Mr.Invisible

Words Elle Kwan

The room is pitch black, the only sound a dull hum. Edging into the space and brushing against something rough, you gasp loudly. The drone grows as you move deeper into the dark; then you hear it. Your gasp. Only this time, you didn’t make it. You focus in on the darkness – and there it is again. That gasp, repeated, whipped into the now ever-changing texture of overlapping sounds.

“It certainly is unusual,” chuckles Ka-Lum Ng, curator at Hong Kong’s Visual Arts Centre, speaking about his new artist-in-resident’s trademark installations. Cedric Maridet, unlike many of the VAC’s exhibitors, does not deal in paint and canvas, or clay and sculptures. His interest lies in something much more commonplace, something Hong Kongers live with constantly, something many scream about once in a while. But a furious rant, such as a scream, spurs Maridet’s interest even more, for his art is sound. Sound, which he uses like a painter uses pigment: his brush is a recorder, his finished canvases dense soundscapes woven from the city’s noise – he calls them “electro acoustics”.

“It’s the experience,” he says, trying to articulate his fascination with sound – but that is as far as he can explain. He had the usual teenage dreams of playing in rock bands, but a brief flirtation with the guitar ended soon after it started. “I was really bad,” he says, rolling the ‘R’ in that way the French do. So musical stardom was forgotten as he left his native France for Hong Kong to complete national service, and it stayed forgotten. Up until three years ago, long after that service had finished, and Cedric was still toiling in university classrooms, teaching French, he began tinkering with sounds on his computer, adding them to photos he’d taken when travelling. He never thought it could turn serious.

Today he looks impressed. He’s been running around the VAC’s dim concrete corridors for the last few days. Excited, he rushes to the window indicating the fruits of his labour: two long black cables run from a room one floor below, all the way outside, and back into Cedric’s bare workspace, connecting to two laptop computers. It may seem simple, but those two wires form the basics of what will prove to be an ambitious sound installation. Through them Cedric will record an air vent in one room, and an air conditioning unit in another: the base sounds of his installation. It was air conditioning – an overlooked symbol of this city but vital in our hot, humid summers – that sparked his idea for this exhibition. As he began researching the arts centre and its location, the idea grew into something more ecological. “You have Hong Kong Park, which is just here, and actually in this park they are also trying to recreate a rainforest eco-system, so there is something artificial here as well. We have two different kinds of systems – the natural air flowing outside, and the more artificial inside,” he says, explaining how that led to a theme on the sounds of breathing. Loops of sound will be miked back into the two rooms, working in rhythm, like intakes of breath. The installation, however, will not be complete without one final element: listeners. As they enter, the various noises they make will be incorporated into the recordings and piped back into the space, creating a shifting, unique work of sound art. It’s a different way of working for Cedric, but he’s never shied away from a challenge.

When those initial experiments putting sound to photos morphed into full sound works, he set up his own label, Moneme, to distribute his work. His collection of sounds keeps on growing. He never leaves his quiet home in Sheung Wan without a recording unit, and enjoys trekking into deserted Hong Kong countryside. “The sound in summer with the frogs and insects can be so dense.” The next step is composing less intuitively. His previous pieces have evolved without a predetermined structure. Habitus – a CD recorded from the roof of Western Market ­– evolved from improvised recording systems to capture noises of the tram system, the harbour and the highway; while Huangpu, the sound piece that won Cedric Hong Kong’s biennale 2005 Award of Excellence, was also created slowly with no intended structure. Often his results are heavy walls of sound. “Yes, I always end up with that,” he says. He wonders if the work at the VAC could pan out differently. “I don’t know exactly what’s going to come out, but it might be more minimal.”

Cedric doesn’t mind a lack of structure. He can be vague about the way he works, which disguises a quiet focus and steadfast determination. Plans for this project include sound workshops, where members of the public can learn to record, compose and possibly even podcast over the net. He hopes such works will go some way towards creating a sociological marker representing Hong Kong’s varied landscape, similar to what groups in New York and Vancouver have created. After all, he says, “Hong Kong has plenty of sounds.”

He also has a PhD to complete, and will no doubt still be seen at White Noise Records or Parasite, though this softly spoken, low-key artist is less keen on appearances and more excited about experiences. He ponders making his library of drones, dirges, rings, rattles and other sounds more palatable by adding a visual element. “Really, there is nothing to see, but audiences always demand it,” he says, dark eyes lost in the furrow of a frown. He isn’t keen to comply solely to please them and chatters about Parisian sound experimenters who made themselves barely visible in a roomful of speakers – a vanishing act he aims to follow.

Each of his pieces relies heavily on computer technology, which is partly why it’s so difficult to stick a label on Cedric. Artist? Musician? Or even scientist? “Not a scientist” he says, laughing at the suggestion. “No, no, no, definitely not – but I would love to be better, I don’t want to do all the time the same things, it’s good to try something new.” And he is trying – as several thick, yellowing books of mind-bending equations testify. But one thing is certain, whether centre stage, hidden among graphics and speakers, or hiding high up in a room controlling the action via cables, Cedric Maridet will always be the star of a very unique kind of art show.

Cedric’s installation will be open to visitors in October, at Hong Kong’s Visual Arts Centre, 7A Kennedy Rd, Central, 2521 3008.

But that’s Kim Tak Building – slow-moving, original, surprising. They are no regular band, and they don’t have dollar signs in their eyes. In fact, when asked about their ultimate goal, the answer from each of the individuals was simple: to stay together as a band forever.