resonance in quiet spaces

Increasingly lately I have been noticing the beauty and richness of quiet spaces. Spending hours in a room intentionally making sounds happen I guess creates the need to stand back and experience the resonance of particular environments.

Whilst practicing my saxophone this week, I stopped making sound, and began to tune into the sounds that had been simultaneously being given voice to around me without me being aware of it.... it takes the ears a moment to adjust to the change in dynamic between this environment filled with sounds of my own creation (projecting in front of me, reverberating around me, resonating through me), and the same physical environment devoid of intentionally voiced sound.

By nature a practice studio is designed to be quiet, but as silence is always relative (there are always sounds to be perceived in this inevitably dry environment) we can never call it a silent place, even when the musician is not playing. What stuck me however is how long it took me to perceive the clock ticking on the wall, the dull drone of the traffic from three stories below and the faint impression of the clarinetist practicing drifting through the adjacent wall.

I wonder now whether the reason for this delay between a clear perception of this second sound environment (inhabiting the same physical space as the first) has as much to do with the abrupt shift in volume and in turn shift in auditory focus to the minute, as it does to do with the continuation of a physical resonance of the sound of my instrument through my body (sounds from the saxophone are of course first perceived by me through the body as a whole before reaching my ears), as well as the reverberation of the acoustic experience of these sounds within my short term memory.

The acoustic resonance of this room is short, but the resonance of my sounds through me (both mentally and physically) prevents my ears from immediately perceiving these minute sounds that resound in this environment constantly (more constantly than the saxophonist practicing). I must shift my focus to perceive the minute, therefore straining my ears beyond this resonance, and in turn forgetting the remnants of what has been and begin to focus on the now. Even the slightest movement of my body, or the creak of my chair can be enough to unintentionally shift this focus. But can this focus be trained like our visual focus to be able to hear? I believe it can be...

...... walking into an empty foyer, I notice the difference that the new linoleum floor changed from carpet has made to the sound environment. I now hear sounds of my footsteps reverberating, the sounds of the drink machines drifting through from the cafeteria, the faint sounds of people downstairs...... these resonances fill me with a sense of calm.

Quiet spaces are full....

....of potential for creating sound....
....of already existing sounds and resonances, if we care to listen to them....