*Please excuse the distortion at some points during the windy gusts. Storm Dave proved a little too much for the Rycote windshield. It's new kit so I'm still discovering its limitations.*
The sun, giver, but awkward to look in to, warmth, from plasma, that outside influence, fundamental, touching all, one way or another, influential, not circumstantial, two Mallards on the wing, we cannot comprehend how minuscule we are but some of the things that seem s so monumental just live within our minds or gut, fear, joy, religion, yet permeate all of our lived experience, through action not substance, a pheasant, Storm Dave touching us through the movement of air, (have we given storms names in order to have someone to blame?), the the subsequent movement of trees and plants, of clouds, some kind of large hovering bird of prey that I haven’t seen before, a marsh harrier maybe, the distant drone of a small motorbike, but refreshingly no other traffic, a jet, but the first one after 15 minutes, where are they going I wonder, the Heras fencing marks the death knell for that field, for all those that inhabit it such as moles, worms, spiders, butterflies, bees, beetles, aphids, centipedes, its a long list, all destroyed in order to build some houses that only the rich or private equity firms can afford, fierce local opposition hasn’t stopped the development from going ahead, green shoots on this broken willow, a carrion crow, fresh nettles full of fibre and nutrients, there have been 78,067 days, sunsets, nights, mornings since Constable stood/sat here and took int his view, not all of them a charming as this or then, but each with its own character, with it’s own sound tracks, formulation of clouds, that cloud looks like the letter C of a sports brand, and as much as I like to resist the corporate and capitalist machinations of advertising you can’t deny it’s impressive power, but the wind is changing it’s shape fast and now it looks like a Quaver, now it is two clouds disintegrating, three, entirely gone, when I look down I notice that my HD has had another problem and the filming has stopped, I formatted these specifically to iron out any problems after last times outing, more research and testing need to be done, some kind of Warbler, a man walking his dog, then stopping to ask some questions, I give his a business card in order to appease his curiosity and stop any further talking, a family walking a dog, the dog huffing. I’m not in the zone any more, just the place, maybe I should just sit and listen rather than trying to record as now that is becoming a distraction, anyone want to fund me to sit still listening? There are a lot of clouds forming now, but through the gapsI can see red light made by the suns light passing through the lighting gel of earths polluted atmosphere, everything experienced as light and sound filtered through air, and with all of these digital tools at our disposal there is no replacement for the real thing, especially with the wind that has suddenly picked up again and is being enjoyed again but the girls playing, leaning in to it, arms out as if trying to fly, somehow the birds communicate in this cacophony, so maybe that’s how they have adapted to man made noise in the environment. Now I think I recognised the man I gave a card to, and that he recognised me. Birds recognised: Wren, Greenfinch, Blackbird, Wood Pigeon, Pheasant, Goldfinch, Blue Tit, Chaffinch, Robin and Great Tit.
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The two benches that I was planning on using were taken but further along was an empty one, which was closer to a slight ledge on the hill that was actually in a great place as I wasn’t in danger of filming any members of the public at close proximity, like that boy on a bicycle last time, there was also man having a loud aggressive phone call.
A Chiffchaff competes with the traffic, wide tyres on tarmac and cobbles, early afternoon midweek spring sunshine vibes, Parakeets make it unmistakably London, and the jets are much lower than in Essex or Suffolk, large Tortoiseshell butterfly flits around the microphone, I’m recording at the wrong time of year to properly represent the painting as it depicts a September scene, Magpies frequent Branch Hill Pond at the bottom of the hill, Cherry blossom and fresh green leaves, a cement mixer powers up West Heath Road, it’s difficult to relax with so many passers by, a wood pigeon flies up the hill, a small spider crawls along the dry mud, a low jet climbs from LHR and banks to the north, quite a lot of bees and wasps as the temperature is well above 10ºC, a mum and boy with a plastic spade sticking out the top of their back pack, a pale yellow Brimstone butterfly, a skip lorry bumps up the hill, keeping my headphones on as a deterrent, a beautiful red dog taking an interest in the mic but then sitting next to the bench, and then it’s owner sitting on the bench, a pug with a diamond collar shining in the sunlight, the dog squeaking its ball, it’s other owner talking to his companion in French and the dog in English, a Jewish man kicking the ball back to the dog, a Police siren, I notice that the dog has an Apple AirTag, the man walking to the bottom of the hill and unsuccessfully calling the dog down to him, the lady has a chat to two lads with a bicycle and a film camera, their names are Judith and Astra, two ducks on the pond, after the boys go we sit in an awkward silence, a hoverfly, a small plane making a loud drone, the French speaking man with his top off in the sun. I’m quite happy not talking to anyone about my activities and the enforced silence helps me to keep that state, there is a time and a place and in the middle of a recording is not it, obviously no one else knows what I’m doing or my reasons for my choices, a shiny black/green beetle going about its day, a lady on the phone taking an interest in the mic but then continuing on her walk, lots of bird action including Wren, Robin, Blue Tit, Blackcap, Crow, Goldfinch and Blackbird. A tall couple with back packs, a man walking a Spaniel, a bee on the floor investigating a cigarette butt, a police van, two lads with coats wrapped around their back packs, an ant on the bench, my internal clock timing in at 54 minutes (I should just wait for the headphone beep), the ant n my shorts now so I need to move carefully, the shadow of a jet passing over this exact spot, an illegible memorial on the bench, that strange patch that I had on my arm for about 6 months is now healing up, two ladies on the other bench laughing, the headphone beep. 
Dedham Vale, near the Stour, laying in the grass, spring is returning and so are the tourists, and field recordists, warmth and aircraft, the familiar tropes of getting out and getting away, dog walkers are taking over the lanes, skylarks are taking over the airwaves. Is there any subcultures organising in the fields, events or gatherings of the natural, of the humankind, slow dancing on the paths, euphoric breathing of air, the waving of glow worms to the drop, meadowcore, earthstep, brisk jockeys of the wind, banger after banger, kissing gate, stile.
A small aircraft acrobats in the misty blue, bees now bumble so it must be over 10ºC, returning to its nest, a hole, a home, a kit paying equal amount of attention to the ground but from its lofty view point, both have unequivocal access to the land, but it’s different to us, different rules for different animals, no division amongst non-governing species, for us its special, more complicated as a means to exclusion, ownership, Matalan posse in the hood, blue and brown hooded coats, just in case, sensible boots and socks with a spare pair in the boot, the soft cotton wool like clouds, forming to the left not to the right, as it should be, a blue puffer jacket more blue than the sky but less blue than lapis lazuli, everything taking a long time on this project, but I should see that as a blessing and something that I need to make use of, taking the time between nodes in order to push it further along, work in the background, like making a painting before putting it on display, EAT SLEEP PAINT REPEAT, but I’m not a painter, for me it would be more like EAT SLEEP SIT IN A FIELD LISTING TO SKYLARKS AND MEADOW PIPITS WHISLT CONTEMPLATING THE EXISTENTIAL SIGNIFICANCE OF A BLADE OF GRASS REPEAT, keep the wheels turning, poor rural service as usual so there is only one bus right now and I need to be on it, to go FURTHUR! Am I on it or not? I don’t have to try the Electric Cool Ade, but I do need to continue to join those synapses, walk the neural pathways, find the elusive skylarks of my mind, look down upon me like the kite to gain a new perspective, see the abundance of ideas and directions in which to follow them. Everything and everyone seems to be on a lunch break now, it’s super quiet, but perhaps that is a good thing, to be cherished, for a moment of calm, a brief respite fro the condinuum. 
There is some smoke rising from near to Dedham Church, the village is about a mile away, visible through the mist, the clomp of two pairs of wellies, the sky a blanket of grey as it was yesterday, a skylark somewhere up in the gloom, a flotilla of gulls navigating the space occupied by a circling buzzard but leaving it well alone, trial bikes tear-arsing around somewhere nearby, a distant train, the footsteps of a mother and daughter, Blue Tit and jet compete for attention but their differing frequencies mean there is room for both, a flock of geese.
Grey and green the livery of today, in this place right here right now I’m completely un-mithered, helped by the fact that I remember that a gorgeous person gave me a slab of sea salt and caramel chocolate earlier, it is slightly soft from being in my pocket so I leave it out on my bag to firm up a bit, the wind picks up but it is neither cold nor warm, pins and needles are starting in my legs so I have to get up, quietly I check the recording but that’s never quiet enough, 32 minutes, I need a more comfortable stool, a couple talking that stop as they walk by, (Great! A sneeze and cough, I’m doing well being quiet today!), a bumble bee, the smoke in the town is increasing, maybe driven by the increase in wind speed, the mic stand clonks so I need to make sure it is done up tightly in the future, a jogger spotted in my peripheral vision, suddenly my focus shifts and I’m not now in the moments of thought but in the reality of being here outside, in a field, alone, with all my kit, wearing black and blue, my uniform of today. The smoke from the fire now completely obscures the church from view, there is some definition in the sheet of grey cloud, two people on a distant path stopping to look at something, then carrying on, I see the skylark dancing in the sky, singing in the drone of the background noise, in front of me, a short song before darting to ground, the show is over but it is not for me, three people silently walk past, a stone in the earth with an unknown untold story millions of years long, a leaf next to it with a story no longer than a year.  It is always a treat to visit the incredible building that is Christchurch Mansions, and today it was for the Constable 250 Project Partners Intro and Launch Meet. There are a lot of independent organisations and artists running events and activities to celebrate the anniversary this year so it was great to hear about all the work that is happening in Suffolk and Essex by a lot of enthusiastic people. I was also pleased to say a little bit about my project, the achievements so far, and what is being planned for the remainder of this year.
Big thanks to Bethany Mitchell for organising the event and for Christchurch Mansions for hosting us.
The Constable Ambisonic project has been years in the making, with the original idea stemming from lockdown with discussions amongst local artists realising that the 250th anniversary of Constable's birth was in 2026. After a lot of twists and turns, conversations, planning, emails and phone calls, and the thankfully successful submission of an Arts Council England Project Grant Application, the project is now in full swing. Although the winter months are outwardly quiet, many plans and more fund raising is being done behind the scenes. In this episode of the podcast I talk to artist and broadcaster Wendy Bailey to discuss the project more broadly.
Listen to the audio of the conversation below (a Soundcloud Account is not necessary), or read the text transcription (as a pdf) below. 
This recording is the result of ten creative participants - musicians, artists, and other creatives - who came along to the Constable Experimental Improvisational Soundscape Orchestra workshop led by Kelly Ann Buckley (K-A-B), to explore the grounds of Flatford Mill, the landscape that inspired so much of Constable’s work. Together, the group connected with the soundscape through a series of exercises that included deep listening, elements of graphic score writing, gathering natural ‘instruments’ from the land, and other activities that encouraged locking in with the environment and with each other. At the end of the session the group interpreted their findings, using a mix of their unconventional ‘found’ instruments and conventional ones. The piece was fully improvised, with no rehearsal before the performance.
Many thanks to National Trust Flatford for supporting this project by providing The Granary building for these workshops. 
Idling ships upon the bay, moving windsurfers upon the bay, my travelling companion and good friend Al laying in the grass making some art and chatting to the walkers on the path, restarting the recording as there was a hum, a hiking couple, hiking man craning his neck to have a look from 200m away, I’m suddenly self conscious about my choice of bright jumper in an overcast scene, must buy green, grasses are my favourite plant as they evoke summer, a wildness and understated strength and resilience.
Chitter chatter in the hillside habitat, two hikers descending the path next to where I am sat, a young couple in urban gear, a coach coming down the lane at the top of the hill, the steely blue of Weymouth Bay scratched by the wake of a small fishing boat, a man with binoculars, in this unfamiliar place I’m mostly noticing surface activities and fixtures and not engaged with or thinking about deeper considerations, accepting it more on face value than underlying narratives or other social contexts, which is how we might look at a painting, for its composition, materials or techniques, but of course it was made within, or maybe influenced by the socio-economic or political climate at the time, the coach returning back up the lane, a ship starting its engine, Portland. The sighting of one bird by one person at one place at one time with millions of years of evolution of different strands and billions of potential probabilities happen, and then it was gone in a second, a man noticing that I have headphones on, a beam of sunlight on the water, the active society of birds, a hiking party some of whom are not wearing blue, some fast 4/4 beats (135bpm) from car on the lane, more light making its way through the clouds and defining a difference between the sky and there sea, anxiously waiting for the hour signal from my friend sitting across the way. Birds identified are Skylark, Wren, Meadow Pipit, Greenfinch, Pheasant, Blackbird, Siskin, Long Tailed Tit, Goldcrest, Dunnock, Pied Wagtail, Cetti's warbler, Robin, Linnet and Goldfinch.
As part of the Constable Ambisonic project I want to understand how we perceive the landscape, and what did Constable and his contemporaries bring to our understanding of the natural world, and who else has contributed to the language used and ideals we hold in regard to perception of landscape. Here I talk to artist and photographer Alan Hockett whilst sitting in a car after having been to the site of Constable's 'Weymouth Bay from the Downs above Osmington Mills'. We discuss a variety of topics including new towns, edge lands, the Leisure Class, our childhood playgrounds, and of course, Constable. Listen to the audio or download a pdf of the transcription below.
Diners with trays of food and drinks from the cafe, the air con unit drone, this year is a ‘mast year’ for local trees which can be evidenced by the abundance of acorns on the ground, mast years are possibly a way that trees work together to create more fruit/seeds in one year that can possibly be eaten by seed eating animals and increasing the likely hood of seedlings growing next year, peduncle, the aircon clicks off, geese, lots of interest in the microphone as it’s in a very public place but I keep a low profile, conversations of diners, a dog barking, trays being returned to the rack, a tiny twister picking up leaves, hikers in brown boots and blue jumpers, the kissing gate slamming sound travelling on the wind, a lady carrying a bag full of poo, two dog bowls at different heights, my coffee finished, as is the flapjack, Table 123, walking sticks, ‘John!’, John acknowledging where his party are seated, the smell of soup, the Site Manager coming over for a chat about the weekends workshop, a pile of bricks, two yard bags on pallets, ‘Hort Loam’ printed on the site of one of them, two men being curious about the mic.
A never-ending stream of people, interested, curious, wanting to explore, experience and learn. They’re passing by here, passing, being born, passing by and passing again. Here is still here but for how long will the cycle continue? Slowly the cafe activity is winding down towards closure and as the localised sound dies down sound from further afield can reach us, such as a tractor ploughing a the field. The Flatford Accessible Shuttle Citroen electric vehicle, a woman carrying a bunch of yellowing oak leaves, a man opening and closing the gate for the car to pass through, it has slightly flat tyres, a conversation about birds that I don’t quite catch, chairs in the cafe being rearranged, cutlery being moved on the collected trays, a puff of wind moving all of the leaves at once but only by a couple of inches, the door to ‘back stage’ being closed by Maddie, a very slow wheezing pug in a blue harness, a window being closed, a door being bolted, the last diners leaving the garden, a moment of reflection. The earth wearing lands cape Land belongs We long to live Live to die Die to land the dream of love Love of another The other is wise Wise of words Words escape A cape of good hope But we’ll need much more than that. Birds identified are Dunnock, Robin, Goldfinch, Greenfinch, Long Tailed Tit, Mallard, Great Tit, Magpie Wren and Spotted Flycatcher! Listen to the whole hour on YouTube, or a 20 minute excerpt below. |
AuthorField notes from Stuart Bowditch, an independent sound artist working on Constable Ambisonic. Archives
April 2026
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