The Sound of Decomposing Bodies
Danish sound artist Jacob Kirkegaard often explores extraordinary environments and objects, such as abandoned areas around the former nuclear power plant in Chernobyl (Aion, 2006), the “Singing Sands” of the desert of Oman (Sabulation, 2010), melting ice in the Arctic (Isfald, 2013), border fences between Mexico and the United States (Membrane, 2020) or a fluttering butterfly wing (Metamorphosis, 2021). To make his recordings, he typically uses small vibration sensors (accelerometers), which he places in immediate proximity to the object, on its surface, or even inside it. An accelerometer is a sensor used to measure the vibration or acceleration within a given space or of objects. It can detect both static forces, such as gravity or friction acting on an object, and dynamic forces, such as changes in an object’s velocity. Accelerometers have many uses in industry, consumer products, and science, but are not specifically designed for recording sound. In a sense, Kirkegaard uses the accelerometer against the grain. Its high sensitivity is ideal for detailed and precise recording, letting sand, ice, a fence, or the inside of a body speak, as in “Opus Putesco,” which will be the object of my reflections here.
Opus Mors (2019)[27] is a project by Kirkegaard that captures sounds from four significant environments related to the immediate aftermath of death: a morgue, an autopsy, a cremation, and the decomposition of a corpse. The work is based on meticulous research and takes a straightforward approach to exploring death and its surrounding events. All of the sounds used in the piece were recorded on site. The composition comprises four parts: “Opus Mortuarium,” which features deep, drawn out humming tones from the cooling system within facilities that store the deceased; “Opus Autopsia,” which showcases detailed near-field sound recordings of a complete autopsy; “Opus Crematio,” which captures the sounds of a cremation oven as heard from the inside; and “Opus Putesco,” which focuses on the sounds emanating from decomposing corpses. What follows will be dedicated to the fourth segment.
The Latin word “putesco” refers to the process of putrefaction or decomposition. “Opus Putesco” was created from near-field sound recordings of maggots feeding on the flesh of a human cadaver. To obtain these recordings, Kirkegaard visited the Forensic Anthropology Center at Texas State University, where donated cadavers are kept in an enclosed natural area to study the decomposition process. He was given permission to work with two bodies. “Opus Putesco” consists of two complementary parts, each about fifteen minutes long. While one part acoustically depicts the outside of a corpse with the help of measurement microphones, the second depicts the inside and relies on vibration sensors (accelerometers). As the artist recalls, the first corpse had a three-centimeter-wide hole at its throat, and in the gap under the skin, he could see dozens of maggots gnawing on its flesh. In order to obtain the most detailed recordings, Kirkegaard crouched next to the corpse to record the sound of the feeding maggots, holding his microphone just half a centimeter away (Rimmele 2020: n.p.).
The short fragment of “Opus Putesco,” available on Kirkegaard's website, features the layered depth typical of field recordings. Three sound levels can be distinguished. The smacking of maggots is discernible in the foreground; flying insects can be heard in a mid-range that extends from close to slightly farther away; and finally, birdsong provides the background.[28] The second corpse he worked with at the American study facility was still somewhat open following its autopsy as it had been somewhat haphazardly stitched up. Here, too, the wound was infested with maggots. This time, Kirkegaard decided to “go deep” and record the inside of the body by inserting his sensor into the swarm of maggots in the flesh. The outcome is a deep sound without extraneous noise.[29] Both parts consist of continuous, unedited recordings.
Opus Mors is both played in a live setting with the artist present and displayed as a sound installation in galleries and art spaces. As Kirkegaard elaborates, he tries to keep this particular work from being available on the Internet, as the content may be considered controversial or disturbing to some listeners. Therefore, he wants to ensure that it is not easily copied or illegally distributed, which could result in it being heard by an unprepared audience. To address this concern, in 2019 he released an exclusive deluxe edition of Opus Mors, which includes four LPs on 180-gram strong and durable black vinyl. The LPs were packaged in a handmade archival box, bound in linen and embossed, and accompanied by five unique prints. The edition was signed and numbered and limited to 250 copies. Undoubtedly, this packaging has an appeal that hints at the sound’s haptic qualities. Although the limited-edition-model contradicts the inherent reproducibility of the medium (Balsom 2013: 104), Kirkegaard decided in favor of it, as the purposeful scarcity it creates relates to the preciousness and limited accessibility of the sound materials being presented.[30]