In a previous post I explored ways to tell ‘creaturely’ stories through music and moving image.
How would this work for creatures that do not move much to the human eye? Can mosses and mushrooms, who seem so static at first glance, inspire ideas about sound and image, flow and rhythm?
Various people have thought musically about these lives. Silence and the barely perceptible are important notions. Moss expert Robin Kimmerer wrote in her book Gathering Moss:
Learning to see mosses is more like listening than looking. A cursory glance will not do it. Starting to hear a faraway voice or catch a nuance in the quiet subtext of a conversation requires attentiveness, a filtering of all the noise, to catch the music. Mosses are not elevator music; they are the intertwined threads of a Beethoven quartet.
Artist/musician John Cage was very much inspired by mushrooms:
“I have come to the conclusion that much can be learned about music by devoting oneself to the mushroom”
He explained this in the “Music Lovers’ Field Companion” (1954). The experience of finding hidden mushrooms, was for him similar to the experience of hearing quiet sounds. And of course, there is the amazing Czech mushroom composer Václav Hálek, who has transcribed thousands of melodies straight from mushrooms.
Knights Bush, near Clutha river, New Zealand
For me, it’s important to not isolate a mushroom or a moss, but notice them in interaction with others. In my audio/video experiments I look for ways to capture rhythms that can be perceived in real time, without speeding up time like in a time-lapse. I look for spontaneous and almost accidental encounters, not trying to establish a perfect match between audio and visual. Through improvisational music and multispecies interactions (a person touching a wobbly mushroom, a spidermite walking through moss), I found a way to express something about the dynamisms of a mushroom and a patch moss.