9/10/2025 

From Lancaster Gate to Porchester Gate



One scene has lingered in my mind: in “The Gleaners and I”, Agnes and her film editor join other gleaners in the dead of night, collecting discarded scraps. Her editor ultimately takes nothing, but she carries away a small, transparent plastic clock—without hands. She remarks how perfectly it suits her style: a clock without hands, time that never flows.1 Thus, what strikes me most profoundly is often the “I” following “The Gleaners.” So now I resolve to present some of the findings gathered at this site through my own presence.


1.Agnes Varda
“The Gleaners and I”, 2000.

                              I'm quite anxious about what to do if this week's investigation yields no insightful results. Meaningful discoveries occur infrequently; if described in terms of rhythm, it would be a dull, drawn-out cadence that seems i      r   r        e g   u      l a   r. Yet I can summarize all my previous findings in this c l e a r ,  s t r u c t u r e d rhythm.


2.Tianlan Huang
Map of the path from Lancaster Gate to Porchester Gate, 2025.

O
Investigation Method
                             During the first week, I conducted note-taking and sound maps: recording everything I can perceive, and using spatial positioning as the sound map method. In the second week, I experimented with graphic notation to replace spatial distance with time, observing sound rhythms at different scales. In the third week, I abandoned all graphic notes, instead documenting and summarizing all my findings through notes (either recorded or typed).
                           This is part of my notes from the third week. “I sat on my favorite bench, Bench C, I say this isn't without reason. This bench is the tallest of them all, so sitting isn't particularly comfortable. This keeps me focused on my note-taking, preventing me from dozing off."

I
Events and Perception
                              “The occurrence of events depends on the onset of sound; no sound signifies no event.” After prolonged presence, I had to revise this premise rooted in my sound maps. Many occurances happen without sound.
I  notice what happens at the center of my attention, unaware of events further out. 
                            When I focused on counting step intervals, shifts in wind temperature or the deceleration of a pram went unrecorded; the moment I looked up at the play of light and shadow through leaves, passersby had already moved on. Their occurrence was not determined by the presence or absence of sound, but by whether I paused my attention upon them.  
                            The map I drew approximated the limits of [my perceptual field], while the site's [full [field] scope] extended far beyond that [field].

II
Rhythm and System
                              Within my brief window, I saw fragmentation and chaos; when that window widened, “their recurrence and rhythm exposed an underlying order so rigid that it felt uncanny rather than harmonious.” In my third week, I wrote: "There's a certain rhythm between these six benches: 

16,             58,                         56,                           62,                            58,               22,         32,
(the distances between six benches and  gates measured by my footsteps)

Why are the benches near the park entrance closer together? When seated on benches A and F, I distinctly hear more sounds from the street than the park, making the rhythm tighter."
                            When layered, the rhythm of bench spacing corresponds to the rhythm in auditory system I perceive, a relationship I describe in the text as
traffic always moves faster than leaves rustling.
III
Visible and Invisible
                              I discovered sound offers an entry point beyond visual barriers, prompting me to write: “Perhaps the importance of sound lies in my ability to know things happening behind me.
                              Sitting on Bench C, I heard grass rustling behind me. When I looked down at the sound, I was delighted to see a puppy scurrying beneath the chair. “If I weren't sensitive to sound, I'd surely miss many such surprises.”

                             These insights ultimately shaped the form of my presentation. I experimented with translating sounds into rhythmic notation, but felt awkward presenting it the second week, this visual form felt like communicating across a mountain range. Without textual annotations, the notation struggled to convey my critical findings effectively. So I ended up with this literal article as a finale, employing some interesting typography that helps me to communicate.






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