"NIJO CASTLE"
Sensuous sussurations of scarcely sensed sound saturate this sublime space. She surveys the serenity and slips unbeknownst even unto herself, into the saga. And I am there too, sneaking into the mise-en-scène.
Silent, solemn, sombre it might be but with a looming sense that the Samurai's stealth will soon overcome the shifty Shogun, shattering the serenity to shards. She knows, suggests it but won't say it.
The picture is perfect and yet perched perilously. Precariously. Push one pixel out of place and perhaps the protagonist might be in peril.
What if the shoulder had not been squeezed?
Would the sepulchral silences have splintered?
[This piece is a contribution from Paritosh Joshi.]
Showing posts with label PHOENETIC SPACE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PHOENETIC SPACE. Show all posts
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
RO ON SPACE & SOUND – 4
“NIJO CASTLE”
The Shinden-style structure stood serene, surrounded by walls of stone slab; it was silhouetted against a sooty sky, which was lit only by a sickle-shaped sliver of silver.
We stepped upon the stretch of slats with silken tread. But soft-footed though we were, a sound startled us when our soles sunk onto the strips. The sound was wispy, sibilant, like a soulful strain streaming from a flute.
Perhaps it sprung from the slightest slits between the slats? The more surreptitious our stalk, the more strident it seemed, shadowing our every step. Step: squeak. Step: squeak. Step-step: squeak-squeak. A sonnet by a spirited bird of song no doubt – the Nightingale.
So the sweet soprano sang to signal those who dwelt within – to warn them of a sly and stealthy Samurai, who came scheming to slay the Shogun with shining sword in hand.
The Shogun’s soldiers were stationed in strategic spots in the subsidiary halls, which surrounded the inner Shinden, or the sanctum – safe within which was the Sovereign. They stood stalwart but silent in these secret spaces, ready to stave off the shifty Samurai, seize him and strike him senseless when the songbird gave so much as the slightest sign.
Spellbound with this saga and the song of the floors swelling like a sea into my auditory senses, I’d stepped into the seventeenth century. So much so that when my sweetheart placed his hand upon my shoulder to give it a little squeeze, I sprung out of my skin with a start.
[This encounter with Sound in the Space of Nijo Castle in Kyoto, and the impact of its nightingale floors upon me has been described with figures of sound.]
The Shinden-style structure stood serene, surrounded by walls of stone slab; it was silhouetted against a sooty sky, which was lit only by a sickle-shaped sliver of silver.
We stepped upon the stretch of slats with silken tread. But soft-footed though we were, a sound startled us when our soles sunk onto the strips. The sound was wispy, sibilant, like a soulful strain streaming from a flute.
Perhaps it sprung from the slightest slits between the slats? The more surreptitious our stalk, the more strident it seemed, shadowing our every step. Step: squeak. Step: squeak. Step-step: squeak-squeak. A sonnet by a spirited bird of song no doubt – the Nightingale.
So the sweet soprano sang to signal those who dwelt within – to warn them of a sly and stealthy Samurai, who came scheming to slay the Shogun with shining sword in hand.
The Shogun’s soldiers were stationed in strategic spots in the subsidiary halls, which surrounded the inner Shinden, or the sanctum – safe within which was the Sovereign. They stood stalwart but silent in these secret spaces, ready to stave off the shifty Samurai, seize him and strike him senseless when the songbird gave so much as the slightest sign.
Spellbound with this saga and the song of the floors swelling like a sea into my auditory senses, I’d stepped into the seventeenth century. So much so that when my sweetheart placed his hand upon my shoulder to give it a little squeeze, I sprung out of my skin with a start.
[This encounter with Sound in the Space of Nijo Castle in Kyoto, and the impact of its nightingale floors upon me has been described with figures of sound.]
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