Whisper Pieces for Listening

Is whispering enough?

Is whispering the work itself?

Can it hold the tension? Make ud wonder? Make you hold your breath back?

Does whispering make you unsure?

 

What is the beauty of whispering?

What is the discipline and merits of whispering?

 

Can it make you lean into the piece?

Can it make you listen?

This is a series of experimental whisper pieces for listening.

Score:

What constitutes a ‘Whisper Piece’?

1. Find quiet space. 

2. Make yourself comfortable with the space. Ask the space permission for recording your ‘whisper Piece’.

3. Whisper in your own way into a microphone.

4. Let the content of the whispering be principally irrelevant.

5. Thank the space respectfully for letting you whisper there.

Technically notes for the listener:

Put your speaker on normal volume.

 

Increase the volume until you hear the whisper (you should not increase the volume to the whisper is easy to hear – that is not the point).

 

Please excuse the use of a lesser good microphone.

 

Title

Recording

Transcription

Whisper Piece I (test)

This is a whisper piece 

where I just whisper for the sake of whispering. 

I whisper so you listen closely to what I have to say, 

but I do also try to be unclear.

I’m trying not to be heard, but I’m trying to be listened to. 

I’m trying to draw you in, to seek your attention.

I whisper, 

I whisper again and again.  

I keep on whispering.  

This is my whisper. 

Do you feel it? Do you feel my whisper?

Can you feel it inside of you?  

Are your eyes closed? 

Is your breathing short and silent?

Do you hold your breath?  

Do you relax or are you tense? 

This is my sssss, my sssss for whispering, whispering sssss.

Can you still hear me?  

Or do I have to be more quiet? 

The microphone is super close to my voice, to my mouth, to my lungs, to my throat,

but all of it doesn’t matter.  

I can turn it all down.  

I can turn the microphone down.  

It is a dead microphone. 

It is all in my whisper.

Life is in my whisper, and so is death.  

This little monologue is improvised. 

You probably guessed it.

Or did you just sit and listen?  

Was that all? No guesses?  

No pictures in your imagination? 

Just listening?

Perhaps, 

perhaps I say too many words. 

Perhaps the noise of this microphone is in the way of actually making whispers.

I fear that I have to confess something, 

that because I am whispering, 

it has to be a confession. 

But I won’t.

I will just whisper.  

That is all.  

Whisper is all that is. 

And now, as the last thing, I am trying to hit 

four minutes exactly.

Whisper Piece II (test continued)

This is a whisper piece. 

It is a piece 

where I whisper 

as quietly as possible.

My breath is very heavy.  

It’s hurting me. 

It’s like every single breath 

comes both too soon 

and too late.

I search for a pause 

long 

enough 

for me to hear 

and feel 

and connect to something unknown. 

Unknown is like a different concept 

when you whisper.

Because when you whisper, 

it remains unknown. 

Nobody except you 

or somebody unknown 

heard that you were whispering 

about the unknown.

There are so many sounds 

when you are whispering. 

Sounds that you couldn’t 

hear before.

The sounds of your hair 

against the ear.  

Of the dryness in your throat. 

The sound of your blood pumping 

through your legs into the ground.

I wonder 

what other 

sounds 

might come 

if I just 

stay quiet enough. 

If I just 

wait long enough.

If I just 

keep whispering.  

Keep breathing.