Category: Portfolio

Systems Listening: Usnea/ Everna Prunastri/

‘the whole world – like a giant lichen’ thoreau zonca p189 – a world in a grain of sand – collaboiration is conducive to biological endurance – but not mutualist? p.191 – beyond co-operation and competition- not about mutualism but about changing the concept of the individual – as haskell puts “we need a new metaphor for the forest, one that helps us visualise plants both sharing and competing” and for that, we must no longer rely on the individual…

lichen adds physical intimacy that reveal the absurdity of separation…

P.191 ZONCA – “the lichen partners have ceased to be individuals, surrendering that possibility of drawing a line between oppressor and oppressed. Like a farmer tending her apple trees, and her field of corn, a lichen is a melding of lives. Once individuality dissolves, the score card of victors and victims makes little sense. Is corn oppressed? Does the farmer’s dependence on corn make her a victim? These questions are premised on a separation that does not exist. … Lichens add physical intimacy to this interdependence, fusing their bodies and intertwining the membranes of their cells… bound by evolution’s hand.

p.199 zonca – ‘a second individuality superimposed over the individuality of the associated beings, without destroying it.

concieving lichen on the level of this ‘second individuality’ – lichenic ensemble – lichen allows each of its constituents to develop new potential. – p200 ” the activity of each being is conveyed through the much greater capacity for activity of the partnershipm which leads to an increase of capacities for the whole ensemble.”

to notice…

lichenocene

a lichen perspective

we are all lichens

not using lichen as surrogate theory to prop up idealist notions of mutualism, there are too many other examples to draw from in the world – rather

second individuality – emergent properties

meta-organism

• p.202 – zonca – “Thus lichen eludes the boundary between ecosystem and organism; it constitutes a tension, between an ecosystem that is supposedly ‘crystalised,’ and an organism that is supposedly open. The most useful concept, it seems to me, for moving beyond this unitary vision of the living being (organism) and for taking into account the whole ensemble of these symbiotic relationships is the one that Marc-André Selosse more radically proposes: that of ‘interaction’.”
• this leads to relations/ intersubjectivity – relations that constitute this idea of individuality? …
• p.203 – “Modern science has transposed a Western philosophy based on the individual into a biology based on the organism. A true rupture would give interactions the central place. A spider web is not an ensemble of points, but above all the threads that hold them together.”

A circle with many centres = “p203 – “the rhizome is not made up of points, but only of lines… any individuation is not done by way of a subject or even a thing… the rhizome will not be reduced to the one or the multiple… rather of shfting directions… it has no beginnning or end, but always a middle… it constitutes multiplicities.

rhizomes continued – “living beings as configurations of intensities, as environments of interactions’

P.204 – A new biology of interactions… lichen as environment – ecology of living beings – rhizomic taxonomy

p.206 – Second Individuality to Third Place

p.208 -“the virtue of looking at lichen through a double focus, or rather by merging two focuses: the cellular, fragmentary perspective, and the global, macroscopic context” – both singular, and multiple at the same time… – microscopic to macroscopic and vice versa

p.210 – not projecting morality

towards a bioculture

lichen as a partner un our thinking

p.211 -‘an ecosystem of interactions’ – an invitation to consider the continuity between human and other living beings… – to become lichen – becoming attentive to its distinctinve charactersitics – not just making them speak – thats anthropormorphic – to be tuned into it – p.212 “to conceive, for example, its relationship to space (immobility) & (time) – what does it mean to listen to lichen? – “thinking like lichen allows us to know our ecosystem better” – lichen as a prerequisute to inform deeper listening…

lest become fungal! p.221 – “conservation is not about saving nature but about repairing our bond…

pauline oliveros wauntum listeninf- the listening efffect – as you lissten, the participles of sound decide to be heard – This poetic phrasing suggests that the act of listening calls sound into being — or at least into meaningful existence. If no one attends to a bird’s song, its expressive power is lost. But if someone is truly listening, that sound reverberates emotionally, socially, and perhaps even cosmically.

things to figure out

1. symbiotic touch sensing philosophy – a world made of interactions – olafur eliasson – symbiotic vision – heartbeat sensor -polyphony
2. spotlight philosophy
3. listening to lichen soundscape philosophy
4. cyanotype booklet
5. title
6. making it all coherent

Edith Stein suggests that “the species differences need not be miraculously collapsed and the human morphed into the non-human mind, for the latter remains her distinct, breathtakingly different and in many ways unknowable being” (Aaltola, 2013, p.81). Imagining the other then becomes a practice in extended empathy, one that is entrenched in our capacity to recognise how bodies, with little resemblance, are still composed of key points of affinity – a matter of differences, as opposed to similarities. We return to the very same auditory attunement that opened Haskell to the alien world of snapping shrimp. Empathetic listening here becomes a vehicle for another kind of emotional resonance, one that encourages mutual transformation through, not only embodied relations, but a care to understand the other deeply, in all their peculiarities.

 In recognition of the perceived as embodied beings, subjective reality takes on a new life, one that transcends the individuality of its participants. As Stein puts it: “From the ‘I’ and ‘you’ arises the ‘we’ as a subject of a higher level”

In the eyes of Abram – by extension of Merleau-Ponty – both the sentient and the sensed are on equal footing in their constitution of the world (1996, p.66-67). Whether conscious or not, it can be assumed then that the ‘sensible’, or any tangible form, may also be sensitive to the beings around it

Through these interactions, the quiet of the mind, and resulting urgency of the present moment, challenges the notion of emotions as mere extension of the ego, but rather patterns of consciousness, perceptible as part of an intersubjective field. Nevertheless, it is not a case of suspending our human-centered emotional responses, remaining completely neutral in the face of other life-worlds. ‘Listening in spite of the body’ here is rather remaining emotionally aware of how things exist in their own phenomenological reality, as well as how we are coloured by these perceptions. Thus I posit an empathetic, or emotionally attuned listening, as a form of clairaudience’ that opens us to the world’s sounds as autonomous, allowing us to listen without imposition. Fragments of our personal histories, traumas, or desires will always remain as part of the human experience, but with awareness, we become attuned to the same presence within the animate and inanimate world around us. It is not a matter of projecting our emotions onto what we hear, but instead recognising that the world, both human and non-human, is imbued with its own emotive resonance. The listening body then becomes an instrument of awareness rather than a filter of judgment or desire.

3. Framing Perception as Co-Creation

You’ve suggested listening is intersubjective — so frame lichen’s emotive resonance not as provable in a positivist sense, but as emerging in the relational field between human and lichen, co-constituted through attentiveness.

Joanna Macey – world as self/ ecological self… 3. Emotional responses as connection, not weakness

When we feel grief, anger, or despair about ecological destruction, it is not a personal pathology — it’s a natural expression of our deep connection to the world. These emotions are signs that we are already experiencing the world as self.

4. Motivation for action

When we see the world as part of ourselves, caring for it becomes not altruism, but self-preservation in the deepest sense. Ecological activism becomes an expression of self-care.

Donna Haraway – A Companion Species Manifesto – Emergent Naturecultures – Symbiogenesis – Bio-power/ bio-sociality

Haraway dog writing as a branch of feminist theory, or the other way around

story of co-evolution… semiotic – lichen not just surrogates for theory – they are here to live with -… ?

process philosophy – Process philosophy is a philosophical approach that emphasizes becoming, change, and novelty in reality, rejecting static views of existence. It focuses on the dynamic nature of reality, where processes, relationships, and events are more fundamental than fixed entities. 

Process philosophy highlights the importance of processes, becoming, and change over static being. It emphasizes that reality is constantly evolving and developing, rather than being a collection of fixed objects

bestiary

Lichen as guides

Together, the title “Systems Listening: Lichen Unsung” suggests a project focused on paying attention to the interconnectedness of nature (through a systemic lens) and giving voice to the unnoticed, like lichen, that is essential yet uncelebrated. It could be especially fitting for a sound art installation, field recording project, or ecological exploration that seeks to amplify these subtle, often overlooked elements.

starting at tolworth court farm fields – a listening that listens for relations, the sounds they make, or do not make, and the way we navigate the inaudible aspects of our environments, a listening that begs for empathy, extended listening, to imagine what lies beyond, in order to increase our intimacy with the unknowable things, those that help constitute the world we live in

Systems Listening // Lichen Unsung

lichen – the unsung pioneers – those that persist, even in the gaps of our cities, in the wastelands, the liminal crevices of human society

Lichen—a symbiotic combination of mycelium and algae—that excels in extreme conditions, outperforms forests in CO2 sequestration, capturing a quarter of the Earth’s CO2 turning it into oxygen.Through only growing on 8% of earth’s surface it produces 50% of the nitrogen for organic life. Through the integration of this resilient and important organism we can create a symbiotic coexisting envelope system on urban structures. 

A porous structure would be conducive for lichen growth, thriving on various surfaces including metal, leather, and building exteriors. In polluted urban settings, an initial carbon aerated layer to protect lichen from direct pollution is recommended until they stabilize and positively affect air quality.

https://www.pratt.edu/work/lichenized-biosystems

“Lichen are fungi that have discovered agriculture” Trevor Goward a lichenologist. This is the best description for Lichen.

Lichen, existing in three types (Foliose, Crustose, Fruticose) and over 20,000 species, is among the planet’s oldest life forms, dating back over 440 million years. Found globally in diverse climates from cold to hot, lichen is easily accessible worldwide. Despite its ubiquity, lichen remains less understood and studied compared to moss, often appearing as a hybrid of tiny fungi due to its symbiotic nature, involving mycelium (fungi) and algae. It all just looks similar at first to the human eye until you look closer. 

The symbiosis of this system stems from the lichen’s structure itself, as it is composed of mycelium that can “lichenize” through capturing algae or cyanobacteria. Mycelium, the fungal component, provides shelter for the algae, traps water, and protects it from harmful UV rays. In return, the algae supplies the mycelium with the sugars it needs to survive, enabling it to thrive in diverse environments. Lichen’s ability to live without soil, withstand minimal water (going dormant if not enough), and adapt to varying humidity levels showcases its versatility. 

This symbiosis enables lichen to thrive in extreme environments, from Antarctica to deserts, even surviving in space, making it incredibly resilient especially with climate change. Remarkably, some Arctic lichen have been recorded as the world’s oldest living organisms at 8,600 years old, with the ability to photosynthesize in freezing conditions. It can even be used to date objects that have been around for a long time. 

NASA’s experiment, exposing lichen to space radiation and observing its survival, highlights its potential significance in understanding resilience to climate extremes and space exploration. That’s when I first realized this is an organism to be aware of. 

By embracing lichens, we foster symbiotic ecosystems that contribute to emission reduction and enhance urban structures with coexisting envelope systems. 

ecological stewardship.

Wondering how to tie in my lichen project to a coherent philosophy has left me feeling a little puzzled. I am writing this blog post to make sense of the various notes I have made throughout the year, in the hope that this will help me fill the remaining holes in my installation. I guess the best place to start is with the practicality of the idea itself.

• The projected idea currently consists of a chopping block, with a schematic of lichen morphology painted around it. Within brown fungal strands (hyphae), there will be a series of circles representing the alga component of lichen. These circles will be painted with conductive paint and thus touch sensitive, activating sounds upon being pressed (I am still figuring out what exactly will be triggered).

• On top of the chopping block there will be a mound of Oak Moss (Everna Prunastri) and Beard Lichen (Usnea) illuminated by a lamp. This will make the lichen centre stage, under a spotlight, to draw attention to it as the main attraction of the installation.

• I intend to create a cyanotype booklet, with information on how to interact with the installation, as well as further writings and diagrams on the nature of lichen.

Given that lichen is the result of symbiogenesis, between a mycobiont (fungi) and a photobiont (algae, cyanobacteria, or both), and even sometimes bacteria and yeasts, the installation involves the act of interacting together to mimic this circumstance of co-evolution. The log will have two sides, and two separate touch sensitive algae buttons on it. When both are triggered I hope to create a distinct change in the soundscape that sounds symbiosis somehow. I am also still figuring out what is supposed to happen when each is triggered individually.

Secondly, lichen, being a largely overlooked, and misunderstood organism, inspired me to make them the centrepiece of this work. By placing them in the spotlight, I aim to stage a dramaturgical encounter through material composition, in which they are momentarily elevated to protagonism within the human experience.

Lastly, the booklet should contain various cyanotypes I have created, inspired by the works of Anna Atkins. These cyanotypes will encompass images of actual lichen, a more detailed picture of lichen morphology, short listening prompts similar to Emergence Magazine’s practice booklets, and instructions on how to interact with the installation.

“The world is a knot in motion.” – Donna Haraway, When Species Meet – For booklet ? quotes in booklet…

Philosophical themes include: extended empathy for lower life-forms – differences/ key points of affinity, symbiotic listening, bio-sociality, biological intentionality (consciousness in lower life-forms – why lower? – introduces hierarchy), systems thinking/ listening, listening in spite of the body (empathetic listening), the ecological self ) aware of its embeddedness within the relationships that constitute it, whether human or otherwise, empathetic resonance (dissertation), the very first relationship that enabled life on land – we are the living embodiment of something far more fundamental and ecological, emergent naturecultures.

The Corvidae family, that includes Crows, Ravens, Rooks, Jays and Magpies, as well as Jackdaws, have powers of abstraction, memory, and creativity that are some of the strongest among birds, even rivalling that of many mammals. Corvids are well known creatures that show up time and time again in various myths and folktales throughout history. For the Native Tsimshian peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America, the Raven is a central figure in their creation myth, representing an intermediary between the physical and spiritual realms. In the Tsimshian genesis, when all lived in darkness, it was the Raven who spread light throughout the world. Disguised as a pine needle and consumed by the chief’s daughter, the Raven was reborn as her son. With its newfound innocence, the raven-turned-boy was able to beguile his grandfather into unlocking the closely guarded chests that held the sun, the moon, and the stars (Barbeau, Marias and Beynon, 1987, pp. 14–15). In the ancient syncretic philosophical Hindu text, the Yogavasistha, the Crow is an “immortal sage-like Crow who lives in a tree on Mount Meru where he witnesses the creation and dissolution of the universe, a succession of epochs in the earth’s history, and the birth and death of suns and moons, as described in Hindu cosmology” (Dangers, 2022). In such examples of Corvid mythology, these birds are imbued with a metamorphic divinity – as agents of cosmic transformation.

In more recent European history however, Corvids have become more associated with thievery and death, most likely due to their scavenging traits and their ability to “engage in mourning rituals when a member of their flock dies” (Dangers, 2022). In recent history a group of crows has even been referred to as a ‘murder’!! In Richard Harris Barham’s 19th century poem ‘The Jackaw of Rheims’ the Jackdaw is portrayed as a scavenging thief that takes off with the Cardinal’s precious ring. Upon returning it, the bird becomes a beacon of divine retribution, and a warning against the temptations of material possessions, human vanity and corruption.

If any one lied,–or if any one swore,–
Or slumber’d in pray’r-time and happen’d to snore,
That good Jackdaw
Would give a great “Caw!” (Barham, 1837)

In light of the absolved Jackdaw’s newfound piety, it is made a saint by the poem’s end and canonised by the name of Jim Crow. This coincides with the same period of time in which the term ‘Jim Crow’, popularised by Thomas Dartmouth Rice in his blackface performances, was being used as a collective racial epithet for black people. There is no direct evidence that shows an intentional link between Barham’s ‘Jim Crow’ and Rice’s character, but the resonance is an interesting one to consider. In both examples the character of ‘Jim Crow’ is an exaggerated representation of human stereotypes, on one hand a display of religious sanctity and human purity born against the supposed foolish and inherently villainous nature of the Jackdaw, and on the other a figurehead of white superiority used to rationalise and deepen African American inequality. Interestingly so, corvids have co-evolved along-side predators. Through this symbiotic relationship crows were able to aid ancient humans locate prey, in return gaining access to the remains of their food. Thus their cultural significance as scavengers today are built on thousands of years of co-evolution. Perhaps then, our applications of thievery to Jackdaw behaviour are a result of our detachment and disenchantment from the ecological world – the same world responsible for shaping us.

Mytho-poetic inquiry might help us challenge our civilisational myopia, and understand the more-than-humans outside of our anthropocentric preconceptions. Perhaps I’ve been trying too hard to intellectualise that initial encounter with those Nonsuch Jackdaws. When first experiencing their deafening chorus and sunset murmurations I felt an openness to the world around me, a feeling of presence I had not experienced in some time. In this numinous encounter I not only saw them or merely heard them, but rather entered into relationship with them, into another mode of being that surrendered to the ambiguity of the sensuous. Looking back I could say those Jackdaws became messengers, archetypes of the collective shadow, surpassing their biological identity by becoming mirrors of my own pysche. The deeper I experienced them, the more I let go, and through this undoing of perception, the more they revealed parts of me to myself. A mytho-poetic alchemy in which the outer world reflects the inner, and vice versa. This exchange of energy might be said to arise from the implicate order of the world: a deeper interconnected reality where everything is enfolded within everything else, as proposed by David Bohm (1989), contributor to theoretical physics, philosophy of mind, and neuropsychology. By embracing a larger narrative, fueled by a tacit awareness of the implicate order, the jackdaws became drenched in personal meaning. Bohm describes this ‘active meaning making’ as an “explication of a more inconspicuous form of meaning that is called into consciousness through its relationship to the implicate order” (Ruebsaat, 2013). In allowing the Jackdaws to become key players in our conception of self, a portal opens to the unconscious. Entering into this relationship then is an act of archetypal activism; a reclamation of one’s agency that emerges through some qualitative resonance with the ‘other’. Thus, we might say the self, and the dynamic process of ‘becoming’, in the Deleuzian sense, are unified within the implicate order, and expressed, or individuated in the explicate. This is the essence of embodiment.

Reflection is the true seeing; the root of seeing through, when one can apprehend the archetypal being revealed in an event or story. One can then hear the archetypal image voicing beneath the myth as it sings and flickers through for one to engage actively (Ruebsaat, 2013).

Mythopoetics provides the spinal cord along which all my ideas have found their natural alignment. It is the exploration of jackdaw as archetype, catalysed by my experience of them, that prompts the ‘naked ear’, able to listen in spite of one’s preconceptions, and in doing so, reflects ourselves back to ourselves – as a result there arises a deepening and unveiling of the self. Much like meditation, where we give ourselves permission to let thoughts and emotions pass through us without judgement, I propose that any ‘more-than-human’ encounter offers that same space of openness and receptivity that enables one to integrate different aspects of their psyche. And yet, even as I recreate their mythology, Jackdaws remain as agents of transformation.

A marriage of depth pyschology, phenomenology, deleuzian ‘becomings’ and mythopoetic inquiry – but what does this look, or sound like as a creative composition? The visuals are already well underway and offers a visceral collage of the liminal layers of perception. Phenomenologically speaking, I hope to represent the source of our subconscious preconceptions through this. Using fast paced imagery, the visual element will aim to entrance the watcher in a dreamlike state, within which the subconscious recalls, and speaks to us through, the obscurity of experience. This will act as the backdrop to the soundscape composition. But how do I translate the Jackdaw-as-archetype – as agents of transformation – into a musical and sonic context? In order to adhere to both ‘ecological consciousness’ and psychological transformation I will utilise both raw field recordings, manipulated field recordings, and composed music. Instead of creating an entire world of sound, drawing from endless libraries of samples, I will instead set myself the challenge of only using my own field recordings. This include jackdaws, the dawn and dusk chorus, water as a symbol of fluidity (much like Deleuze and Guattari’s idea on becoming), and the church bells of Nonsuch Park. I will start the piece with these bells, tolling predictably, to represent the hourly march of time, of control. This is echoed in Schafer’s denotation of the bell as an anthropocentric signal delineating the boundaries of a town or city. This could work well over static, geometric city-like imagery to further invoke the feeling or order, separation, or the known world. The seven bells will also signify the start of sunset, in which the encounter begins, as the jackdaws murmurate before settling to roost. From here I will introduce the sound of the jackdaws slowly, accompanied by a string ensemble. As the encounter grows I might use violins to replicate, and even replace the voices of the jackdaws, to signify growing enchantment – as the chatterings grow more and more cacophonous, I will switch in and out of violin-as-jackdaw and actual jackdaw sounds, even overlapping the two, to tread the line of both phenomenological experience and reciprocal becoming; as stringed instruments and jackdaws become indistinguishable there should be a culmination of transformative resonance, where jackdaw and self are no longer separate. As murmurations begin, the score will grow in depth. To sustain the continuous process of seeing/ hearing past the fog of preconception, an ongoing tension of continuous becoming will be delivered by the continued manipulation of jackdaw voices, drifting in and out of mythic engagement, phenomenological reality, and projected distortions. Time might slow down in places (bird against bird?) – a warping of time when encountering a perceived divinity, of self, or other. Bowed textures could mimic both air currents, murmurations, in the spirit of Jon Hassell (particularly his use of the trumpet to recreate the feel of a ‘Rising Thermal’ in his album Fourth World Vol 1 Possible Musics). I might also explore other extended techniques such as sul pont, harmonics, or scratch tones. I’ve even thought of using Jackdaw voices as mediators of resonator controls representing an implicate order – creating an organic ever-evolving ambience. I’ve thought to use my own voice too, perhaps whispers, audible, yet just out of reach, as if something is being communicated but it is impossible to tell what. This is all only meant as a loose structure for what I might call an audiovisual poem. The aim is to make audible the process of deconstructing anthropocentric listening, revealing not only the jackdaws, but our inner-workings through them. An entangled listening as a form of spiritual and psychological alignment.

We often don’t have the language, or indeed the mental syntax, for the intuited unknown and so we’re obliged to reach into and employ the poetic mind. This mind enables us better to explore nascent truths that aren’t yet tangibly manifested (Ruebsaat, 2013).

Bibliography

Barbeau, M. Marias and Beynon, W., 1987. Tsimshian narratives: Volume 1: Tricksters, shamans, and heroes. J.J. Cove and G.F. MacDonald (eds.). Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press.

Barham, R.H. 1837. The Jackdaw of Rheims. Family Stories, Bentley’s Miscellany, IV. London: R. Bentley. AP 4 B38, Robarts Library.

Bohm, D. 1989. Meaning and information. In: P. Pylkkänen, ed. The search for meaning: the new spirit in science and philosophy. Toronto: HarperCollins Canada.

Buxton, N. 2006. The crow and the coconut: Accident, coincidence, and causation in the Yogavāsiṣṭha. Philosophy East and West, 56(3), pp.392–408

Dangers, D. 2022. Crow & Crone: Twin archetypes. Feathers and Folktales. 7 September. Available at: https://feathersandfolktales.com/diemdangersblogposts/crow-and-crone-twin-archetypes [Accessed 15 Apr. 2025].

Ruebsaat, S. 2013. What does a mythopoetic inquiry look like? SFU Educational Review, 6. Available at: https://doi.org/10.21810/sfuer.v6i.372

The more likeable cousin of its better known cousin the carrion crow…

most of them have started migrating away…

thinking on the soundscape composition??? what does a murmuration sound like…?

Mics and mic techniques used so far/ experiential mic techs/ dolby atmos course earlier/ 5.1 in headphones instead of multichannel/ soundscape composition – Hildegard Westerkamp – experiential filmmaking Paul Clipson/ super 8/ koyaanisqatsi/ bruce?/ brakhage/ making a timeline

I looked up and saw the sky glimmering in th reflection of the highrise windows on the other side of the street – the sun illuminated this mirage, hidden itself though behind the concrete bearings between the window frames, hidden in form, but present in its illumination – man made structures that allow me to even glimpse the sky, hidden away from it – second hand experience – or first hand? whats going on there? it slowly moves across the building, the small cross section of illumination passing slowly across these synthetic surfaces. would i have noticed this if not my the research im doing now? – sun spots in my eyes – the world is coloured by our experience – our life world – we never see the world as it is – for what is the world? if not something we cannot grasp in its entirety – we are but one component of it – its intersubjectivity. we move through the world wearing tinted glasses – with enough practice or knowledge of it, we catch moments in which we become more aware, even fully aware of this phenomenon – though we can never fully escape it – how do i get this across through sound and image ?

Its been a while since I’ve made a blog post, caught up in the whirlwind that is the dissertation. Writing it however has in fact helped me along quite a bit with my creative ideas. Last I blogged, it was following a fairly spectacular and serendipitous encounter with a vast clattering of jackdaws. This exchange of energy, between jackdaw and I, is what I have come to think of as a ‘mutual transformation‘; an intersubjective result of our encounters with ‘the more than human world’; I’m still fleshing out exactly what this means. As it stands, this concept speaks to the change in agency one might experience when faced with such encounters, the kind that fixes you to the present moment, a beckoning to realise your body as not only sensitive, but a sensible make up of another’s life-world. Still, I find there are so many blurred lines to tread here. These encounters can’t possibly effect the long term agency of, say, a bird, and so I am reduced to thinking that any immediate transformation is confined to the human subject. In my dissertation I conclude that these transformations become mutual in the sense that any emotional shifts might result in a changed attitude towards the very object of our symbolic interpretations, changing its long term future. I suppose the transformation I seem captivated by is one that pertains to the psychology of a human being, in our paradoxical tendencies to abstract and rationalise. A bird need not be changed in such a way as they are driven by instinct, thus any inherent potentiality associated with it is concluded by its biological rhythms. Our complex nervous systems confuses the potentiality of a human. But without getting too lost in logical fallacies, inconsistencies and contradictions, the most important thing to explore in my creative endeavours for now is the ‘more-than-human encounter‘ as some kind of portal – one that somehow links the experiential and the symbolic as two equal players in a deeper, more holistic understanding of the world, and our place within it.

To note, despite the ‘more-than-human’ emphasis, I do believe that such transformations occur regardless of one’s species taxon, thus what transpires with the jackdaws becomes only a more potent, symbolic, and even archetypal happenstance of something one can experience in the mundane – is there a danger in overlooking the everyday if one only seeks the extraordinary? Perhaps it is not so much a return to the ordinary, but perceiving the extraordinary within it. As a result, mutual transformations become as all encompassing and omnipresent as the air itself, whereby all interactions with the animate and inanimate are opportunities to change the way we understand and interact with the world; Not a canvas for our corporeal brushstrokes or mental projections, but an embodied reflection of something more internal. I realise here that I start entering into psychological, and even what feels to me sometimes as religious, territory, and though I have an intuitive grip on what I mean, I don’t think I’m prepared just yet to concretise it in words. But it is not dissimilar from the determinations of humankind throughout history – the hermetic adage ‘as above so below’ comes to mind. Either way, those Jackdaws, and their deafening chorus, symbolised something to me in that moment underneath the trees. Much like when looking at an incredible view at a high altitude, looking up at them made me feel a similar sense of awe, clarity, insignificance or what have you. In such moments, it only becomes more obvious how experience reveals the colours we imbue onto the world. A door opens to a clearer view of the self, and by default, reality. I feel that the way I unpack this exchange of energy concerns those unseen things – occult, not so much the political or the material, but the unspoken things of the feeling fabric. These are the forces cast aside by logic, defined by what is measurable, yet they persist in shaping experience. And by default, they become the root of all politics and culture, moving beneath the surface like currents beneath the tide, unseen but undeniable.

Over the weeks I have frequented Nonsuch Park, always just before sunset, staying until dusk. This, it seems, is the best time to record the jackdaws as they all gather and murmurate during the penumbra of twilight, before settling down to roost. I’ve become well acquainted with their gathering location, as well as their loose trajectory from tree to tree. Overtime its become easier to judge where to be, to experience their chatter and flight optimally. Sometimes their presence eludes me, while at others I am gifted with their closeness. Following them from tree to tree sometimes feels like a chase, other times a dance – though to them perhaps I am only an annoying human! Sometimes I wonder whether they recognise me. Whether they understand me as a part of their ‘more-than-jackdaw’ world? A waddling human, sometimes draped in cables, tracking their movements like a persistent and curious child. At times, especially those where the sun has disappeared from view, my vision muted by the onset of darkness, they become inseparable from the trees they line, appearing to me as the silhouettes of leaves. So much so that, while searching for them in the woods, I am startled with fright when they all spring into flight, leaping in a hundred directions from the branches of overhead trees. That sight though, is quite something to behold. As if the leaves themselves shapeshift into birds, unclothing their resident tree. Its worth mentioning that these critters chatter a lot – a talkative bunch. Sometimes they pervade the soundscape with their harsh ‘tchacks!’ and ‘kyas!’ Other times they serve as a soft backdrop to the songs of other, more solitary birds.

Key words : animism, phenomenology, encounters

A few months ago, on a visit to Nonsuch Park with Reggie (my family’s Jack Russell), I had a profound encounter with a flock of Jackdaws. Emerging out of a wooded area, I came upon an empty field. I was quite mentally distracted by the events that had transpired over the previous week. At first, so caught up in these ruminations, I failed to register the vast assembly to my right. But as my ears pricked up, attention caught by a wall of fluttering voices, I was left to behold what seemed like hundreds of Jackdaws perched on a great big oak tree about 15 metres from me. I stood gawping at the sight for a good 5 minutes I think, till Reggie started whining for my attention; I assume after having enough of trying to figure out what the hell had frozen me in time. When I say the entire tree, I mean the entire tree. I can’t recall ever having seen anything like this, or at least not processing it in the way I had in that moment. On visits to Nonsuch park following this, I now carried with me an unwavering awareness of their presence. I would find myself gravitating to them on every visit, following their incessant chatter. If lucky enough I would catch glimpses of them in flight, murmurations of sorts, although not quite as magnificent as videos I have seen of starlings at sunset. Still, enough to fix me in the present moment. It bewilders me how I had never truly noticed them before. I actually mistook them for Starlings at first, mixing up various field recordings of their calls I had taken, mis-assigning them. I did a lot of research into when and where to view these murmurations in full bloom. I learnt these aerial displays happen mainly in autumn and winter (October to March), peaking around November to January (before the birds migrate to other parts of the world), and just before sunset or at sunrise. The best locations to view this all involved a fair drive, and with a lot of other commitments on my plate I hadn’t made the time or effort to attempt the journey. I decided to rent a camcorder from LCC, to give myself more reason to. The day after was a clear, sunny day, and at around 5pm spontaneity struck. I packed the camera and a Rode NTG and decided to keep my first attempt modest by visiting Nonsuch Park instead. I had never gone there for this sole reason, and familiar with the unpredictability of nature, I was prepared for a failed trip (I should note that a few weeks prior I visited in the middle of the day with a bunch of microphones on a mission to record them and failed miserably due to the weather turning). What occurred however was far beyond my expectations. Expecting less, yet receiving more is always a reminder that life’s best moments are often unanticipated. On returning home, I wrote a poetic recount of my experience. I also drafted together a rough montage of footage I captured alongside a score inspired by the Jackdaws’ movements (I’m still working on my camcorder skills).

Ill never forget that moment, 
Stood underneath the leafless canopy, 
Branches decorated with the silhouette of a thousand Jackdaws,
Their presence all encompassing, 
Chorus deafening,
A shrill symphony of a world only known to me in this moment of unshakeable awe. 

Overcome by sound, 
Everything falls away, 
They dance in groups among the treetops, 
Suites of them flitting from one tree to the next,
Their incessant chatter rain down on me from above, 
Pervading the entire soundscape.
I am grateful for moments like these,
Those that free us of our worldly ties. 

An endlessness broken in a flash, 
sweeping and thunderous movement through the sky,
I start running for the clearing, 
Stumbling over upturned roots, 
Tearing myself through bramble, 
Catching glimpses through the trees,
My heart quickens at the thought of their retreat, 
Aware that I move on their terms, 
At the mercy of their whims. 

And then I see it, 
The forest at my back, 
The sky peeled before me,
It is one thing, 
One form, 
Even if only so to my sensible confines, 
No longer a thousand.