I came to Kilpisjärvi with the intention to collect sounds - to record and analyze them, much as a biologist would sample the nature she or he researches.
On the first two days after my arrival the weather was cool and dry, with hardly any mosquitos, so i could effortlessly explore the region north of the Saana fjell up to lake Veikkolammit and the border to Norway. Although the tundra looks barren on map scale, i was amazed about the diversity and richness of smaller scale features – here a moor with flowers, there a cataract, fields of rocks randomly thrown into the landscape, a small lake, a lonesome assembly of birch trees etc.. As i was walking along, looking out for interesting places, i found more than i could possibly keep track of.
And more than ever before when prospecting for sounds, it quickly came to my mind that those sonic expressions of nature i discovered are really only kept alive and meaningful in the context of their habitat. The noises of the Tundra are very subtle - be it various different birds marking their territory, the gurgling of the many small streams flowing down the slopes of the fjell, or cotton grass and other flowers swaying in the wind. It means almost nothing without an idea of the spatial relationships of the scene, or without some knowledge of how those sounding elements appear altogether. Only partly is this attributable to the inherent technical deficiencies of recording microphones that they don't work as selectively as the human ear does. Much more is this influenced by prior experience forming mental images of scenarios where recognized sounds can then take their place. With scenarios as complex and manifold as the tundra landscape, its sounds easily become uprooted and meaningless when perceived detached from their habitat.
