NICOLO SCOLIERI SOUND

~ SOUND ART + DESIGN~ RADIO ~MUSIC ~FIELD RECORDINGS ~

here's a place I'd like to be...
close your eyes...
breathe in another space, maybe apart from time...
a great hall, carved into a granite mountain...
and full of sound and light...


flute, narration, field recording, mixing -
used a flashback x4 delay, a nano pog octaver,
a zoom recorder, and audacity.
sourced clips from recordings of the dc zine fest
earlier this week, the national arboretum
earlier this year, a friend's backyard in fredericksburg,
a plaza or two in italy from last september
(find more here)...
plus a little foley work at home.

image:

a slide from the family, in england, i think.

transcript:

the air is cold
stone walls shine, but not brightly,
its more of a dull glow
you cant quite see anything reflected in the thick rock,
but light from the yawning arches plays off the
purple and black and grey like water

looking through -
past the columns, strong and tall as pine trees
a sharp valley drops to a dark green hill to the west
above it, there are some clouds
but the sky almost matches their color,
so it just feels empty

-

it was built into the face of a granite mountain
each upper level grows smaller with the slope of the great outer face,
and it might feel like a massive tower,
an open half-pyramid,
if not for the feeling of the inner wall
when a hand is placed a against it
a touch thats full,
the wall simultaneously
stretching far away back into the earth
and also reaching up toward the mountains peak

looking up -
rings of walkways line the inner rock face,
shelves just big enough to house little storefronts,
merchants, corners where handiwork is shared
some spots are further away and quiet,
others face the main hall
those soak up the sounds of commerce and play from down below

-

in the center of the main hall is a fountain
a large, sturdy, sculpted goat drips, marbled and deep
its a water source, but its also a place where people meet,
where kids show off the little machines and toys they've built above
a place to talk and drink and suck on sticky nectarines
most days the fountain itself just trickles, enough to wash up a little
a small stream follows the goats horns, swirling, slow
only during a heavy rain, with horns slick and dark, does its belly fill,
and the fountain bursts with clean, cool water

looking in -
from the north side of the promenade, an evening sunlight fills the hall
with an orange light, textured like baked fruit
as dusk fades over the western hill, everything that moves shimmers, then settles

-

want to contact: mail me!
head home? linkedin + twitter nscolieri@yahoo.com

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