#zedeff

Last Tuesday morning I went back to the womb.

Review of my work - Zoe Farrell

When I began this exploration of sound, I was not well read in the matter – I knew little of the background of investigation, little of the examples, little of the questions. But I knew I was passionate, I knew in my gut that sound was the pathway for me, in some ways I always knew.

People always ask me, why sound? Why does sound matter to me? I used to shiver at the question, how did I explain its relevance to me, did I even know myself why I was so captivated by the sounds of the world,  by music and the people creating music.

I’ve never been a confident person, I’ve never been comfortable shining a light on myself or captivating a room with my thoughts and witty anecdotes. I was always content to listen, to observe.

My family used to hold prayer meetings in the evenings and my brothers and sisters were sent to our rooms, I remember listening to the singing, the distant murmurings, moments of exaltation and laughter vibrating through the ceiling, I used to lie on my top bunk bed, close my eyes and imagine the event, imagine the faces and interactions, it would always sooth me to sleep and fill my dreams with weird imaginings.

We never had a TV growing up, but the radio was always on, there was always music, speech, static – I think now how special that was, to let my imagination wander, to not have to rely on vision to entertain. My dad would play guitar in the evenings and I’d sit in awe listening to him sing and strum such beautiful sounds out of this instrument. I remember at a very young age crying, crying for no reason because the sound was so profound, it touched me even before I had the words to describe this feeling.

Expressing my thoughts has never been easy and yet I think so much, maybe too much and yet when I hear music I feel as if I need no words to explain, it does it for me. If I could sing, hum as a form of communication I would, like the birds calling across the trees.

I often have dark periods in which I feel I can’t continue in my body and in my mind. I feel as if I’m fighting against myself constantly – I get so lost but yet I make the effort to walk, walk into the hills, into a haven and sit, lie, and listen. The sound of the trees, the birds, the water, the crunch of my footsteps reminds me that I am alive, I am being, I am with the world and the world is with me. Seeing this beauty is not what urges me to continue, its hearing. I hear the earth sound, I hear the trees move, I hear my heart beat, my feet tapping the ground and I know I am in contact with life and that I contribute to it. I know this is very heartfelt, very romantic but sound I believe to be more relevant to me than any of the senses, I will never argue that it is superior for what would I do If I couldn’t see the beauty of our world or express it through speech? But, I believe I would be content in listening, to remind me that everything is moving, breathing and living, as am I. Somehow that makes life more bearable, more understandable, more real.

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