Voicing Water

Water from the tap. A glass of water. Water in the shower, the bathtub, down the drain. In the kettle, the coffee machine. Vessels of water. Filtered, muddy, distilled, spring water. Frozen water. Ice, melting ice, the cracking of ice. The sea—its salty taste, never the same: the Greek seas of the Mediterranean, the Norwegian fjords. Rivers, small and large—in Greece, Austria, Germany, Italy. Waterfalls, fountains, streams, lakes and ponds. Clouds, rain—drizzling, pouring, flooding. Drainpipes spilling from rooftops. Water in all its forms, sounds, rhythms. The ongoing dialogue I have with it. A dialogue carried for years, since 2016—or perhaps forever.

To speak, to sing without language—can one still reach others? Can intention shape context? Can sound alone open space for thought, for sentiment? Can it touch the subconscious? Communication through vibration, through senses. The body resounding. Hearing as touch: sound meeting the eardrum before the mind spins meaning. I focus on deep listening.

News filled with endless voices—facts, counter-facts, theories, conspiracies. Government’s responses all over the world, scientific facts accepted or denied by our world. Nothing makes sense. It’s Dada —why not unmake it further?

Composing scores for water —its forms, its journeys. Using dictionary definitions and scientific texts, I am braking and rearrange words into mumblings, fragments hinting at new meanings. I write these with watercolors on transparent paper in all directions, creating a 3D universe in a 2D space. Staring and floating in a sea of fragments—facts, ideas, memories, discussions. Swimming through letters as though diving deep underwater. I sing floating from onward meaning to the other.

I submerge them in streams, ponds, seas. I submerge myself with them. I sing with water in my mouth—different quantities reshaping my voice. Words dissolving, stripped of meaning. Vision blurring in submersion: what do I see, what do I sense? Memory sediment rising as sound.

What do I hear? Vibrations carried through water. Time stretching. Pauses deepening. I listen. I listen and respond, with skin, with bones with lungs. What is the water hearing? What is the water saying? what I am I voicing? what is our song?

In the river Neda, the score floats on the stream. What do I see? How do I read through water’s flow? The river and its surroundings are my orchestra. I sing, recite, jam with nature. Dragonflies hover, a baby girl watches. Her name is River. I give her my score.

At the Aegean the colors shifting. I dive with a waterproof case for my phone—arte povera. What does water see? How does my voice sound inside it?

In the Norwegian fjords, summer. I submerge with a two-meter score of handmade Japanese paper. Thirteen degrees. Eight hundred meters of depth beneath me. I never felt such force, such light, silver shivering, salt and currents. I perform for days, forty minutes each time, an underwater camera with me. The score soft, delicate, scarred by each immersion. After each dive I mend it, continue writing, return to the sea. Sounds of boats above, kayaks, laughter. A seal observes me. I do not feel cold. The connection is stronger.

Rain falls in the fjords. A score of rain. I leave paper outside, listen to droplets as orchestra. I sing along. Each drop leaves its memory. Paper dries, I wait again. Rain comes, I sing again. And again.

I watch the sea, its endless shifting currents. Ripples, their rhythms. Waves breaking at the shore. I collect algae, writing with it my unheard thoughts, singing as I do. A score performed only once, existing with the Norwegian sea, my silent voice absorbed, vanishing inside it.

At the Greek Pavilion of the Venice Architecture Biennale, inside the installation “Bodies of Water”, we flood a space within a space, echoing recent Mediterranean floods,  invite visitors to collect water, to hear its sound. I submerge my head, gazing outward from within.

At the Archaeological Museum of Thessaloniki, I speak to ancient vessels that once carried water. I touch them, listen to their stories. Rain falls during the performance. I open my mouth to the sky, letting rain quench my thirst for understanding.

My voice is water and water never stops.

In one stretching makes sense. It’s Dada —why not feel cold. Nothing my unheard thoughts, sing, return to the Greece, Austria, Germany, Italy. Waterfalls during dialogue carried water, to hear its sound alone stilled, spring makes sense. It’s flow? The river the bathtub, down the drain. Rain comes, I sing the water. Ice, echoing in a sea. Sounds of depth beneath me. I touch: sound.

News filled, spring as sound. I submerge my hear its sound. I sing, return to the ongoing dialogue I have with lungs. Water sees, what do I see, what do I speak to drop leave paper in stretching. Pauses deepening. I never stories, discussions. Swimming through letting. I sing again.

At the shore. I collect water in a 2D space within.

At the Architecture Biennale, the Aegean, the colors “shifting on deep underwater”, we flood a space, echoing rain comes, am I voicing? What is the water. I give her my unheard though diving deep underwater. Time streams, ponds. I invite visitors to cold. The coffee machine. Pauses deepening. Drainpipes spilling, pouring through water camera with the colors shifting with it. A dialogue carried for water hearing as touch: sound.

What does water. Time streams, lakes and ponds. Clouds, rain—drizzling, flood a space for the world, scientia shape contexts, I singing as touch the subconscious? Communication, through letters as though water score soft, delicate, scarred by each immersion. After each dive within.

At the Architecture Biennale, inside it?

I water. Frozen water in submerge them, listen and rearrange words into mumblings, fragments hinting my unheard though diving deepening. I dive with lungs. Water in submerge my orchestra. I singing as though diving deep underwater see? How does water see? How does my voice. Words dissolving, stripped of meaning at the shore. I collect algae, what do I see, what do I see, what does with a waterprooftops. Water colors shifting. Hearing as thought, silver felt such force, such force, such force, such light, forty minutes each drop leave paper outward meaning. I focus on deep underwater camera with bones water from with nature. Dragonflies governments respond, with me. I never stories, distilled, spring outward meaning in submersion. After each dive I mend it, counter-facts, counter-facts, I am I voicing? What is the world, spring water. Filtered, muddy, distilled, spring from rooftops. Water collects algae, write the mind scient vessels of water in all directions and reach others? Can intention shape context? Can it touch the bathtub, down the drain. I submerge myself within all directions carried for years, sing again.

At the Aegean the kettle, their rhythms. Waves breaking and its surrounds of them, listen and responses deepening. I focus on deep listen and rearrange words into mumblings are my score floats on deep understanding.

News filled with the kettle, the Norwegian sea, my silent voice. Words dissolving, stripped only once carried water. I submerge with water —its salt and currents. I performance. I collect algae, writing and currents—facts, theories, discussions. Swimming the perform for days, forty minutes each time, an underwater colors on deep underwater. Ice, melting ice, echoing in a space within.

At the submerge my hearing in a sea of fragments hinting a 3D universe in all its memories, discussion: what do I see? How do I hear? Vibration “Bodies reshaping my unheard thoughts, singing a 3D universe in all overall. What do I see, what do I read through.

(Featured Image: Anna Pangalou, Voicing water #2, 2020, film still).