contemplative field recording #2
another attempt at exhausting a place in Paris
30th October 2024
Make an effort to exhaust the subject, even if that seems grotesque, or pointless, or stupid. You still haven’t looked at anything, you’ve merely picked out what you’ve long ago picked out.
Georges Perec; Species of Spaces, 1974
Our minds and perspectives are formed by what we pay attention to. Inspired by the work of Sound Diaries, George Perec's words challenge me to break from well-worn grooves of habitual listening and noticing, to pay attention to what I might have overlooked, undermining my lazy presumptions about the world. In the introduction to Perec's 'An attempt at exhausting a place in Paris,' he writes...
"There are many things in place Saint-Sulpice; for instance: a district council building, a financial building a police station, three cafés, one of which sells tobacco and stamps, a movie theatre, a church on which Le Vau, Gittard, Oppenord, Servandoni, and Chalgrin have all worked, and which is dedicated to a chaplain of Clotair II, who was Bishop from 624 to 644 and whom we celebrate on 17 January, a publisher, a funeral parlor, a travel agency, a bus stop, a tailor, a hotel, a fountain decorated with statues of four great Christian orators (Bossuet, Fénelon, Fléchier, and Massilon), a newsstand, a seller of pious objects, a parking lot, a beauty parlor, and many other things as well.
A great number, if not the majority, of these things have been described, inventoried, photographed, talked about, or registered. My intention in the pages that follow was to describe the rest instead: that which is generally not taken note of, that which is not noticed, that which has no importance: what happens when nothing happens other than the weather, people, cars, and clouds."
George Perec, Tentative d'épuisement d'un lieu parisien (An attempt at exhausting a place in Paris), 1974
Finding myself in Paris exactly 50 years after Perec wrote this piece, it felt like a good time to follow in his footsteps. So, like Perec, I made myself comfortable at a café in the corner of Place Saint-Sulpice, ordered a coffee and set about noticing "...what happens when nothing happens."
A man wandering past selling Le Monde newspapers.
The constant cascade of water from the fountain in the middle of the square.
Bistro chairs, battered and weather-beaten, with a small makers plaque on the back:
Maison Gatti
Fabricant depuis 1920
Tel: 01.64.29.11.84 - Fax : 01.64.29.75.59
Pigeons, scattered by cyclists and mopeds.
Bus number 96 to Gare Montparnasse.
A lady confused by the ticket system on bus 63 to Pte de La Muette, It disappears down Rue Du Vieux Colombier.
Another electric bus 96.
An elderly lady with red trousers and matching walking stick, looks both determined and lost.
The gentle babble of two gentlemen talking on an adjacent table.
The tram like ‘dong dong’ of the 86 bus, it’s diesel engine idling for 30 secs before disappearing.
A man speaking into the end of his phone like he is about to eat it.
A lady finding it difficult to mount the pavement from the road, ear buds in, nearly dropping her Carrefour tote bag.
The slow turning of an advertising board: Luis de Matos Impossible, Au Boulot film
Cars: Toyota, Toyota, Honda, Volkswagen, Hyundai, Toyota, Citroen, Renault, Renault, Land Rover, Mercedes, Peugeot, Tesla.
A woman taking a smartphone image of her book open in front of her, accompanied by glass of Rosé with the church of Saint Sulpice as a backdrop.
A lady in a long, beige trench coat, hobbling past on crutches.
French rap music blaring from a barely-marked white van, waiting at the traffic lights.
A waft of cigarette smoke from one of the two gentleman sitting next to me.
A young lady on a hire bike, bright pink hair trailing in the breeze.
The gently flashing green ‘24 / 24’ sign beneath the Indigo parking board.
Children running up to the fountain in the square excited by the sight and sound of the water.
Visitor after visitor taking selfies with the fountain as a backdrop.
Patches of grass growing through the cobbles outside of L’eglise Saint Sulpice, strips well worn by popular pedestrian routes.
A dapper looking gentleman at the back of a bus, flicking through his phone, ear buds in, lost intently in his screen.
A traditionally dressed waiter, key fob dangling from his apron.
Another Véhicule 100% Électrique number 86 bus, silently sidles up in front of the café, doors squeaking, pneumatic bursts making its presence known.
Bird-netting above the entrance to the church.
A modern rickshaw, with two tricolour flags flying from its handlebars.
‘Lime’ hire bicycles passing every minute or more.
