We’ve just got back from the beach. It’s 6:55am and I am editing the sound file for this morning’s sunrise. Aside from one stormy day during our first residency in March, today’s are some of the windiest conditions we’ve faced. And it’s raining. It’s raining the kind of rain that clings to fibres, including the dead-cat on the end of my audio recorder.
I have two audio files to choose from: one has a lot of blustery spikes, the other has caught the moment a dog barked, ran up to me and had a quick sniff at what I was doing. The minute prior to this event is unusable as the wind gusts were just too strong, causing clips and peaks all over the waveform. I am wondering if I should edit the dog out but decide against it.
So this morning this is what happened: I crouched down low near the sand on Beadnell beach, shielding the recorder with my body; it was raining, it was windy and a dog approached me to say good morning. Luckily I am not afraid of dogs – and this was a big one (I think a German pointer) – and instead of clean, near-perfect sound files, I am trying hard to capture, condense and convey the experience of being on Beadnell Bay beach at sunrise.
That dog and me, we’re the same – like the fish in the sea, like the birds in the air, like the sandworms under my feet, we are all alive in this moment. We are here.