what keeps the sea on beat ?
Communication and broadcast - re shore forecast video: a call put out and in some way responded to, call is put out as something asked with the intention of being answered, however the call hinges on hope and good faith of a reply. Out across the water or the sea, this call is sent out with only hope helping it and hoping it will come back.
This can be seen in other forms of communication broadcast e.g. radio, morse code etc. Where the send hope, relies on, needs, there to be a listened or receiver in order for the message to be completed. In this sense, the receiver of listener does a lot of the work, they are essential to the process. Much like with radio, the listener and their environment add to, build on, complete the broadcast.
How and why do these birds utilise the specific call? And to what extent does their environment necessitate and amplify this habit? The locations seem to be across water, across fog, these seem to almost amplify and echo the call
Do they need to find each other? Or do they just want to know the other is there?
The shipping forecast - much like morse code as an example, or other forms of coded language - obscures information to non-essential a listener. For some of these languages this is not an intentional feature of the communication method? But more a refining and simplification of process for maximum efficiency, shipping forecast as an example. The shipping forecast relies on a certain level of knowledge; the listener must know to which location a name corresponds; what the numbers suggest as individual signifiers but also in relation to another number. For the average listener however, this rhythmic, coded, instructional poem provides an auditory glimpse into another world which uses a language, although made up of words we understand, is alien to us. It sits at odds with the smooth, leisurely, Neo-liberal programming of BBC Radio 4’s broadcast, asking the average listener to just bear with and wait for the next programme to begin.
The shipping forecast also brings a reminder to my mind that there is a completely constant and unrelenting movement of freight, energy, people and products across the ocean at all times of day and weathers. That there is always an ear that needs to hear the forecast to plan their onward journey. Most importantly that the sea is fundamentally non-human, hostile to human life, yet under constant politicised attempt to control and harness it. Even when humans and ocean seem to work together, for example hydro energy, this somehow feels that it is at the grace and temporary goodwill of the ocean, but its patience is thin, and this working relationship is disproportionately one sided.
So the beach makes sense as a site to explore this.
A site where life clusters, thrives and collides. This is a place where histories emerge; are buried and resurface.
There is something about the rhythm of the sea and beach together. The Sea is the content, the beach is the container? Or more specifically, the sand/pebbles are the container?
The sea is the actor, the beach the stage
Sea is the runner, beach is the track
Sea is time, beach is space
Moon is the sun, sea is the sun dial, beach is the piece of stone where the shadow is cast
The moon is to the sea what the sun is the sun dial.
The mussels keep their time by the sea, who keeps their time by the moon, who keeps their time by…? The turning of the earth or gravity or the sun? Following the chain too far back results in existentialism.
Basically it’s an orchestra. But its 100% non human. The moon is the conductor. The sea is the orchestra, Or choir. The basses are the deep rumbles and churning deep below the surface. Baritones, tenors, trumpets and tubas are currents and..
Percussion is the El Nino effect, or rip tides. Unpredictable, pace breaking
Flutes and gentle lapping waves
Rising tides are sharp, frantic strings
Floods and breached breakwaters are something else that isn’t found in a classical orchestra or choir. Beyond voice or instrument.