YOUNES BABA-ALI

Sirens, a sound that has become the city's constant companion. They’re everywhere. They howl, wail and bleat at all hours, like grievous electric coyotes. Sneaking in and out of the cities' perception, one after another after another. Their persistence cumulates, permeating our bodies with ever-increasing agony and tension. It is as though, around the clock, the city itself were wailing for its depraved and deviants. These sirens, however, possesses a peculiar quality. Instead of blaring its way through the streets, this car will emit signals of humor rather than horror. By imitating the sirens, we reverse their power relationship in a humorous way, the artist undermines its authority and renders porous its austere sound control system. These human SIRENS calls for a kind of deep listening that draws our attention to the pan-sonic soundscapes of power and surveillance, to the ways in which they suffuse our ears, bodies and minds, our societies and streets. A kind of deep listening that can be overwhelming and draining, especially in moments of crisis. But it can also prompt an expansion of curiosity and humor, which is itself a kind of balm.