Jez riley French listens to the Tate Modern as a building full of sounds. Its size, its visitors, and the materials around them all leave traces in the recordings. The building's vast turbine hall generates its own low-frequency breathing, and French's hydrophones and contact microphones pull out frequencies the visiting crowd never consciously registers. Footsteps, ventilation drones, and the physical resonance of concrete walls become the composition. A quietly radical argument that the most significant sounds in a gallery are the ones nobody came to hear.
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