藍念初 Lan-Nei-Chun
對我而言，理想的田野錄音服裝，是為自己縫製一副，可以讓感官流暢轉移的多功能收納袋⎯⎯⎯⎯我的感官就是每一個收納口袋的開口，我的肢體，則是支持感官口袋流暢轉動、配掛背帶的支架、軸承固定座。
To me, my ideal field recording outfit is a multi-functional pouch I stitch for myself—one that allows the senses to transfer fluidly from one compartment to another. My senses are the openings of each storage pocket; my limbs are the frame that supports the smooth rotation of these sensory pockets, a structure for fastening straps, a Fixed Side bearing block.
我穿上這副感官之袋，它讓我啟動觸覺、血液循環，同時，讓我保持沉重⎯⎯⎯⎯探聽的靈感，原本沒有觸覺、沒有身體、沒有重心。
When I wear this sensory pouch, it activates my sense of touch, my circulation—while keeping me weighted. The urge to listen, to probe, originally had no tactile sense, no body, no center of gravity.
這款多功能收納袋，每個洞口捕獲的聲響語彙，都可以在重心轉移的時候，通往另一個收納區域，如同僅用拉鍊阻隔的連貫袋體，袋體的各個收納空間，會依據拉鍊的開放與封鎖，彼此相通或暫時關閉；此外，各個空間，皆可處置不同感官的收穫，袋和袋之間的功能可以透過連通轉移，腦和胃，在必要的時候交換位置⎯⎯⎯⎯胃袋封住的時候，食物在腦的地方消化。
This multi-functional pouch captures sonic vocabularies at every opening. When the body's balance shifts, these captured sounds can pass into another storage zone—like a continuous bag segmented only by zippers. Each compartment opens or closes depending on how the zipper is drawn; they may interconnect or remain temporarily sealed. Each zone holds the harvest of a different sense. Functions shift between bags—the brain and stomach swap roles when necessary. When the stomach pouch is zipped shut, digestion occurs where the brain usually is.
它們互相轉換功能，讓我可以凝視眼前使我決意錄音的刺點，與此同時，一萬公尺上方，一架飛機正凌空飛行：那個聲音從耳朵的拉鍊口袋，滾向腦子，微幅度震動我的手指，形成眼前雙重擺動的草枝，草汁斷口的氣息，則是從另一處進入，又再與另外一處，腿部叮咬的搔癢，以及昆蟲飛行、翅和腳的輕微撫觸，按順序混合，一起滾到子宮的位置，叮鈴鏘啷，它們自我的內在發出一組新的聲音，再讓情慾的氣息透過擠壓，釋放、撩撥精神的肌理，讓我移動、讓我的移動加入，使得感官多功能收納袋與身體，組裝成一副新的套組⎯⎯⎯⎯理想的田野錄音服裝⎯⎯⎯⎯充氣型攜帶式維生裝備。
They swap functions. This allows me to fix my gaze on the punctum—that piercing trigger before me that compels me to record—while simultaneously sensing a plane flying ten thousand meters above. The sound enters through the zipper-pocket of my ear, rolls toward my brain, causes my fingertips to tremble ever so slightly, shaping the double sway of grasses in front of me. The scent of a ruptured blade of grass enters from elsewhere; it merges in order with the itch of a bite on my leg, and the faint brushing of wings and legs of an insect. These sensations mix and tumble toward the uterus, ding-ling-clang, where a new sound arises from within. The breath of desire then compresses and releases, teasing the fibers of the psyche, driving me—my motion joins the process—until the sensory multi-functional pouch and my body become a single, assembled unit:
my ideal field recording outfit—an inflatable, portable life-support apparatus.