Voices travel through resonant architectures. Forms of relation become intuitive, and I find myself speaking back, feeling that something is being communicated, even if neither of us fully understands the other. They sing while I edit field recordings. They become animated when I push sounds through control voltage and distort samples beyond recognition. Over time, these encounters have become part of my listening practice.
The second episode of Invisible Signals lingers with the timbre of bird calls and the ways they move in and out of field recordings, distant rhythms, and passing atmospheres, gathering associations as they travel. Through memory, through migration, through places that no longer exist in the same way. Aerial utterances carry their own patterns of movement and relation. Listening drifts, shifting emotional landscapes, allowing calls and rhythms to morph into new constellations of attraction. These movements and frictions become a means of inhabiting the space between listening and recognition, where meaning drifts between presence and absence.