(Note: I need a new LBD, and I'm prepared to trade away several pashminas to score the right number. I could sweeten the deal with some "lightly worn" sweaters. Second note: In the age of social, everyone has become a copywriter; doesn't "lightly worn" sound so much nicer than "used" or "secondhand"?).
Against an echoing, atmospheric score, the artists ask what it might mean to "wear" sound and light, playing at the interface between the body and less tangible mediums.
One is that any parent knows that almost any child over the age of six will be exposed daily to (and will almost certainly be using) language that would make Wearing sound like a country vicar.
"Will they decide to give up everything that is pleasant but not necessary," she writes, "or will they affirm that everything is necessary and that men have the right to wear sound, solid shoes on their feet?" Natalia Ginzburg in 1989.
I wonder if she has tried wearing sound-blocking headphones?
Ido Kedar wears sound-blocking headphones because of his heightened sensitivity to sound.
And what about the role he played as a social and music-industry outsider, a diminutive, androgynous figure who didn't fit the mold of what an artist should wear, sound like or sing about ("I wish I was your girlfriend," he once sang to his would-be lover)?
Participants wore sound-attenuating headphones and two synaesthetes wore additional earplugs to minimise scanner-induced synaesthesias.
In this telling, Burton's casual wear sounds authentic, rebellious, subversive, a kind of subcultural style invasion of authoritarian space: Olympic athletes in jeans — scandalous!
To counteract the dress obsession and the bizarre question "who are you wearing?" (which sounds like a weird horror movie) co-host Amy Poehler launched the #AskHerMore Twitter campaign.
An alternative is wearing diapers: sounds stupid, but that's really what they're made for.
