~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~inside the eye of silence~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
where does sound stop and silence begin, end,
sound, begin?
one of the harpsichord’s best kept secrets lies hidden within her chambered spaces between the
notes, between those plucked strings (the sound of a harpsichord is like two skeletons making
love on a corrugated iron roof) whose piercing sting obliterates all potential revelation of the
secret : her resonance jiuces.
to isolate a single sound, to let the time-life of a solitary plucked string linger, live and rise
through to its natural end, is to reveal all : birth, breath, life, death and rebirth. all swell
with song. skeletons no more this full-bodied dancing sound, laughing and rejoicing, these
rich spectra liberated, escaped from their string prison, these wingéd frequencies, free as air.
where do air, space and time unite?
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“and time is the space your mind moves through” (gwendolyn macewen : “vacuum genesis” from
afterworlds 1987-88)
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sound. sound becoming silence through air-travel, through open air, through air within a
space. an enclosed space? of time? time, ah time. sound’s phantom vessel.
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where does it wander? what is its voyage?
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what is its voyage, never lowering anchor?
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to step inside the eye of silence is to listen deeply, to feel it at your ear. for as long as air and
time give it wing, sound-in-silence-in-sound births and breathes itself, expanding,
contracting, like the lungs of a whale, huge and light as air.
enter vitruvius, ah vitruvius. he who knew the secret of the wingéd. his siren-song,
embodied in resonating bronze inside semi-circular spaces of another place, an other time,
drew forth, beguiled and captured the wild and wandering waves, colouring them lively: live,
alive, life. long life. longer still. unending.
enter the spider, weaver of webs, silent siren temptress, vitruvius-collaborator inside the eye,
along her radii.
toronto. chemistry building. hanlan’s point. harpsichord as siren temptress inside the eye,
weaving through space, resonanting her chambers.
listen, dive, fly, let the air wing you
around
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written by vivienne spiteri
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