ékleipsis

ékleipsis emerged from an attempt to answer a question that, at first, seemed impossible: What does an eclipse sound like?

The question led me away from the astronomical phenomenon itself and toward everything surrounding it. Instead of trying to sonify the eclipse, I began observing the temporary social and perceptual condition it produced: people gathering, waiting, looking, speaking, and collectively directing their attention toward the same event.

This became an opportunity to explore liminality as a lived condition. For a brief period, ordinary structures are suspended and a temporary collective state emerges. Within that space, sound becomes a particularly revealing medium. Environmental sounds that might usually pass unnoticed coexist with electromagnetic activity that surrounds us continuously but remains beyond ordinary hearing. By recording and bringing both layers together, the work expands the field through which the event can be perceived.

The film therefore does not attempt to explain what an eclipse means, nor does it claim to reveal its hidden sound. It observes. It listens. It places perceptual layers alongside one another and allows relationships to emerge without resolving them.

This approach reflects a broader principle within my practice: I use sound as a mode of thought that allows me to question, notice, and understand through listening. In ékleipsis, listening becomes a way of looking elsewhere, toward what is present but overlooked.

The eclipse is ultimately the trigger rather than the destination. Beneath the astronomical event, the work investigates liminal space, collective attention, and the plurality of sound, asking whether listening itself can become a threshold into another way of perceiving.