Night Rangers

A multidisciplinary arts collaboration about the night time.

[nightrangers]

[nightrangers]

Second half of Pablo's Walk (Night 4)

AAA AARRR!

There is a breakdown of communication here. I am leading these three, but we haven't found our groove, haven't worked out our way yet. Am I rushing, being unclear? Why is one just walking off in any direction and the other just standing completely still? It is hilarious, and yet, for the first time in this collaborative process, I am exasperated and frustrated with this strange perceived inability on everyone's part to listen and follow my footsteps. Oh wait, is it me, running around like this that is so confusing?

ARR AAARRR! AAA A ARRR!

I really don't know if it's me, or why it is like this, and I don't feel like a team. We are near the river, and it could easily get out of hand. That point at which the furthest person begins to blur into the darkness. But we get to the other side of the field, eventually. I realise I could have done it differently, but am still frustrated, what a strange feeling.

My turn to be led.

I like being led. Again, like last time, this feeling of weightlessness, of no worry, of putting my feet wherever they will fall. I like listening to the footsteps, knowing rhythm and nothing else. There is nothing else to focus on apart from this one two, one two, one two, one two, and the sounds of crunch crunch, crunch crunch, rrhhsss rrhhss, chhtt chhtt, one two...

I am only rhythm and swinging arms

AII YAAII YAAAIIII

There is no way of attaching memory to place; without that, we are strangely separate from our environment. We could be anywhere again. These blindfolds take us out of the present and into the present at the same time – out of the present because we cannot locate ourselves in memory or image, and into the present because without talking and with intense listening we are focussed on exactly what we are doing, right now. Present in time and dislocated in place, detached in memory (which makes sense, if we are present in now-time, not forming memories to access later).

MA MA MA MA MA

I fall over a log: strange shock that I wasn't being looked after – for the first time it has occurred to me to be wary. It hurts; I rub my leg. But it's almost impossible to be wary, you just have to step step step.

In a circle we listen

chchcchhhhh

bbbbaaaaa baaaa

fffffuuuuuuhhhhh deep breathe in and out

and car sounds as always

I don't feel like making sounds here, although I want to

I think it's because language is connected to movement for me, and when I'm listening to a place, really intently listening, my body needs to be free to move and make language too. We cannot be connected to place if we aren't connected to body. Well, this is just a theory...

We come down from the hill. I have felt so calm here tonight. The darkness has been open and vast, perched on a hill and overlooking the lights. We have been up top, stretching our arms and legs out, off into the hills. This is the first night I haven't felt any threat.

[nightrangers]

Night 3: First half of Pablo's walk

 “Lost really has two disparate meanings. Losing things is about the familiar falling away, getting lost is about the unfamiliar appearing.” Rebecca Solnit

We are driving blindfolded must look funny to onlookers

We cannot see and therefore don't really know this, but outside it is getting dark

The music has a psychedelic Pink Floyd edge to it

I feel a bit sick in the car

I am happy to be sitting in silence with other people

It is the one thing that makes me feel more connected to other humans than anything else: being silent alongside them

I think people seem like the truest essence of themselves when they are silent. And it makes me think of being with family, being able to be that silent

It has become dark, like being at the cinema, missing the moment of change and not knowing how to adjust because of it

I don't know where we are, but it feels familiar because it looks like every other suburbia I could have been in -

this is both upsetting and novel, a strange tangle of emotions

not the unfamiliar appearing

It's nice that we have an excuse to hold each others' hands

This is so unusual

I wish people were allowed to hold hands all the time - how nice, to be lead like that around the world, to feel like someone is watching out for you

How comforting to be the one leading, to slowly guide another person, to know they know you are looking after them

I thought I would be looking at inner darkness, but here I am leading and being led.

The cat runs over all the lawns, is not restricted by strange notions of property or any sort of limit of where he can explore, what he can be curious in, he's just feeling the grass beneath his padded feet, following the four shadows he sees wandering down the almost-silent road

It is only about nine o, clock, but everything is shut up, people closed to the darkness, no one out exploring, everyone in their pockets of isolation

Suburbia makes me feel so empty and sad

We could be anywhere

We try to make Billy run in the open field

I like the feeling of rain on my face

This makes us like children again, exploring, being fascinated in everything – the swing, a piece of rope, the shapes of letters

No one chooses to listen to space music, so I do

When the world is dark and the music is on suddenly

there is lightness -

like the weight it takes

to carry myself

to make decisions

to see where I'm going

to decide on what I'm seeing

all that weight in a moment lifted, the world

a playground with space music soundtrack,

I swing my arms because it is brilliant

knowing you can step here and there

and be looked after

knowing you don't have to worry for yourself

complete childlike trust

I haven't felt this for so long

I feel like I'm in fantasia, dancing on black background,

the world a black canvas, me just stepping along,

and although there are obstacles, everything

is fluorescent...

Laura

[nightrangers]

Inner Space: Outer Space

Inner Space: Outer Space

Exploring the night-time within

  Part 1: Loosing Control

Night Rangers travel in silence.

Night Rangers can only say “ma”, if at all.

Night Rangers are blindfolded.

Night Rangers are taken by car to a random destination.

Night Rangers must say if they know where they are.

If a Night Ranger recognizes the location, a new location must be found.

  Part 2: Getting lost

Night Rangers travel in silence.

Night Rangers can only say “ma”, if at all.

Night Rangers pick straws. Shortest straw wears the goat.

Longest straw must guide the group first.

Night Ranger who is guide must drift for 30 minutes.

To drift is to continuously head towards a place in the distance that is of interest.

Night Ranger Goat must listen intently.

Night Ranger Goat can choose to listen to space music.

Night Rangers must look after each other.

After 30 minutes Goat comes off.

Night Ranger who is no longer blindfolded is the new guide.

Night Rangers take it in turn to be blind folded until everyone has had a go.

  Part 3: Finding yourself

Night Rangers travel in silence.

Night Rangers look for a field, a clearing, a place of rest.

Night Rangers must be able to face each other.

Night Rangers OM in the centre.

Night Rangers contemplate the environment in stillness for 30minutes.

Night Rangers have tea.

Night Rangers can talk.

  Part 4: The world is yours

Night Rangers must find their way out of the city.

Night Rangers decide whether to travel in silence.

Night Rangers must look for beauty.

When beauty is found a flag is set down.

Night Rangers decide what “out of the city” means.

Night Rangers decide what “private property” means.

  Part 5: Going home

Night Rangers can talk

Night Rangers may use Satellite Navigation.

Night Rangers must find their way to base.

One Night Ranger is blind folded

One Night Ranger leads for 20 minutes

Night Ranger who is blindfolded can choose to listen to space music.

Night rangers take it in turn to be blind folded.

Night Rangers continue until base is found.

[nightrangers]

Leading Billy into the unknown...

[nightrangers]

Inner world exploration

I was excited about this night. During the previous week I had been thinking and planning, setting things up in my head and organizing logistics. How could I make sure four people got completely lost in a medium sized city that everybody knew pretty well. I find it particularly difficult to get lost. My mind is always making maps and linking streets with surroundings. I might not remember street names but I can remember routes and locations. The main purpose for these games was to spend some time in our inner worlds, exploring our own reactions to unfamiliar situations, being silent and present. They were designed so that participants would be alert and as close as possible to the moment. I was worried that the games might be a little too unnerving. I was also worried that they may not be unnerving enough. It is important to me that people feel challenged but safe. It was surprising however that the overwhelming emotion we all felt was of complete trust. It was a nice surprise. Within the difficulties experienced through being paraded around the streets at night with a blindfold on, generally we all gave ourselves to what the group chose to do with us. That felt rewarding. It is rare that we can let go of all responsibilities and give ourselves to other people like that, both vulnerable and willing, holding hands in darkness, being led through streets, gardens, parks and council estates. I enjoyed how intense everything became with eyes closed. The option was there for people to listen to music throughout the experience but since I got to be the first I chickened out and preferred to keep my ears open. This was maybe a little attempt to keep some control over my experience. When cars drove near, when footsteps resonated, echoing back from distant walls, when conversations reached my ears from the mouths of local residents wondering what on earth we were doing, every sound was magnified, when someone let go of your hand the absence they left was almost unbearable. Maybe I exaggerate. But it was intense. It was raining, the roads were misty, our heads were dripping and the streets were empty. I felt safe like this, showered in the amber light and held by a cackle of Night Rangers.

I also felt responsible, like a host, hoping that everyone would be ok and waiting for my turn to end, so that I could take my turn in leading someone else.

[nightrangers]

More images from the goat walk...

[nightrangers]

Walk 4, Night 3

We met outside Arnolfini’s. Poppy did us the favor to be our driver for the first section of the journey. We’ve been talking about night walks but I guess it is more important that we journey. I originally envisaged the group traveling by car to various random locations, getting out, walking around and eventually returning to base. This night was going to be a little like that if only at the very beginning. I asked the group to wear blindfolds so we were all unaware of the place we were being driven to. I gave Poppy a random location that I found on the map, chosen because I definitely didn’t know the area but also because it would be relatively close to base. On the way I put on a CD of experimental electronica from 70’s German bands, some emotional, other completely strange, loud in the car, to disorient and disturb. But the only person who was disturbed was me. I was worried about my music choice. Blindfolded and with Poppy driving we traveled in silence. We arrived and it was dark. When we left there was still some light in the sky but now there was only amber from the streetlights. We were in the middle of suburbia. Poppy left, we prepared our bags and drew straws. Shortest straw would wear a goat and be blindfolded. The rest of the group would take all responsibility for that person; the longest straw would lead the group. I was the first to be blindfolded. Jono led first. There was something a little unnerving in being blindfolded for so long. We’d already been in the car for 30mins. But I was also overcome by a feeling of trust. My busy mind reminded me that I had been here before and I felt uneasy about being the centre of attention, being so vulnerable, but I took solace in being close to the Night Rangers, holding hands or arms. Being looked after. I felt both held and that I didn’t want to be held. In the darkness I heard footsteps and saw a woman walking fast in the distance, I heard voices and I imagined a family of men looking at me from their porches, I heard the Night Rangers making cooing sounds and knew there was a cat near by. We traveled in silence. The only word we could utter was “ma”.

When the blindfold came off I felt that we were in exactly the same space as when Id put the blindfold on. That is the problem with suburbia. It was my turn to lead then whilst Jono went blind. I messed up the logistics then a little for it would have been best if Laura or Billy went blindfolded then. The idea was that the person who had been blindfolded would then lead the group and in so doing we’d get really lost. When the blindfold came off the person would be able to look at their surroundings in a new light, searching and exploring.

Going up and down steps felt like the most intense experience, going through a gate, or changing from walking in the pavement to walking on grass, light or lack of light would also affect perception, though the blindfold was very dark, it was still possible to imagine walking on a well-lit street or a chunk of forest. Billy and then Laura had their turn. I felt protective of them all but possibly more of Laura as I have paternalistic/macho tendencies and also she is a close friend. I found it inspiring that out of all of us, she is the one that chose to go blindfolded with music. Us men, just mere control freaks. In previous performance experience I had verified that women tend to be more adventurous because they are more trusting. This generalization has seldom been contested in my experience.

It felt good to be lost. It was raining and the city lights gave everything this purple misty look. The sky-line glowed like a cloud, neon and unnatural but somehow rewarding. We found ourselves in urban parks and pieces of land that were relatively wild amongst the houses. We walked through council estates, along opulent mansions, beside old people’s homes. People were sleeping or getting ready to. A fox went past and left. The sound died out. We traveled in silence but the rustling of our clothes, our little grunts or laughter became our protective capsule in the dark. We met people less regularly. We played games and laughed, cowered at cars going by, slithered through fence posts and fumbled with sticks and rope.

I was sad when I found that I could recognize my surroundings. We’d been only going for 3 hours but it was getting close to our first break. It was also raining and I could sense tiredness kicking in. We were very close to base. Another 20-minute stomp and we’d be there. We found ourselves in Henleaze having spent the last couple of hours in Southmead. Anything before that is complete mystery.

The rest of the night had been devised for a dry night so we left it there and went home. Everyone was happy though. It had been a good experience after all.

[nightrangers]

(Images from Nightwalk 4 continued.)

I'll let Pablo post a precise description of what exactly this walk involved.

...But in the meantime, here are some more black and white images from the walk that will forever be known as "The goat walk."

Billy

[nightrangers]

Images from Nightwalk 4 - led by Pablo.

For this walk the rangers were blindfolded and driven to an obscure location somewhere in Bristol. These images tell the tale of what happened next...

Billy

[nightrangers]

The Soothing Sounds of the Night Rangers: Walk #3

For the Rangers’ third nightwalk, Billy had conceived of a route which would allow us to reflect upon Bristol’s history as a city partly built upon the proceeds of the slave trade; and so our walk began on Colston Street, in between Colston Hall and Colston Tower, all named in honour of the famous merchant who made his fortune from the slave trade, and used to proceeds to make Bristol what it is today. The building itself is now the home of several businesses and an all-you-can-eat restaurant; but at night, and from the outside, its primary ‘voice’ is that of the generator which makes a loud hum all night long (extract 1). As we walked past the tower the sound of a motorbike engine, parked at the side of the road, crossfaded with the noise of hot air blasting from a large fan, presumably part of another generator (extract 2).

From there it was a short walk to Colston Avenue, and the statue of Edward Colston himself, given pride of place in the middle of one of the large traffic islands in Bristol’s central area. As we stood there, police cars kept emerging, circling us, going away and then seeming coming back round for a second pass (extract 3). Whether this had anything to do with the group of us spending a lengthy period of time standing in the rain photographing the statue of perhaps the most controversial figure in Bristol’s history (and, in my case, apparently attempting to coax a soundbite out of him), I really couldn’t say... But whatever the case, after a rousing rendition of ‘Wade in the Water’, sung to Mr Colston as he stood on his pedestal, we went peacefully on our way.

Pausing to capture the sounds of the many periodically spurting fountains in the floor of another of the large traffic islands opposite the Hippodrome, I spotted a small group of ducks waddling around a few yards away, taking in the evening air and having a bath (extract 4). Also making use of the area were a couple of guys on skateboards, utilising the many steps and seats which by this time were largely devoid of people, the sound of their wheels blending pleasingly with that of a lady with a wheelie suitcase who happened to be passing (extract 5). Next stop was Cascade Steps, which - as I was wearing my waterproof trainers - I was able to walk down into the middle of to get some nice close-miked recordings (extract 6). And what’s the point of stairs that you can’t walk up and down, anyway?

Making our way round to the harbourside, we began following the River Avon, which - as the way in which the slave ships entered Bristol - was to be the route for the rest of our walk. Outside the popular bar at No.1 Harbourside, pausing to record a little of the music drifting out from a guy tinkling on the piano, a very nice group of three young men “from under the stars” provided some enlightening conversation concerning notions of Bristol, and the cow population in particular (extract 7). After bidding them farewell, we continued on past the various bars and restaurants until we reached the amphitheatre, where the atmosphere suddenly grew much more peaceful, and even the small noises from the water slopping against the dockside were audible (extract 8).

Allowing the rest of the group to walk on ahead so that I could record the sound of a rope flapping against the mast of one of the moored boats, I became aware of a rhythmic thumping noise coming from further up the river, and getting closer; and as I peered into the darkness, a rowing team emerged, passed by, and faded away again into the night (extract 9). The floating harbour, meanwhile, allowed me to get up close and personal with some of the houseboats moored there; thankfully none of the residents noticed me crouching down with my little electronic device, recording the creaking of their mooring ropes as their boats bobbed gently on the river (extract 10). However, upon reaching the Grain Barge (Bristol’s finest floating pub), once again the most prominent soundmark was the generator noisily humming to itself on the pavement outside (extract 11).  A little further on, as we neared the suspension bridge (from underneath, this time) a furious barking suddenly began on our left, apparently directed at us (extract 12). Thankfully the dogs were safely behind a fence; and it was only upon seeing the sign that we realised we were passing the dog section of Avon & Somerset Constabulary.

Continuing due north, we walked with the River Avon on our right, and Leigh Woods (scene of our previous misadventures) on our left; we were separated from the woodland by the old length of train track which used to run passenger trains from Bristol to Portishead (and which, apparently, is due to do so again in a few years’ time). All believing this stretch of track to be completely disused, we briefly debated climbing up and walking along the track for a while; but decided that we would prefer the walk along the riverside. This turned out to be a good decision, as a little while later we became aware of a low rumbling, beginning as a physical feeling, then becoming a sound which grew louder, as the goods train creaked and rumbled slowly along the track and passed us, yards from where we were standing (extract 13). It was late in the night by this point - nobody else was around - and it felt like a ghost train, unhurriedly creeping along this old stretch of overgrown track in the dead of night, only to vanish again into the darkness. We all held our breath until the sound had died away, and no trace of the apparition remained.

Jono

140513

[nightrangers]

The hum of the machine which appears to keep Colston Tower running through the night...

[nightrangers]

A motorbike halts outside Colston Tower, its sound crossfading with that of a powerful air vent as the Rangers pass by.

[nightrangers]

The Rangers' contemplation of the statue of Edward Colston is interrupted by the passing of multiple police cars (or possibly the same car circling them?)

[nightrangers]

The periodic 'fountains-in-the-floor' opposite the Hippodrome are made use of by a few passing ducks.

[nightrangers]

Two guys utilise the steps and benches of central Bristol for much more exciting purposes than stepping and sitting.

[nightrangers]

The Rangers cast their ears in the direction of Cascade Steps, in what will turn out to be a very watery walk.