[…] I’ll read the questions again; what kind of listening site does an anthology for listening aim to become? What are the limitations of working within the framework of an anthology? What are the possibilities when working transdisciplinary and transmedial? What are the important questions concerning principles of how to have fun while making an anthology […] and how to make it fun for others to engage with? Does there exist a specific anthology for listening ethic or aesthetic? What will and or must we fail at? What kind of embodied practice can the printed matter, the online version or the live version evoke? Are there certain questions, circumstances, concerns around production that must be tuned differently when contributors are not financially compensated? […] What hopes might an attunement board for listening have on behalf of an ontology for listening? […] in a way, an anthology, sometimes I guess, you can think of it as sort of an exhaustive compilation, like this is what listening is in a way. And […] I see as a great potential for this type of anthology that is always incomplete […] always generating new perspectives and new questions that will create new ways of exploring what a contribution to anthology for listening would be. […] ‘anthos’ is actually the flower and logia is the gathered. So all the academic disciplines, philologia, that end on logia, that are a kind of gathering of something. And antologia means you gather the nicest flowers of something. So bringing that together with attuning to something, we could think about how do we attune to the flowers and the flower leaves that you found in the form of texts for this book. Are they flowers? Are they old flowers, young flowers, baby flowers, maybe artificial flowers, maybe monstrous ones, dangerous ones, poisonous ones, whatever, stone flowers, all of that. […] And what kind of anthology is this? Is it flowers in a vase inside, or is it perhaps a garden? Maybe we don’t know yet, […] this flower or plant metaphor is also circling back to this acknowledgement that you are writing that the flowers only grow from having roots deep in the soil, sucking up nourishment and minerals and traces from other plants and other flowers and other entities that have fertilized and made possible their blooming. And the importance then of staying with the cyclical notion of these flowers, then spreading seeds and fertilizing new ground for other flowers and plants to grow. What is in my head and my imaginary inner ear is indeed the question, what sounds do flowers make? And of course, as we know, all plants do also make minuscule sounds on the nano level, because anything that moves does that. And flowers or plants that grow also emit certain very minuscule sounds that we are simply too dumb to hear even. So we might not hear plants, but surely they make sounds. And maybe we only hear them when, let’s say, the ones I imagine, when the leaves fall down or when they’re trampled upon or something like that, then we might hear them or when we cut them off. […] the flowers, contributions, within the anthology may find audiences in odd ways by allowing to be carried, perhaps by the force of others, and indeed we don’t know what people will be using this book for […] and in staying with the listening even though the contribution is maybe text or sound or scores there are many ways in which we can listen into them. There is not only one way of hearing; we can listen into it on so many different levels and connect with it on so many different levels and to allow these different ways of meeting the contributions to reverberate back into our systems and leave their seeds to germinate inside of us. […] what forms of approaching listening are not represented […] It’s what I call audio pietism. […] And it refers to the idea that if you perform this kind of sensory mode or this kind of performative approach, if you perform that, then you reach a perfect societal environment, you become a better person, society becomes better. And it takes from the Christian tradition of pietism, which had the idea that only if everyone reads the Bible and lives according to the Ten Commandments and to Christian theology, then life is being perfect. And as we all know, that’s simply not the case. Just because people are following this thinking or they meditate or they walk more or they do more yoga or they go on meditation retreats or they listen more that’s not necessarily determining them to be better people or the world being a better place, but I feel it can happen that sometimes authors, thinkers, gravitate towards this intriguing idea to have; okay here’s like a golden key or the the golden thing, if we do that then that will end suffer. I think we are tempted to think that. […] How can this make the world and me curious about the disruptive, destructive elements of it, and to explore the potentials of that, not within this preconceived notion of it being good or right, but being curious about when it’s not. […] It’s the one that gives joy through a form of pain, maybe. And the other mainly gives pain. And maybe even sometimes a kind of weird joy. But this ambivalence or paradoxes, I feel they are also important in listening. […] I think the anthology is also a very wonderful space to hold all of these potentials as to explore uncomfortable listening or listening into discomfort and it doesn’t only have to be uncomfortable sound. It could be uncomfortable situations. […] How to stay listening with that which is not right and good and making sense. […] Or also on the other side, the very comfortable, very soothing and almost too comfortable and too nice environment. […] what did we miss in terms of discomfort that we could send out? Because in some way, there’s a responsibility to have that diverse premise of what kind of listening(s). But also to challenge, in some way, I think, let’s say the idea of a listening that is too conform and too comfortable. […] what is comfortable for us is perhaps uncomfortable for others, so one thing is the diversity that we are able to collect within the anthology, another thing is the diversity of which we are able to distribute within […] what happens after […] what are the meeting points, what are the exchanges that follow […] how can that be in some way integrated on equal terms […] I keep seeing the anthology as this large building with lots of different spaces and each space represents an invitation or a prompt or a mode of listening or a way of thinking about it or attuning to it but each of these spaces needs to be met by people who engage with the anthology. It’s like the building is empty unless people are invited in to explore these spaces. So I’m also thinking about how this building will be if not inhabited, but only visited for longer or shorter periods of time by many different people. […] and I guess what I’m thinking is both, how to find invitations for people to visit these spaces and not just maybe the people who already resonate with the different contributions, and then how to invite the reflections or impressions of the people visiting these spaces to become part of this anthology as a kind of disseminated, stretched out sequence of different rooms and spaces that can be very, very different. […] How can it be a guest house, but where everybody who’s visiting is also the host in some way? […] I was also thinking about this really critical but really good question, how it affects contributors, and the writing of text and the quality of texts when contributors are not financially compensated. […] something unvoiced was all those afraid to ask that question […] who are in the position of hosting that dialogue […] what we really wanted to do was to offer to host and promote also things that were already produced, so it was not extra labor […] I do want to comment on that because I am in that precarious artist situation and I actually I really appreciate that it is based on curiosity, generosity, exchange and co-creation and I think these are really valuable key points in a way to hold on to and say these are the values we exchange within the creation of an anthology, […] and to not try and translate that into monetary value. [..] It’s not the same for every artist, that’s clear. There are some areas where that is not the way to go. But I know some of them and I can totally see how they retain a certain personal liberty and independence in thinking and doing things, and also radicality in doing things, because they don’t have to cater to a gallery, to a theater venue, to a concert venue, to whatever, to a publisher or so […] within this particular framework there is something calling for a generosity and co-creation that is quite crucial […] one of the ingredients within listening is a […] generous practice […] but at the same time there’s always this perhaps dark back side of; in what way are we simply indoctrinate or used to listening as something that we do for free? Is that why we keep doing it for free? […] listening in other circumstances is a question about surviving […] but then again, in other places your listening is misused […] a long-standing idea of the German museum and art didactic and theorist Bazon Brock. […] in the future, artists, writers, authors, directors will pay people to be an audience, to watch, to listen, to be present. […] how listening can be, not writing about listening, but the listening act itself can be something that we value as having value as such, […] There’s something funny about the phrase of ‘paying attention’. […] interesting just thinking very literally to hear or to explore failures in listening, when listening fails, just to have kind of contrasting situations as to these more utopic notions of when listening works. […] it’s not a failure, it’s the specificity. […] So failure and originality in a sense, you could say, is pretty close sometimes. […] trapped in some kind of loop of rejecting, resisting certain logics, both of product, but also of production. And I’m not sure how to kind of fail good at that or fail bad. […] we’re like you say, very trapped in these logics of production and they’re so ingrained in our ways of navigating the world so we will eventually fail at disrupting, […] I’m never funny on command. […] the qualities of forgetting. […] A conversation is possible when a lot of things are forgotten. […] And I like this generous and caring and self-caring idea. If you want to enter into a playful conversation, it’s also good sometimes to forget something, to not be good at things and be maybe a bit random and a bit silly and a bit irresponsible and forget. […] one of the things that is ingrained in this production logic is to be serious and it has to be efficient and productive, […] amused and failing is really important ways of countering these logistics of production. […] we laughed so much because we had so many ideas, and then we rejected them and then we had other silly ideas and we rejected them. And then, but seriously, a good idea came out of that, which we would have never arrived at if we had just discussed the most serious plans. So going astray and playing around, being happy and playful with each other that’s an important approach […].