A description of the sounds within “already there”

General Overview

‘Already there’ is an installation of sound, light, and projected dance performance within six adjacent spaces. The music is performed by a six instrument ensemble, including piano, guitar, bass, violin, cello and percussion, as well as an eight person vocal ensemble. The sound design is comprised of familiar sounds of home. The sound and music are both pre-recorded, and inhabit the space through a series of speakers and amplifiers within each of the individual spaces. Within the first space, the sound feels intimate and local to the room, then bursts into the middle of the greater space to then return back to the audience where they are. Within the second space the sound comes from either side of the projection, as well as the full room, and is loud and cinematic. In the third space, the sound swirls around, encompasses and sweeps up the audience. In the fourth and fifth spaces, the sound comes from the structure itself. In the final space, the sound comes from over head, and feels both vast and intimate. As the audience exits, the final music is played from outside in the lobby, and gently rolls into the installation space.

Space 1

A burst of instrumental tones appear, trailing upward like steps in a staircase compelling us forward. Individual instruments are present: a piano, guitar, and the metallic presence of a vibraphone. The tones repeat with unpredictably changing rhythms. As the light reveals the small model in the center of the room, a melody begins; it is solemn, peaceful and comforting. A bass guitar, violin, and a cello join the orchestra. The entire ensemble comes together as the energy rises like an anthem. Though a thick, dramatic conclusion is expected, the instruments instead arrive together humbly on the exact same note. The note grows stronger and more vibrant. Suddenly, a single woman’s voice hums the same note as a small light turns on in the distance. Her voice is joined by more voices, softly, but growing. “Oh... ah…” - no words are sung, just vowels. As the choir grows in intensity, the lights go out as a single voice interrupts with a pulsing rhythm that has the feel of a fast, athletic heartbeat. It is answered by another voice, ping-ponging back and forth, singing “bum-bum” to each other, as other voices enter, filling in the gaps. We notice different syllables “la-la-la”, or “ooh-ah”. A piano plays shiny, colorful chords as projections appear on the two screens. The chords have the character of a beckoning or invitation. More instruments join: a brass cymbal is scraped, an electric guitar tone ripples. Slowly the other instruments join, playing together in a relaxed feeling. They imitate the gestures made by the voices when they first appeared moments ago. The character of the music suggests transit; encouraging us forward as the last dancer exits to her right off the screen. As the audience moves to the next space, the violin and cello pluck playful tunes that feel like memories of the dance we just encountered. The music does not grow or reach a dramatic climax; it moves simply and remains constant, like a moving sidewalk in an airport, compelling us to follow her.

Space 2

A single woman’s voice calls out, echoing, as if in a canyon as a woman is projected larger than life. A man's voice responds, but pulsating on a repeated syllable “dat… dat… da-dat”. Electric guitar and bass mimic the pulse of the man's voice. As more instruments enter, the feeling is cinematic, excited, and full of potential. As the music builds, the gestures become sweeping and grand. The voices of a choir saturate the gaps between instrumental presence, creating a thick, vibrant texture. The music moves between intense, extroverted passages of animated energy and more personal, introverted moments. Voices appear throughout: sometimes alone, sometimes in unison. There is a dramatic climax as the dancers spin, twirl, arch, and spiral: we are shaken by the roll of a giant drum, the vibration of tremolo strings, the starlight twinkle of a glockenspiel, and the commanding polyphonic gestures of many voices singing together. The conclusion here is akin to a slow but intense burst of light as soft voices grow and sustained notes expand along with the sound of a large fan. A dark, bouncing tone comes from an electric bass guitar as light beckons from the hallway around the corner. It feels round and full. Appearing above it are muttering voices. They’re not singing, but they’re not speaking any real words, either. They communicate jittery, excited energy. More voices join. Though the energy of these bustling, frenetic voices predict an arrival in a logical convergence, they instead slowly evaporate back to a single mumbling voice.

Space 3

As we enter into this narrow space, it seems as though we are entering inside the music as well, coaxed by the spinning, hypnotic twists of rolling piano notes and the cascading light on the wall. Though immediately moving, the instruments seem to be proceeding freely and not in a set rhythmic time. Sounds appear that seem familiar, a passing car, running water, wind, a whistle of a tea kettle. There is a collage of constantly-moving elements, an aquarium of musical shapes in which we are submerged. Individual voices pass by: some telling us new things, others seem like memories or recollections of experiences we’ve had since stepping into the room. String instruments slowly glide and tremble through the vibrating texture. When the voices finally come together and swell, the instruments fade, and we’re left with the whistle of wind or a tea kettle as the light pushes to the end of the hall, compelling us to move.

Space 4

A marimba tiptoes in like shoes on a wooden floor. Hesitant and wandering at first, it becomes regular and repetitive. It is joined by an acoustic guitar in even, consistent repetitions like the turn-signal of an automobile. There are sounds of song-birds, whistling wind, crunching leaves, running water, waves, and seagulls. Far above this, the highest, lightest notes on the piano slowly begin to float downward, mimicking the motion of an autumn leaf coming off a tree branch to the ground. A cool breeze of thin air is imitated by a lightly bowed violin and cello notes. As the music comes to a halt, the marimba’s woody gestures are alone once again, winding down to eventually disappear as the dancers leave the screen, leaving the sounds of waves growing louder.

Space 5

Stepping into the structure, sounds from inside and outside arrive and disperse. They fold into one another, blending the beginning of one and the end of another. The sounds of a screen door opening and closing, a rocking chair creaking gently. Waves churning under crickets and cicadas chattering. Flipping through the pages of a book, a coffee maker clicks on and sputters out its first pot of the day. As the lights push and pull against the ceiling, there are dishes being put away and distant, incoherent voices, Footsteps in socks, the water heater, gentle humming and talkative forest birds. A sewing machine and the low tumble of the dryer. The sizzle of hot oil in a frying pan, a kitten purring, a loon. Walking barefoot through tall grass. The warm crackle of a fire builds into a crescendo of fans and waves crash onto a pebble beach. The waves swell, as the ceiling begins to lift from the air of the fans on top of the structure. As the fans turn off, sounds of seagulls and fading wind carry us out. As the light from outside the structure comes up, there is the sound of a switch starting machine.

Space 6

A chord, strong and forceful, suddenly bursts in the same tone as the machine. Thin melodic lines trail out, like the embers of a firework. A voice appears; as we round the corner and see the dancer we notice via the movement of her mouth that she is in fact singing along with the instruments underneath. As each dancer enters, their voices accompany them, creating a counterpoint that moves with the slow, metabolic chords growing regularly with the motion of the dance. As they do so, we recognize each of their voices from earlier rooms. We expect the voices to vanish as the dancers exit the projection, but suddenly a choir emerges as the music reveals a bright, celebratory spirit as we, ourselves, are revealed in the mirror. As the dancers reappear, their voices reappear as well, along with music driven by a grooving, rhythmic feel of brushed percussion and electric bass. The feeling is collaborative and fulfilling. The physicality of the music and movement that they make together is palpable. The dance ends conclusively as the lights fade. Another strong, imposing chord punctuating the energy of this final dance, but a single note follows somewhat unexpectedly, like a question mark drawn in the air as the fabric billows. The piano appears for the last time, this time by itself, as the door to the exit opens. The character of its presence is refreshed, grateful, and like a deep breath. The music is familiar to us from this experience of passing through this space. It proceeds simply, humbly, and when it comes to the end the tones trail upward. The gesture that beckoned us in at the beginning now bids us farewell.

Credits

Descriptions written by Sean Doyle, composter of ‘already there’, Bailey Trierweiler, sound designer of ‘already there’ and Britta Joy Peterson, director and choreographer of “already there” Illustrations by Amanda Blythe, performer within “already there” Consultation from Janice Majewski, Institute for Human Centered Design; and Beth Ziebarth, Access Smithsonian