“I hear bravuras of birds… I hear the sound I like, the sound of the human voice,” Walt Whitman exulted in his ode to the “puzzle of puzzles” we name Being. How puzzling certainly, and the way miraculous, that of the chilly silence of spacetime voice emerged, in all its heat loveliness — this vibrating interplay of power and matter, this oscillating displacement of particles, that may give rise to a mom’s lullaby and the nightingale’s track and Nina Simone, that may reward and blame and slay with silence. To me, voice is an unequaled portal to the soul and the supreme pheromone. Once I miss somebody, it’s their voice I miss probably the most.
For eons, we may seize the likeness of an individual far in area or time, however not their voice: all of the portraits of kings and queens staring down from palace partitions, all of the marble thinkers and the nudes descending staircases, all the images of lovers and kids, all of the mute millennia of them. Voice was life incarnate, not possible to immortalize. Then we harnessed electrical energy, dreamt up the phonograph and the phone, started translating these ephemeral oscillations by the air into electrical waveforms to be transmitted and recorded. You possibly can instantly hear the nightingale throughout the globe, you might hear the voice of the lifeless.
After which voice turned one thing you might see.
Margaret Watts Hughes (February 12, 1842–October 29, 1907) was already one of the vital beloved singers of her time earlier than she turned an inventor. Jenny Lind — probably the most celebrated vocalist of the nineteenth century, who impressed Hans Christian Andersen’s story “The Nightingale” by breaking his coronary heart — thought-about her one among her solely two religious sisters in music, alongside Clara Schumann.
On the cusp of forty, Margaret invented a tool to check and prepare her vocal powers — a membrane stretched over the mouth of a receiver hooked up to a megaphone-shaped tube, into which she would sing. To render her voice seen, she would place numerous powders atop the rubber diaphragm and watch the vibrations scatter the particles, very similar to cosmic rays scatter subatomic particles in a cloud chamber. She experimented with totally different designs: numerous tube shapes, positive silk and mushy rubber for the membrane, sand, lycopodium powder, and flower seeds for the medium.
She known as her system eidophone, from the Greek eidō (“to see”) and phōnḗ (“voice, sound”), and have become the primary girl to current a scientific instrument of her personal invention on the Royal Society.
However the eidophone gave her a far larger reward — a glimpse into one other dimension of actuality.
In the future in 1885, Margaret observed one thing astonishing — as she sang into the eidophone modulating her pitch, the seeds she had positioned atop the membrane “resolved themselves into an ideal geometrical determine.” Experimenting together with her voice, she found that individual tones produced explicit geometries — shapes that “alter in sample or in place with every change of pitch… and improve in complexity of sample because the pitch rises.”
She sang complete songs into the eidophone, capturing the imprint of every notice.
A brand new visible language for sound got here abloom — types partway between Feynman diagrams and Haeckel’s radiolaria.
After which she started to marvel what would occur if she positioned a small heap of moist coloration paste as an alternative of powder on the heart of the diaphragm and lined it with a glass plate, singing totally different sustained notes into the eidophone.
She held her lengthy regular pitch, then watched wonder-smitten as modulations of depth pushed the pigment outward into petals and pulled it again concentrically towards the middle, every sound forming a distinct form. She sang daisies and roses, she sang ferns and bushes, she sang unusual serpents of otherworldly magnificence. The identical tone formations produced the identical flowers every time — daisies and primroses have been straightforward to sing, pansies troublesome — revealing the key backyard contained in the voice.
She known as these types Voice-Figures and got here to consider them as echoes of the voice of God, hoping they’d serve in some small approach “the revelation of one more hyperlink within the nice chain of the organised universe.”
Lengthy thought-about misplaced, they’ve been rediscovered and now endure within the assortment of Cyfarthfa Fort Museum & Artwork Gallery in Wales.
Within the remaining years of her life, wanting again on her experiments, Margaret mirrored:
Passing from one stage to a different of those inquiries, query after query has introduced itself to me, till I’ve frequently felt myself standing earlier than thriller, in nice half hidden, though some glimpses appeared revealed.
Born to working-class dad and mom, the daughter of a cemetery supervisor, Margaret started giving music classes to homeless youngsters within the basement of her home. Overcome with tenderness for them, she felt she needed to do extra and used the earnings from her music profession to discovered a number of orphanages in North London. Upon her loss of life, the Occasions eulogized “the penetrating sweetness of her voice, each in speech and in track, her glowing religion, and her nice magnetic energy [that] had a unprecedented impact on the roughest and most unpromising youngsters.”
When the novelist Emilie Barrington visited one of many orphanages, she was moved to see that as an alternative of curtains or blinds, the home windows have been shaded with Margaret’s brilliant voice-figures, which appeared as one thing out of a dream, out of Alice in Wonderland — “unusual, stunning issues,” she marveled, “suggesting objects in Nature, however that are definitely neither precise repetitions nor imitations of something in Nature.”
Whereas elsewhere in London Florence Nightingale was writing about the therapeutic energy of magnificence, Margaret Watts Hughes appears to have understood that the colourful voice-figures have been greater than ornament within the lives of those deserted youngsters, that inside every individual, even the loneliest, dwells a secret backyard of pleasure ready to bloom below the nice and cozy rays of tenderness, that maybe voice solely exists to present tenderness a vessel.
Couple with these visualizations of consciousness by Margaret Watts Hughes’s modern Benjamin Betts (one among which turned the quilt of Figuring) and pioneering photographer Berenice Abbott’s visualizations of scientific phenomena, then revisit Hannah Fries’s poem “Let the Final Factor Be Tune” — a young love letter to the voice.
HT Public Area Overview through Sophie Blackall
