Separation of Silences: a composition for
long distance in three movements

2015

Darren Cook (Hobart) +
Claire Krouzecky (New York)

Produced for Electrona Festival, Hobart

Movement: A musical movement is a self-contained work separated by silence within a larger work. The German word for “movement” in the musical sense is “Satz” which means “sentence.” A sequence of movements together is like a set of sentences that aggregate to speak of something larger.

Correspondence: We hadn’t corresponded for about a year. On the last day of 2014 we began communicating through a sequence of sentences: short video clips, meditations, shot at our respective locations. Placed together they describe seasons of the landscape and of the spirit. Co-incidents — the meeting of two sets of works. In February 2015 over three consecutive days we Skyped, each day at the same time (1pm Hobart time, 9pm New York time). Re-establishing a connection in three movements, separated by a kind of silence: an inert period in which things are let to germinate. Now, over three more consecutive days, we synchronise our correspondences once again, and channel them into this space.

Dreamtime: A period of creation, opening, expanding. One’s daytime is the other’s night. We simultaneously acknowledge and disregard the practicalities of time. Calling out to the one who sleeps, our reading aloud has the intention of depositing some kind of atmospheric residue.

Presence: Opening a window —an aperture of time— during which we both simply attend. We are all implied witnesses to the acoustic window, which provides a medium through which to reflect and be reflected. Our remote spaces presently haunt this immediate space, which is left to speak, though not given a voice of its own. Our acoustic actions are a register to space and time. “We are here,” they say.

A home: “I have been moving around all my life.” Darren saw a small fire at a beach, set and left waiting. It was a place that only locals would know about. The Constable’s room is a temporary abode that we inhabit. A home, abstracted — this space momentarily stabilises the perpetual wanderer’s nostalgic drift. Music, a marker for homesickness, is broadcast on the radio, our combined elegy for some place or some one.

Photographs courtesy Lucy Parakhina

 
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