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This small park is adjacent to a large and noisy building site. To the right of where I sat, rising above the old stone walls of the park grounds, I could see the two-storey temporary offices of the building site. Cranes, as always in Dublin, standing higher than anything else around.
On the grounds of this park are the remains of a very old church. It no longer has a roof. Bars prevent you from entering through its doors or windows. Old gravestones are carefully leaned up against its exterior walls. Lots of birds sing. Lawns. Neatly trimmed shrubs.
You can hear the birds singing. You can hear the screeching of metal. Clattering and clanging. Something large somewhere being dropped and the ground pulses. Two friends having a conversation, walking circles on the park grounds, passing by me several times.
There are lines, arcs, circles, and spirals. (I’m just making this up.) Some things just happen. Who knows how or why or when. Some things happen as well, but in the happening veer in such a way that while happening you almost can’t believe it, but after the fact you see the arc and it makes sense. Some things repeat themselves, and when they end they begin again. I’m not sure how often that really happens. Many things spiral. They seem to repeat themselves. They seem to happen over and over again. The end seems to beget a new beginning. When viewed from some perspectives this is confirmed. But when looked at another way, perhaps from the side, you see that the circle reaches out from itself as it circles. It lifts up/pulls away/sinks down/nudges forward/leans back as it circles. It spirals, then. It can’t help but repeat itself, but it never ends, and so it never really begins again, and so it never really repeats.
Sound
Images
Figure 1: Looking up.
Figure 2: The recorder.
Details
- Location
- Páirc Naomh Caoimhín
- Date
- Time
- 16:25-16:45
- Duration
- 20'02"
- Recorder
- Sony PCM-M10
- Microphones
- Built-in mics on the recorder
- Channels
- 2, Stereo
- Other notes
- Light high pass filtering.