These are the instructions for the first “Psychic City” Experiment.

But to loose oneself in a city—as one loses ones self in a forest—that calls for quite a different schooling. Then, signboards and street names, passers-by, roofs, kiosks, or bars must speak to the wanderer like a cracking twig under his feet in the forest, like the startling call of a bittern in the distance, like the sudden stillness of a clearing with a lily standing erect at its center. (p 9, A Berlin Chronicle, Benjamin)

Benjamin describes a flaneurship of his own. This experiment is a sort of reversal of the above passage: the city is treated like a forest that you will not move through. You will attempt to become lost while staying in the same place.

Find a location where you will be comfortable sitting for about 40 minutes. This practice can take place anywhere, but select with intention. Do not pick the first place that comes along. You do not have to know why the place that you select is appealing, but choose it as if there was some sort of thing that is calling you there.

After you have selected your locale, spend about ten minutes rendering some sort of description. This can be of any sort: drawing or writing. It is ok to go longer, but keep it short, direct and clear. This description is an exorcism of a sort, a way to mark the existence of the visables around you. When this is complete, put away the writing or drawing. Attempt to forget what you have just written.

Close your eyes and begin listening to the most distant sound you can possibly perceive. This will not come from a place that you have just described, it will instead emanate from beyond the field of your vision. Once you have become aware of this distant sonic content, allow your attention to rise closer, as if your listening is a tide coming in steadily on a broad and flat beach, while still maintaining attention to the distant sounds. Even though it is difficult, try to not privilege one sound over any other. Continue this process until you have reached it’s end, the end being the sounds of your immediate surroundings. If you find yourself becoming distracted at any moment, do not worry: return to the sounds themselves. Take about 15 minutes perform this whole process. A nearby church, ringing the quarter hours, could be a helpful frame to time your listening.

Some suggestions:

Do your best to not name the sounds you are hearing. Try and hear them as a sound in the air, not coming from a particular source. Make attempts to listen to the whole field of sound as one single thing, thus allowing your attention to broadly focus on the whole. The difficulty of doing this is part of what makes it fun. Notice how a particular sound will repeat in your head as an immediate short term memory, an internal mental echo eerily similar to the original. When you hear a sound that is shocking, notice how your body responds before the sound truly enters reflective consciousness.

When you are finished with your fifteen minutes, spend another 10 describing how it sounded, not what you heard as it is named. Use words or drawings. Onomopea is good, but describing the texture or “color” of the sounds is also a good place to start. What was surprising? What was new? What was familiar? After this writing, look at what you wrote down before you began. Look around. Again, what do you notice now?

Remember what it felt like to experience this kind of listening. Attempt it again when ever you wish or whenever there is a time that needs to be filled: Waiting for the train is a great example.

(This set of instructions owes an awful lot to Pauline Oliveros).