Finn und der einsame Hund (German Edition)

Tobi und der sprechende Fisch. Finn und Jule auf Weltreise. Mia und die coolen Geister. Tommy and his cuddly toy. How to write a great review. The review must be at least 50 characters long. The title should be at least 4 characters long. Your display name should be at least 2 characters long. At Kobo, we try to ensure that published reviews do not contain rude or profane language, spoilers, or any of our reviewer's personal information.

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Speaking of security and fear: Most of them are open all year round, their doors stay unlocked. Tourists are invited to explore them at will. I do feel quite uncomfortable, rather unsafe, when entering these dark, narrow spaces. The muffled sounds of my steps reverberating from close walls. Again, the question is: With my headlamp on, I entered, taking videos.

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Please follow me inside…. The largest bunker can only be accessed through a narrow, crumbled concrete entrance. With the visitors from Helsinki, I dared to set foot into the tunnel. The bunker is hewn into rock, three stories deep. From a maze of tunnels, a narrow iron stair leads down into an abyss of darkness.

Inside, the space widens into a set of several larger rooms. They look as though they had been abandoned decades ago and left in their original state, to crumble and decay. It is raining a lot. Lichens grow and expand everywhere, covering trees, rocks, the ground. The world looks fuzzy and contours lack definition.

The acoustics are good, the house is made of wood except for the foundations. Inside, it is dry and quite a bit warmer than outside, still, although the door does not close properly. I like the smell of the old wooden floor, blackened with tar; it is a smell that recalls pleasant childhood memories. The room is spacious. It has three huge stoves not working and a mural from the ies.

I walk through coastal woods with my instrument and gear, thinking: Last Tuesday, I recorded three pieces. Lichens worlds, and my sense of defiance towards military thinking played a certain role in the making of this performance. In the background, the constant noise of the sea is faintly audible. The hall stands near the shore. Yesterday, I came across this wonderful passage in a book I currently read: Indeed, I took her book to the island with me, in print format.

It means entertaining a confounding, even frightening and radical intersubjectivity. It also means that however happy you are among the few residents of your particular island, that little island is not the whole world. During the first days of November, I experimented in the woods near our house, the old school building. This picture was taken on November 4 th.

I had just set up my instrument and began to play, when two Finnish soldiers with machine guns in hands came marching along the pathway, noticed me, turned and curiously approached, to watch! The instrument soon gave up, because of the weather conditions; it is too cold, too windy, and too damp to perform outside.

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One of them is a former mess hall near the west coast; here, a collection of historic photographs is on exhibition. One of the photos shows a very young accordion player in uniform in the middle of a large group of soldiers. I would like to know more about the anonymous musician. Without question, he holds a prominent position in this assembly and looks at rest with his instrument.

The numerous military structures and buildings all over the island emanate a harsh, functional, brutal background noise. They resonate a mode of thinking that is geared towards power, warfare, control, and force — in the name of national safety and protection. Current activities around the anniversary of the end of WWI come to my mind. Nowadays, much is being done to ensure a friendly and positive image of the military. Other than the military, there is wilderness. I spend much time outside, exposed to wind, coldness, moisture and rain, listening to the roar of the sea and the woods.

Walking over sand, moss, and rocks, I find myself touched — and changed.

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After long periods of darkness and clouded skies, I enjoy brief moments of brilliant sunshine. I take delight in simple and small things: It appears that music is the most endangered species on this island. Is it a question of protecting my artistic process? Does music need protection and safety, within a martial and harsh environment and culture?

What is it that music needs to live and unfold? I notice how I strive to work against, around it, in between. All over the island, sturdy and foldable metal racks — finn.

They serve multiple functions. This mattoteline stands near the sauna and a group of holiday cottages. I am attracted to their sound: I use crude wooden beaters that I found nearby; handling the pieces of wood, I aim at simple sonic structures. For recording this performance, I once more use the AKG contact mic. Listening inside… outside weather: As it turned out, the wind had shifted around my iphone on its stand during the visual recording. Diesen Eintrag schreibe ich in meiner Muttersprache.

In den kleineren Zimmern wohnten LehrerInnen und Personal. Das historische Foto zeigt genau unseren Hauseingang. Ich habe nur zwei Paar Schuhe mit, leichte und schwere Wanderschuhe. In Finnland sollte man unbedingt Schuhe im Vorzimmer ausziehen. Bildung, Arbeit und Sauna passen auch hervorragend zusammen, wie die lateinische Inschrift zeigt. Setting up my workplace, I found out that a specific cable was missing to connect my laptop to an extra screen.

After some consideration, the best solution seemed to order the cable via internet from a local provider based in Helsinki. Shopping online was easily accomplished. The order had to be placed in Finnish; this I managed with intuition and help from my Finnish colleague Marja Salo.

Instead, there would only be a smaller boat very early in the morning doing necessary transportation. Too early for the post office… it would not be open yet. They are considered part of the road system, ensuring free transportation in the country. To get my order to the residency, I depended on further support from maintenance people of the forestry department: Finnish postal services are well organised and work efficiently; the large country is sparsely populated. That is, the correct form must be downloaded from the internet, printed, filled out, and signed. At the residency, it took us quite a while to get the printer going… finally, success.

Next, the correctly signed form had to be delivered to the maintenance boat, as was agreed. Much thanks to Marja, who can so much easier communicate about these intricate matters with everyone, in Finnish! Within this wheel cart, the mail package travelled the last leg of the journey, from the landing place to our house.

Composing a piece from sounds gathered in field recordings, I much appreciate the extra screen space. The weather is cloudy, slightly misty, only a gentle breeze. Sounds of nature dominate, with the roar of waves as loudest appearance. Almost no airplanes pass over the land, much different from home. Occasionally a quad bike passing the residency house, once or twice a day a tractor.

Since the wind was quiet, I decided to do recordings on Hangover Hill, on the western beach. When I first explored the site a few days ago, a plan for a piece developed right away. On top of a metal mast, a radar rotates, emitting a constantly cycling pitched sound. A forbidden subterranean military site is covered by a huge metal dome, featuring a large museum gun on top. Visitors are allowed to climb up to the dome and gun.

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Then, I climbed the hill to work on the dome. For that I had brought two beaters and my superball. During my first visit to the site, I had found out by experimentation that the huge cavity underneath the dome acts as a resonator. Via contact mic, working on the iron dome with beaters, I planned to record a selection of samples.

I set up my gear and attached the microphone to the dome. Putting on earphones, I was surprised to hear male voices arguing inside. Men tapped on the metal structure from within, before I could act with my beaters. Happily, I recorded their conversation, and after a while began to use my superball on the structure.

The noise is unexpectedly sonorous… the small silicone egg mounted on a nail file exciting the huge military dome to sound…. Of course, men came running out right away, curious about the sound source. As it turned out, they were workers from the maintenance inspecting the building. Some sound interaction happened after they reutned to their work, they tapping from the inside, I from the outside. Further on, I went to the waterline to record small waves gurgling on their path through boulders of different sizes, and my own shoes crunching sand, stones, and black shells.

The volume and inner space is what I want to hear.

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What is the sound of the volume of the dome? What is the sound of the rotating radar as it resonates within the metal mast? What is the sound of differently sized stones interacting with the water, and with each other? Newspapers could be read here, too. The ethnographer Michael H.

Today, internet and mobile phone work as excellent and reliable means of connection to the outside from here. But also, plastic residue can be found on all the shores, bringing to mind that this island is not a remote paradise, but currently very much part of larger worlds. On my walks I take a bag with me; I have decided to pick up at least some of the garbage, as a personal contribution to this place. In , the Finnish artist in residence Elina Juopperi collected shards of plastic fibres all over the island and assembled them into a huge ball.

Mostly, they come from fishing gear. It will last for decades, if not centuries. Interestingly, the ball has moved 20 meters from its original position in three years. As contribution to her project website pykeijanpallo. The outside world has an impact on my artistic work here on site, as well. My plan was to write a composition for ensemble during the residency, to be performed next spring in Vienna. I had applied for three grants to finance this project. Yesterday, I received notification that two of those applications were not successful.

Disheartened, I took a long exploratory hike and lost myself in wind, magnificent sunlight, and the intense blueness of the ocean. At noon, the sun is already low in the sky, and my shadow self on the sand appears as a giant. I have to make new plans and find other ways to realise my work.



On the other hand, I now have more freedom. In the evening, Marja and I enjoy the sauna!

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We can use the personnel sauna in a small house a couple minutes on foot, direction east. Everybody seems to watch everyone in this place. We watch soldiers, they observe us. A fortress, an island, a nation must be guarded, it seems. In the woods, I come across this sign. Even insects are being monitored throughout the island, multiple insect traps are brightly lit at night. As I stroll between trees, a black woodpecker curiously looks at me from behind a tree, while I try to observe him, in turn.

There is not much going on here, and one begins to record small things and details. In my experience, I like to detect outstanding elements, singular events. Phenomena that come to the foreground catch my attention. Human perception is geared to provide safety from the unexpected. There is a connection to patterning and also to composing. However, a solid background must be provided to sustain the appearance of the singular. If too many singularities occur in succession, they form a new background.

They lose their specialness. There are not many women on the island, they are unmistakably from her hiking boots. Reminds me of Robinson Crusoe, who comes across his own footprints one day. I detect other marks, left by diverse animals mink, in this case.

Looking at my own footprints in the sand, I notice the lines on the rock nearby. They will stay on, while my traces will be washed away by the sea rather soon. As soon as the sun breaks through the clouds, the light is brilliant. I record small plants, flowers, and mushrooms. Steadily, wind blows from the West. Yet, small flowers and mushrooms endure right on the shore. The east and south coast are calm and more protected from wind and water, trees, reeds, and grass grow right up to the waterline.

On my walks through the woods, I begin to orient myself along the ever-present roar of the waves. Noise is west, quiet is east. On foot, I begin to explore the island, taking extended walks. I enter an enchanted place. The landscape constantly changes, surprising views open up.

Lichen-covered undergrowth, trees, some of them remarkable individuals, boulders, moss carpets in various shades of green, meadows, reed, and water. Small paths and paved roads. Old wooden structures, houses, military buildings, observation bunkers. Already, I have cooked and eaten both, and found them somewhat disappointing. Probably the reason is that it is rather late in the year, there is not much sunlight anymore, and too much moisture. Amazing that they are still around, with the first period of frost, they will be gone. Drinking my morning coffee in our living room, I have the first encounter with soldiers.

Directly in front of the house, I notice a group of men in grey disguise, no helmets, only black hoods, machine guns in firing position, sneaking through the shrubs and the trees. Slowly, they move around the building, stopping, signalling to each other, moving on. As they do their training routine, I fetch a pair of binoculars and observe them.

If this happened somewhere in Austria, in the countryside, I would be more concerned. In the afternoon, they do them same routine again, moving towards the northern tip of the island this time. Later, hiking along the main road towards the Southern harbour, I meet more soldiers. Some of them greet me. All of them are without helmets, otherwise fully armoured. It seems that there are more people on this island than I expected.

I pass a black watchtower, still in use. In the archipelago, a tower on top of a rocky hill is a strategic point, offering a wide view. As I move around the island, my progress is slow at this stage. With the intense observation, every distance is prolonged. Space extends during the discovery stage. I take in as much as I can.

Academic Press, comes to my mind. The book is good to read; Agar writes in a lively style about what it means to be an ethnographer. Along the idea of fieldwork in unknown terrains, I am interested in exploring my own professional artistic process. As composer, I want to cultivate a curious and open attitude towards my environment and towards my own work.

I want to cultivate a healthy form of criticism. Travelling from Helsinki by bus, we passed though Salo to Taalintehdas. Human settlements thinned out and gave way to fields and cultivated landscapes, later woods, water, moss and boulders came to the foreground. The ferry navigated through island of all sizes. Gently rounded patches of stone, some a mere rock looking like the curved back of a whale; some islands stately sized and covered by dense wood, even bigger ones hosting small red houses with a landing place. Occasionally, a modern holiday home came into view.

After a while, the scene roughened, with a colder wind coming up. The scattered islands appeared more flat and barren, tress gave way to shrubs. More and more barren rock dominated the scene. No living being in sight, except for a few birds and, occasionally, a pair of white swans swimming in formation. The last appearance of land before the expanse of the Gulf of Finland stretches out to meet the Baltic sea. Far from shops and amenities of urban culture. Far from friends, partners, family. Far from home, from Vienna.

I long for the sparkling entrance hall of Konzerthaus Wien, for the concert atmosphere, for spirited smalltalk and and a glass of wine, or else. Then catching the last U4 towards home. During the landing manoeuvre, the engine of the ferry emitted an eery machine noise.

To me, it sounded like a heart torn by longing. The remoteness inevitably brings forth s sense of longing. The sense of longing is strong and connects the world to me. Through longing, the entire world is mine, to share. A quad-bike transports us to a red house in the woods. In a former school building, we set up our rooms, kitchen, workspaces.

A lot of moving furniture around and some cleaning as well. A classroom turned into a kitchen transforms into a decent living room. The residency space had been moved this year, necessitated by renovation work in progress.