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For the Kobe Biennale held in Kobe, Japan in 2016, sculptor Benoît Maubrey created a traditional Japanese torii gate out of speakers and a bunch of inputs (Bluetooth, line-in, even an 8-track). Using microphones or their phones, passersby could connect to the torii to play music or sounds, talk to each other over the mics, or sing karaoke. The structure was later relocated to Kamiyama. Maubrey has made several similar artworks; here’s what he says about his work:

Artistically I use loudspeakers much in the same way that a sculptor uses clay or wood: as a modern medium to create monumental artworks with the added attraction that they can make the air vibrate (“sound”) around them and create a public “hotspot”.

The audio part of my sculptures is also site-specific and flexible: in all my work the sound level is controllable and the interactivity is regulated via a mixing board (a bell tower or pendulum clock also make sound).

Participation: according to the sculpture site and purpose my sculptures can be equipped with a microphone (self expression), Bluetooth receivers (individuals can play their own tunes music), telephone answering machines (people can call and express themselves Live), radio receivers (for low-level cosmic white noise that sound like whispering pines), and “audio” twitter that allows people to send phonic messages. In some cases the whole system can be used as a PA system for announcements, concerts, open mike sessions, and DJ events.

There is a logic version of the following cartoon:

Perhaps with a stress on the “helplessly.”

Conversation with Victor after the 40,000th time I failed to answer my phone:

Victor:  I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU.  WHY DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING ANSWER YOUR PHONE WHEN I CALL YOU?

me:  I didn’t hear it because I was too busy yelling at some idiot who claimed that you weren’t the most understanding and patient husband in the world.

Victor:  I…don’t even know what to say to that.

me:  You should probably just say “Thank you.”

The 40,001st time I failed to answer my phone:

Victor:  AAAAH.  IT’S A PHONE, JENNY.  JUST ANSWER IT.

me:  *mumble mumble*

Victor:  What?  What are you saying?

me: *mumble mumble*

Victor:  WHAT?

me: That was me practicing what it would sound like if I was gagged and bound and finally answered the phone with my nose to tell you which abandoned warehouse I was stuck in.  And you failed.

Victor:  WHAT?

me:  Because maybe that’s why I wasn’t answering my phone.  Maybe it was to make this drill seem more realistic.  I can’t just reach my phone immediately if I’m tied up.  IT TAKES FINESSE.

Victor:  You’re killing me here.

me:  It won’t always be a drill, Victor.  Get your shit together.

The 40,002nd time:

Victor:  YOU HAVEN’T ANSWERED YOUR PHONE IN HOURS.  I’VE BEEN WORRIED SICK THAT YOU’D BEEN MANGLED IN AN ACCIDENT.

me:  But I wasn’t.  I just turned the ringer off accidentally.  You must be very relieved.

Victor:  RELIEVED?  I’M PISSED.

me:  Well, that’s really the very opposite emotion to have when finding out that your wife is less-mangled-than-expected.  I think maybe you need to re-prioritize and call me back when you’re less confusing and ready to apologize.

The 40,003rd time:

Victor: HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF THE ROLES WERE REVERSED?  WHAT IF I JUST NEVER ANSWERED YOUR CALLS?

me:  Hello.  I just found this phone.  I’m not Jenny.

Victor:  I FUCKING KNOW IT’S YOU.

me:  The girl who dropped this phone is inside a flaming building saving orphans. She told me to hold her phone for her in case you called.  How are you?

Victor:  Seriously, why can’t you just answer your phone?

me:  Why is the sky blue?  Why can’t they just make orphans fire-proof?  Frankly, we could ask these questions all day, but the main point is that your wife is a hero and you should probably bring her some egg rolls on your way home because I bet she’d like that.

The 40,004th time:

Victor:  AAAAARGH!

me:  You know, at this point it’s sort of your fault for expecting me to answer the phone at all.  It’s not like I haven’t set a precedent.

Victor:  JUST ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE.

me:  Technically if I answered right away the first time you called it would be totally out of character and would probably be a sign that I was being held hostage or something.  We should have code words so that if I ever need to talk to you in front of kidnappers you’ll understand me.

Victor:  I already don’t understand you.

me:  That’s why it’s good we’re having this conversation now.

The 40,005th time:

Victor:  I’m going to duct tape your phone to your ankle.

me:  That would make it very hard to talk to you.  I’m not really that flexible.

Victor:  But at least you’d answer the phone.

me:  Technically the doctor would probably answer the phone.

Victor:  What?

me:  Because I’m allergic to the latex in tape and I’d probably have a massive reaction and then I’d have to go the hospital and then they’d call the police because normal husbands don’t stick poisonous tape to their wives like some sort of deadly ankle-monitor.  And then you’d have to explain that to the police.  Who would be talking to you from my ankle.  Which would just be weird for all of us.

The 40,006th time:

Victor:  WHAT IF I WAS DEAD?  WHAT IF THIS WAS THE POLICE CALLING TO TELL YOU I JUST DIED?

me:  Well, that would be very depressing.

Victor:  Yes, but you’d never know because you never answer your phone.

me:  You can’t begrudge me a few extra hours of blissful ignorance.  Why are you in such a hurry to make me grieve for you?  It’s not like you’re getting any less dead, Victor.

The 40,007th time:

me:  OH MY GOD, DON’T YELL AT ME.  I DIDN’T EVEN HEAR IT RING BEFORE.

Victor:  Um…this is actually the first time I’ve called you today.  You actually picked up the phone the first time I called.

me:  Seriously?  That’s so weird.

Victor:  I know.  I’m so shocked that you answered that I don’t even remember why I called anymore.  My mind has gone utterly blank.

me:  Awesome.  I think we just switched bodies.

********

On an entirely personal note, this week has been sort of shitty, and if things keep going the way they have been I suspect that by Saturday kittens will go extinct and I’ll have my face eaten off by horses.  But just when I was feeling really sorry for myself I got a note from my editor telling me that my book (Let’s Pretend This Never Happened) has been on the NYT best-seller list for the last three months.  Which is insane.  And amazing.  And completely thanks to you and your fantastic support.  So I’m doing another give-away as a small way to say “thanks”.  Leave a comment (about anything) and I’ll randomly pick a few winners to get signed copies of my book.  Or, if you already have my book I’ll just give you the $15 and you can buy something by Neil Gaiman.  That guy’s amazing.

• 1. Profesor by měl být moudrý a úctyhodný.
• 2. Putna se nechoval důstojně.
• 3. Tudíž Putna neměl být navržen na profesora.

Titul profesora by měli získávat lidé nejen za znalosti, ale i za to, jak vystupují, mluví, chovají se... Asi je to staromódní názor, nevím. Ale cosi mi říká, že bychom někdy trochu staromódní být měli. Kdysi byla i maturita něčím výjimečným. Dnes už je divný ten, kdo nemá titul bakaláře, magistra či inženýra. Ale není to proto, že jsme vzdělanější. Je to bohužel proto, že tyto tituly postupně degradují. A to se rozhodnutím Univerzity Karlovy teď děje i s titulem profesora. A to je škoda.