season 3: end of the day

Lena Eriksson
On our way towards the sea, traversing the Alps. Because of the looming storm, which never came, we stayed overnight in a mountain hut, 2351 meters above sea level. There were musicians from the valley, they sang and played all night. In the morning, when we left the hut, they were still singing. They played old Occitan songs that sing of life in the mountains, as it once was. A singing house.

Varsha Nair
Days end – in remembrance of Haniya Aslam who passed away recently – a contemplation as birds fly home and crickets start night songs. Perchance to dream of and wake up to a gentler world.

Lawan Jirasuradej
My Midnight lullaby…
When the storm passed night creatures started tattling, I jammed with the musical powder box retrieved from my mother’s dressing table.

Virginia Hilyard
In the grip and swoon of insomnia, the coal trains are a constant companion. The dark of night and the black of coal and the nocturnal rumblings in my head – the diesel train driver is also awake, alert at the controls. I am not alone.

Karla Sachse
When dusk is falling in September, the owls begin to call,  to scream, to whine – sometimes it goes all night long.  Certainly they know that now is also beginning of the  evening of the year in the German forest … 

Daniella Ardiri
It was my 40th birthday, I had a dinner party at my house. I knew my friends would sing happy birthday for me and I decided to record this beautiful moment. In Italy only children sing at birthdays, here in Switzerland they sing for adults too, and to experience this moment as an adult is really exciting.

Judy Freya Sibayan
the sound of strong winds pounding my windows during a typhoon near midnight. 
Nitaya Ueareeworakul
After several days of continuous rain, the sounds of the evening’s celebration echoed in the darkness.

Alana Hunt
At the end of my day. At the end of our waking hours—with my son, with some gentle talk, with books, and habitual I love you(s).

Helen Grace
End of the day, planes roaring over my house, escaping to the wide world, before curfew.

*durbahn 

“its nearly november now.  especially in november other worlds are very near.
so I sometimes have the chance to overhear conversations between ghosts.  well …I think, they are ghost and I think to myself that those sounds are conversations.

Reiko Aoyagi
One night I had a strange dream. There was a row of windows all the way down the side, and every window had a dark window frame. I translated this image into the sound of a singing bowl traveling through the sea of night, looking for signs of dawn.

Phaptawan Suwannakudt
The sound of the temple drum calling for the night’s fifteen Kham full moon night assembly, a temple practice for Thai monks. Four assemblies are organised each month on Full Moon, Half Moon, No Moon, and the other Half Moon temple Dhamma practice. Tonight was a full moon. 
Sue Pedley
The sound was recorded at night walking along the road on the edges of a small village and forest in the mountains of Niigata in Japan. The sound of cicadas and water from the river fill the hot humid air of Autumn.

Maryrose Mendoza
A warm September evening. With Friends and an energetic audience. Waiting for Ollafur Eliasson to speak at USC. 

Ann Noel
I had to wait the whole month of September for there to be an evening with enough wind to move the paddle beneath the chimes hanging above the window in my studio. I live in a very quiet neighbourhood and besides the swish of traffic on the Autobahn a couple of streets away, I hear only the occasional siren of an ambulance on its way to a nearby hospital. When the window slams shut, I know there is a storm on the way and I should secure any plants that might be blown over on my balcony.

Iva Lakic
Awake

Urna Sinha
Sounds recorded during a visit to Usgalimal, a site in South Goa. A river flows next to petroglyphs from Mesolithic period. As evening crept in we kept on sitting and listening to the sound while touching carved lines from thousands of years ago.

Hannah Beilharz
The rain is like a body outside, tapping the window to remember where it visited before, one year ago. The noise of the street is also body-like, an uneven breathing that does not enter sleep. This is a short song to the rain and cars.