the start of silence-less spaces might have been several nights in a tent, which was placed between an open-pit mine and a forest, in june 2018. screeching crickets and rustling leaves would be silenced by the hum of gigantic diggers, hundreds of meters away. it would make its way all through the body spread out on the chilly nocturnal earth. or maybe that was not it. 

since 2018 i started collecting sounds in, around, outside the city, away from it, trying to fathom to what extent anthropogenic noise – that of the industry, transportation, or other – affects the world. that was when silence-less spaces started. or maybe that was not it. 

in the summer 2018, all of the shrubbery lining the shore of a river i lived next to then, was cut. a tunnel of noise opened between the nearby highway and my window, resulting in two possibilities during the scorching nights of july: listening to that nearly explosive noise with an open window, or choke in an airless hot room with a window closed. or maybe that was not it. 

silence-less spaces might have started at any of these moments, separately or together. it might all have started way before that. and maybe somewhere else. 

given that this hum is unbound, the starting moment is irrelevant really. it’s just now: constructing these soundscapes from particles of moments, recorded at various times. their common denominator in how they have affected me. in particular, in how they disclosed the meta-narratives of the quotidian: those of extinction and annihilation. decaying chants and horizon, shattered by industrial structures, can represent the scale of death inflicted by human activities only partly. 

material for these chants in decay is: cries of birds with the backdrop of a dredger deepening a lake, spring; birds dancing on powerlines with the howling highway nearby, late autumn; a night in the forest, midsummer; electricity substation at the edge of a city, october; remote swamps, november; a foot of a hill, august evening; forest next to the lake, day, november; yards of multi-stories block housing, several nights, spring; empty city park, early spring; city gardens, early spring; empty yards in industrial district, weekend, autumn; generated sounds; recording of lichen crackling; cut up and looped sounds of an evening without wind nor rain in early autumn; other. 

installation contents: 

nightfall, video, 2020. sound: banal. nocturnal II, 2020 
nest, video, 2020. sound: nest, 2020 
III, photo, 2020. sound: birds, 2018-2020 

now that the installation is over and out, the hum is still on. you can access the sounds on my bandcamp profile.

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