I was on Hutt Street last week, said Pliny the Elder, waiting to cross over at the lights, when I happened to look at a tree I was standing next to. It had a length of red plastic net fixed round the trunk, the sort they use for oranges.
Really, I said, surprised. Was it an orange tree?
No, said Pliny. It was a plane tree. On further inspection I noticed that I was in fact looking at the back end of a large red Christmas bow.
What do you mean, the back end?
I mean that the bow was on the other side of the tree, visible only to the oncoming traffic.
How peculiar. Oncoming traffic does not need to be distracted by a Christmas bow.
Indeed. It was then I became aware that every tree on Hutt Street sported a similar bow. And that the ones on the opposite side were also angled to face the oncoming traffic.
Are you sure, Pliny? They were angled towards the road? And therefore away from the gaze of pedestrians, such as yourself?
Yes, said Pliny. I'm glad to see you agree with me that it is quite outrageous.
Showing posts with label traffic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label traffic. Show all posts
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Carrots
May I ask, enquired Pliny the Elder, how one hears, or imagines one hears, carrots in a piece of music?
You mean in the Walton at the Lunch Hour Concert? I asked.
Yes. I can understand that you may have heard traffic, chipmunks, bees, and even the motion of curtains, but I fail to understand how one imagines one is hearing something that neither moves nor makes a recognisable sound.
In other words you're asking me what I think carrots sound like?
I am.
Well, you have to understand the process. Do you remember how I became confused because they changed the order of the program?
Yes.
This meant that I never really got into the second, genuine Walton. I was full of chagrin, and self-reproach. The repetition of the chipmunk and bee sounds held an interest for me only insofar as they proved that in music you can hear almost anything you want.
And so you thought of carrots?
No, no, not like that. My mind drifted off. And since I was planning to go to the Central Market at half past three, it drifted towards a shopping list of the things that I might buy there. Not oranges, I thought. Perhaps a pineapple. Not bok choy. Maybe some carrots.
Aha! Carrots at last!
Yes, and I was thinking of the two limp carrots in the fridge at home, and that I might not need a whole bag of carrots but could probably do with about four large ones which I could buy from the Seven Sisters. Four carrots. Then my attention returned to the music. Don't ask me why.
I expect it was guilt.
Maybe it was. And I thought, is it possible that as I'm thinking of carrots I might hear carrots in the music? It had certainly been possible for me to hear other things which hadn't been there.
The reverse process, said Pliny sagely. This time you are thinking of something beforehand and then searching for it within the music.
That's right.
And did you find it?
Yes.
So, the question is, what did it sound like?
It sounded like four orange notes, rounded, but pointy at the end.
Remarkable, said Pliny.
You mean in the Walton at the Lunch Hour Concert? I asked.
Yes. I can understand that you may have heard traffic, chipmunks, bees, and even the motion of curtains, but I fail to understand how one imagines one is hearing something that neither moves nor makes a recognisable sound.
In other words you're asking me what I think carrots sound like?
I am.
Well, you have to understand the process. Do you remember how I became confused because they changed the order of the program?
Yes.
This meant that I never really got into the second, genuine Walton. I was full of chagrin, and self-reproach. The repetition of the chipmunk and bee sounds held an interest for me only insofar as they proved that in music you can hear almost anything you want.
And so you thought of carrots?
No, no, not like that. My mind drifted off. And since I was planning to go to the Central Market at half past three, it drifted towards a shopping list of the things that I might buy there. Not oranges, I thought. Perhaps a pineapple. Not bok choy. Maybe some carrots.
Aha! Carrots at last!
Yes, and I was thinking of the two limp carrots in the fridge at home, and that I might not need a whole bag of carrots but could probably do with about four large ones which I could buy from the Seven Sisters. Four carrots. Then my attention returned to the music. Don't ask me why.
I expect it was guilt.
Maybe it was. And I thought, is it possible that as I'm thinking of carrots I might hear carrots in the music? It had certainly been possible for me to hear other things which hadn't been there.
The reverse process, said Pliny sagely. This time you are thinking of something beforehand and then searching for it within the music.
That's right.
And did you find it?
Yes.
So, the question is, what did it sound like?
It sounded like four orange notes, rounded, but pointy at the end.
Remarkable, said Pliny.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Duality of Light
On Friday Pliny and her mum went to see an exhibition called The Duality of Light.
They entered the exhibition space. There didn't seem to be much in it. At one end there were 3 screens in front of which sat 2 women talking. At the other end, a framed picture in the middle of a huge wall. It looked like an ordinary landscape, a tree and mountains. Pliny and her mum sat on a bench in front of the picture. It wasn't a painting, but a projected image. They looked at it for a minute or two. Is it moving? asked Pliny's mum. It didn't seem to be, but it was nice to sit down.
Pliny stood up and went across to another installation. This installation is meant for one person at a time, said a sign on the wall near a dark entrance. There were 2 lights on the wall. The one marked 'enter' was on, the one marked 'wait' was off. You go in, said her mum. I'll wait here and see if anything happens.
Pliny went in. It was a long dark tunnel. Sounds of dripping water came from somewhere overhead. There was a screen at the far end, and a person was standing in front of it. Pliny caught a glimpse of an image on the screen. It was a ghostly white image of an anxious-looking woman walking cautiously towards the light. The person was looking at the image of the woman. Pliny was embarrassed. She backed out slowly and went to sit with her mum in front of the picture of the tree. I'm not sure, said her mum, but I think the tree is brighter than it was.
They sat a bit longer. A woman came out of the tunnel and went over to the 2 women on the seat at the other end of the room. That was amazing, she said. The 3 of them turned and looked towards Pliny and her mum. They were laughing. You can go in now, said Pliny's mum.
Pliny went in. She walked towards the screen at the end of the tunnel. There was a bar of dim light across the floor and some kind of barrier in front of the screen indicating where she should stop. On the screen appeared the image she had seen earlier of a woman approaching nervously. It was an image of herself, she realised, but it was herself from a few seconds earlier, so that she was standing watching herself getting nearer, which made it quite unsettling. The more so when she realised the other woman in there earlier must have seen her too. The image suddenly exploded into dots and lines floating across the screen like pieces of spatial traffic. Pliny watched this for a long time but nothing altered, so she began to back away.
Was it good? asked her mum. It was, said Pliny. Has anything happened to the tree? Yes, replied her mum, it is all glowing orange. I have been watching the sun come up. In real time, said Pliny.
Just then a group of 4 Japanese students came in and headed straight for the tunnel. They all went in together. Sounds of laughter mingled with the doleful dripping of water. Now I've missed my chance to go in, said Pliny's mum. Wait till later, Pliny said, and we'll go in together.
They entered the exhibition space. There didn't seem to be much in it. At one end there were 3 screens in front of which sat 2 women talking. At the other end, a framed picture in the middle of a huge wall. It looked like an ordinary landscape, a tree and mountains. Pliny and her mum sat on a bench in front of the picture. It wasn't a painting, but a projected image. They looked at it for a minute or two. Is it moving? asked Pliny's mum. It didn't seem to be, but it was nice to sit down.
Pliny stood up and went across to another installation. This installation is meant for one person at a time, said a sign on the wall near a dark entrance. There were 2 lights on the wall. The one marked 'enter' was on, the one marked 'wait' was off. You go in, said her mum. I'll wait here and see if anything happens.
Pliny went in. It was a long dark tunnel. Sounds of dripping water came from somewhere overhead. There was a screen at the far end, and a person was standing in front of it. Pliny caught a glimpse of an image on the screen. It was a ghostly white image of an anxious-looking woman walking cautiously towards the light. The person was looking at the image of the woman. Pliny was embarrassed. She backed out slowly and went to sit with her mum in front of the picture of the tree. I'm not sure, said her mum, but I think the tree is brighter than it was.
They sat a bit longer. A woman came out of the tunnel and went over to the 2 women on the seat at the other end of the room. That was amazing, she said. The 3 of them turned and looked towards Pliny and her mum. They were laughing. You can go in now, said Pliny's mum.
Pliny went in. She walked towards the screen at the end of the tunnel. There was a bar of dim light across the floor and some kind of barrier in front of the screen indicating where she should stop. On the screen appeared the image she had seen earlier of a woman approaching nervously. It was an image of herself, she realised, but it was herself from a few seconds earlier, so that she was standing watching herself getting nearer, which made it quite unsettling. The more so when she realised the other woman in there earlier must have seen her too. The image suddenly exploded into dots and lines floating across the screen like pieces of spatial traffic. Pliny watched this for a long time but nothing altered, so she began to back away.
Was it good? asked her mum. It was, said Pliny. Has anything happened to the tree? Yes, replied her mum, it is all glowing orange. I have been watching the sun come up. In real time, said Pliny.
Just then a group of 4 Japanese students came in and headed straight for the tunnel. They all went in together. Sounds of laughter mingled with the doleful dripping of water. Now I've missed my chance to go in, said Pliny's mum. Wait till later, Pliny said, and we'll go in together.
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