Txingurri

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” – William Faulkner, Requiem for a Nun

The first sound recording I made was in a hospital, when my father was ill with cancer. His breathing was faltering, and I used my phone to record him while he was sleeping. We spent two years together fighting cancer, months of them in hospitals. During this time, I was struck by the sounds of hospitals, especially at night, when the corridors were empty. This is how I started making sound recordings: I recorded some of the machines in hospitals, elevators included. But the most important recordings I made were of him. I recorded him without telling him. Some time after his death, I realized that his recorded voice had a strong power to bring him back to my memory, more than any picture of him. A year after his death, I made this sound work and dedicated it to him in gratitude for all his work and his life. “Txingurri” means “ant” in Basque; it was the name of his workplace. Rest in peace.