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Spoken Spaces, Sonic Traces

This Summer I will be working on a collaborative art project called Spoken Spaces, Sonic Traces. This project will see a forked road culmination: one a live musical performance at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2014, alongside other original compositions by Kostas Rekleitis, Alfredo Caponnetto, Harry Whalley and other composers; the other an art/poem/music/film project in collaboration with visual artist Alastair Cook and poet John Glenday as part of my Composition for Screen MSc Thesis.

The live performance and film will both include an electronic soundscape that will be sculpted from human readings of John's fantastically imaginative poem 'Alba', which will be the inspirational seed for my contribution to the Spoken Spaces, Sonic Traces project. I would like to create the soundscape by inviting people from all over the world to recite text from this poetry. These recordings will then be moulded into a wash of voice, forming a sonic component for the Fringe performance and art film.


So, would like your voice to be a part of a musical work? Then just follow these simple instructions:

1. Pick a line, word or phrase from the poem below. Feel free to work on more than one piece of the text.

2. Record yourself expressing the line/s. You can speak, whisper, sing - whatever you feel is appropriate. Please record in WAV or AIFF format, 48kHz/24-bit.

3. Upload your file using the form below. Alternatively you can email the file to spokentraces@gmail.com. If there is a problem with emailing your file then please contact that address. You should then receive an email confirming receipt of your file.

Have fun, and thank you!

ALBA - JOHN GLENDAY


Some say she looks like an old witch,
a dark caillich with a cat’s tail of islands for hair.
Brine sluices the words from her cracked lips.
I say no. I say she’s as fresh as these flakes
of schist and quartzite I gathered yesterday.

Some say she’s barren: “Look how they scoured
her bairns from her womb with a dab of wool,” they say,
“and them scarce hallways down the road to birth.
The four airts buried them.
Their cries will circle the earth like little storms.”
I say no. I say she’s poor but whole and strong,
and I’ve heard her children sing out in the half dark street,
barely a whisper before night.

Some say she’s bad news, a temptress, a whistler on ships,
that the man who sleeps with her will wake one morning
at dusk on a hillside under the brisk rain, his pockets weighted with sand.
I say no. I say, look at me: I’ve slept with her all the nights of my life
and still each morning when i wake I find her tongue in my mouth.

UPLOAD

Your interpretation of the text will be reviewed and potentially used as material for a soundscape in the Fringe show Spoken Spaces, Sonic Traces and film soundtrack.

Please note that the musical work for these projects is a collaborative art venture. By submitting this file you grant us a non-exclusive licence to use your voice recording as sonic material for the 2014 Fringe performance and film soundtrack without remuneration or compensation of any kind, financial or otherwise.

If you would like to retract the use of your recording please contact spokentraces@gmail.com before 12pm May 31st 2014 requesting this.

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