I’ve been recording and using patterns of sound in my work since 2017 but it was in the odd silence of Lockdown 2020 when I began to understand the impact of human-made noise on the natural world. I knew that urban birds must sing louder to be heard above our noise but not that they must begin their chorus earlier.
I am now transferring recorded sounds onto drawings and paintings. Many of the sounds that I work with are birdsong but not exclusively.
“The blackcap and the A34”
Work made using ink and acrylic on paper. The blackcap had recently migrated and was singing in our spindle-berry tree. Its silver scribbled bursts of sound were regularly spaced but occasionally the impact of the song faltered as the road noise overwhelmed it. In the gaps between each phrase the bird was listening and another, on Wolvercote Lakes, was replying. It must have been like trying to hold an important conversation across a noisy party.
“The blackcap and the A34” version two
Work made using ink, acrylic, crayon and graphite on paper.
In this version I have pushed the sound beyond the shaded area to give a narrative. I noticed the bird’s song and then the road, a constant and largely ignored sound, came into play as it disrupted the song. I noticed the timing of the bird’s rounded phrases and the jagged edges of the road noise. The bird stopped and the road rumbled on.
Work made using ink, acrylic, crayon and graphite on paper.
I recorded the sounds at the shoreline on Cromarty village beach. The Nigg Ferry had just passed and its wash began small, built to a crescendo and faded off. Beneath this sound was the hum of the oil rig platforms anchored along the way and the general sound of human industry.
“Red Bird Choir Practice” SOLD
work made using ink on paper which has been marked by rain falling on ink - the choir practice sheet contains notations of birdsong. This birdsong bleeds across the edges of the song sheet, just as birdsong knows no boundaries.