| Notice (en) : |
In January 2003 I went for a walk in the area around my parent’s home in Calgary, Canada. It was a typical January day (minus 20 C), freshly fallen snow and wide open blue sky. I walked through deep snow, on pavements that had just been scraped clear and on snow already compressed by passing cars. I heard the crunching and creaking snow beneath my shoes, thinking all the while that each step held a little microcosm of intricate sound. I went past large fields of unbroken blankets of white and through crisp air broken only by my breath and ringing church bells. I went home and cleared the snow from my parent’s sidewalks until my ears hurt too much from the cold and I retreated back indoors to some warming beverages. Frosty is made up of sounds recorded on that walk, transformed into something very different and removed from the original experience while retaining, I think, the qualities of the snow on that day. |