern, we should always be asking ourselves what voices we are choosing to feature and why. I believe the strength it conveyed in this piece is largely due to the amazing women I chose to feature, and who its intended audience is.

[brianasechoes]

(bridollas)

Sketch #4: Gerta Dieffenbachia

Plants are very important to me. I always start the year by buying new plants, expanding my little plant family and work with plants in the lab. Since I live in a big house with 6 people, I put 2 large plants in our living room. This piece focuses on Gerta, the Dieffenbachia that sits in the corner of our living room. She’s been through a lot, along with her sister Paola the Palm, going through the rough, cold Providence winter and dealing with dryness coming from the heat (which she sits right next to). Not only that, but my housemates don’t really consciously care about the plants’ well being - which is fair because I did bring them into the space, but I’m only one person and it’s hard being a single parent.

My mother always told me it was important to talk to your plants, because they can hear you and they grow better when you interact with them. Because of her, I talk to my plants, and caress their leaves when I water them to pass on that bit of love they need to grow. This piece explores the possibility of plant consciousness, and what my little plant child might say if she could speak and dream.

[brianasechoes]

Reading Response #4: Echoes of Place

It is interesting to think about the importance of sound in a historical context. This week’s reading, “Echoes,” left me with a lot of questions regarding this topic. Before this reading, I had never really thought of a historical auditory archive, or the preservation of sound through text. Partly because sound is such a subjective experience, I wonder whether or not a description of sound can truly capture sound. This also reminds of our discussion of representation and thinking about perspective when field recording, or in this case documentation. Since sound is so subjective, both in the context of experience and where one is relative to sound, it is difficult for me to believe that sound can be truly documented through text. Also as a reader, you will always create sounds based off sounds you have heard (is it possible to imagine sounds without reference?), and, like the reading discusses, the sounds one is exposed to is so heavily influenced by the time and place one has experienced.

This directly relates to the listenings this week, which I interpreted as a preservation of place with sound - a sonic historical archive. The Sound Maps of different cities was particularly interesting to explore for me. I decided to listen to the Sound Maps of Mexico, London and Montreal. It was exciting to directly compare the sounds of so many cities. Generally, London and Montreal had a lot more recent recordings, and similar sounds - a lot of city sounds of cars, busy streets. Mexico’s sound map had some of these sounds as well, especially when looking at city centers, however Mexico’s sound map seemed to have a goal of preserving cultural celebrations or sites more-so than the sounds of the everyday. These recordings were also a lot older and from a sort of government archive, while London and Montreal were a lot more recent recordings and community based. These maps evoked the importance of sound and place, and preservation of that combination. While physical location is unchanging, the sounds associated with that place are going to transform dramatically, and with these intentional archives it is interesting to listen to these transformations.

[brianasechoes]

For this project, I chose to remediate a book of poetry, Animal Fiero y Tierno by Ángelamaría Dávila. This was the first piece of work by the Puerto Rican poet, and the first book of poetry I’ve read in Spanish - a feat that I wanted to commemorate. Dávila draws many parallels between the natural world and human emotion/actions, which is a common thread throughout the collection. The work is split into 4 regions, which I mimicked in this piece, and each region tackles a different theme. However, when I viewed this piece as a whole, it told me a story of transformation, so I named this piece Metamorfosis.

The first region is title “aire” or “air,” and the poems explore themes of sadness and placelessness. The excerpt from the text read in this region translates to: “Sad animal, I am a sad animal still and walking through a globe of earth.” The second region is titled “Mundo Musgo angelito” or “Moss world angel.” This region is my favorite of the collection, as Dávila explores love, sensuality, and longing through metaphors with the natural world. The third section “La cólera correcta” is about anger - a lot of it coming from the political relationship between PR and the US. The final section of the collection, “Este monton de cosas,” culminates the piece through the exploration and discovery of place in the world.

In my remediation, I took these themes in as an exploration of self-growth and discovery, and thought a lot of queerness while editing it. Like Dávila, I drew parallels between myself and the natural world, displayed in section 2 when I overlay a plant being watered and me drinking a glass of water. This piece represents a lot for me - a continuous cycle of discovery - crumbling, building, crumbling, building, but ending this piece with my laughter was extremely empowering. It serves as a reminder of positivity despite the disarray and “este monton de cosas” (this heap of things).

[brianasechoes]

Sketch #3: Metamorfosis

https://soundcloud.com/user-265684312/metamorfosis

For this project, I chose to remediate a book of poetry, Animal Fiero y Tierno by Ángelamaría Dávila. This was the first piece of work by the Puerto Rican poet, and the first book of poetry I’ve read in Spanish - a feat that I wanted to commemorate. Dávila draws many parallels between the natural world and human emotion/actions, which is a common thread throughout the collection. The work is split into 4 regions, which I mimicked in this piece, and each region tackles a different theme. However, when I viewed this piece as a whole, it told me a story of transformation, so I named this piece Metamorfosis.

The first region is title “aire” or “air,” and the poems explore themes of sadness and placelessness. The excerpt from the text read in this region translates to: “Sad animal, I am a sad animal still and walking through a globe of earth.” The second region is titled “Mundo Musgo angelito” or “Moss world angel.” This region is my favorite of the collection, as Dávila explores love, sensuality, and longing through metaphors with the natural world. The third section “La cólera correcta” is about anger - a lot of it coming from the political relationship between PR and the US. The final section of the collection, “Este monton de cosas,” culminates the piece through the exploration and discovery of place in the world.

In my remediation, I took these themes in as an exploration of self-growth and discovery, and thought a lot of queerness while editing it. Like Dávila, I drew parallels between myself and the natural world, displayed in section 2 when I overlay a plant being watered and me drinking a glass of water. This piece represents a lot for me - a continuous cycle of discovery - crumbling, building, crumbling, building, but ending this piece with my laughter was extremely empowering. It serves as a reminder of positivity despite the disarray and “este monton de cosas” (this heap of things).

[brianasechoes]

Reading Response #3: Representation

In this weeks conversation on representation, the listening/interview with Damali Ayo really resonated with me. There is something intimate, and uncomfortable about matching a skin tone, whether that be with paint or makeup (aka paint) and I found this exploration super interesting. The way one of the paint mixers flirted with her made me uncomfortable, and made me think of the way I am sexualized as a woman of color, the way our bodies can not simply exist without being connected to the sexual. However, also thinking about this in relation to Ayo’s response - about how she was “saving the interaction for later fantasies,” and how I struggle with the anger I feel about oversexualization of brown women vs. the empowerment from sexual liberation of these women. When comparing her interaction with the male paint mixers vs the female the interactions are very different. Was the female simply being professional in her lack of small talk, & was the small talk of the men flirting, or otherwise sexually charged in a way?

In her work, Ayo hid the recorder from site, a choice that allowed for authentic experience to be captured. I thought about this in relation to Kisliuk reading, and her experiences with field work. This piece made me uncomfortable because I imagine a white woman in Africa, asking for a sneak peak into the lives of people she otherwise would have no contact with. It made me wonder about the ethics of this type of ethnography, regarding who is conducting a study, the identities they hold, and the privileges they hold. It made me wonder if  an ethnographer can capture an authentic experience as an outsider? Especially in comparison to Ayo, who captures an experience that she is also fully a part of.

Finally, in discussing representation I think it’s especially important to mention my favorite reading from this week, Low Theory from the Queer Art of Failure. This piece brings up the types of knowledge that are considered “high” or “low,” and the importance of the accessibility of knowledge. A question posed by the author that I feel relates to my prior discussion is: “How do we engage in and teach antidisciplinary knowledge?”  As a scientist, I think about this A LOT. I am constantly struggling between believing in the scientific method, while trying to dismantle this belief that science is “all knowing” or always right. In context of this class, I think the question is something we should be asking ourselves as we go out and record experiences, people, performance, etc to think critically about the what, why, and how we are recording.

[brianasechoes]

Desor-tren, Keyword: Disorder/Experience

For my soundsite sketch, I decided to explore the sounds of the MBTA commuter line to and from Boston. There is no piece of this project that is still, the consecutive 2 minute track is the train in motion, layered with sounds from passengers, including myself. I chose to frame this piece with the keyword Disorder and Experience, as a representation of the auditory experience of a passenger on a train like this.

The background track of the train in motion serves as a constant for the listener, a familiar sound to cling to and focus on, as the sounds of the busy train take over. The piece begins with the train leaving the station, followed by the shuffling and footsteps of a passenger trying to find a seat. We hear the train conductor discussing tickets with passengers as the listener settles in with music. This, however, is not enough to mask the disorder surrounding you, representing the distorted listening one experiences in a moving space. The announcements serve as brief moments of extreme clarity - you know where you are for the few minutes at the stop, but this feeling is fleeting and soon enters the listeners’ realm of passive listening. As the piece ends, the music fades away as do the rhythmic sounds of the moving train - representing the end of the trip. The train “sighs,” almost in relief at the end of its journey. I ended the piece with a soundclip of Gio saying “se pega” which translates to “it sticks” - as the disorientation from the trip and traveling “sticks” to you, even when you are still.

[brianasechoes]

Reading response #2: Does anyone have only 1 voice?

This week’s readings on voice made me think about the complexities of code-switching, specifically in its relationship to language and context. In the Weidman reading it states, “The assumed linking of a voice with an identity or a single person overlooks the fact that speakers may have many different kinds of relationships to their own voices or words, or that a single "voice" may in fact be collectively produced.” I think a lot about the many voices I, myself produce depending on the people I am around, the space I am in, or the language that I am speaking. It has even been pointed out by people in my life, the many voices I put on. When I speak Spanish my voice changes, it becomes higher pitched and more sing-songy - especially if I am speaking to my grandmother. I also have a very identifiable Puerto Rican accent, which I feel relates to the point of voices being “collectively produced.” Accents and language vernaculars are, in a way, collectively produced through cultural environments. This week in my Puerto Rican literature seminar, we discussed the hybridity of language and how an accent allows people in Latin America to racialize or “ethnicize” you. This can also be applied to English, which has many different accents and vernaculars that allow people to racialize or ethnicize someone. Code-switching is a defense mechanism against the negative connotations associated with this racialization. I think the practice of code-switching also relates to last weeks reading on phonography and the idea of having a “phonogenic,” or appealing voice. In the Kumanyika piece, A.D. Carson describes the generic public radio voice as “middle aged white dudes that sound like they just drank a warm cup of coffee.” The piece asks the important question of “who’s voice is public?,” which I think can also be restated as “who’s voice does society deem as phonogenic?”

[brianasechoes]

Sketch #1: Considering Location

Listen Here!

For my audio sketches, I decided to consider where I was recording sounds. I went about my days with no concrete plan for my audio recordings, simply ended up in different spaces on and off campus with interesting soundscapes. I recorded two clips at two different coffee shops - The Underground and Cafe Zog. It was interesting to compare these two clips because both spaces are centered around coffee, yet the sounds and ambiance of the two differed drastically. In the Underground, loud “hip” music takes over with the chatter of many Brown students on a late Monday morning. Cafe Zog, however, opens with the loud sound of grinding coffee beans, followed by quiet interrupted with sounds of clanging cookware. AQR is a recording in the “absolute quiet room” in the Rock library - a space where sound is not permitted for those who need quiet to work. This recording was interesting to hear because there space is not void of sound - you can hear keyboards, shuffling, and the sounds of people leaving and entering the space. At points where the recording is quiet, you can still hear the hum of the air vents. B.U.S. (Brown University Shuttle) was recorded on the Brown shuttle. The shuttle is known to make loud metallic noises as it drives down bumpy Providence streets, so I wanted to capture what this sounds like from the inside. However, the driver that night went slower than normal, making the potholes a little softer and the recording captured a mix of the shuttle shaking and the phone conversation the driver was having. My final recording was my favorite - I came home and my roommates were cramped in our tiny kitchen cooking their meals, listening to music and just going about their routines. You can hear the conversations between my roommates, the sounds of the kitchen (my personal favorite was the toaster oven DING!) and the background music.

I feel that with all my recordings, I chose places that were familiar to me, which made recording them and playing it back all the more powerful. I could throw myself into these spaces with sound and throw others into them as well.

[brianasechoes]

Reading Response #1: Acoustemology and Hearing

I had never encountered the term acoustemology before doing this week’s reading, but soon realized how the term applied to my experiences with sound. This winter I had the incredible fortune of visiting Havana, Cuba for the first time. Being largely disconnected from the internet and other forms of electronic communication, I remember being extremely attuned to the environment around me. I spent a lot of time thinking about all of the sounds around me, thinking about how they were so uniquely Cuba - from their language and accents, or the sounds of the old cars crawling down the street. I sat on the balcony of my apartment in the mornings, listening to the same woman walk down the street yelling advertisements about her brooms, mops and hangers for sale in a powerful yet sing-songy voice. At night, I started to get used to the male cat calls - “hola bella”, “mira que linda”, and my personal favorite “happy new year I love you,” in a heavy accent.

Stephanie Spray’s work and her layering of water and local sounds reminded me of a particular spot in Havana - the Malecon. The Malecon is a seawall that stretches along the northern side of Havana and on the weekends is a hotspot for lovers, partygoers and musicians to drink, laugh and socialize along the water. The sounds of the waves splashing against the rocks along the wall juxtaposed the voices of nightlife and the busy road alongside the wall. There is always the risk of being splashed - when it happened you’d hear the waves crash following the screams from the ocean’s (or Yemaya’s) blessing. The wall itself is interesting as it was built by the US military and has a lot of history with the imperialism imposed on Cuba by the US. It is a powerful space that resonates the many sounds of resistance in Cuba.