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I’ve been thinking about the first two themes of the new Sparks series, and how relevant they are to my work in audiovisual archives. Until I started my current graduate program, I hadn’t even heard of noise within film, video, and audio, and I thought about material in only the most basic sense of the term, not thinking about the extraordinary confluence of actions that bring videos to us. Noise can manifest both in the picture and audio of a film. When talking about analog film made on a cellulose base, noise is really grain, where silver halide particles provide a texture to the image. However, most contemporary films are made digitally, which also introduces noise to the final image. High ISO and/or low light on the camera can often manifest in more noise in the image, which shows up as discolored pixels against the rest of the object, subject, or scene. Seeing a side-by-side of an image with noise and the same image cleaned up in post-production really clarifies the concept. A fairly “noisy” shot seen on the left, and how it would be edited for clarity and readability in post-production on the right. (Premium Beat) Noise in film translates to hearing hisses, hums, the sounds of HVAC in the background, etc. Too much distorts speaking voices and clutters ambient sound, though an ambient sound of the room is necessary. This room tone is recorded in most shoots for 30-60 seconds, so that the default, natural sound of the room is captured and can be layered on to the resulting video. This clip highlights how the noise of cars driving by on the street typically overwhelm human voices, making them unintelligible. What immediately strikes me is that noise is seen as unwanted, artifacts of the process that are usually edited out for clarity. Sound editors can’t completely edit out all non-dialogue or non-music sounds, or else an audio recording will come across as artificial, exposing the dreaded “dead air.” This is a good reminder: without some noise, our AV comes across as over-polished, unreal, artificial. I think this applies outside of the realm of film and video; without the “noise” of reality, we live in a pie-in-the-sky, blissfully unaware headspace made manifest at the cost of understanding what is around us. Noise can help us see the world differently and in a more realistic way, bringing perspective to our own observations that can gently challenge or correct us as needed. Some movies have used noise intentionally to great effect, including Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird. Below is an image from the movie, with the top showing raw camera footage and the bottom showing the digital noise added in along with color correction. Top: raw camera footage from Lady Bird. Bottom: edited shot with digital noise and color grading. (Indiewire) When I think of noise in the context of the growing Arab.AMP archive, there are so many artists who use experimental sound to provocative, heightened effect. I think of the performance of La Macacoa, whose setup using multiple mics, involved hardware, and movement heightens their take on Afro-Caribbean and Taino influences. I think of the many artists who reinterpret classical instruments—especially Mike Khoury, Thea Farhadian, and Doga Cavdir—to bring noise into that which is typically peaceful. I see their vastly different interpretations as commentaries on the world around us, a jarring start back to reality and a call to arms through audio. I think of Alia Taqieddin and her Sonic Love Letter, blending melodic sounds like beach waves, humming, singing, and music with discordant sounds of scraping metal, sirens, and the panicked shuffling of people trying to escape imminent danger. The Arab.AMP archive is rich in experimentations and thought-provoking interpretations on sound, and I encourage you to browse our past Folktales offerings on our website to see even more of these interpretations. Materials seem to be a discussion at a more basic level, but that process can be involved in any artistic expression. Learning about the chemical processes that result in celluloid film production, for example, is nothing short of extraordinary. I recently had the chance to see The Story Behind Film and Film und Faser (Film and Fiber) at a symposium, the latter of which you can read about here. While neither video is available online that I can find, you can see this video to get a sense of how involved the process for making celluloid film for filmmaking and photography has been throughout the decades. I think of materials beyond the film and cameras themselves too, into what’s included in shots as props and set pieces, in concerts and performances, and how they all add up to a collective of materials adding to the ultimate artwork created. Many of the Arab.AMP artists and folks depicted in the community spotlight portion of Folktales use materials in unique ways, directly and indirectly. One of the first things I think of is the SUMUD mural, and how it communicates through murals of various sizes and from a diverse body of artists and community organizers a shared set of stories, values, dreams, and aspirations. I think of Joseph Bohigian, whose Stone Dreams draws sound out from what is typically seen as a hard and unmoving substance, calling on listeners to think about what joy, pain, and memory is stored in every material we encounter. I think of Jennifer Jajeh’s piece Aggression Intervention, which includes voiceover of thoughts and reflections while she lets loose in a rage room type of setting. The absence of most of the breaking sound is especially strange, and encourages the reader to really pay great attention to the visual and audio materials, especially due to their seemingly mismatched dialogue with each other. One of the perks of being the Arab.AMP archivist is seeing how the collection stays the same and changes over time, and how it organically grows with each contribution. Thinking about these various aspects of multifaceted audiovisual pieces allows me to have greater appreciation for the media, the craft, and the messages conveyed in each artwork. I truly can’t wait to see how artists continue to expand their own use of noise and materials in their pieces, and how us viewers and listeners in turn will learn and be inspired by their stories.
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However, I also made it clear that this work mattered to me: as a queer person of color who grew up in a place where I was shielded from a lot of my Mexican culture, I have always been seeking the art and stories of people who experience barriers to accessing their heritage through materials. I have always been a curious lifelong learner, and feel as though the most enriching, inspiring learning experiences I had were done outside of theory-heavy lecture halls.
I’m currently writing my thesis, and came across a podcast about an institution I want to highlight, Appalshop in Whitesburg, Kentucky. The speaker noted that he had grown up not being taught about local music and culture, and hearing from the world via harmful stereotypes that people in Appalachia are worthless and unimportant. When he started interacting with Appalshop’s archival materials and creating films for them, he came to know and appreciate that culture and understand that he was a contributing member to that ongoing legacy. One quote resonates with me still: “A community becomes dangerous when they understand their culture. 'Cause then you have something to fight for.” Not getting a seat at the proverbial table for so long makes a lot of people give up the fight and leads to identity challenges or confusions about oneself within their culture, feelings that don’t just disappear in a generation. Arab.AMP is making its own table, expressing themselves through captivating, provocative experimental art and preserving that art and culture in a time where so much is under threat. At the AMP Archives, we are growing our digital archival database of programming that reaches back to 2017, containing videos, flyers, and photos. This AMP.Archive Tales is intended to have the archive speak aloud, as we see recurring themes, catch up with past artists, and connect to what is going on around us now. Arab.AMP remains a platform for future-looking experimental art from members of the SWANA diaspora and allied communities, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t consider how that media can be seen in perpetuity. One striking thing in one of my first conversations with Leyya was her desire to save the Arab.AMP collection “so that it doesn’t go away.” I’m inspired by seeing each addition to Arab.AMP’s platform, and I can’t wait to check in here to tell you about my observations, trajectories, and archive-related advice. |
Archive TALES
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