The space where the clock used to be [Small Audio Art]

What happens when a clock that used to hang at the wall stops working, and is thrown away? And why do we feel compelled to shake a matchbox, even if we do not intend to use it? In this work you will not find a definitive answer to these questions, but I invite you to listen nonetheless, for a quiet exploration of the persistent habits of our memory, of what remains after people and objects disappear from our life, how the sound of their lives lingers long after they are gone.

I created this story for Small Audio Art, a community created by Phoebe McIndoe with artists and audio makers looking for togetherness in a scattered world. The prompt for this audio was 'clock'.

[Höre auch auf Deutsch]

Image reworking of Photo by Abiodun Ageh on Unsplash

What is Art, in all the wrong places?

Characters who can't always be trusted. Because they often don't see the difference between sound and noise, between countryside and abandoned building, between fiction and reality.
I explore sound, speak languages and talk to strangers. This is my work.
AIR Member. www.cristinamarras.com

Narrator: 00:05

If you enter a room that used to have a clock on the wall, you look for it. Try as you may, you will not be able to resist the impulse of casually turning your head towards it. Not to check the time, but because clock have a way of imprinting themselves on our minds, or rather on our retinas.

Narrator: 00:33

Try if you don't believe me. It is an illogical automatism, a little like when you reach for a matchbox and you shake it, not so much to know whether it is full or empty, just because of the sound, and it is irresistible.

Narrator: 00:53

With a clock, it is the same. I mean, the uncontrollable impulse is, but not the thoughts and the consequences.

Narrator: 01:10

You see, I do try to prepare myself every time I enter the house, my old childhood home. I try to ignore the empty wall because I know that the wall next to the window doesn't have a clock anymore. Nothing dramatic happened.

Narrator: 01:30

The clock just stopped working. And after hanging on the wall for a while, motionless, it was thrown away.

Narrator: 01:51

I know that the wall is now empty. I know, I know. And I try to avoid looking. And yet, I can't help but look. And every time my gaze goes towards the wall, now empty, I feel a small pain growing inside my chest.

Narrator: 02:14

And I hear an unbearable sound of laughter. My mom calling from the window, telling us to come home that it is getting dark.

Narrator: 02:27

I hear the sound of the dinner being prepared in the kitchen, the bands, the radio, the conversations, and how was your day?

Narrator: 02:39

And the ticking of the clock that used to accompany our lives.