Light Observation

            As I sit in one of the many corners of Randall Library I glance around noticing how secluded this area is, especially from the crowd at the front.  Row after row of enormous shelves surround me as if they’re here to barricade me in my seat until my To-Do list of homework is complete.

            Fluorescent lighting from above casts thick shadows of the desk aside the trash can to the right of it, but across this space, I notice the darkness from the shelves glooms over the next row, all the way to the back.  I’m glad I don’t have to get a book from back here, it would require me bringing a flashlight or a headlamp in my search, and unfortunately I have neither of those with me today. 

            I also notice the three-drawer filing cabinet to my back, which has a latte color that assuming because of the light layer of dust and slight rusted handles, serve no actual purpose.  Glancing around some more I understand how appreciated the back of the library is not just in terms of noise level but also in terms of how no one walks by you and causes you to look up to see who it is.  Focus is key back here until, BLACK.  The overhead lights are off.  Ummm this is the library, not the editing lab, let’s eliminate this motion censor nonsense.

            Someone’s shadow in the distance passes by the aisle and the lights return to their brightness and I to my conclusion.  Guess the area best for less distraction in Randall depends on how you’re affected by sound (at the front by the coffee shop) or by light (the creepy-shutoff-without-warning back area).

1A Project Reflection

On a regular basis we tend to drown out ambient sounds we are accustomed to hearing.  There are so many noises we zone out because they are ordinary and typical with our routine.  Waking up to a cell phone alarm in the morning, driving to campus, walking to the buildings, sitting in class; all of these habitual doings flood our subconscious with clamor.  However, we either ignore the background noises all together or balance them out with images we associate them with when noticed. 

            After playing with the H4n mics and the sound library project, I started to be more aware of the sounds of my daily routine.  I generally take the same route to my classes (unless I’m running late and park outside of my designated zone), and one day last week I was ahead of schedule and off to my French cinema class. Since time was not an issue, I decided to walk the unexplored route from Trask to central campus.  I took this route to see if there would be any difference in travel time since there seemed to be less congestion of confused, lost freshmen, and as I was looking at my phone to check the clock, I decided to take a gander at Twitter too.  No one was around except for maybe one other guy at least a couple hundred meters ahead, and as I looked down at the screen, I heard a rustle in the leaves right next to me.  Normally, it wouldn’t have caught my attention seeing as we have odd squirrels around campus that aren’t afraid of people, but because I had been thinking about sound and noise recently from this project I quickly stopped looked up and saw a tiny bunny among the flowers and the bushes to my left. (precious bunny pic from this occasion)

            This project helped me realize that even banal repeated procedures can have unexpected bouts of excitement if you just tune into your environment.  Take the effort to examine the noises around you because they can bring new perspective or even add a smile to your day!

sound observation number two

            When we were told to go to a place in an outdoors setting away from human noise for our sound observation I immediately thought of this dirt (and part sand) trail behind my old apartment complex, behind Target off Market that I used to go running around.

            After walking a solid ten minutes into the trail in the humid early evening, I began to change my perspective on this place of seclusion.  When focusing on sound alone, I realized I could still hear the distant whizzing of cars off of Martin Luther King Jr. Parkway.  The cars sounded like a lull because of the distance and I could understand after thinking about it for a second, how I probably never noticed it while running here on past occasions.  Cicadas buzzing, the eerie rhythm seems to try to compete with the traffic.  Wind brushed lightly through the leaves, and suddenly a roaring of plane ripping through the atmosphere above interrupted the delicate sweeps.  After some uneventful minutes, after only hearing my wheezing breath from the signs of an early cold coming on, a crow or some similar bird squawked and spooked me.  I took that as a warning and decided to leave.

sound observation number one

            

            Saturday night, not happy about getting wake up calls at two in the morning from my friends who clearly had been having a good night with some pals by the name of Miller and Bud, I let the phone ring and ring.  Thinking it over and maybe it’s something serious, I answer.  Twenty minutes later I’m pulling out the driveway of some guy’s house in my car loaded with two of my best friends, one of their boyfriends, a freshmen I’d never met, and incessant bright flashes from someone’s camera sitting behind me.

            They demand to get food before going home and after a moment of hesitation, I willingly surrender to their impetuous chanting “COOK-OUT! COOK-OUT!”. 

            After parking the car, they all rush the line to place an order and I decide to take notes on my phone about the chaotic environment.  I lean on the side hood of my car and hear the murmur of a million cars speeding by on College Road, the indecipherable and drunken slurred language of tons of college students, as well as the screeching brakes of an old beat up Crown Victoria passing through the drive-thru.  I try to discern the voices and immediately recognize my friend arguing with the freshmen that there aren’t baked potatoes on the menu.  The siren of a police car sounding across the road causes people to turn in the direction of the loud whirling noise.   The crowd gets quiet and then all at once returns to the loud volume of drunken conversations.

            I try to listen beyond the chatter and hear the plastic swinging door of trashcans flapping, a crumble of muffled ice and a thump as someone drops their full XL Styrofoam cup to the pavement, the cash register drawers slamming shut from inside the building, ripping of paper from the receipts (to be handed to the customers), car engines humming.  The dialogue inside a Volvo wagon going through the drive-thru calls my attention immediately because of the loud yelling of the people inside it.  The guy driving is trying to order while his friend in the passenger seat is screaming about a “mexi-dog” and a “large-ass sweet tea”.  They both keep talking at the same time and the lady taking the order continually asks them to repeat their words.  I can hear the dull and sandpaper scraping of tires across the cement as a kid drags his bike at an awkward angle towards the window to place an order; there’s also a car parked with bass thumping to some top 40 hit.  With all of the noise, it’s actually quite comforting, reminding me that I need to appreciate the ephemeral joys of college life.

Fred Camper Response

Fred Camper’s Naming, and Defining, Avant-Garde or Experimental Film argues that labeling the genre that is usually known to have limitless form is impossible to actually confine to one title.  He attributes this problem to the constant progression of the self-proclaimed avant-garde film, and the vast range of characteristics that develop from this that have come to define the field.  Films such as Man Ray’s “Le retour à la raison” have distinguishing production techniques, such as the use of the photogram and the absence of a linear storyline, that are unusual and often unexpected compared to the traditional commercial cinema. By juxtaposing the individual films with a set of generalizations, there comes into form of one genre that is completely separate of the mainstream culture.