Sounds of Life from Broken Blocks

Last night I took the subway to a part of Brooklyn I hadn't seen. I walked about six blocks past broken buildings, broken cars, broken fences, stepping over broken glass, broken sidewalks and bits of broken other stuff. It was a Broken Brooklyn that time forgot, and I was its only life form, map in hand, Visa card removed from wallet and hidden in my underwear.

Finally I reached my destination, a massive old brick building. Signs of life - a few parked cars and directions on an unlocked door. I heard things and found the source on the fourth floor. A long, tall skinny room full people sitting at laptops plugged in to a large electronic brain distributing unusual sounds moving through an array of hanging speakers with indescribable films playing on the walls. There were a few home-made instruments and a couple of electric guitars. 

Some people were audience, some were performers, with no line to discern who was who. There was seemingly no one in charge, no line between what was conceived and what was randomly generated, no way of telling who or what was creating any specific elements. The lights were slowly dimming, perhaps by themselves, there was beer by donation, and a few people eating take-out food occasionally talking.

"Remove your shoes and try the bed upstairs before they turn it off." a woman with a French accent told me. So I found the stairs, removed my shoes, and ascended to find a bed surrounded with built-in speakers. I lay on the bed and sound built up around me, moving past me, through me, and under me from swirling subsonic vibrations I can only describe as unpredictable and life-threatening. I went back downstairs to take in more of the evening. 

For an hour or two I listened and watched, leaning against a dark wall, and concluded that this room of morphing amplified surround sounds created by strangers sitting at laptops was somehow a comforting, communal, almost organic experience. What a juxtaposition to the surrounding neighbourhood which I scurried back through, in dark blocks of brokenness, to find my train.

more info: http://issueprojectroom.org/