Amadeus & the inner heard

Having found the inner sense of hearing far more complicated than the inner dimensions of sight I have had enough, time to move to the next one. I simply couldn’t make ‘inner hearing’ that useful in a physical sense. I became far more interested in silences and how high a premium I placed on quiet.

I find loud music, and often others peoples music intrusive. It’s summer and for reasons unclear to me, windows open and music blasts out. All the same for this practise I listened more closely to voices ,as if current of the self that moved the air more accurately spoke the person.

It was the shape of sound that grabbed me not the sound of sound. At the edges of my sight I could see. Strange though this ‘sounds’ is was if the sound of sound was of it self an obstruction or a distraction to sounds meanings.

Things became curious when in the silence of the studio at night at times I would insist that objects gave up their voices. Another odd type of listening because there was nothing out there and there was I ‘listening ’ to the sound of objects.
Then there is the sound of events, even remembered ones with the volume turned down.These soundscapes, the silentscapes were fully nuanced.I became fascinated by out of range sounds - out of range of the human ear or would that be out of range of the human brain? Yet, if I could hear everything that was moving in a seemingly silent room, it would be a cacophony.

The world as sea of sound would be an unpleasant one for me. Though I don’t feel that way about images.

Which brings me to Amadeus which I watched (directors cut, much better) yesterday again for the upteenth time . I can’t tell exactly what it was about the film which led to certain leaps in cognition- though I suspect it was a combination of superb acting, scrumptious costumes, elegance, decadence, hedonism and the sheer exhauberance of Amadeus- anyhow this is what I discovered- (because if you have been following this event called me, you’ll know if I can’t apply it to art, it goes on the shelf to be forgotten).