This week I have been at the anthropocene campus . There will be more coming from this intense week with plenty of philosophical discussions that fully inspired me. What follows is a short reflection on the silent walk done in preparation for our ‘walkshop’ Layers.
Not just those I am wearing because it’s cold. Layers are everywhere. Earth is made of layers of matters of different density and then on top layers of nature and nature and of course plenty of man made materials, effectively , stolen from nature. Layers that you don’t only see but can perceive with all of your senses . Feeling the sun and the wind , layers of hot and cold. But more than that, walking in silence allowed me to focus on the layers of sound. Overwhelming perhaps if you hear all at once . But if you stop and focus a bit it can be extremely attuning and meditative . Really taking you back to the here and now. I immediately feel relaxed as I allow myself to listen the world around , above and below me. The first think I hear as we walk from Nico’s is all of the ‘road works’, drilling, welding and entering my ears . But you can actively block it out , acknowledge it and move it to the ‘background’ frequency. So you can listen to the rest. The trolley from Chiara , walking beside me, for example. A sound which is usually associated with tourism . In the open space of the fondamenta it gets dispersed , but you imagine the sound being amplified in the cavity of space between the passerella and the bridge in the same way that is amplified through the narrow calli.. Another noise that amplifies is the sound of waves as they hit walls of the city and multiply into more waves, making noise as they collide and multiply in a continuum . It made me think of whether such as natural thing (a wave) and its sound gets changed by humans. If boats weren’t there , you wouldn’t have that classic ‘splash-splash, ciac ciac’ noise that makes my heart melt and gives me a feeling of being home. If boats weren't there you wouldn't have these many waves. As we turn the corner , the noises of a living city, people talking, high heels, coffee cups . An engine from a boat roaring from afar. Then a large quiet campo. All I can hear are the dog paws , our companion, her running behind pigeons and their wings flapping fast. You could sense their fear and the dog amusement just through that very characteristic sound . People voices are different where it’s quieter all around. More marked. Echoing. I can hear the wind in my hears now, the different sound that steps make when on bare soil instead of a stoned pavement . I get woken up from my dreaminess by a lady strongly shaking a sheet from the window, forcing me to look up. And again the sound of quiet when all you can hear is yourself moving , as your windproof jacket frictions with your bag. You hear the sound of a radio which for some reasons your brain associates with vintage. And the voices change from mode international to more local . Layers of dialects from different parts of the city and different ‘social classes’ . Layers of a complex city struggling but fighting to be alive.
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