Wednesday, December 3, 2008
An Evening with Sound Artist Aaron Ximm
Aaron Ximm is a field recorder whom I had the pleasure of meeting and experiencing two of his most recent works. Not entirely sure of what to expect from the event I headed over to his website, www.quietamerican.org in search for a bit of background information. Conveniently filed under comments/writings, Aaron provides his artist statement for the project and also imparts his perspective on the act of leaving or what it means to be an outsider or the observer. He wishes to accomplish a number of objectives so that one can wander through various levels of consciousness in order to trigger certain personal stories or memories. By this process, Aaron understands that although he captures these soundscapes to preserve his own memories, he also realizes that manipulation of said memories can help induce similar experiences in the drifting minds of his audience.
Before the commencement of the show, Aaron briefly describes his purpose and the proceedings. He invites his listeners to relax and to allow oneself to drift into a shallow slumber. The lights dimmed off swallowing the room in a void of darkness.
Slowing the sounds of machinery can be heard and soon an organic world begins to materialize within my mind. From a distance a train can be heard steadily approaching. As the large steel wheels of the train travel across the room, I open my eyes, still unable to physically see anything. I felt very uneasy sitting in a pitch black auditorium with so many familiar, yet unfamiliar sounds enclosing around me. However, this feeling of anxiousness was one quite memorable of the experiences I had during the drifts/treks last semester in film 116. As sound artists, both Aaron Ximm and Glenn Bach believe that in order to capture worthy recordings one needs to exit their comfort zones. Aaron performs this practice by traveling to other countries. Of course we may not all operate on such a grand budget and in light Glenn’s solution is to commit to four hour long walks.
Aaron made a distinct choice to present his work in darkness. That choice helps our minds isolate and focus purely on sonic stimuli. Another reason why Aaron might have made this decision is so that he forces us out of our comfort zone making us not only vulnerable to perhaps concealed memories in my instance, but also to insight and resolution. Another interesting feature of presenting in this fashion is how much heavier silence feels when vision is unavailable.
There were a few instances in Aaron’s first piece where the “noise” would fade out exposing low ominous tones. Slowly the harmonies evolve into a different but associated environment. This evolution of sound was particularly one of the more interesting aspects of that evening. There are two general layers of sound combined. There was a sense of recognizable ambiance that on occasion would grow faint revealing a hum or whirring mechanism of some kind. This of course was coalesce rhythmically.
Aaron uses the absence of certain sounds to create emphasis for others. He creates a dynamic experience in which one can imagine the setting where he might be in, but would rather prefer if you brought your own story in order to personalize and complete the work.
The second piece of sound art that Aaron presented was the documentation of his wife giving birth to their first child. I, like another member of the audience had already dozed off and was abruptly awaken by terrible intense groans of some kind. Initially, I thought these were the sounds of perhaps an ox or another kind of large animal in distress. The entire track was quite obscure and ambiguous to any kind of deciphering. It’s ironic that such a natural and common event felt reasonably haunting and other worldly. The silence between each contraction functioned to create tension and anticipation. Other than his wife’s voice, I don’t recall many other layers of sound. I believe there was a droning underneath the duration of the piece, however other than that, Aaron appears to focus his efforts in recontextualizing the experience into one that provokes the imagination into thoughts that are discomforting.
I imagine this strategy helps the audience share a similar state of concern that Aaron encountered, while simultaneously setting aside enough room for creative interpretation. At the conclusion of the composition we are granted the gift of innocence. Out of much pain and suffering is born the endowment of true love and euphoria. We hear his son’s precious voice and are rewarded for our patience.
Both of these works generated two distinct responses, yet I believe his approaches and/or strategies in constructing the two were fairly similar. Aaron incorporates silence as a technique to emphasize and isolate. He takes advantage of silence not on its own, but in conjunction with a singular sound. In this way, he is able assemble a symphony of natural resonances that can bring to mind unusual and surprising images. Time is another factor Aaron is considerate of. As time advances he adds supplementary layers of acoustics that help to conceive of a space, formed from one’s mind and influenced by his ears.
In the end, what is most important to take from this experience is that we are all “outsiders.” We are outsiders to other countries and sometimes even our own, however there’s no harm in this. In fact, to be an outsider is to wrestle the unknown and accept foreign ideas and perceptions. As a result, empathy grows and inspiration becomes international.
Before the commencement of the show, Aaron briefly describes his purpose and the proceedings. He invites his listeners to relax and to allow oneself to drift into a shallow slumber. The lights dimmed off swallowing the room in a void of darkness.
Slowing the sounds of machinery can be heard and soon an organic world begins to materialize within my mind. From a distance a train can be heard steadily approaching. As the large steel wheels of the train travel across the room, I open my eyes, still unable to physically see anything. I felt very uneasy sitting in a pitch black auditorium with so many familiar, yet unfamiliar sounds enclosing around me. However, this feeling of anxiousness was one quite memorable of the experiences I had during the drifts/treks last semester in film 116. As sound artists, both Aaron Ximm and Glenn Bach believe that in order to capture worthy recordings one needs to exit their comfort zones. Aaron performs this practice by traveling to other countries. Of course we may not all operate on such a grand budget and in light Glenn’s solution is to commit to four hour long walks.
Aaron made a distinct choice to present his work in darkness. That choice helps our minds isolate and focus purely on sonic stimuli. Another reason why Aaron might have made this decision is so that he forces us out of our comfort zone making us not only vulnerable to perhaps concealed memories in my instance, but also to insight and resolution. Another interesting feature of presenting in this fashion is how much heavier silence feels when vision is unavailable.
There were a few instances in Aaron’s first piece where the “noise” would fade out exposing low ominous tones. Slowly the harmonies evolve into a different but associated environment. This evolution of sound was particularly one of the more interesting aspects of that evening. There are two general layers of sound combined. There was a sense of recognizable ambiance that on occasion would grow faint revealing a hum or whirring mechanism of some kind. This of course was coalesce rhythmically.
Aaron uses the absence of certain sounds to create emphasis for others. He creates a dynamic experience in which one can imagine the setting where he might be in, but would rather prefer if you brought your own story in order to personalize and complete the work.
The second piece of sound art that Aaron presented was the documentation of his wife giving birth to their first child. I, like another member of the audience had already dozed off and was abruptly awaken by terrible intense groans of some kind. Initially, I thought these were the sounds of perhaps an ox or another kind of large animal in distress. The entire track was quite obscure and ambiguous to any kind of deciphering. It’s ironic that such a natural and common event felt reasonably haunting and other worldly. The silence between each contraction functioned to create tension and anticipation. Other than his wife’s voice, I don’t recall many other layers of sound. I believe there was a droning underneath the duration of the piece, however other than that, Aaron appears to focus his efforts in recontextualizing the experience into one that provokes the imagination into thoughts that are discomforting.
I imagine this strategy helps the audience share a similar state of concern that Aaron encountered, while simultaneously setting aside enough room for creative interpretation. At the conclusion of the composition we are granted the gift of innocence. Out of much pain and suffering is born the endowment of true love and euphoria. We hear his son’s precious voice and are rewarded for our patience.
Both of these works generated two distinct responses, yet I believe his approaches and/or strategies in constructing the two were fairly similar. Aaron incorporates silence as a technique to emphasize and isolate. He takes advantage of silence not on its own, but in conjunction with a singular sound. In this way, he is able assemble a symphony of natural resonances that can bring to mind unusual and surprising images. Time is another factor Aaron is considerate of. As time advances he adds supplementary layers of acoustics that help to conceive of a space, formed from one’s mind and influenced by his ears.
In the end, what is most important to take from this experience is that we are all “outsiders.” We are outsiders to other countries and sometimes even our own, however there’s no harm in this. In fact, to be an outsider is to wrestle the unknown and accept foreign ideas and perceptions. As a result, empathy grows and inspiration becomes international.
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