IRIS and the antenna field
I am sitting here on our last day watching the lake and the ever changing sky through the best TV screen ever, the window in the main room at the Kiekula house. Jean-Philippe and I have spent the last two weeks here making sound recordings of the surrounding landscape with the aim of making a transmission piece at a later point.
This blog entry should be seen and heard as an audio sketch book of our time here.
First of all antennas. I have chosen not to post the many many pictures of all sorts of antennas against imposing and ominous skies, just this one.
We try record the antennas as if they were an enormous aeolian harp, with varying success. The wind blows through the antennas as I play them.
Wind is the field recordist’s worst enemy. Sometimes it is not worth the pain when you have an army of abandoned metal machinery so close to hand that reveal some intriguing, Forbidden Planet-esque sounds.
The magic box and the sound of a million mosquitos
The ferry crosses the lake in the distance, a car drives by. Jean-Philippe plays his magic box by the lake. I walk on the shore. The house martins chirp for food and the flies buzz around. The rain falls on the hydraphone and the waves lap on the shore.
About half way up the very steep hill lies the rusty remains of a WW2 German fighter plane that despite having lain there for over 70 years is barely hidden. It’s splintered organs are a melancholy memorial to the past that I try to play with some reverance like a giant steel pan.
Jean-Philippe makes a loop.
All these sounds and many more can be heard on the radio aporee ::: maps – Enontekiö, Finlande Kilpisjarvi sound map.