There’s a dynamic I love when geared up and under headphones, recording. It’s a little like being underwater, only I can see and hear what is going on, clearly. And yet I am separated by a pane of glass: the recorder, the microphone, the windscreen, the cables with me on one side, and you and the landscape on the other.
My ears are flooded by such clarity of sound that sometimes it takes my breath away. Any slight movement: my sleeves, the sound of my shoes on gravel, the sound of the cables against my clothes, even the sound of my own breath can accidentally go to tape. And so, I stand achingly still. And this is how you will find me.
And yet, I am working: concentrating on what I hear, while running ahead to follow an idea and making sure the recorder is really recording—and not stuck on pause with the red-light flashing, waiting to roll.
I love the tension, the solitude, the quiet, holding the microphone and above all, the sound.