Florian Hollerweger.
A .pdf file containing a short description of the project. This is the same text which also went in the front of the handwritten diary which remains in the tower. Preferably, this text should also be included with any published documentation of the present project. If you decide to do so, please take care regarding the formatting of the text when it is copy-pasted from the PDF (for example, it contains two footnotes, which would probably require some additional manual editing).
Two photographs which were taken during my residency in the Curfew Tower. One picture shows me sitting in front of the tower as I am writing my diary entry for that day. Next to me is an empty chair with a sign saying “Join me listening!”, which I put up for that day as an invitation to Cushendall’s residents. The second picture shows my entry in the Curfew Tower’s visitor book.
transcriptions of pages 1, 31, 41, and 50 of the 50-page listening diary which I maintained throughout my residency.
[13 Sep 2010] The silence of the [uninhabited] building as I am entering it for the first time in combination with its characteristic smell in the kitchen a moment of silence and rest during which I can hear the wind knocking against the door behind my back and later the AC adapter of my laptop making a high-frequency noise which it did not use to do anywhere else from outside the characteristic sound of cars driving on a wet street which is filtered as it spreads through the windows and inevitably reminds me of my grandmother’s place during my childhood then later in the shower the idea of writing a score on the bathroom walls for a song to be sung in the shower which uses the natural resonances of that particular space and when I am going shopping later the sound of my own voice as it tries to carry confidence towards the inhabitants of the village which I will [inhabit] myself for the next six weeks at night in bed surprise that the building itself does not make any noises which one needs to get used to like in the case of many other houses when one spends the first night there only once in a while the wind howling around the top of the tower and the occasional car passing by but other than that unexpected silenced which [14 Sep 2010] is interrupted by my own getting up in the morning and turning on the radio which only works on long wave and therefore has a very characteristic sound which in combination with the old-fashioned English of a Westminster parliament debate sounds like a re-broadcast from the 1950s before I do some work at the desk in the living room which is constantly interrupted by a sound of knocking whose source I cannot identify and of course the sound of air coming out of the shower’s cold water tap instead of cold water so I go for a walk [...]
[10 Oct 2010] [...] seemingly addressing me really only talks to his pal someone shouting conversation returning to the terrace of the Lurig Inn and within seconds it becomes clear that it must be someone on the phone the characteristic rhythm of a dialogue interrupted by the suspicious breaks of a phone conversation new footsteps and a brief snort from behind the Lurig Inn the sound of glass being deliberately broken once and then twice softened only by the flow of the river in which a duck is suddenly landing and thereby creates a sound which is surprisingly similar to that of [paper] being torn reverberate[d] sounds from inside the Lurig Inn next to which I am sitting on the riverside close to the street just beside the bridge the closest car horn so far somebody shouting out the name Paddy which seems to happen at least once during my daily listening sessions but I think it’s a different Paddy every time someone swearing on the street with that utterance suddenly merging with the voices from inside the Lurig Inn which I hear through the open door of its terrace another gentle-conversationed Sunday stroll plus a [golf ball] taking off in the distance the Lurig’s terrace door being opened further clothes rubbing against each other belonging to a person passing behind me virtuoso birdsong appearing out of nowhere and immediately being answered [by] one of the rare police sirens approaching male drunk conversation from the Lurig behind me tuned engine and the bird falls silent again remains the river’s three-stage acoustic flow down to the beach suddenly the sound of a pool table but not from the Lurig but where else a closing car door a sound like a tennis [racket] hitting the ball music appearing another golf ball drunken male conversation [...]
[16 Oct 2010] their arrival and at Johnny Joe’s musicians are tuning up everywhere around 9.30pm somewhere in the background fiddles already playing but it sounds more like a sound system in a back room cosy chatter in low-ceiling rooms a welcoming contrast to the grim cold outside Irish accents from all over the island the pretty girl sounds like she is coming from the Republic the trad music from tape has faded away behind a door that has been shut and it has given way to a man playing the guitar and singing a folk song in another [one] of Johnny Joe’s many rooms as I am being addressed by the first visitor commenting my writing my ear waiting for the moment where it is being engaged in a conversation but not yet it’s still early in the evening and as I am finishing the last sentence a gentleman asks me where I am from what I am doing and shakes my hand the room now fills with people and their mishmash of chatting acoustics from at least five different spaces overlap[s] and include[s] at least two different musical styles and four different kinds of instrument[s] the [third] person addressing me compliments me for my very neat handwriting and off he goes the folk song next door ends and is answered with applause but the trad music continues I am starting to think it must be coming from upstairs my chair[']s metal feet squeaking on the stone floor the pretty girl whispers something into her boyfriend’s ear which briefly turns him singing the door in front of me opens and more voices are fading in and out again as the people entering close the door behind them again another folk song starting [down]stairs and the trad upstairs could almost be a harmonization of its cantus firms the folk song voices grow louder when the lyrics consist of the words I love you and again the pretty girl’s voice returns from the bar and sounds rougher than that of pretty girls elsewhere the folk song chorus reaches the I love you moment again and everyone joins in [...]
[19 Oct 2010] [...] system booms along High Street very slowly and sits somewhere waiting squeaking break a similar but unidentifiable sound shortly after an approaching bus first sounds like a helicopter and is followed by a diesel engine and another squeaking break approaching the [20 Oct 2010] intersection next to the tower as I am standing and waiting at the bus stop for the bus to take me back to Belfast at the end of my residency the church bells are slowly ringing footsteps of a gentleman are passing by and as I suspected it’s the same gentleman who always passes by at this stop at this time of the morning so it’s the usual hello there and nice weather today a faint reverb of a construction site somewhere over the hill and bird songs fill the air above me on the ground it[']s the occasional vehicle but traffic has not yet gone into full swing for the day the air is clear both visually and acoustically as I am waiting for the bus a large variety of birds celebrating the beautiful morning a tractor passes by without the birds letting themselves be interrupted and shortly after a van passes and then one two three cars we have six minutes to go until the arrival of the bus to Belfast the construction site’s echo now a permanent acoustic landmark including vehicle backup alarms and the sounds of digging but in the closer proximity more and more birds a much greater variety than that which I have encountered over the past weeks footsteps of other people approaching the bus stop the silence of people waiting in a group exists at the same time with the construction site’s acoustic activity one more person approaching and starting a chat with one of the people already waiting in the local accent a lorry drowns their conversation for some moments and after it’s gone the construction site again and now my bus arrives.
