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.
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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. 
A landscape, at noon. A man jogging with his dog, and man and woman chatting on the bench next to the Field Studies Centre, the mill pond has been cleared of weed and algae, and most of the vegetation has been trimmed making it easier to see the path of the water between the trees, spider threads drifting and glinting in the sun, Moorhens running on the water, the chatting pair heading back, about three minutes where I could hear no people, no engines, just the occasional bird in the stillness that accompanies a hot blast of sun, as near as I can imagine it might have sounded like in 1821, minus workings from the Mill.
- A mill pond where all the fiscal solutions gather to stagnate. A woman on a mobility scooter says ‘I want to take a picture!’, a man taking photo from the same place as the mic but doing so carefully, I’m waiting for the coach load of tourists I saw earlier to arrive and in a few minutes they arrive, following their guide, two ladies ignoring the history lesson and having their own conversation, an airplane overhead, a dragonfly, too many conversations from splinter groups to make out the tour guide. - The cold breeze of authoritarianism across one's face. The perfume of photographers, ‘Grapes on the vine there, look!’, an Amazon delivery driver with two parcels for eat FSC, a lady with pink coat, stockings, scarf and hair getting her phot taken sitting o the wall, a cheeky remark by her friend, ‘We haven’t disturbed your peace, have we?’, ‘No, you’re fine’ I reply, jackdaws on the chimney of Willy Lott’s House, the tourists slowly dissipating, a moments peace before a bunch of students pile out of Flatford Mill, a couple taking in different views bump in to each other, table and chairs being dragged across floorboards, a dude with a Stetson, ducks ducking. - The hard sunbaked ideologies of mainstream media. With all of the activity it hard to tell the position of the hour as it’s gone to the head and not now in the body, a screaming child, a growling dog, a Chiselhurst and Sidcup Grammar School bus, a bush full of orange berries, a Buzzard Calling, student wheeling suitcases, a new party of tourists with a different guide, a lady apologising for the intrusion, I ask another lady for the time, and she says ‘Twenty five past 12’, so I got to 55 minutes again, the students walking back again dragging their suitcases, a cormorant flying overhead, a woman walking past the ‘PRIVATE’ sign. - Erosion of societies fundamentals falling in to the sea. Listen to the full recording on YouTube or the 20 minute excerpt below on Soundcloud. 
It’s been a long trek on public transport to get here, and a bit stressful on the Tube with all of the tripods and kit bag, that has put in to perspective a few things. It would have taken Constable, everyone, a lot longer to get around. For instance Constable used to walk from East Bergholt to Stratford St.Mary to catch the Stagecoach, which would then take 9-12 hours, conditions permitting, to get to London. Also on this project I’m working relatively close to home and have a car so can reach nearly everywhere pretty easily. Yes, I know that I’m having an impact and I have been weighing up the value of my work versus the impact I am having on the natural world. This work isn’t solely for me, but will be a sonic record for use by anyone in the future, under a Creative Commons licence. My carbon footprint, though quite large as much as car runs on petrol, is considerably less than a Shahed drone, from manufacture to deployment, and I feel that these recordings offer a somewhat more positive contribution to society than those. Still, it’s important to evaluate why and for whom I am doing this work, any work, and the benefits and side effect thereof.
This triangle of land between roads and off of the main body of Hampstead Heath is rather sedate and affords a calm spot amongst the bustle of the city. Parakeets, car horns, a helicopter, a couple walking their dogs, a jet overhead banking in to the clouds that are gorgeous shades of blue grey. A golden labrador being stroked by some strangers, a slow 4/4 beat (approx 115bpm) in the distance, women with jackets tied around their waists, two girls questioning what was worth filming over there, a woman talking on ‘hands free’, the pulse in my knee making my crossed leg bounce up and down, the bench plaque reading ’34º43’34.8”N 139º23’41.1”E’, laughter coming from the couple on the bench along the way, a woman waiting for her dog to do a poo, lot’s of gilets on the edge of Hampstead and it makes sense that building stopped before the steep slope here, people waling behind me, pairs of people stopping to check their phones so maybe there is a Pokemon Go here, an invisible layer of the world bringing members of a different community to this corner of the world. There are lots of layers, digital, geological, social, historical, atmospheric, all relevant to the same ‘place’. A heron, a beech leaf with a hole in it, some loud angry talking followed by some sirens, it's always about this time in a recording I’m feeling the need for some punctuation so maybe this is it, a different siren, a man in a cap pacing up and down, the cloud slowly thinning and more light reaching down to Earth, girls with coffees, a Vespa, a man whistling for his dog, a woman with a dog waving to the whistling man, they are pleased to see each other, the man has treats, a small boy on a bike stopping right in front of the mic, his father calling him away in possibly Italian. My body clock is a bit anxious today as it guessed at 55 minutes, a fire engine, leaves are falling from the trees at about 5 per minute (within my limited field of view), a man with a blue helmet on a bike gets off of his bike and heads down the track in front of the camera. I wonder if Constable was spoken to, questioned, viewed suspiciously, had his motive interrogated by members of the public whilst out capturing the landscape, I have over the years and with sound its easy to appease people’s suspicions but with image I imagine it will be more difficult. I’m sure I will find out. Two lads stop talking as they pass by the mic and resume further along the path. Birds identified are Magpie, Sparrow, Wren, Great Tit, Dunnock, Robin and Chiffchaff. Listen to the whole hour on YouTube, or the 20 minute except on Soundcloud below. I’d forgotten that Sudbury-to-the-Sea was on today, so luckily, I have arrived in good time to get some boating action, I ask River Stour Trust volunteer Alan Ryan if I can film and after some banter, he agrees. He and two other volunteers are operating the lock today for S2S, which is a yearly fundraising event, meaning that there are lots of people and boats on the river today. A man knocks the camera tripod with his kayak so I have to put it back, hopefully in the same position, I bet Constable didn’t have anyone knock his easel with a horse on the tow path, or perhaps there was less vegetation in his day so he could stand further clear of the path and its users, people on kayaks and paddle boards weigh up to whether to wait for the lock to fill up with participants or jump out and drag their boats to the portage, I’m keeping an eye out for my friend Matt and his family as they are taking part, a lady telling her dog that the mic might be a squirrel but then suggesting that it wouldn’t be a good idea to kill it, the volunteers close the back of the lock and then undo the pen stops at the front of lock to let the water drain out, they chat with the boaters on the lock whilst it empties, ‘You’re on the home stretch!’ he says encouragingly, a couple with two kayaks side by side taking care past the microphone, one of the volunteers goes to close a pen stop at the back of the lock that was open and filling it up as it was emptying, the gate opens and everyone thanks the volunteers as they head on down stream, the lock is shut again and they head to the back fill it up again.
It’s a continual cycle but now for leisure and not for industry. Before the locks were built the river had to be dammed with logs and branches to back the water up and then quickly pulled away to create a huge rush of water that was deep enough for the barges to be pulled over the shallows, or change in elevation, by horse against the current! Needless to say that lock technology transformed the transportation of goods immeasurably. But also changed the structure of the river from flowing to very slow moving and that impacted the habitats of many species living in the river. One of those was the eel, as being a migratory species they swam to the Sargasso Sea near Bermuda (!) to spawn, but couldn’t navigate past the locks which impacted its ability to swim back up river when it returned. Now, special devices that bridge the locks and weirs are installed to help the eels movement up the river. One of the boaters declares ‘Lock Pastie!” before tucking in, as Alan and his team close the rear gates approaching boaters shout to be let in so they open it again, the boaters cheer! Just as they close the gate again another request, which adds to the workload and they open and close the gate again. A couple with a baby in a papoose, a dog crying, ‘No Fishing’. The cycle continues, water only heading down stream, as are the boaters, towards the sea. They’re nearly there after two days of paddling, on the last leg to Cattawade and the finish line to collect their certificate. An Irish Wolf Hound, its owner with similarly proportioned legs, a few spots of rain, a quiet moment before the lock is ready to go again, and a new lot of boats fill it up. Somehow its only now, at 55 minutes in, that I feel like I’m imposing, and thankfully the hour beep in my headphones soon sounds itself, I need to let it roll for a couple more minutes to give me room to edit off the rusting and faffing about when setting up and stopping. Unfortunately I didn’t see my friends come through. Listen to the whole hour on our YouTube page. *Due to the large number of members of the public in this film, that are clearly recognisable, I have uploaded this version that uses a still image of the location instead of the film footage. I gained permission from the River Stour Trust volunteers to record them.*  Yesterday a storm front blew in and passed over head. In front of it the warm summer air and behind it the cooler air of autumn. I didn’t realise until it had passed but the difference was clear and defining. Today the wind is feisty, autumnal, and its effects on the trees dominates the sonic space. Imagine being a tree, or a nomad, constantly at the mercy of the elements. No wonder the leaves are browning, yellowing, reddening, having endured months of intense sunlight, rain, wind, with no respite. Those fragile paper thin structures, so hardy.
I have come on a Friday to avoid the hordes, families, paddleboarders, dog owners, smokers, and sometimes that’s just one person, screaming, splashing, smiling, relaxing. Living. But that’s not for me. I prefer the quiet solitude of off-peak. I usually prefer off-piste too, but this project is otherwise, out of my comfort zone and into the spotlight, but doing what I enjoy most. Pond skaters, ducks, the weir letting the Stour trickle through, holding it back, keeping it slow and steady, like the rental revenue on those flats in the Mill building. It is a different mill to in Constable’s time, but still. It stands as a monument to industry, labour, the effort of those generations making their daily bread, surviving, working for the man. It is strange that in just one spot, place, so many decisions, influences, powers, monies, have come to gather to make a once navigable river to transport goods, from Mistley, where seagoing vessels were unloaded on to Lighters (barges) as far inland as the ‘port’ of Sudnury. And then to transport different goods in the reverse direction. Just a few decades later and it was superseded by the railways. A man on a strange paddle board/seagoing kayak/super yacht hybrid, lots of berries on the trees in readiness for winter, some harsh pruning. He notices me, and the kit, and studies us for a while before paddling off. I have swam in this mill pond several times but the water quality is too bad now, my trunks staying put in their new drawer for a good few months yet. ‘Danger: Deep Water’. I hope someone is in deep water and that CEO’s the land over are carrying the can for the unacceptable state of the Countries waterways. A woman in a puffer jacket taking a photograph across the pond, a damsel fly, which is one of the 22 species on this river, I am unable to tell which, a woman jogging, fish making swirls on the waters surface, a dark cloud covering the sun and turning off the heat. One day this place will not be here, and all of the memories of it will be gone. A sock in a tree, a bus heading to Dedham, a motorbike, those with the loudest mouths, exhausts, will be remembered, a man looking at the mic as he goes by, two people all dressed in blue with binoculars, the fish trying to catch flies just above the waters surface, a couple that I have seen four times walking their dog but the man walks ahead followed by the dog pulling the woman reluctantly along, a strimmer or maybe a hedge trimmer. Watch the whole hour on YouTube.  Tourists taking photos, a woman coming from the Mill Residencies, a man singing, a chat about exam results, a man getting his photo taken with a baby, I’m featuring in people’s photographs, or influencing their decision not to take one, being in ‘the’ spot means that others also gravitate there, pause to get ‘the’ shot, then leave, voices of sports players drift on the wind, bicycles on the gravel, one of the cyclists singing, people waiting on the other bench getting bored waiting for me to move on so they go off in a huff, a cormorant, a light aircraft, tourists being dropped off by a Toyota EV, a man asking if the recording kit is mine, the tourists taking longer to get in the car than they were looking at the view, distant motor bikes, Moorhen, sitting on the bench in memory or Edna Cartwright, wood pigeons flitting from tree to the chimney on Willy Lott’s House, two cars, one coming in and one going out, jackdaws, the lad from the car coming in walking past and going in to Mill House, dog growling at the mic, a Kite ridind the wind.
As the world burns, fights, suffers, warms, society slowly implodes, capitalism collapses, doubles down, genocide is administered, famine engineered, drones are optimised for warfare, billions syphoned away from social needs, people exploited, trafficked, abused, killed, left to rot or fend for themselves, resources mined, the earth torn apart, extracted, refined, manufactured, advertised, marketed, sold, used, thrown away. All of that is happening right now, everywhere, except here. Here there are people making memories, sharing time together, making the most of the late warm summer afternoon, getting a glimpse of the chocolate box, the Moorhen wrestling with some weed, Willy Lott’s Cottage, of the ladies blue hair. Sheltered, protected, preserved, presented. Sheltering me, protecting me, preserving me, presenting me, as the chocolate box? There is always a chocolate that is the least favoured, but less weight gained by not eating those. The high whispy clouds of this tranquil vista visible but out of reach could easily be the smoke of destruction a screen to hide the horrors behind heavens and hells are the same ideology but from the view points of the perpetrators or victims. Now on Youtube.  It took a while to locate the position of this painting. After researching on Google Street View I initially thought it was down School Street, or from a garden on that road, but following my nose and eyes I saw a large bank on the east of the now B1087, or Church Street. It was hard to get to a position where the white cottage o the left was near enough to the church, but it may not be the building in the painting. Anyhow, the paintings are often not exactly depicting the topography. With the path and overhanging trees to the right and church at around the correct distance, and without any local knowledge, I felt it was a reasonable guess. Also, Church Street in the bottom of the frame looks to be a by pass so may not have even been in existence during the 1810’s. More research needed here. This road is now pretty busy, even on a Sunday morning. A substantial house has also been built on Church Street since Constables time but the occupants of this provided some additional sounds on the recording. It is September tomorrow and there is some bird activity returning to the quiet summer months. It feels as if there has been a long summer this year, starting in May with some very hot periods outweighing the grey and rainy moments. There is a dampness this morning, autumn is early as the blackberries are over already, the leaves and plums are falling, and the pears are nearly ready. An upside to filming, which I do on my phone, means I can sit, listen, slow down, think, immerse myself more fully in being ‘here’. But not having the phone means that I can’t identify birds in real time (and have to do this during post production), identify aircraft destinations or take photographs. Having two phone would definitely be excessive. I make my movements at the same time as louder noises such as cars, so that listeners are distracted by the sounds and not by my stretching out a leg with pins and needles etc. Saturday drivers, cyclists powering up the hill, an easy rider on an electric bike, dog walkers, a yapping dog in a walled garden, a telescopic truck with no forks, a 20mph Zone that no one slows for, the moisture from the moss on the bench finally reaching my arse, a lady bird on the arm of the bench walking over the moss instead of around it, its existence not previously witnessed or noted, 3 out of three cars with their windows firmly to the top not letting the fresh rural morning air in, actually filled with the scent of a two stroke engine, whips featherlike streaks of cloud coming from the south, feint fluffy bals of cloud, lower, coming from the west, the ladybird flying towards them, a lady closing her balcony door, she had been letting the fresh rural morning air in, cyclists freewheeling down the hill, the sound of the wind in the trees, the sound of ash windows being opened, the smell of coal. I’m finding it hard to zone in today. I think that will change if I up the frequency of recording trips. It is always about time, and the quality of time. Then the quantity of quality time. Birds identified are Magpie, Dunnock, Wren, Coal Tit, Chiffchaff, Blackbird, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Great Tit, Jackdaw, Long Tailed Tit, Nuthatch, Collared Dove, Blue Tit, Wood Pigeon, Robin. The full recording is now on YouTube. |
AuthorField notes from Stuart Bowditch, an independent field recordist working on Constable Ambisonic. Archives
October 2025
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