030 vibra delta
029 algorithmic accompaniment
028 high-performance computing
027 between utility and contradiction
026 outside recordings vol.5 _ sipoonkorpi 
025 additional thoughts on
024 signal extraction
023 avoinna joka päivä
022 fricciópressió
021 imagining new forms
020 akousma pt.II
019 an approach to resilience
018 one step back, everyone!
017 container
016 ōki-sa
015 experiri ensemble
014 outside recordings vol.4 _ japan
013 shinjuku electrical walk
012 three movements for cellphone
011 distorted tunes test
010 estudi modular
009 outside recordings vol.3 _ costa rica
008  1.1 plants are deceptive
007 akousma
006 soroll
005 las hojas 
004 outside recordings vol.2 _ bolivia
003 institute for new feeling 
002 outside recordings vol.1 _ iceland
001 (sub)urban plants



info
performances
discography
podcast

cristian subirà hybrid sound documentalista




030 excerpt
sound piece _ 10 min _ 2025 


vibra delta is a sound work developed during a two-week residency in sant jaume d’enveja, in the delta de l’ebre, within the framework of the eufònic festival. conceived during the extended period of investigation, documentation, and methodological testing that shaped signal extraction, the piece emerges as a site-specific response.


the region is far from static: its landscape is continually reshaped by rice fields, industrial corridors, migratory birds, and fishing ports, while facing the looming threat of partial disappearance due to rising sea levels. It is a territory marked by both vulnerability and vitality. this tension provided the backdrop for my listening practice.


unlike previous initiatives that relied on fieldwork for subsequent manipulation, where I deliberately used a single recording technique, here I employed a variety of complementary devices: stereo environmental recordings, a contact microphone, and the soma ether v2 system, designed to capture infrasonic frequencies. this methodological expansion allowed me to articulate diverse layers of listening, reflecting the multiplicity of correspondences within the territory.

vibra delta is a sonic exploration of fragility, pressure, and resonance, where the organic and the artificial intersect, bringing to the surface the imperceptible, often invisible dialogues that emerge between human and non-human—and the often overlooked sounds that shape its daily life.



029 jnygzzpw with shu (术)
music _ 36 min _ 2025 
in collaboration with nueen _ nadia marcus, shu (术), harrga, fumitake tamura, more eaze and pasaporteman
digitally released by stroom


algorithmic accompaniment seeks to sonically explore the emotional disconnection that deepens as we embrace a vision of progress, highlighting the alienation that comes with the pursuit of a digital eden. using heavily manipulated and degraded stems to craft dystopian, retrofuturist, and non-sellable jingles, the record reflects on our growing dependence on ai systems and how they risk sidelining essential human values like empathy, intuition, and social connection. this tech-driven narrative, with its focus on productivity and profit, raises urgent questions about power concentration, bias, control, inequality, privacy, and the erosion of personal autonomy.
by weaving together the voices of various artists, the project aims to craft a tapestry of experiences that invites listeners to reimagine how we relate to one another and to our increasingly mediated world.

is this truly the unicorn paradise promised by silicon valley—or something far more troubling?



028 excerpt
sound piece _ 15 hours _ 2025 


in the modern world, algorithms play a central role in shaping economic models and decision-making, influencing many aspects of daily life. this "algorithmic accompaniment of society" aims to enhance efficiency, minimize risks, and improve quality of living across various socioeconomic backgrounds. the primary objective is optimization, with algorithms analyzing vast data to guide precise decisions in areas like supply chains, marketing, and healthcare. the rise of ai and machine learning has further amplified these capabilities, enabling unprecedented levels of customization.


however, this technological progress brings significant ethical and societal challenges, including concerns about transparency, accountability, and fairness. while designed to optimize outcomes, algorithms can inadvertently perpetuate biases, reinforce inequalities, and compromise privacy, making it difficult to understand or challenge their decisions.

against this backdrop, high-performance computing emerges to combine two seemingly unrelated forms of modern mysticism, blending the esoteric realms of numerology with the data-driven zeitgeist of the modern era. yet this act—despite its apparent contradictions—is based on a return to ancestral divinatory practices in our hypermodern age: the most advanced technologies leading us back to the oldest cultural rituals—attempts to control uncertainty. prediction becomes the new determinism, not by opening futures, but by enclosing reality within patterns extracted from information.

at its core, the project uses an experimental sampler and its artificial intelligence to compose and produce music. over the course of 30 days, I embarked on a journey through the algorithm, dedicating 30 minutes each day to recording music using 30 carefully created samples, with all rhythmic patterns based on multiples of the number 3. the significance of the number 3(0) is not arbitrary; it was chosen for its association with balance, urging us to seek equilibrium in both our physical and emotional domains. 


in a paradoxical and somewhat ironic twist, the assistance of artificial intelligence to gather samples of nothing, is enlisted in a quest to create yet another superfluous wellness tool. this pursuit, while ostensibly aimed at enhancing well-being, ultimately contributes to the proliferation of digital detritus through a 15-hour piece, adding to the ever-expanding repositories of data stored on remote servers. this fusion results in an abundance of surplus and somewhat inefficient music, not designed to solve complex problems.

high-performance computing prompts a rethinking of our views on progress, innovation, and technology's role in shaping our future. or maybe not. 





027
text _ 2025


in the current context—whether called the anthropocene, the capitalocene, or the third industrial revolution—one of the values most deeply ingrained in the collective imagination is utility. what is "useful" is that which has a practical function, serves a specific purpose, or generates some kind of benefit. this applies to objects, knowledge, actions, or even people, always from a productive perspective. under this dominant logic, anything that doesn't fit within these parameters is considered useless.

nuccio ordine reflects on this issue in l'utilità dell'inutile, where he exposes the paradox that precisely what is considered "useless"—art, literature, philosophy, and the humanities—is essential for human development and the enrichment of society. in contrast to the modern obsession with performance and profitability, ordine defends the intrinsic value of knowledge and creativity, detached from their immediate utility. his critique points to the reduction of education and culture to mere economic tools, reminding us that many of humanity's greatest achievements have emerged from curiosity and passion, rather than practical need.


in no way can my projects be framed within this category; the category of great achievements. not at all. they are small, personal initiatives driven by the need to explore, expand knowledge, and stimulate my own creative processes. they exist in a separate territory from my professional activities, although both coexist and, at times, interact. what might seem like a contradiction has led to the creation of a less conditioned, freer space: a conscious amateurism, moved by concerns and impulses, exploring unusual places in the form of records, collaborations, live performances, field recordings, installations, and sound pieces.

however, after years of undertaking projects for the simple sake of doing them, today I find myself in a complex dichotomy: to adapt them or not to the logic of utility. even when I do not intend to, the adaptation of these processes for gaining access to artistic residencies or grants looms over my writing. thinking about their funding and the amortization of the time for research and development makes the idea of profit hover over my creative logic. I hope it is satellite-like, not central. but there it is, another contradiction that runs through not only the final result but also the very conceptualization of each project.


at this point, an uncomfortable question arises: is it cynical to seek institutional funding for projects that, in essence, question the idea of utility and productivity? that, through their logic of reward, impose a competitive process? that demand a result?

in any case, contradictions aside, this approach led me to receive a grant from the kone foundation for signal extraction, for which I had the privilege of dedicating several months to research. beyond delving into issues related to the project, this time allowed me to reflect on my creative process, my motivations, and, above all, on unfinished processes. I felt the need to close certain stages in order to move forward, to give coherence to ideas that had been waiting for approval or feedback. to embark on a necessary parallel journey: those unfinished projects would not only nourish my research, but in a reciprocal cycle, they would give new meaning to works that over time had become decontextualized.

one of those projects on hiatus,—and the one that mainly motivates this unnecessary written reflection—is high-performance computing. its origin dates back two years, after reading the works of éric sadin, published in spanish by caja negra. in them, sadin conducts a deep critique of the impact of digital technologies on society, addressing topics such as control and surveillance, automation and the loss of human autonomy, the massive circulation of data, the alteration of subjectivity, and the fragility of democracies. his reading led me to others, and little by little, I began weaving ideas around the false technocratic narrative about the neutrality of algorithms and the ethical challenges they bring.


in parallel, my interest in these issues coincide with a free workshop on audiostellar, taught by its creators from the university of buenos aires. audiostellar is a sampler with procedural generation that, through algorithms, creates random sound patterns from simple instructions. its level of control is adjustable, allowing for a hybrid dialogue between the user and the machine.

through this strange conversation, the idea for a piece emerged—not only to reflect an ambivalent relationship with the software itself, but also with technology more broadly. my practice is not exempt from industrial processes from the moment I begin developing a project. despite my dependence on digital tools, I also question their ethical, social, and ecological implications. there is a constant tension between use and critique. while inhabiting this environment, I make no attempt to conceal my own presence within the problem I seek to analyze. as a result, no clear answers emerge—only questions born of my own inconsistencies, which are an integral part of the process.

it is from this thread —rooted in contradiction and tension—that the project begins to take conceptual shape. at this point, éric sadin reappears in my notes, expanding on the idea through an apparently antagonistic concept: the "algorithmic accompaniment of life." this notion suggests that algorithms shape our experiences, both in the everyday and the transcendent—specters that observe our consumption patterns, integrated into our daily tasks, lurking: hidden, intangible.

from there, the first actionable premise was to establish a conscious and consensual relationship with algorithms. and this relationship had to extend over time: 30 days—a period long enough to gather samples of nothing. additionally, all the rhythmic patterns chosen would be multiples of the number 3, and 30 samples would also be selected—a choice that was not arbitrary. beyond representing cyclical regularity in calendars, numerology associates these numbers with balance, urging us to seek harmony in both physical and emotional realms. considering the current state of things—our daily zeitgeist so intimately tied to numbers—I was drawn to the idea of combining two disparate forms of mysticism: numerology and the cult of data.


by setting a point of convergence between the esoteric and the technological, it blurs seemingly compartmentalized spaces by fusing numerology with the predictive power of artificial intelligence. yet this act—despite its apparent contradictions—echoes what elena esposito describes as a return to ancestral divinatory practices in our hypermodern age: the most advanced technologies leading us back to the oldest cultural rituals—attempts to control uncertainty. prediction becomes the new determinism, not by opening futures, but by enclosing reality within patterns extracted from data. as jorge luis marzo warns in his book las videntes (the seers), this “productive truth” allows little room for alternatives. algorithms predict not by explaining or reasoning, but by offering patterns that are unquestionable—precisely because they lack justification beyond correlation. ai thus assumes the role of the oracle, not to enlighten, but to reinforce the inevitability of what is to come.


regardless of the cyberocratic narrative’s insistence that technology will lead us to a "better place," the facts invite doubt. the obsession with optimization risks eclipsing the value of subjective experience, sidelining key aspects of our well-being such as creativity, empathy, and social connection—dimensions that are impossible to quantify.

what defines current ai is not its ability to replicate our imagination or playfulness with the goal of surpassing them, but rather its capacity to vastly exceed human brainpower in specific tasks. this allows ai to perform activities at a speed, efficiency, and reliability far beyond our own. ultimately, everything is reduced to productivity and profit.

that, more or less, is the conceptual framework of a project that remained dormant for two years—mainly because I applied to several grants and residencies, but it was never selected. during this time, what lasted was not a piece to be exhibited or performed, but an unfinished process, a suspended proposition. I was comfortable with its lack of finalization. over time, I began to understand this not as failure, but as a different kind of approach—one that resists closure, production, and measurable success. perhaps even one that was more coherent with the very ideas I was trying to explore.

this understanding held—until last may, when I decided to return to it and bring it to completion. not to fulfill a requirement or meet a deadline, but simply to engage in a project for its own sake. to embark on a modest, unnecessary symbolic act: the creation of surplus, purposeless music, rooted in an impractical commitment to repetitive actions—invisible, anonymous, and disconnected—carried out in the intimacy of my home. with no aim to solve problems, aspire to utopia, or induce happiness—it exists simply to exist.

because it is difficult to imagine a world without representation—a world in which any form of "excess" has been eliminated. a world where we live only in relation to what is useful, surrounded solely by functional objects and efficient signs.

high-performance computing exposes the contradictions inherent in our relationship with technology. its very conceptualization—and even more so, its process: slow, dependent on institutional or festival validation, striving to conform to a productive logic—riddled with inconsistencies and nuance. these tensions compel us to reflect on our assumptions about progress and optimization. or perhaps not. after all, the project’s initial premise was explicit: to engage in an utterly useless initiative—one that rejects even the need for justification.




026 excerpt
field recordings _ 36 min _ 2025


the fifth edition of this ongoing series is dedicated to sipoonkorpi national park and its surrounding areas. this project emerges as an extension of signal extraction, expanding its framework by sharing fieldwork and presenting a selection of sound samples, some of which are incorporated into the final composition.

in contrast to previous initiatives that relied exclusively on stereo environmental recording, this edition introduces complementary devices: a contact microphone and the soma system, designed to capture infrasonic frequencies. this methodological expansion enables the articulation of multiple layers of listening —vibration transmitted through matter, standardized capture, and that which lies beyond human audition— thereby challenging the notion of a singular “sonic document.” listening itself, conceived through these multiple subjectivities, generates tensions and ambivalences that interrogate the very idea of boundary or limit.


electromagnetic residues generated by human activity are omnipresent: dispersed, spectral, ubiquitous, yet constant in increasingly saturated environments. by proposing a mode of listening that weaves together the audible and the inaudible, this project seeks to reflect on how, today, the natural and the artificial are no longer opposed, but interlaced as layers of a shared palimpsest. machines are not merely introduced into the natural realm; they have become inseparable from it, embedded within its material fabric.

in continuity with earlier projects — outside recordings vol. 1 – iceland or one step back, everyone! — this work explores new strategies for documenting and problematizing the experience of cohabiting natural environments. rather than concealing technological mediation or my own presence, I place myself within the acoustic narration. I do not seek to stand behind what I record: my equipment, my listening, and my presence are unequivocally part of the forces shaping this ambiguous sonic spectrum.






025
text _ 2025


in an era increasingly defined by extraction—of data, minerals, attention, and meaning—exploring the hidden frequencies that permeate the landscape helps us understand the entangled relationships between humans, technologies, and ecosystems. in this context, listening becomes an act of relation: a way of situating oneself within a vibrating web of affective, biological, and infrastructural flows.

as sound moves through space, it crosses human-constructed boundaries and confronts both ancient and contemporary narratives. it questions the very meaning of borders. within the porous frame of an acoustic field, distinctions between what is protected or polluted, public or private, here or there, us and them—become increasingly ambiguous.


perhaps we need to open a portal toward rethinking the ethics of presence. if trees can function as antennas, and forests resonate with signals we barely understand, the task is not to speak for nature, but to listen with it. long-term survival depends not on dominance, but on symbiosis. the challenge we face is not only ecological but ontological: to reimagine what it means to be human in a more-than-human world.

this is becoming increasingly difficult, as joseph kosuth observes, because we now live in a fully enculturated world—one in which we are largely detached from it. our categories of value are no longer rooted in ecosystems but in economic abstractions. this estrangement explains, for instance, why dead trees are often viewed as disorderly rather than as vibrant sites of ecological richness—something I encountered firsthand in sipoonkorpi national park. It also sheds light on why plant perception is still tainted by pseudoscientific stigma, despite growing evidence of vegetal intelligence. we have reduced nature to spectacle or resource, severing the symbolic and emotional contracts that once bound us to it.


attempting to return to a pre-industrial silence is naïve. instead, we must acknowledge that the so-called natural and artificial are no longer opposites, but interwoven layers of the same palimpsest. as leo marx's metaphor of “the machine in the garden” reminds us, the mechanical and the organic now coexist uneasily in our landscapes. the machine is not simply intruding into nature—it is embedded within it. the tension lies not in their opposition, but in their interdependence.

the electromagnetic residue of human activity serves as a haunting reminder that no place is truly “pure.” it calls into question the persistent illusion that nature exists “outside,” in pristine fragments untouched by human interference. even within national parks, we are embedded in networks—of surveillance, energy infrastructures, noise pollution, and colonial economies—that collapse the illusion of dichotomy. the forest no longer offers refuge from the systems that produced it; rather, it exposes their extent. finland, despite its vast forest cover, exemplifies this paradox: approximately 90% of its woodlands are managed for industrial purposes. the idea of unaltered nature is, in itself, a cultural construction—a carefully curated illusion.


but the issue at stake here involves more than physical movement through landscapes. It concerns perceptual responsibility. we must recognize that sound—like knowledge—is partial, situated, and often ephemeral. the tree, as metaphor, and the open-ended nature of this project both reflect that principle, in a world where monoculture forestry mirrors monocultural thought.

listening is not a passive act. it is a commitment—a relational praxis. what matters is not simply what we hear, but how we choose to listen. it is a way of inhabiting the planet with more humility—and perhaps, with more care. 




024 excerpt
sound piece _ 20 min _ 2025
funded by the kone foundation  


this piece was composed from recordings made in sipoonkorpi national park and along its edges, using a custom-built device that converts electromagnetic interference into sound. trees functioned as natural antennas, capturing “inaudible ” frequencies that were later manipulated and arranged.

the fieldwork extended beyond the park’s interior into surrounding areas—residential zones, highways, and industrial corridors—tracing the entangled flows of energy, sound, and information that disregard socially constructed boundaries.


walking over 200 kilometers and crossing these lines became a method of interrogating the idea of margins: what lies inside or outside a “protected” space, and how human infrastructures both define and confine. this approach also engaged with finland’s jokamiehenoikeus (everyone’s right to access nature), exploring how this principle persists—or is challenged—within landscapes shaped by global extractivism and hyper-industrialization.

in an era where technology governs territory often without direct human presence, the project turns to the biological ambiguity of trees—organisms that, while lacking ears or nervous systems like animals, exhibit environmental sensitivity through structures such as plasmodesmata, allowing them to respond to stimuli, including sound vibrations.


this is not a scientific inquiry. rather, it embraces subjectivity, embodied experience, and listening as a relational act, proposing alternative modes of perception. it confronts the acoustic consequences of modern life, where noise pollution becomes a subtle yet pervasive form of control and colonization. even the most remote forests are saturated with anthropogenic pressures, shifting the world from an extensive to an intensive condition—no longer defined by distance, but by density.




023 excerpt
field recording _35 min _ 2025


avoinna joka päivä (finnish for “open every day”) is a field recording initiative developed alongside the signal extraction project. the idea emerged from my walks around the fringes of sipoonkorpi national park, where I observed how human-made infrastructures confine the forest. interlaced highways, industrial zones, and residential developments blur the limits between where nature ends and human systems begin.

one of the most striking examples of this entanglement is the massive ikea in vantaa. this complex stands as a symbol of the built environment that encroaches upon and reshapes this forest—both physically and conceptually—in an area that, paradoxically, was likely once home to trees belonging to the sipoonkorpi ecosystem, had there been no human intervention.


in a broader frame, ikea becomes more than just a neighbor to the forest—it represents a new phase in the commodification of living wood. a tree becomes a chair, which enters a home, and eventually returns as waste or recycled material—all within a tightly orchestrated global economy of extraction. this process creates a false sense of circularity. the furniture itself, likely made from wood harvested far from finland, reflects the complexity of tracing a clear line through the flows of energy, matter, and information that underpin our consumer habits.

this blurring of boundaries reveals how economic abstractions connect two seemingly opposite spaces: national parks and ikea stores. but there is something else, something subtler yet quietly striking. despite their contrasting appearances, a shared feature emerges: circular paths. both the forest trail and the exhibition route are designed to guide visitors along predetermined tracks. these paths leave no room for improvisation, no space to wander freely. they are constructed to manage movement, shaped by the logic of centralized planning and spatial control.


these systems—rooted in efficiency—also shape how we experience so-called “protected” zones. like ikea, many national parks have become curated showcases: landscapes preserved not for their ecological complexity or connection to local communities, but for visual consumption. they now serve the tourism and leisure economy, offering sanitized encounters with “nature” that sideline both ecosystems and the people who live near or within them. what emerges is an urban vision of the landscape—where visitors are passive spectators, disconnected from the living systems they claim to experience.

avoinna joka päivä is a long-duration sound recording that documents a walk along one of these circular, standardized paths—mirroring the layout found in every ikea warehouse. the recording is unedited and unmanipulated, aside from minor equalization to balance low frequencies. my footsteps, my breath, the friction of the recorder against my chest, and the pressure saturating the microphone all become part of the acoustic narrative. I make no attempt to erase or neutralize my presence. on the contrary, I foreground its contradictions. I am there too—walking, consuming. 24/7. buying those objects that were once trees. 





022  
sound pieces _ 5 min _ 2025


the invitation to contribute to the tenth-anniversary compilation of mutan monkey came while I was in delta de l’ebre, taking part in the eufònic festival residency.

at the time, I was recording with an ovno wood contact microphone—designed and handmade by rober martínez, the founder of the initiative. it was one of those coincidences one tends to interpret as a sign: accepting the proposal felt like a natural, almost reflexive decision, as I deeply resonate with the values that mutant monkey embodies.

 
I decided that my contribution would be a small homage—not only to rober, but also to the territory I found myself in: delta de l’ebre. a landscape in constant transition.

for that reason, I chose to work exclusively with the ovno wood contact microphone and two elements that felt deeply representative of the area: the observation towers—structures that invite attentive looking and listening—and the mistral wind, which blows forcefully from the northwest in april, drying the land, clearing the sky, and supporting bird migration.

the first piece, fricció, is built from the friction of my foot against one of these metal observation structures. I recorded five layers of sound, all derived from the same physical action, with minimal variations that produce an oscillating and fragile movement. the harmonies emerge almost by accident, hesitant, as if resisting resolution.

the second piece, pressió, stems from a less controlled situation. in this case, I recorded six independent tracks, all captured from the vibrations caused by the mistral wind on various surfaces in the surrounding environment. here, the human gesture disappears, and it is the wind itself that acts as composer—creating an unstable, generative, almost automaton-like texture.





021
text for at the well blog _ kone foundation _ 2025


[the power of myth: stories as survival tools]

edward osborne wilson, in his book consilience: the unity of knowledge, presents the idea that no tribe or society can survive for long without a myth that explains the meaning of its existence. since the dawn of humanity, stories and fables have been deeply rooted in our species; they help us understand who we are and shape civilizations. tribes and cultures have used these narratives to establish a common purpose, define their collective identity, and make sense of their place in the world. without these unifying stories, societies lose direction and eventually fragment.

wilson connects this idea to evolutionary biology, arguing that humans have an innate predisposition toward myth-making, as these narratives have played an adaptive role in social evolution. myths not only explained natural phenomena (before science took on that role) but also reinforced ethical values, norms, and group cohesion, enabling communities to organize and survive in a hostile world.


[capitalism as myth: the dominant narrative of our time]

for some time now, the dominant myth in our society has been that of capitalism. we have internalized its narrative of perpetual growth, productivity, competition, survival of the fittest, and relentless consumption. under this logic, both humans and non-humans are reduced to mere resources. this relatively recent myth dates back to the late 18th century and finds one of its conceptual pillars in the wealth of nations by adam smith. more than simply describing reality, smith constructed a speculation based on a specific social context: the industrial revolution and rationalism. in his work, he did not merely analyze what was happening but prescribed what should happen—offering the belief that salvation from hunger, misery, and fear lay in technology and a certain economic organization. thus, economic liberalism was structured like a religion, with promises of progress and rewards for those who devoted themselves fully to work. above all, smith was a moral philosopher, not an economist.

with the industrial revolution, new emotions emerged along with a language that reflected them. the idea that growth and progress rewarded human life above all other forms of life was promoted. devotion to work became a fundamental principle, while values such as respect, community, and care were marginalized. despite political changes and opposing ideologies, the myth of infinite growth has endured, even shared by supposedly antagonistic projects. productivity continues to determine people's value in society.


today, we are living the consequences of having followed this narrative to its ultimate implications. beyond growing inequality, one of its most evident manifestations is climate change and its collateral effects. in light of this reality, my creative practice has increasingly shifted toward exploring these issues. I aim to approach them from a conscious and critical perspective, acknowledging both the contradictions inherent in my own position and the privileges from which I observe. although reflective, I choose to assume the role of a non-researcher, fully aware that every project carries its own biases.

this space, especially in the context of carrying out signal extraction within the framework of the kone foundation grant, has allowed me to expand my knowledge on issues related to this field. throughout my exploration, I have not only observed how the deeply rooted logics of the capitalist myth are present in contemporary extractivism but also how they interact with narratives about the future.

in libraries, I have noticed the abundance of books with catastrophic titles that reinforce an apocalyptic vision of tomorrow. the same happens in news and publications. the dominant discourse—ranging from generalist to technical-scientific—tends to unify a sense of imminent loss, anticipatory mourning, and inevitable danger, saturating us with negative messages, whether explicit or implicit. even though, in most cases, the intention is to raise awareness, is it not possible that this narrative, while confirming data, facts, and conclusions, also generates fear? a fear that prevents action? a paralysis that leads to frustration? if fear is the predominant emotion in this discourse, what effect does it have on our ability to respond?

emotions, after all, are the driving force behind our actions—the word itself comes from the latin movere (to move) and emovere (to stir, to agitate). they mobilize us, affect us, propel us forward, or hold us back. in this context, it is understandable that emotions are used to raise awareness. but when fear functions as the primary tool, the issue becomes more problematic.

[fear, emotion, and ecological detachment]

fear has become the predominant social emotion of our time and perhaps the most corrosive. it overwhelms us when we hear news about technologies that threaten to replace us, lurking viruses, extreme ideologies, latent wars, or the possibly irreversible effects of our footprint on the planet. these phenomena share a common denominator: they are vast, uncontrollable, and difficult to grasp. they escape our control to the same extent that they threaten our security. this can generate anxiety and unease, intensifying the feeling of isolation in the digital age.


we have shifted from worrying about local transformations to fearing global ones. as humans become more powerful as a species, so does our impact—especially on ourselves. so much so that we are experiencing a kind of emotional detachment from our environment, which is evident in the phenomenon of ‘generational amnesia’ or the ‘shifting baseline syndrome’. this concept, studied in ecology and environmental sciences, suggests that each generation perceives the state of the environment it experiences as ‘normal’, without realizing the extent of the environmental degradation that has occurred over time. in other words, the very changes that should concern us are often invisible because they have gradually become the baseline for our daily existence. as joseph kosuth points out, ‘we live in a fully enculturated world that is out of control precisely because it operates independently of nature’. this detachment—rooted in our inability to recognize the deeper ecological shifts—is a direct result of our disconnection from the long-term consequences of our actions.

the privatization of the world has reinforced the idea that we are no longer full participants in the life of the planet but merely cogs in a complex mechanism, highlighting binary positions regarding the non-human. in this context, the economy continues to grow while the quality of life for the majority remains stagnant or worsens. the current situation generates an immeasurable amount of pain and suffering across much of the planet. this invites doubt. I, too, have many. but, in the same way, I doubt that this almost dystopian narrative encourages us to imagine other possible futures.


[reimagining the future: toward new myths and collective possibilities]

marina garcés, in a world in common, refers to this from the perspective of the ‘crisis of imagination’ and identifies it as one of the main limitations of our time. this is not just a cultural or artistic problem but an inability to think of alternatives and build collectively. according to garcés, we live in a present that seems unchangeable, where the future is trapped between catastrophic visions and technocratic solutions. recovering imagination is not merely a creative exercise but a political act—it means challenging the limits of what is possible and constructing real alternatives to the current system.

another author who reflects on this issue is glenn albrecht. aware of the emotional impact caused by constant exposure to the climate crisis and its consequences, he argues for the need to expand our vocabulary to name these experiences. thus, he introduces terms such as solastalgia, the deep pain we feel when witnessing the irreversible degradation of our environment, and mermerosity, the anxiety over the disappearance of the familiar and its replacement by something alien. in response to these emotions of loss and anguish, he proposes concepts like eutierria, a sense of connection and harmony with the earth, and the symbiocene, a future era in which humanity learns to live in symbiosis with nature, in contrast to the destructive anthropocene. through this approach, albrecht not only expands language but also invites us to imagine new ways of inhabiting the world based on regeneration and balance.

donna haraway, for her part, suggests abandoning apocalyptic narratives and constructing new myths that redefine our relationship with the world. in her concept of the chthulucene, she advocates for learning to live in symbiosis with other species and using speculative fiction as a tool to imagine alternative futures. ursula k. le guin, in a similar vein, critiques the narrative of the ‘conquering hero’ and proposes myths based on cooperation and radical imagination. these approaches seek to re-enchant our understanding of the world, recover a more interconnected vision of existence, and offer stories that reconcile us with our environment.

yet, this push to create new, more harmonious chronicles stands in stark contrast to a deeper paradox: while the need for fresh stories intensifies, the advancement of scientific knowledge—meant to connect us with the environment—is set on an increasingly dehumanized world. this knowledge, which should theoretically reconnect us to the essence of who we are and where we come from, instead often reinforces our emotional and symbolic detachment from the non-human, and even from one another.


in light of these contradictions, edward osborne wilson warns that with the rise of science and the decline of traditional belief systems, societies risk losing unifying frameworks. he advocates not for eliminating the humanities or cultural traditions, but for integrating them with science to create a new shared meaning. this idea mirrors that of maría zambrano, who, in clearings in the forest, introduces the concept of poetic reason—a form of thought not governed solely by logic, but one that embraces the sacred, the intuitive, and the symbolic. ultimately, this approach proposes a more holistic understanding of knowledge, one that resists the fragmentation of thought and seeks to counter the "separations".

the climate emergency has synchronized human societies. in the ever-changing world we inhabit, it is crucial to question ecocidal notions and stop projecting the future through the same logic. we are in desperate need of new myths —narratives that include us all. it is time to shift away from industrial morality and focus on what truly makes us human: exploration. let new paths open, let other worlds be imagined within this one, and let real possibilities for humanity emerge. only then can we give meaning to our time and build a shared future.


[epilogue]

to conclude, I would like to return to the late 18th century, this time to speak about another rationalist: nicolas de condorcet, one of the most prominent thinkers of the french enlightenment. known for his contributions to political and social theory, as well as his advocacy for progress and human rights, condorcet firmly believed in humanity’s capacity for improvement through education, science, and reason. his vision of the future was tied to the idea of continuous advancement, where knowledge and justice would lead to a more equitable society. for this reason, he championed the abolition of slavery, equal rights for women, and a system based on collective well-being.

esquisse d'un tableau historique des progrès de l'esprit humain, his most celebrated work, published posthumously, is a manifesto on human potential. in it, condorcet envisions a future where liberty and equality have triumphed, science flourishes, and humanity, guided by reason, leaves ignorance and oppression behind. however, what stands out most is not his utopianism, but the context in which he wrote this text. accused of treason by the jacobins for criticizing the new constitution, he was forced into hiding. for five months, concealed in a friend’s home, he wrote his final work while the sound of the guillotine echoed through the streets of paris each morning. eventually, he was captured and locked in a dark, damp cell, where he died under still-uncertain circumstances.

perhaps his optimism was exaggerated, even naive. nevertheless, considering the moment in which he formulated these ideas—amid violence and uncertainty, with his own life at risk—his legacy reminds us of something essential: imagining a different future is not merely an act of desire, but a necessity. like condorcet, we can recognize the shadows of the present without relinquishing the idea of a better tomorrow. because, ultimately, all transformation begins with the ability to imagine what does not yet exist.





020  作曲⑤
sound piece _ 29 min _ 2025


the second (and final) part of akousma unfolds in tokyo, a city of immense density and sonic richness, where future and tradition coexist through abstract rhythms, flows, and interruptions. while the first part of the project centered on urban trees in barcelona—using their acoustic environments as a medium to reflect on ecological, material, artistic, and ethical concerns—this new iteration transposes that inquiry into a vastly different context. 

over the course of 20 days in september 2023, I explored the auditory surroundings of various forms of vegetation in the japanese capital, observing how these relationships extend, identifying points of resonance, and noting the disparities that emerge between both locations.

 
what became clear is that, despite their many contrasts, barcelona and tokyo share a common (and perhaps obvious) sonic thread: traffic. the persistent low-frequency hum of engines remains a ubiquitous presence. yet in tokyo, the widespread use of hybrid vehicles and a hyper-efficient public transportation system—handling over 80% of daily commutes (compared to barcelona’s 40–45%)—contributes to a distinct acoustic profile: less aggressive, more diffuse, and at times, hauntingly quiet.

still, sound pollution—though fleeting and non-accumulative unlike other pollutants—can exert significant physiological and psychological effects. even subtle sonic environments leave a lasting impression. through this lens, I began to perceive the city’s "noise" not as something to eliminate, but as an ecological signal: a trace of how we coexist—or fail to—with the world around us.

why trees, if they lack auditory organs? because, like us, they exist in constant vibrational exchange with their surroundings. they are silent participants in a shared environment. shifting away from an anthropocentric mode of listening allows us to engage more fully with 'the other'. as raoul h. francé noted in the early 20th century, our failure to recognize plant sensitivity stems largely from our failure to truly observe.


and beyond observation, if we are to imagine a fairer and more sustainable future, it may begin with learning to listen with/to—genuinely and symbolically—those who have long gone unheard, whether they speak with words or not.

in addition to this, akousma pt. II was also an attempt—perhaps not entirely successful—to rethink what it means to travel. in contrast to extractive forms of tourism, I approached tokyo as a place to listen to, rather than to see or consume. the project became a practice of attentive presence, guided by sonic disturbances and temporal immersion. trees served not only as (dis)compositional allies for gathering sound material, but also as guides for navigating the overwhelming landscape of the city.

through deliberate acts of selection, omission, and manipulation, I aimed to carve meaning from excess, using only material recorded on site. I sought to extract something personally resonant from sonic artifacts that are not immediately apparent, resulting in a piece consisting of 20 short compositions. 





019
text _ great forest dialogue day _ kone foundation grant_ 2025


motivated by the opportunity to participate in this gathering (in my case, online), I registered under the provisional (and somewhat generic) title on connections with forests, intending to engage in conversations with strangers about our relationship with forests. this took place on march 19, with the hope that someone would email me to arrange a time for a meeting. today, april 2, at 10 a.m., I am still waiting for signs from the virtual world. it happens, and I fully understand. undoubtedly, the most stimulating aspect of these gatherings is being physically present, without the mediation of a screen: the aroma of slightly burnt coffee, the discomfort of that pretentiously designed wooden chair, the strong scent of a newly installed carpet, letting my gaze wander around the room while listening to others. I do not deny that connections can be made through a device, but, without wanting to sound archaic, they are very different experiences: along the way, fiber optics dilute many nuances. undeniably, physical presence is the most fitting environment for what today’s event proposes.

so, with no one to converse with but myself, in the solitary ecosystem of my home, I decide to go ahead with this meeting regardless. it was maría zambrano, in clearings in the forest, who reflected on how internal dialogue becomes a path toward self-knowledge and transcendence. perhaps I will not reach such heights, but at the very least, in my case, it will surely help me organize the notes I intended to share in the hypothetical online meeting. therefore, I proceed. I believe this is the right approach, as it directly connects to some of the aspects I wanted to share in this non-talk: resilience, adaptability, conviviality, and otherness. these are themes that clearly fit within the framework suggested by the title, even if it cannot be denied that it has a somewhat aseptic tone. it has now changed.


following my notes, it is easy to deduce that one of the main axes of the meeting was to share some thoughts on the decidedly non-neutral (nor equidistant) stance of jean-baptiste vidalou, as presented in the book être forêts: habiter des territoires en lutte. an inspiring read that unsettles and challenges, probably because it speaks of people who truly live in these spaces from a dissident position against extractivist and territorial planning logics. a daily practice marked by the defense of these places, much more connected and, therefore, more coherent than my own. I do not consider my approach sterile, but it is true that my relationship with forests is more projected, less tangible. although I inhabit them whenever I can, I do not do so in the way the author proposes or describes.

one of the central issues vidalou addresses is how forests have historically been refuges for communities seeking autonomy and protection from external forces. hence, ‘the logic’ of logging has been so prevalent in western culture since the expansion of the roman empire. forests were considered the habitats of barbarians (from the latin barbarus, meaning foreigner, someone outside roman civilization), making it convenient to eliminate these landscapes, which also obstructed ‘visibility’. thus, it was not only a matter of resources but also a strategy to eradicate spaces of sovereignty through the exercise of subjugation.


since the romans did not fully level the continent, during the middle ages these places became havens for heretics, fugitive peasants, and other persecuted groups, prompting attempts at regulation and privatization under feudal law. while forests had long been perceived as mysterious, magical, and dangerous places, it was during this period that the idea of forests as domains of witches, spirits, and supernatural beings began to take root in popular culture. the medieval christian tradition significantly contributed to constructing this narrative, associating these spaces with the wild, the diabolical, and the dark, in contrast to the city, the symbol of order and civilization.

these enclaves became the last refuge of pagan worship and the dwelling of many women accused of witchcraft: healers, midwives, or wise women who lived on the outskirts of villages, where they could collect medicinal herbs and practice their knowledge without the oversight of the clergy or local authorities. the forest thus became a space of autonomy: there, they could live outside the patriarchal control of feudal and peasant society. in the context of a system of male authority, those ways of life associated with nature—considered "animalistic" or "feminine"—were seen as uncontrollable and were therefore diminished by a mindset that denied any form of otherness.


centuries later, from the late 17th to the late 19th century, the first historical measures were implemented under the banner of 'rationalization' or 'forest planning.' paradoxically, although forested areas globally increased during this period, the forest, as a living and autonomous entity, began to recede. more trees were planted, but their biological dimension was lost. forests came to be seen as a resource, merely a reserve of timber for industry, construction, and imperial expansion. this led to monoculture forestry and homogeneous plantations of fast-growing species, such as pines or eucalyptus, managed under a bureaucratic and state-driven approach that often ignored the vital balance of ecosystems. thus, a landscape emerged, as organic as it was artificial, which persists to this day.

finland, despite having a history distinct from that of central european countries, follows the same territorial management approach. although 75% of its land is covered with trees, it is estimated that 90% of this area is designated for industrial purposes. this reality highlights a paradox: the forest has been domesticated and turned into a managed resource rather than preserved as an autonomous ecosystem. while some areas of virgin forest still exist, particularly in lapland, most finnish forests have been transformed into timber production spaces. these forests are primarily taiga (boreal forest), characterized by acidic soils and a cold climate, favoring the prevalence of hardy species such as pines and firs. the monoculture forestry model is impoverishing the soil and affecting ecological resilience, leading to the loss of species dependent on old-growth forests, such as certain lichens, fungi, and birds.

all of this is part of the broader process of domesticating the living world, which reduces both humans and non-humans to mere raw materials. the anthropocene advances, colonizing everything that has not yet been subdued—a process that forces us to relinquish previous cultural forms and generates a state of amnesia. this erodes our connection to places and disrupts any genuine relationship with their context. the ancient emotional ties to the land, conceived as home, have been deeply damaged. this uprooting distances us from the ancestral worldview in which, for instance, myths played a fundamental role. gone are the stories in which the world tree (maailmanpuu) trapped the sun and moon among its branches, while tapio, the protective spirit of the forests and lord of wild animals, roamed alongside mielikki, goddess of hunting and healing. It seems that only one way of being human remains.

these logics of spatial organization, so deeply shaped by centralized administrations, also influence how we relate to "protected" areas. national parks have become showcases, designed solely for visual consumption. the preservation of these spaces is now based on integrating them into a new economy of tourism, leisure, and ‘contact with nature’, without considering local people or ecosystems. in many countries, indigenous communities have been displaced from their ancestral lands to create nature reserves, which are later exploited by tourism companies—always under the justification that these communities are incapable of managing the land in a ‘rational’ and ‘efficient’ manner. there are no longer any spaces free from external restrictions, nor even the very idea of them, eliminating any living, everyday relationship with the forest: gathering, hunting, and inhabiting are no longer allowed. an urban vision of nature is imposed, in which visitors are mere spectators who "experience" it without truly being part of it.


the general trend toward the privatization of the world leads to a vision in which humans are no longer full participants in life on earth but rather elements trapped within a complex mechanism. the so-called new commons (alternative management models) have failed to dismantle the dominant conceptual frameworks based on binary and abstract oppositions; on the contrary, these remain more present than ever. both capitalism and the ecological crisis push toward the homogenization of ways of life, erasing the diversity of experiences and relationships with the world.

in this state of affairs, the sense of individual powerlessness goes hand in hand with the idea that climate change-related phenomena seem to emerge out of nowhere. our evident dependence on intangible entities (global markets, ai, corporations) and distant forces has made us forget how to interact with our immediate surroundings. we have been stripped of tools for direct action while simultaneously experiencing a crisis of perception.

we live in an era in which our pace of life is no longer shaped by natural or cultural cycles, further exacerbating this ‘division’. contemporary life, marked by constant movement and individualism, has led to a loss of identity and a feeling of existential emptiness. for simone weil, modern societies, increasingly cosmopolitan and focused on material progress, have lost the ability to cultivate deep bonds between humans and their environment. in this process, we have forgotten our ‘emotional astronomy’, as well as ‘affective ecology’ and ‘geographical consciousness’, along with a certain ‘spirituality’ that once connected us to the planet.


here, it is no longer just about the forest itself but about the uses and connections we establish with it. about being part of its fabric rather than experiencing it from a place of detachment. weaving singular relationships. because if we truly inhabit them, we will understand them from perspectives beyond the quantifiable (figures, resources, and data), finding a deeper bond—the rootedness that weil considered essential for achieving a fulfilling life and a true sense of belonging.

from this, something tangible and present may emerge—something less inert, distant from the administrative processes centered on optimization that dominate modern narratives in favor of productivity. it is about inhabiting these spaces in an improvised, even anarchic way, yet still with responsibility. about sketching, however clumsily, new relationships with the environment. in doing so, new sensibilities can arise—shared sensibilities that grow as an alternative to that military science known as territorial planning. not everything has a calculable value; not everything is based on financial management.

this is the commonality that glenn albrecht calls sumbios (living together): coexistence between humans and other living beings. life sustains itself through life, working together to persist. along the same lines, aldo leopold proposed understanding nature not as a resource to be exploited but as a community in which every being has a role and intrinsic value. only in this way can true land health be achieved.

it is necessary to dismantle the old rationalist and cartesian idea that urges humans to be ‘masters and possessors of nature’. we must generate new words, new logics, and erode that cultural construction. what the west calls growth is nothing more than progress devoid of meaning—a narrative always linked to the survival of the fittest, to a constant struggle.

biology provides irrefutable evidence that the fundamental pillars of life are interconnection, diversity, cooperation, homeostasis, and symbiosis. the stability necessary for life’s persistence arises precisely from the homeostasis between different living beings. it is now widely accepted that cooperation between radically different organisms is not an exception but a key process in evolution. in fact, it represents a significant departure from traditional darwinian models that emphasize competition as the primary evolutionary force.


it is in this more direct and even intimate relationship with our surroundings that, following vidalou’s ideas, we can recover the tradition of se cacher/se dissimuler (going into the woods) as a form of resistance. protecting what we call the forest is not just an ecological issue but also a political one, as it involves defending ways of life that challenge the logic of state control and extractivist capitalism—in short, everything "peripheral" that dominant structures seek to silence.

at some point, we may have to become korpikukkia or metsämies* in order for the forest to become a radically political space—truly connected and experienced. a shared and lived enviroment. only through collective and organized action will we be able to face the challenges ahead, always as a coordinated effort and commitment among all involved actors. this requires us to reflect on our values, examine how certain narratives have shaped our ambivalent relationship with forests, and, above all, find a balance between today’s dichotomy: industrial exploitation and untouchable reserves—seeking a hybridization through new organizational models.

our current perspective grants us the ability to analyze and evaluate our past actions (or historical mistakes?) as a species, guided by logical and ethical principles. we must assume this privilege as a great responsibility—one that is urgent to exercise—because nature is all we have and all we are.


----
*korpikukka refers to the forest flower or to people who inhabit and find meaning in nature, particularly in the finnish forests.
metsämies, on the other hand, refers to the ‘man of the forest’, someone deeply connected with nature, especially the forest, and who has developed a symbiotic relationship with it. 




018  excerpt
field recordings _ 93 min _ 2025


manuel antonio national park, located on the west coast of costa rica, has become one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. in an environment that harbors immense biodiversity, visitors can easily encounter monkeys, sloths, or large iguanas—species that, in some cases, are endemic to the region. its location facing the pacific ocean adds a unique appeal, as it combines the exploration of a protected environment with the possibility of enjoying a relaxing swim at one of its easily accessible beaches.

with the aim of promoting tourism and responding to growing demand, the government has recently implemented measures that increased the daily capacity for visiting the park from 1,800 to 2,500 people. however, this decision was made without a technical study to assess its impact. this initiative could lead to adverse side effects, such as trail erosion that affects the surrounding vegetation, the risk of garbage accumulation, the potential alteration of local species’ behavioral patterns due to interactions with visitors, or the degradation of the ecosystem caused by the strain on existing infrastructure.


this issues become evident during certain times of the year when the park experiences significant congestion in many of its areas, especially due to the massive influx of organized groups. what might initially be conceived as a tranquil outing occasionally turns into an experience akin to visiting an overly crowded monument in any major popular city. the soundscape becomes overshadowed by human interference: groups of up to 30 people walk the trails with nordic walking poles, large cameras whose shutters fire in rapid bursts, and tour guides loudly recounting anecdotes about the flora, fauna, and costa rica in general in multiple languages.

it was in this context that one step back, everyone! emerged- a field recording project that seeks to reflect on the implications of mass tourism in protected natural spaces. through this initiative, I position myself as just another agent within the location, incorporating my own footsteps, my breathing, the rubbing of the recorder on my chest and even brief interactions with my partner as part of the acoustic narrative. I do not try to hide the inherent contradictions of my own presence in the space; on the contrary, I make them explicit. I am there, too. although I try to walk less-traveled paths with my local companion and enter the park as an independent visitor, I am no different from the group that has just arrived through a tour operator.

for this reason, I begin my route trying to block judgment, which, due to its habitual incontinence, doesn't take long to be released as I carefully observe the behavior of certain visitors. of all the scenes I witness, one particularly captures my attention: dozens of people crowd, push, or try to outmaneuver each other in order to get a better view of a sloth almost lying on the ground, probably disoriented (or so I inferred from a distance). this situation prompts a reprimand from one of the private guides, visibly upset, who, in an imperative tone and appealing to the symbolic authority conferred by his role, insists on asking the visitors to stop harassing the animal.

one step back!
one step back, ok?
one step back!
one step back, please!
one more step back.
sorry, once again, one step back, everyone!
one step back.
one step back, I mean, I mean, everyone!
one step back.


this scene illustrates a disturbing dynamic: for most of those present, capturing a digital memory of the moment seems to take precedence over any consideration for the animal’s well-being or respect for the environment. the image of this mammal, practically motionless beside an overcrowded trail and acting as a magnet for tourists behaving impulsively and aggressively, is a powerful metaphor for our priorities.

the long-duration piece documents, via an h6 zoom recorder, the time we spent walking the park’s trails on 25th november, 2024, interrupted only by cuts made during moments of rest at two of its beaches. its final presentation has not been edited, manipulated, or merely equalized to smooth the low end, with the aim of offering a subjective and immersive experience.

the exclamatory tone of the title, beyond what might seem like a simple demand, aims to invite reflection on our relationship with the environment and the ways in which we choose to travel. what does it mean to be tourists in natural spaces? how do our actions, both individual and collective, impact these fragile environments?

this project is formally distinct from what was proposed in outside recordings vol. 1 _ iceland, but it is guided by the same intuition: exploring other ways of approaching and documenting the experience of inhabiting natural spaces. however, it is rooted in a painful certainty: my presence, far from contributing positively, inevitably exacerbates the very problem I aim to address.





017 
sound piece _ 5 min loop _ 2024


from an early age, I was always interested in how words sound, not just the objects themselves. at the time, I was unaware of the concepts of logophilia and phonophilia, but over time, I learned that this fascination has a name. if that led me to my current profession, who knows?

my work frequently involves recording sounds of human activities that I don’t fully comprehend, both in terms of their content and form. this role grants me access to information that often lies outside my personal concerns. at other times, when I don’t understand the speaker’s language, it allows me to listen differently —interpreting the words purely as another layer of sound.


it can be challenging to position yourself as a passive listener, maintaining a certain distance from what is being said, whether it’s scripted or not.
surely tricky for a person with a broad interest in language/communication, as an inherently sophisticated tool, acknowledging the implications and responsibilities of its misuse.

that said, at the end of a long workday, I’m just a sound recordist, not a linguist or anything else. it’s probably a comfortable role to adopt, but a necessary one. you are regularly exposed to messages that conflict with your ideals and thoughts, which take on amplified significance, hidden behind isolated headphones. in the professional environment where this occurs, your need to confront them may be censored and could have consequences.

after several years of being involved in projects where my distance was obvious and intentional, I began to question how much of a political body I was within, especially when it comes to the restrictive social contracts of a paid job. the boundaries of these contracts seemed to shape my interactions, constraining genuine connection and forcing a compartmentalization.

in the fall of 2023, I spent a few weeks in bordeaux filming a documentary. despite the geographical proximity and the similarities french shares with my mother tongue, my lack of knowledge of the language remains significant. while I can navigate and understand certain contexts when it is written, my inability to form coherent sentences when it is spoken is deeply frustrating.

this loop piece, which uses material recorded during interviews, reflects on my current contradictions regarding some of my professional activities. by focusing on how words sound rather than their meaning, I explore a deliberate need to overlook, discern, and discard the vast amount of information received (noise), and consider whether it is possible to generate something personally meaningful from it.
the structure relies on cut-and-paste, repetition, and superimposition, aiming to strip the words of their original purpose and context, and perhaps even suggest new significance.