Media Safari Bag
In a Spring 2024 email exchange with my New Jersey Institute of Technology colleague Andrew Klobucar, I floated the idea, half-joking, to label my new research/study discipline as “Media Safari”, for reasons and conditions introduced here.
Residing in proximity to an abundance of nature, rarified living in a cottage at the edge of forest in Staatsburg, NY, I regularly walk out into these woods alongside the Hudson River, communing with this luscious geographical location in numerous ways. Five months after moving, or perhaps retreating, to a small compound of buildings that has been known over time as The Quadrangle in summer 2023, my daily bicycle rides subsided, balanced out with semi-leisurely walks in nearby preserved and (mostly) public land.[1] Over winter, I divined and utilized several unsanctioned pathways leading down to Amtrak’s Empire Service railroad tracks and the river a few yards beyond.
At first, like anyone, I would carry my phone, to take pictures or videos of interesting observations, and to identify bird songs with the Merlin app (which simultaneously makes recordings). If anything needed to be written, the Notes app or Voice memo dictation device on the phone works for that. Minimal interruptions of peace and solace during these outings (due to technology) happened to be useful and enriching.
Predating this newfound “discipline”, a crucial and revelatory event occurred in December 2023. Another long-time NJIT colleague, David Rothenberg, who lives an hour downriver south in Cold Spring, visited for lunch after our fall semester concluded. Part of our time together at The Quadrangle was spent hiking down the dirt road driveway to a path that leads to an area known as Hopeland Trails, from which we took another trail that passes within sight of The ARChive of Contemporary Music, to the railroad tracks, and then we bushwhacked over to the riverside just north of The Locusts (an old Hudson River estate).[2]
As they do a couple of times every hour, a train roared by while we were walking along the river. For some unknown reason, Rothenberg suggested I start recording the trains that passed, and use the recordings as a feature of Poet Ray’d Yo.[3] Without putting much thought into his suggestion, or even the activity itself, soon afterwards I started collecting occasional recordings of trains by way of the cellphone. Having already made plenty of recordings of wildlife around The Quadrangle (e.g., birds, frogs, insects), and having personally witnessed Harry Smith recording ambient sounds during the late 80s and early 90s, the notion of recording one’s surroundings was familiar, if not admirable.[4]
Before long, one of my portable (SD card) recorders started coming along on these jaunts out into Hopeland. The built-in microphone of the Roland R-05 is good, and the unit has different sensitivity settings, enabling control over input levels. Why hadn’t I thought of doing this before? Sometimes it takes an outsider to recognize the creative potentials of a place, or to connect them with other activities. In any case, as of January 2024, selected and unique train (field) recordings, without any fanfare, began to bookend Poet Ray’d Yo programming on WGXC.
Spending time listening back to samples of recordings of trains, differing for various reasons (including variables such as ambient sounds of running water, birds, airplanes, etc.) may seem frivolous “work”. I have, however, enjoyed doing it, and been challenged by having to decide which ones are best to use for the radio program. This is audiography involving a small, battery-powered machine used to document surroundings, requiring hardware and software to produce the best outcome for public presentation. The steadiness of attention in documenting outdoor sounds increases my skills in working with the requisite digital equipment, leading to better technique, and better recordings in other circumstances as well.
Another topic Rothenberg and I discussed over lunch is the Aquabeat Hydrophone, an underwater microphone that he began manufacturing and distributing in 2023.5He offered to sell one to me at a discount, an opportunity that would have been unwise to refuse. Returning to NJIT during the third week of January, the Aquabeat was in my campus mailbox.
Testing it out at The Quadrangle, connecting the Aquabeat to my field recorder and getting all of the input settings properly calibrated, the RO-5 appeared to be ready to record. In late January, Amy Hufnagel and I made our way to the river, settling for a spot just a few hundred yards north of where Rothenberg and I had walked. Tossing the microphone, connected to the recorder, into the water, it was quite surprising to hear, amongst some gurgling water sounds, not-so-faint melodies of a Hall and Oates song ("Kiss on My List"). Huh? How on Earth? This music was not audible in the air, or to the ear, but was definitely part of the underwater soundscape. Was this the work of someone playing a joke, transmitting pop music into (or beneath) the river? Probably not. As it turns out, a more plausible explanation is that the microphone/recorder configuration, combined with their placement, was somehow functioning as a radio receiver and was picking up a local station. The unwanted music presented great interference to other sounds that emerged. After a couple of tests in which the music/interference could not be eradicated, I gave up and reeled in the microphone. We walked over to Hopeland Trails, and dropped the microphone into the small, spring-fed, Dragonfly Pond. There was no radio interference, only what could be perceived as the rushing of water as it drained through a pipe beneath the main trail into a river-feeding stream. Nothing particularly interesting or notable was heard or recorded, but at least the equipment seemed to work as it should.
After a handful of excursions, realizing they were getting serious (three or four days a week were now being spent hiking through the forest), it was necessary to be more methodical with the endeavor. Better organization was needed pertaining to both gear as well as with the audio files that began (and continue) to accumulate. Not every recording is good, so every file captured needs to be reviewed and cataloged with some focus. The recording, listening/reviewing, labeling processes all takes time and are vital in terms of making the material useful.
Once recordings are made, the best practice is to listen to them (before too much time passes), and decide if they are compelling enough to keep. With software involved, there’s always the option—if not temptation—to clean-up and edit the recordings, and prepare them for whatever purpose they may hold. Files need to be transferred from SD card to a computer, and then methodically cataloged and backed-up on a storage drive. Each step takes time, can be tedious, and is crucial to the success of such a poiesis, if that is among one’s pursuits—and for me it is.
Thus, out of necessity and for efficiency’s sake, beyond keeping the cellphone charged and at the ready, a “go bag” has been prepared for these trips, suitable for most types of realistic documentary recordings. It’s a Portland Evening News nylon shoulder bag, with a main pocket and two smaller pockets.
Here’s a list of its usual contents:
1. A Roland R-05 battery powered portable recorder, stowed in a vintage PowerPuff Girls purse;
2. Sony headphones to monitor recordings, stowed inside a ziplock bag;
3. The Aquabeat Hydrophone, stowed in a padded plastic envelope that also contains a bag with paper towels for post-use wipe-down;
4. Binoculars;
5. Notebook and writing utensil;
6. Water bottle and nutrition (e.g., protein or granola bar);
7. Small garden shears, for clearing briars and other obstacles when necessary.
The bag is not especially heavy, and its contents have proven to be useful in many ways. Everything necessary to record something that captures my attention is easily within reach at any moment. If a sound provokes, I can be recording it in within 30 seconds or less, and the other equipment and supplies are quickly accessible when needed.
Some days these thoroughly enjoyable walks through the forest transpire without packing all the technology, but often they do. Even though creating all of this localized natural documentation may slightly disrupt an otherwise relaxing situation, making the recordings are a contemplative experience that are in their own way soothing, as they encourage you to take time to stop and listen to your surroundings, including your own breath and body sounds. The processes have presented challenges, such as learning to use microphones properly, though none of the problems encountered have created stress. Mostly these undertakings have led to marvelous discoveries and have, further, contributed often unexpected elements to recent creative output.
Aesthetic breakthroughs materialize. The hydrophone begins landing in good places, without interference. Though it’s of unknown origin, I have begun to detect plenty of subaquatic sonic commotion. One of the best samples, an excerpt from which is now posted on Funk’s SoundBox: version archival, is otherworldly, reminiscent of nothing I’d ever heard before, seeming like something you might hear in outer space![6] Subsequent Dragonfly Pond recordings have become integrated into (or alongside) some improvised music created by Most Serene Congress at The Quadrangle.[7]
By April, “media safari” did assert itself as an appropriate and proper name for these forest dérives. Much stimulation and enjoyment can be gained from sauntering through the forest with recording gear. You never quite know what will happen, or what will be heard in the trees, near the tracks, or underwater. Amplifying unheard nature, you learn how noisy it can be! While I do not speak with experience on the subject, this is possibly similar to how a hunter feels when heading out with a rifle. Even more appropriately, the type of work conducted during these ongoing forays, given the underwater apparatus, is akin to fishing, without the mess or murder.
NOTES
1. The Quadrangle, as it became known in the 1960s, is a compound of dwellings that were once stables, a barn, and farmers’ quarters for the Huntington estate (Hopeland House), a grand mansion that was demolished in the 1950s. Its owners during the 1960s, Wynn and Sally Chamberlain, converted the barn and stables into residences and studios where they hosted and entertained and many of New York City’s artistic elite. Visitors to the compound at the time included John Giorno, Frank O’Hara, Marisol, Brion Gysin, Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, Tony Conrad, Ted Berrigan, Peter Scheldahl, Bill Berkson, and many others.
2. The ARChive of Contemporary Music is a music library dedicated to collecting, preserving and providing information about popular music from around the world. With over three million sound recordings, it is among the world’s largest collections of popular music. In 2023, the ARChive was housed in a renovated barn on The Locusts estate in Staatsburg. It is now in the process of finding a new location. See https://arcmusic.org/ for more info.
3. Poet Ray’d Yo is the monthly radio program I have produced on WGXC (Hudson, NY) since 2015, see https://wavefarm.org/radio/wgxc/schedule/ya0aha.
4. Evidence of Harry Smith’s practice of recording his surroundings is minimal on the Internet. One example can be heard at https://archive.org/details/PostcardsFourthOfJulysw06. Further documentation can be found via the Getty Research Institute website, where Smith’s “last major project,” “Materials for the Study of Religion and Culture in the Lower East Side or Movies for Blind People”, is described as, “recorded everyday sounds ranging from a faucet drip, to the wind, to the sound of traffic, to a rock music performance—auditory snapshots that comprise a portrait of Smith's life”. (see https://primo.getty.edu/primo-explore/fulldisplaydocid=GETTY_ROSETTAIE3012866&context=L&vid=GRI&lang=en_US&search_scope=COMBINED&adaptor=Local%20Search%20Engine&tab=all_gri&query=any,contains,%22Harry%20Smith%22%20audio%20recordings&offset=0).
5. The technology and hardware for this “close contact” microphone was initially developed by media artist and educator Zach Poff (https://www.zachpoff.com/). Rothenberg, whose scholarship and music intensively involved working with bird, insect, and whale sounds, brought the Aquabeat Hydrophone into commercial production. See https://www.terranovapress.com/books/aquabeat-hydrophone for more info.
6. The link to this excerpt is http://www.wepress.org/soundbox/audio/funkhouser_hudson-river_03-14-24_outtake_1.mp3. Funk’s SoundBox: version archival: http://www.wepress.org/soundbox/archive.html.
7. Most Serene Congress is the name of the improvised music ensemble I have been working with since 2016. The group’s first formalized piece of 2024, “Derigueur Nomad”, featuring one of the Dragonfly recordings, is posted on our SoundCloud site, https://soundcloud.com/mostserenecongress/derigeur-nomad.
