If you’re here because you’re interested in field recording, you may need to be patient. In these first few posts I feel I should ‘set out my stall’, so to speak, but please stick with me…I’ll get there!
I’ve never been able to escape a sense that my experience of meaning and fulfilment is bound up with what could be called the spiritual life. I’m going to stop, before I’ve really got going, as it’s probably worth saying something about ‘spirituality’ before moving on. Spirituality is a nebulous, multi-faceted term, chameleon-like, in that it changes according to its environment. ‘Spirituality’ can be linked with spirits as supernatural beings such as angels, demons or jinn. It can be mixed-up with Spiritualism and communication with souls of those that have died. Spirituality can be used in both religious and non-religious contexts, such as in ‘spiritual leader,’ ‘spiritual development’ or ‘Spiritual-But-Not-Religious.’ So, it’s with more than a little hesitation that I use it here. While there is no one definition of spirituality, I use ‘spiritual’ in a broad sense, denoting…
…ways in which meaning, purpose and value are lived-out in our experience of self, our relationship with others, with the world, and incorporating any sense of transcendence such as awe-inspiring life-events, religious or peak experiences and small, but significant moments of meaningful connection.
In my early days, spirituality was tethered to and filtered through religion. I grew up in the church, studied theology at university with a class full of vicars-in-training and wanted to explore a vocation as a Methodist minister. This wasn’t to be, and while some essence of those early years remains, my theology and philosophy classes gradually knocked out of me any certainty of belief, until I was left with questions, ambiguity and doubt. An important shift was in moving away from these unsolvable puzzles, back to lived experience, something supported by my field recording and meditation practice. This gradually transformed existential angst and bewilderment into a sense of committed agnosticism, more accepting and open to what I cannot know with any certainty. In this, I will always be profoundly grateful to my Quaker and Buddhist friends who have offered me an accepting silence in which to make this shift. It was a silence that allowed me to retain something of that essence of spiritual experience that, for me, might be [imperfectly] described as ‘a care and reverence for life stemming from a strong sense of interconnectedness or interbeing. While each person will relate to their sense of spirituality differently, contemplative practices are concerned with acknowledging and nurturing this spiritual dimension of our experience, allowing it to permeate every aspect of our lives. More specifically, contemplative practice could be said to refer to…
“…various approaches, disciplines, and methods for developing attentiveness, awareness, compassion, concentration, presence, wisdom, and the like.” (Louis Komjathy in Contemplative Literature, 2015)
In referring to my field recording approach as ‘contemplative’ I am wishing to locate it within a body of contemplative practices, as a ‘spiritual’ practice that fosters these skills and qualities. I am not looking to create a trademarked technique or approach, but simply to use the label to describe one possible expression of a field recording practice that is underpinned and integrated with a contemplative practice. Is it a religious practice? Well, yes and no. I don’t think I can give a straightforward answer as, for me, the question is bound-up with my own history and, in all honesty, who I am talking to. In short, I have a Buddhist practice and community, but I would rather not identify as either religious or non-religious, or Buddhist for that matter, as this distinction does not feel natural or accurate. It would also likely put me in a box, one that may not adequately represent my outlook and one that I’d rather not be caught in. When pushed, I often feel more comfortable with being identified as non-religious, as it avoids misleading pre-conceptions, respects the openness and evolving nature of my experience and worldview, affording me greater freedom from my own and others projections. So what follows in these posts reflects this personal uneasiness with being either religious or non-religious. My hope is that, while I am exploring a personal practice, anyone, no matter what their affiliation or absence thereof, can feel comfortable reading about and engaging with the practices explored in this blog, should they wish to.
These days I feel more comfortable recording from outside the church.
So, is this practice one of ‘field recording for contemplatives’, or ‘contemplation for field recordists’? Well, both+ really, as the practice is also accessible to people who are simply interested in exploring the practices, but may not put themselves in either category. At one level, anyone with a contemplative practice, such as mindfulness or meditation, will likely find that their listening is changed as a result of their practice. They may find that their contemplative practice supports their awareness of listening as a visceral, bodily experience. They may notice the way in which a particular soundscape influences their feelings making them anxious or more grounded, or how their thinking creates an internal soundscape that they can step-back from and observe. Of course, that is not to suggest that we cannot do these things without a contemplative practice, just that such practices have the potential to sharpen the tools of mindful awareness. Conversely, a listening and field recording practice can inspire and inform our contemplative practice. If we have a creative practice that works with sound, we may find ourselves better able to disengage our ‘automatic pilot’ so that we can appreciate everyday, easily forgettable sounds as a source of joy and inspiration. We may find that sounds we previously labelled ‘boring’, ‘annoying’ or ‘noisy’ become acceptable, interesting, or even a source of creativity. Many field recordists, sound designers, musicians and sound artists will recognise this quite intuitively. So these two practices, of sound-art or music on the one hand, and of contemplation and mindfulness on the other, can be practiced separately, but will inevitably influence and contain aspects of the other. However, field recording and contemplative practice can also be more consciously and intimately related and this is where contemplative field recording sits, as a practice that combines both.
It's worth mentioning that some friends have kindly pointed out that both ‘secular’ mindfulness practices and Pauline Oliveros’ secular-spiritual Deep Listening™ already explore this territory. Certainly, contemplative field recording could sit well within either of these approaches and having recently completed a Teacher Training course with the Oxford Mindfulness Foundation and having attended a number of Deep Listening™ sessions and co-taught with their practitioners, it is clear that there is a crossover. There are, perhaps, some important distinctions though. The practices that follow, specifically explore field recording which very simply, perhaps too simply put, is the use of technologies to ‘record’ sounds ‘in the field’ rather than in a controlled environment such as a recording studio. This project also sits squarely within the contemplative strand of spiritual practice, as outlined above. The practices draw from a wide range of sources, as much, if not more, from Buddhist and Christian contemplative traditions as secular ones. Of particular influence has been the contemplative photography of figures such as Thomas Merton OCSO, Rōshi John Daido Loori and Frederick Franck as well as the mindfulness-based arts practices of friends and colleagues. I am indebted to these people and want to explore their way of ‘being in the world’ as much as their art practice in later posts. Drawing on their artistic practice and wisdom, I hope to enjoy exploring territories without too detailed a map - building links, making personal discoveries, and generally feeling inspired rather than encumbered. After all, if I’m reinventing the wheel, I will have learnt a great deal about wheel-design and had fun doing so!
I hope the shape of this project is beginning to become clear. I certainly recognise that in writing this blog I have been forced to commit to words what is often a more jumbled mess of ideas in my head! My own journey, or spiritual path, has been full of twists and turns. Reading between the lines, you can probably understand why my wife says that I have been having a mid-life crisis for as long as she has known me!
Anyway, I’ll leave it there for now, but will no doubt return to many of the themes touched upon here in later posts. Next time, I’d like to explore care-full listening as an orientation or attitude that underpins a contemplative approach to field recording. In the meantime, thank you. I feel very honoured that you have spent the time to listen and hope that you can take something from this. I’ve jotted down a few ideas for further reading below, but please do add your own suggestions and thoughts in the comments…
Richard
Resources
For a general introduction to secular mindfulness practice you could try:
Mindfulness: Ancient Wisdom Meets Modern Psychology by Christina Feldman and Willem Kuyken
If you’re interested in Contemplative Studies, a good starting point is:
Introducing Contemplative Studies by Louis Komjathy
For a very accessible introduction to silence and the art of listening in Buddhist practice you could try:
Silence by Thich Nhat Hanh
For more on Contemplative Photography I might start with:
The Zen of Creativity by John Daido Loori
Beholding Paradise: The Photographs of Thomas Merton edited by Paul M. Pearson
Whatever brought you here, you are very welcome.
Thank you for listening and do consider sharing your experiences, reflections and wisdom in the comments below or by emailing me at: richard@anoisysilence.com
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