Sound art residency: Radical Voices - first report.

I find myself alone in a little glass box on the fourth floor of a some kind of magnificent fortress called Senate House. My sentence: three months. My punishment: to try to represent the entire history of political radicalism in the form of Sound. My crime? I’ve asked around, but no-one seems to know. Or they’re refusing to tell me…

Quizzical faces peer in to my tank. But they don’t communicate. I want to ask them how I’m supposed to complete this insane task. My mouth opens and shuts, but nothing comes out. They glance at me nervously, and pass on by…

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