An anti-podcast podcast. Find out more and submit your own work at longlivethenewsound.com
An omnipresent topic in culture yet often a taboo in conversation, six Londoners reflect on their different stages of broken hearts. A sound collage put together from four interviews conducted over winter 2017/18.
By: Miia Laine
A smattering of those winged words--those adjective-noun phrases--Homer was so adept at.
Shortwave number station recording part of Irdial-Disc The Conet Project and uploaded to the Internet Archive in 2003
A dream house, briefly.
We are measuring the river, is an experimental radio / radio art piece by Sol Rezza for the project "Eine akustische Kartierung der Stadt"in the frame of the Radio Art Residency in the community radio station Radio Corax in Halle (Saale), Germany, during 2018. The main idea on this piece is based in a walk by the river Saale banks, around the Salt Museum (Saline Museum). Five collaborators from Radio Corax speaking several languages (German, French, Arab) along with Sol Rezza (speaking Spanish), were walking recording live their impressions of the place. Departing from this linguistic sounds, the German text of the piece was created, as well as each sound and each composition.
The Fort Adams “listening tunnels” in Newport, Rhode Island serve to remind us that we often respond to fear by creating something equally unfathomable, dark, and deep with which to fight it. Reverberations was recorded produced by Ariana Martinez as an audio documentary and as an immersive audio/video installation at Fort Adams in Newport, Rhode Island. Interviews and sounds were collected within the tunnels themselves and elsewhere on the Fort Adams grounds in 2016. Special thanks to the Fort Adams Trust for their support of this work.
Where do ideas come from? Are they our own or are we channeling some spark from a larger flame? In this programme we examine the relationship between artists, writers, scientists and philosophers and the receiving, possession and transmission of ideas. Culture is a complex process of sharing and signification. Meanings are exchanged, adopted, and adapted through acts of communication. The tools we use – the photocopier, camera, computer, encourage, in fact insist upon the act of cutting, copying and pasting – it is second nature. Through mimicry and repetition we learn. Thanks to the many who took time to record their thoughts about ideas. Producer - Vicki Bennett
An out of body experience while taking a shower. Created by Anna Munzesheimer. Mixed and Mastered by Eli Namay.
By: Anna Munzesheimer
The fifth song from Where@bouts, the podcast that remixes the world. March, 2016. Yasmeen Elagha attends her first presidential rally, a speech by Donald Trump in Chicago, months after he proposed a Muslim immigration ban. "I wanted to face Trump and say, I am a Muslim woman, I wear the hijab and I was going to express myself." Using only TV footage from the unraveling rally, found sound artists Mad Genius remix Yasmeen's experience into a minimalist monolith, slowly crumbling to pieces.
A video job application gone awry launches Lily into an existential crisis.
What happens after it all ends? Is there something out there?
By: Olivia Bradley-Skill
Monaural verbal stimuli of forgotten provenance. A track from the new tape album 'Orphaned Works' by Mark Vernon out soon on Research Laboratories.
http://simplesoundscapes.ca are 3 min video & audio field recordings that explore mindfulness through listening. This recording is a 57-minute radio compilation drawn from the first 80 episodes, created for http://www.frameworkradio.net/. It has narrative elements that help the listener understand the context for each soundscape recording.
This piece was commissioned by WFMU for the online stream Optimized! curated by Vicki Bennett/People Like Us exploring the theme of optimism. "Nothing On This Side" is a sound collage celebrating radio broadcast malfunctions and dysfunctions.
“I have nothing to chew and I'm chewing it” - an imaginary radio conversation between John Cage and Morton Feldman on how to cope with Misophonia.
The first song from Where@bouts, the "popcast" that dares to remix the world. Resale Records was a used vinyl store in Madison, Wisconsin. Its owner, Eric Teisberg, passed away last year. In this recording from 2014, he looks back on his work and life with a frank assessment toward our changing relationship with music.
consumed by trauma; trauma we consume. a sampling of what lives inside our bodies. (tw: sexual assault)
"Peace did not come into my life./My life escaped and peace was there." - L. Cohen
Brother and sister farmers on a small Northern California plot explore relationships with their beloved animals who are destined for slaughter. Vegetarian and carnivore, they raise more questions than definitive answers about the landscape of their work. A quite-audible goat, who is never seen, becomes the weave of yet another story. And a dreamscape invites a third strand of this hybrid documentary-impressionist narrative. This is an ongoing project exploring animal-others, including upcoming "Woolgathering" that listens intently to our dreams.
A conceptual love story, this is an imagined conversation loosely based on the lives of Daisy and Violet Hilton, conjoined twins born in the UK in 1911. The Hiltons were displayed famously in circuses in Europe as children and toured the U.S. sideshow, vaudeville and burlesque circuits in the 1920s and 1930s. They’re retired now. They whisper themselves to sleep while conjuring what death will feel like when it comes to them both. There’s a ghosted imprint of mourning of those attached to us, whether by our own sinew or the withered wings of dead seabirds. Their single knotted torso extends beyond immediate relationship out to the world.
An excerpt from the series featuring three experimenters in podcasting accompanying Earlid's "Radio Without Scaffolding" summer 2018 forum. The six categories of Italian Futurist Luigi Russolo's art of 'noise' are woven throughout; these sounds were intended to change the very nature of auditory perception and sonic creativity. These sounds, imagined and voiced, construct a blended conversation with a handful of U.S.-based podcasters, including Nick van der Kolk (Love + Radio), Lily Sloane (A Therapist Walks into a Bar), and Garrett Tiedemann (The White Whale). A scaffolding is built into the mix. Visit http://www.earlid.org/posts/transmission/ for the rest of the series.
Packing up for 3,000 mile drive. Emails emails emails, notes, cv cover letter delirium
The peaceful sound of a babbling brook in Ireland and a faint polite exchange between two people who each secretly knew they would break up when the trip was over.
100 episodes of simplesoundscapes raw is a compilation of the first 100 episodes of the www.simplesoundscapes.ca project in raw format (as opposed to the edited 3-minute versions) and includes multiple takes, slates and some chatter. The recordings have been placed back to back in order of episode starting with episode e01 recorded on August 9, 2017 and ending with episode 100 recorded on July 22, 2018. There is a 30 to 60 second overlap between each recording.
Just to reiterate: this is not, and will never be, a test. Also, that last episode was too long! Definitely.
Marine chatter in Port Canaveral, Florida. Talk of catfish and barnacles and the skeleton crew.
By: Wyatt
Audio from a film. Watch it here: https://vimeo.com/292243431 Features new music from John Barner. Stream and buy the record here: https://americanresiduerecords.bandcamp.com/album/darker-places I used to dream satisfaction in quiet commerce. Past experiences made new. Wandering the aisles - no one there. Belief a strange buzz - energy left over from all that's typical. I'd rarely buy. Just look. Touch. Comfort. Comfort.
A recontextualized 1940s sports game, with the announcer's play-by-play now focusing on descriptions of the players' movements and tangential minutiae observed from the broadcast booth, emphasizing the ritual of sports and its role as an object of distraction.
My collaberator recorded her dreams on her iphone and throughout my day I recorded sounds on my Huawei. This collage is a mix of a beach we went to, thwacking on a metal pole, and her voice.
An excerpt of a past radio show, featuring cut up singles, as well as members of Church Universal and Triumphant, from a sound art piece by Brenda Hutchinson called Violet Flames
By: Olivia Ravioli
An exploration into the environment that killed Jamal Khashoggi
By: Gonzo Gal
My elementary school poetry teacher put on a reading at the school in 1995. Playing the tape back through my Tascam 4-track revealed some interesting personal themes through my own poetry, but what struck me the most were themes that seemed to emerge collectively. Particularly, a sense of exile and isolation amidst the playfulness, something I was personally experiencing in a profound way as an 11 year old. I wonder if my classmates where feeling any of this too.
An audio collage made as part of Women in Sound's creative field recording class taught by Jenn Grossman. The fountain is a metaphor for America.
what is the difference and what makes your voyeurism special
By: giada and vlad
A Google Home despairs at having to answer the same question over and over again.
By: Google Home
Collecting and repurposing streets and syllables.
By: Syllable Collection Project
Sat by the cricket pitch in the village - low flying aircraft - kids running around playing - wind in the trees
By: SDU
I’ve noticed a mounting trend in both web content and documentary, whereby makers contextualize their traumatic experiences in terms of traditional narrative arcs, emphasizing suspense, climax, and resolution. Often, this results in the positioning and commodification of ‘story’ as trauma, with no mention of the systems and power structures that enabled it to occur. While I believe that sharing details of trauma is valuable and important, retelling them in broadcast environments or on entertainment platforms is different from recounting them to a loved one or a therapist. For this piece, I explored the resonance of stories told in this way by assembling segments of confessional YouTube videos so as to emphasize the disconnect between people relaying their trauma with sincerity, while simultaneously using devices of suspense and release to entice listeners to lean in closer
There’s a repetition to chatter, to thoughts and to a sense of immobility and everything starts to sound the same when you don’t quite know what’s going on.
By: Syllable Collection Project
However we're able to get there. However, we're able to get there. However we're able, to get there. However we're able to – get there. However we're able to get? There.
By: paintbrush on my desk
Down in the Heart of Texas is made completely from sounds I found on my computer desktop. It's a work in three movements, about person voices and machine voices singing together until finally melding into a person-machine.
What happens when you find an old love letter you wrote as a former self that in any regular circumstances, you'd never be able to see again.
By: Ari Mejia
Transmitting from somewhere below the ocean these are the final logs from a research team lost at sea. What happened to Susan and the science team? Are there any survivors? We may never know.
Born from one of Sarah Geis' audio assignment, this sound tracks the progress from madness to method, from caffeine-induced anxiety to a fresh night's sleep.
"Take..." is a collage piece made up of outtakes from an ADR session for a student film. It seeks rhythm, humor, and poetry out of bits of tape that end up on the cutting room floor.
When you make an audio documentary, you spend days listening to the same recorded voice. Listen on headphones and the distance between the voice and your ear is as a close as a whisper. You savour the subtleties. You revel in the intimacy. Then one day you realize you’ve come to depend on it. How did that happen? Music performed by: André Moisan, clarinet; Louise-Andrée Baril, piano From the album “Impressions de France” (ATMA Classique) Used with generous permission of ATMA Classique
This is a live experimental feature documentary podcast recorded in February 2019 in Canterbury, Kent, UK. It features live improvising musicians responding to pre-captured interview material played out in front of an audience in real time. The Goodwin Sands Radiogram is a podcast series about the lives of people from the south-east UK and is made to sound like it is broadcast from a wrecked vessel on the sandbank of the same name in the English Channel. The Announcer is played by Peter Kelly. The programme was conceived, written and produced by Ben Horner.
Woolgathering is a delineation of individual and collective catastrophes in dream scenes of animal-others, a goat intermission, and coda. These are joyful and contradictory and curious disasters. They confound and charm in their numinous animal skins and bones and bodies.
a tape, synth and plunderphonics collection of semi-autobiographical snips
This piece was initially created to supplement an ethnographic study of Durga Pujo celebrations in New Delhi. Rather than simply presenting the field recordings as they are, they have been edited and compiled in such a way that they flow from one to the other not with the strict intention of documenting, but with the intention of generating a soundscape that is infused with the affective resonances with which we took in our surroundings.
...a state, period, or place of isolation in which people or animals are placed...
Field recording/sudden collage. Mid-2019. Brisbane, Queensland. (Pre-pandemic, clearly.)
By: David Thomas
anti-memoir. an adoptee's attempt at an origin story. headphones recommended.
Radio Art inspired by these pandemic times, rooted in original improvisational shortwave radio sweep recordings, includes excerpts from two unrelated radio news broadcasts of the early 1940s, mashed up here in a call-and-response of information and outrage. --> || (RESUBMITTED w MP3 file version attached this time)
It’s been over a decade since a truly dramatic thunder and lightening storm hit San Francisco. It was the flashes and the wind that woke me at 3:30 am. There was some thunder, but it wasn’t so loud. Over the next couple of hours I watched bolts shooting across the sky. But I filmed it so poorly, setting my tripod in the worst spot. Ultimately the best part was the sounds I made in the background. So much excited gasping. Jumping up from my creeky chair, typing frantically on Twitter. It’s nice to be delighted by my own delight. A storm can be so healing for me. Something cracked through the stuck, anxious, depressed state of mind I went to sleep with. The storm also matched the biblical level drama that is 2020. Who knows what will happen next…
Radio Art inspired by these pandemic times, rooted in original improvisational shortwave radio sweep recordings, includes excerpts from two unrelated radio news broadcasts of the early 1940s, mashed up here in a call-and-response of information and outrage.
A tale of killer fish, a killer lion, an expensive camera (that I hoped was going to save someone's life), a mysterious video animation and dreams so vivid that you have to get dressed and go out (and even then you think that going out could be itself part of the scary dream).
"We were lied to." This short audio work was produced for the 2016 #ShortDocs competition held by the Third Coast International Audio Festival. This piece was inspired by the "film noir" mini-movie produced by Manual Cinema. In addition to original music by Garrett D. Tiedemann there are music tracks by Manual Cinema within the mix as required by the competition for this year.
The protest started in Grand Army Plaza, moved through Flatbush and Atlantic Avenue, car traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge, through lower Manhattan, Tribeca, SoHo and NoHo, Washington Square Park, car traffic on the Williamsburg bridge, and ending in Domino Park.
I made this for an audio club in the Bay Area in response to the prompted theme, "You should know."
This piece is about the power of a smell to take me suddenly to a different time, to my childhood: the smell of naphtha inside an abandoned mine. It all starts with me and my namesake friend, also Cristina Marras, deciding to take a four-day- hike along the Mining trail of St Barbara, a 500 Ks itinerary across the Sulcis mining area of Sardinia, gruelling isolated goat trails swept by the ubiquitous mistral wind, but also breath-taking glimpses of views and beaches with water so crystalline that they make you think of stained-glass windows in churches. Before being able to start our hike, we must receive the Pilgrims’ credentials that will grant us welcome and hospitality in the various destinations along the journey. Being this a trail dedicated to a saint, it is only logical that it should start from a church, the Sanctuary of the Virgin of the Good Path, where a cloistered nun stamps our pilgrims' credentials. We then venture into mining land, surrounded by chunks of mountains and mounds of stone debris piled up, leftovers of a great future that never was and my father had been part of that sad future. Along the hike, we stop to visit the abandoned mine of Monteponi and its renovated Pozzo Sella, now a museum and information centre. As soon as I step in, I am overwhelmed by the smell of naphtha that reminds me of late nights when my Dad came back home from work with his overall smelling of naphtha, and I remember how he used to tell me stories and what an amazing childhood I had, and I think of the photos that show him at work, climbing on a dangerously high scaffolding or posing with his coworkers, kneeling on the ground, at the front of a dozen or so of other workers, dusty, so much dust that I can smell it across the half a century that divides me from the time when the photo was taken. The four-day-hike becomes a journey of the memory, rendered in this podcast with attention to a detailed soundscape, mixed with field sound recorded by me during the hike, starting with the singing voices of the cloistered nuns.
Imagine being unable to speak your native language. Imagine having the choice: you can either use the language your parents taught you (instead of the native language they were ashamed of) or, if you want to be heard, you can use English. This is what my podcasting world looks like. Fluent in three languages but unable to communicate with my illiterate grandmother, who only spoke Sardinian, I found myself mourning the loss of culture and familial connection this situation brought about. This is a tale of Sardinian language, loss, cultural hegemony, and the choices that we, speakers of a language other than English, have to make on a daily basis if we want to be heard.
Call Back Carousel is an audio time-travelogue, a slideshow of the mind’s eye - projecting Kodachrome memories directly into the listeners’ mind by means of sound alone. It is a way of travelling without ever having to leave the home. A vicarious vacation for the imagination. Pure audio escapism. Each episode is based on a found tape of a pre-recorded slideshow commentary. Most of these tapes were made by amateur tape recording enthusiasts and hobbyist photographers of the 60s and 70s. Their recorded commentaries would at one time have been used in conjunction with a sequence of 35mm slides but only the taped voices now remain. The recordings themselves come from my own archive of found reel-to-reel tapes that I have collected over the past twenty years. Using these found slideshow commentaries as a framework, a series of musical soundscapes have been created to bring the absent images to life, activating the listeners’ imagination in the classic tradition of ‘cinema for the ears’. It’s a little like looking through a family photo album where only the hand written captions and mounting corners remain; the photographs themselves have all been removed. The evocative rattle and clack of the projector shuffles through different slides as the fragile voices of our tour guides accompany us on a sonic journey that fractures time - and through the cracks, the past bleeds through into our present.
A tale of cultural neo-colonialism. This podcast is inspired by my personal experience, as someone who grew up in Sardinia surrounded by stories and boasts about the journey of the famous English writer D.H. Lawrence, and his wife Frida through Sardinia. Lawrence visited Sardinia in 1921, after becoming bored with rainy Sicily. He spent just over a week there, during which time he wrote a book in which he described the island and its people. I find Lawrence's portrayal of Sardinia and its inhabitants myopic and insensitive, as he was unable and unwilling to understand or engage with anything that was different from the reality he was familiar with. Despite these criticisms, I embarked on a journey to retrace Lawrence's footsteps through Sardinia, exploring the breath-taking landscape of vineyards, pioneers, and love for the soil. Along the way, I encounter Stefano Soi, who demonstrates an awe-inspiring dedication to the land and an ability to embrace old traditions while planning and creating a sustainable future.
A sound art piece that captures the week of the Ragdale Radio Residency in audio scrapbook form. // So this piece was made in reverse. I found this guitar lying on the gold couch in the Ragdale house living room. All of us got so used to leaving our possessions out because we felt so trusting, but somehow, we never lost the need to comment on doing it, like announcing "oh my goodness I left my laptop in the other house" to the room and then not moving and kept chatting. Anyways, so this guitar. It was tuned differently, D something... anything I struck on it sounded generally nice. I can't play guitar. I've never played guitar. But this made me sound so good, dude. I pulled out my phone and recorded myself for a little while, playing with it. Making chords and fiddling with the strings. And finally running my fingers down the fretboard. When I listened back to the recording, I became obsessed with it. I listened to it over and over again as I walked the Ragdale grounds trying to get unstuck or feel something new about being there. It felt so much like the Ragdale in my head but all on a little tape. I decided to interview each of the residents about their experiences for the same length of time as the unedited guitar tape and set to create a piece where our experiences were composed to the guitar; composed to how I saw Ragdale. The guitar is completely unedited. The voices are, well you heard the thing.
Dante's Holy Comedy consists of three parts, but what we all remember is Hell. Among the many characters encountered in Hell, while reading the Holy Comedy as a student, Ulysses is one of those that most impressed me, and I identified with his spirit of rebellion against rules and his passion for discovery. Reading the story of Ulysses today, I still love it, but I cannot avoid thinking that behind every hero there is a multitude of enablers, people who must take care of the dirty, hidden, unsatisfactory, and unheroic daily tasks, so that the destined hero can take his masculine place among the other masculine heroes. For this reason, I decided to tell Ulysses' heroic voyage through the eyes of one of those enablers, making her a woman in love who doesn’t regret having followed her hero to Hell, at the cost of hiding her true self, because her love for Ulysses was second only to her love for discovery and adventure. This is the story of Ulysses' voyage narrated through the eyes of a woman who disguised herself as a man to be allowed to follow the man and the adventures that she loved.
In a world caught in a perpetual cycle of repetition, my sound piece serves as a sonic reflection on the monotony of our daily routines. With a touch of irony and a hint of existential angst, I present the symphony of mundane sounds that mark the passing of our days, a never-ending loop of bodily functions and technological hums. The piece begins with the familiar trickle of early morning urination, a daily ritual that signals the start of yet another cycle. The rhythmic gurgle of the coffee maker follows, a reminder of our dependence on stimulants to face the monotony. The monotonous hum of a computer booting up marks our transition to work, a symphony of clicks and keystrokes that blends into a background drone, punctuated only by the mundane beep of a microwave announcing a hasty lunch break. The day fades into the familiar theme song of a Netflix show, a symbol of our escape into a world of predictable narratives, accompanied by the clinking of wine glasses, a brief respite from the repetitive grind. The soft swish of a toothbrush marks the end of the day, a prelude to the creak of bedsprings and a final, humorous note of flatulence, a reminder of our shared human experience, trapped in this cycle of repetition. Through this sonic collage, I invite the listener to ponder the absurdity of our repetitive existence, to question the meaning of our daily routines and the relentless passage of time. A sonic mirror held up to our lives, a reminder of the strangeness and humor inherent in our daily rituals.
This creation reflects my relationship with a construction site (a hospital being demolished and renovated to provide elderly housing) that I listen for several months. This piece reflects how I imagine these places when I feel them, how I regain a form of control over them by allowing them express themselves. Trying to trigger an imagination, playing with urban sounds and more specifically construction sounds, so that it transgresses their origins, working on our imagination. The empty buildings fill up, they breathe, they become active where there was only noise and residue. Therein lies the resistance. It is located in the places, it is imaginative, it is partly sound and it then becomes easier to take over these spaces. By listening to these sounds and their compositions, try to inhabit these places differently. Reactivate through listening what has been silenced within us, activate what is brewing somewhere in the interstices of our cities, of our imaginations. So it’s another city that we see, another listening that engages between urban convulsion and urban contemplation. A painting, an ultrasound, an autopsy of my imagination when it comes to opening microphones in places under construction, when it comes to dealing with and navigating these environments. To listen anywhere but preferably in places where work is roaring, in town, walking or sitting. /// Voies Urbaines is a series of sound creations around the streets, dead ends, avenues of our cities and the transformations that make them up. Try to listen to them to understand them better, try to put them into sound to tell the story of the urban fabric. Working on listening, moving it, finding a way to tell stories with urban sounds so that they are listened to, so that they tell the story of our cities and our relationships with them.
I created this audio piece based on a prompt from Disquiet Junto (https://disquiet.com/) "Turn old news into new music". I love reading very old news articles and noticing the ways life is still the same and the ways it’s very different. I wanted to find something from 100 years before I was born in The San Francisco Chronicle. My actual birthday (August 20th) was missing pages in the archive where I looked (newspapers.com) so I went with August 27th, 1884. The story I found is a ghostly echo of the present day anxiety about fentanyl but in other ways has no moral or backstory - it’s just a snapshot of life. I distorted the speakers voice about halfway through, using Holly Herndon's Holly+. And I used Victorian street sounds by Timbre from freesound.org.
My Synthetic Thoughts explores the complex intersection of mental health, medication, and one’s subconscious, and memories. The protagonist seeks support to understand and take action related to persistent disorientating transportations and their resulting experiences. However, with little sense of agency, the protagonist’s search for meaning, motive, and resolution becomes increasingly desperate. Their subconscious—cluttered with fragments of unresolved time—inhibits their ability to focus, think lucidly, and find the inner peace they long for.
Sunday, May 5. Genoa's sky lacks blue, and the sea breeze meets the cloths hanging on the top floors of buildings downtown. This afternoon at Teatro della Tosse Space Is Only Noise goes on stage, a concert-show by Carlo Sampaolesi, an accordionist from Castelfidardo. The performance brings video art, light, and Carlo's performance into dialogue. His accordion meets synthesizers in electronic compositions by Tommaso Settimi, Maurizio Azzan, Giulia Lorusso, and Carlo Elia Praderio. The result is an organic and immersive experience of extraordinary intensity. As Carlo concludes his performance, a procession reaches piazza Matteotti, a short walk from the theater. The demonstrators are protesting in support of Anais, Lea, Davide, Edo, Ema, Jack, Michele, and Paolo, who were violently attacked and arrested by a disproportionate deployment of law enforcement following an altercation, caused by a police car that threatened to run over a dog in front of the Ex Latteria Occupata on stradone Sant'Agostino. This recording tells of the riotous sounds of Genoa, of those who resist with their bodies and rise up in the alleys of the center, and of Carlo's music that rebels against the boundaries of his instrument, creating original scenarios and languages.
By: Odd Media
A Seat in Soho: Thien Tran' is a firsthand profile of long-time Soho, London resident Thien Tran. In this poignant piece, Thien discusses the challenges of moving to the UK from Vietnam in the 1980s, coping with the loss of partners, and his connection to the local community. Produced by Samuel Robinson and featuring music by Milo Thesiger-Meacham, 2022 A Seat in Soho was a multimedia exhibition celebrating the voices, history and diversity of Soho’s lesser-known but two and half thousand-strong residential community.www.kalou.co.uk
A non-narrated journey on the Rakiura Track, one of Aotearoa/New Zealand's great walks.
This piece is a blend of faux wildlife documentary and romcom vibes. It mixes frog facts and nature soundscapes with audio messages about me getting ghosted, drawing a parallel between the two.
Our Mind’s Eye’ is an audio exhibition that explores issues including social norms, gender identities, and mental health. A collaboration between Creative Facilitator, Samuel Robinson and Raw Sounds artists Hani Malcolm-Ibrahim, Rowan Bhatti, Nicola Laughton & Skye Moseley, the piece showcases how the artists “see the limitations but don't accept them as reality”. Using art, media and music this audio exhibition takes the listener on a number of stops across three different rooms, demonstrating each artist's personal relationship to the destination to produce in an emotive and immersive work. ‘Our Mind’s Eye’ was commissioned by the ICA and BBC New Sounds initiative.