Prequel: The Wanderers Guild

The world is entirely its own wilderness. Capturing sounds and images inside the sphere becomes a thought-provoking and startling experience. Things barely audible to the average human ear become opuses and the overwhelming roar of traffic, when faded, can be any number of natural noises.

For me, I walked where I wanted. I had destinations in mind, and if I was interested along the way, I'd record. I like strong, stand-alone noises: ambiance and layered sounds have their place, but I take comfort in sirens at night and people drunkenly laughing outside my house. The culmination of "quiet"--as I find in nature--is my idea of interesting. City noises are completely soothing to me and therefore, I don't find them particularly exceptional to record and playback.

My recording equipment became a part of me during the process: I brought it everywhere including the grocery store, my office, trips into town, and to friends' houses. I had fun recording people's conversations, even though I didn't post of them here. My interactions with people creating sounds (such as at the fire station or work) proved to influence me the most and ultimately became the noises I ended up using.

Gurgling air!

Walking down past Roast at the intersection of Locust and Maryland, there was road work being done. The men had previously dug up the majority of the street and were using this giant machine to level it out (this is just my guess). It consisted of a giant air hose type thing hooked to a larger machine that produced a kind of grinding noise. I sneaked behind it and recorded; I don't think the workers even noticed me.

Listen here.


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Worker bee

This recording stemmed from me being bored at work. I'm currently employed as a technical writer for a factory located near my hometown. I periodically print new manuals on how to do new jobs in our factory and I use a massive amount of office supplies in the process. I recorded myself and a co-worker stapling our day's print-offs. We definitely annoyed lots of our cubicle mates, but they are used to our antics by now.


Listen here.


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Man Down!

While I perused the rest of the fire station in hopes of finding something else worth recording, I came upon the chief testing the "Man Down" alarms: these are triggered by firefighters that need help getting out of buildings. There was a certain rhythm I enjoyed about them, almost musical in a sense.

Listen here.

Sliding door

Driving around my tiny town, I went past our community fire station and noticed them unpacking a fire truck in preparation for cleaning. My father is a volunteer firefighter, so I know most of the other people that work there. I stopped my car and began recording behind the truck. I tried to remain in the same position so as not to get any of the other noises, but I think some cars are audible from the road at the front of the station.

Listen here.

Muddy footsteps

In the midst of the woods, noise is still prevalent. I took my dog for a walk behind my parents' house in the town of East Troy, Wisconsin. Our house is located on the outskirts of a camp where inner-city children come to experience wilderness in ways their own cities can't allow for. A trail has been beaten into the ground from decades of kids and counselors walking to and from the main camp located on a hill a half-mile from our residence. A small lake is parallel to the trail I walk and oftentimes the water pools on the trail: leaving a mess of mud and gunk from the water (easy to hear as I try to sidestep it). Kids walking on a trail on the other side of the lake can be heard if listened to closely.

Listen here.


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