U60 | Leo Okagawa | something veiled
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format : CD ltd to 200 hand numbered copies/digital
Regular edition of 175 copies come with an additional art card on 350gr satin paper
Special ultra ltd edition of 25 copies. Packaged in black mass–tinted cardboard digisleeve with frame. it holds a set of 2 double-sided art cards with a different artwork from the regular edition on 350gr satin paper.
+ a third one with a white ink trace. (none the same)
Inner sleeve features a glued small inkjet photo on 178gr Epson paper. (none the same as well)
Digisleeve comes in a resealable cello.
release year : 2019
length : 41’38
track : something veiled
status : still available
Special ultra ltd edition is SOLD OUT !
>>> order via Paypal : chalkdc@unfathomless.net
Regular edition
(Belgium) : 13 € (inc.postage)
(Europe) : 14 € (inc.postage)
(World) : 15 € (inc.postage)
Special ultra ltd edition
(Belgium) : 16 € (inc.postage)
(Europe) : 17 € (inc.postage)
(World) : 18 € (inc.postage)
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: info :
This work consists of recorded materials at ‘Abukuma’ and ‘Irimizu’ limestone caves on Abukuma highland, Fukushima. Water is plentiful there, and we can see a long waterfall near our route in Irimizu limestone cave. Both caves are developed and open for public as tourist spots, however, there are some areas that require a guide to enter, and some others prohibited. And also, they are still under survey and possibilities are pointed out that deeper spaces than the deepest spots we recognize now exist.
I visited there on October 2018 and January 2019, and brought my small recording set to carry and record in narrow spaces.
My aim with this work is not recording sounds in these caves just as archives, but transforming what I was much impressed with into an audio piece. Lots of inaudible things are also included in temperature, humidity, weight of atmosphere. These are what my skin felt. Therefore, I thought I need to record what we often overlook. Waters that fall from stalactites or run down the walls, a subtle hum from lighting equipment , echoes of my shoe soles on wet floors… I recorded sounds from various distances and angles and mixed them in multilayers.
The length of this work is shorter than the time I spent in those caves, but I would be glad if I could share what I felt there.
(Leo Okagawa, 31 July 2019)
: reviews :
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Something veiled: the sonic universe of caves as heard through a veil of field recordings
Some artists go to quite extraordinary lengths to create soundscape art. The sounds on “Something veiled” were collected by Leo Okagawa on field trips into Abukuma and Irimizu limestone caves in the Abukuma Highlands area in Fukushima district north of Tokyo. He apparently went very deep into these caves to record such sounds as water dripping off stalactites and echoes reverberating through rock corridors; he even recorded the sounds his feet made while he was traveling and the sounds made by his equipment as he was setting it up. Later, back in the real world, Okagawa used equalization and editing to tease out deep lower frequencies from recordings and the result is a work that goes beyond the source material and its world and becomes a dynamic, restless being whose origins can still be discerned as nature-based but whose essence and purpose might well extend across time and space. Recordings of water dripping, flowing or roaring certainly set up a humid, even damp environment that demands the listener’s attention and draws it to the restless spirits that might inhabit such a steaming world. Imagine that a few quiet drops of water can hold a listener spellbound as they plonk into a stream, the same listener not caring two hoots if just down the hallway at the same time the bathtub was overflowing with running water from a tap. This recording really is that intriguing.
While the album does have its quiet moments – and those moments are sometimes long, or feel longer than they actually are – there is considerable tension underlying those periods, as if at any moment a stalactite may break from the ceiling and fall, hitting the bottom hard and the sound of the crash reverberating throughout the cave system. The soundtrack is constantly busy, whirring or clicking away even during the quietest parts. At the same time though, the music’s mood, while not bubbly, is never less than calm and serene. Where that music is journeying too so confidently and insistently – it is focused on reaching a destination – I don’t have a clue. The most important aspect of that journey though is how the music motivates you, what aspect of it pushes you to keep going. You will eventually achieve or discover something that hitherto was hidden from all humanity and would have remained secret, but which opens up a treasure chest of possibilities and self-discovery only to those who take the risk to go on the journey in the first place.
Nausika/Jennifer Hor
The Sound Projector
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This is a nice introduction to the world of Japanese sound artist Leo Okagawa with regards to Unfathomless. Something Veiled was recorded mostly within a set of caves around Fukushima, made from limestone. As such it’s got this watery cavernous feel, but given the site one cannot divorce it from the 2011 nuclear incident, despite recovery efforts, et al. given the potential for radioactive contamination. However, Okagawa establishes an ultimately peaceful atmosphere with only the barest hint of ominous-ness.
The artist says: “Lots of inaudible things are also included in temperature, humidity, weight of atmosphere. These are what my skin felt. Therefore, I thought I need to record what we often overlook. Waters that fall from stalactites or run down the walls, a subtle hum from lighting equipment, echoes of my shoe soles on wet floors“… It’s so powerful to hear his observations as a photographic artist who primarily works in plein air also listen for the most subtle surroundings, the incidental. And the tiny drops and creaks are all left in his recording in the chasms and lulls of the forty-two minute work. So what is veiled?
In some ways what may seem missing is the human presence, giving nature time to recover, whisper, ooze. The recording is a testament to quietude and endurance. Okagawa’s sound is pensively removed from the urban grind, finding it’s resonance organically time-based. There’s nothing particularly performative here (per se), instead he inlays his vision in the mix, like a organically formulated recipe that continues to simmer. And at about halfway in it does so with a waterway that sounds more like the hiss of percolating molecules.
After this point of apex the mood begins to disperse and flatten some as if fermenting. And the ambient silences open to the tranquilizing sounds of raindrops. Once this peters out the listener is left with equipment static and a ‘nearly’ silent void, but therein lies the continued tension, that type of quiet that makes your senses hyper aware. Eventually the end rolls into an extended gong-like drone and its echoes until the presence of human movements, like putting away equipment and walking out of an enclosed space, bring this to closure.
TJ Norris
Toneshift
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For me, an album based on field recordings works best when I forget that the source sounds are.
There’s certainly merit in the idea of acoustic ecology, using sound to document a location as it is. However, I prefer it as a listening experience when a sound captured by a microphone is separated from its source. The Unfathomless label is dedicated to music made from field recordings and does a fine curatorial job presenting multiple facets of that idea. Leo Okagawa’s “something veiled” is the sort of field recording album that transforms its source into poetry. The artist explored limestone caves in Fukushima with microphones in hand, then sculpted those sounds into music that references but transcends its origins. That isn’t to say the origins aren’t fascinating! They certainly are. I’ve never been spelunking (it sounds terrifying), but I’ve seen enough footage of caves to imagine what the experience might be like and know that it isn’t for me. Okagawa bravely went on a deep dive underground to capture the sounds of water dripping from stalactites and echoes reverberating down massive rock corridors. He also preserved sounds introduced by his recording process, like the hum of lighting equipment and his footfalls bouncing off wet rocks. These source sounds are only where “something veiled” begins, not its ultimate destination. What the composer does with the material his microphones picked up shapes the album’s low-level drama. Using equalization and editing, he teases deep lower frequencies out from huge hollow areas and uses them to establish sustained tension. As the piece moves on, that attention to finely-tuned sonic space pays off. At one point, a rush of white-noise becomes several layers of competing beating rhythms. A fluttering reverberation becomes a low throbbing bass texture, adding a sense of implacable foreboding to the back half of the album, which stretches out as a sustained drone which (perhaps unsurprisingly) resembles a less overtly sinister version of Lustmord’s “Heresy”. The sheer sonic (not to mention geographic) depth of Okagawa’s audio spaces is remarkable, making “something veiled” edge-of-your-seat compelling for its duration. And certainly less terrifying than jumping down into a cave.
Frans de Waard
Vital Weekly
