Magdaléna Manderlová: Kozmické louky
Gruenrekorder

I've not been to Kozmické louky and, to be frank, needed a map to familiarize myself with its location. Situated north-west of Ostrava, this prime bird-watching site is described by the Oslo-based and Czech-born visual-and-sound artist Magdaléna Manderlová (b. 1991) as “a wetland in Silesia, on the very edge of the Czech Republic bordering Poland … and one of the last two remaining floodplain areas on the Opava River, locally known as the Opavice.” A quick online photo scan of the locale shows flat, far-reaching vistas filled with wildlife, water, trees, and walking trails. Despite the omnipresent threat of climate crises to this environment, the area offers a safe and comfortable home to a variety of animal species.

Still, while I've not visited the site, Manderlová's field recordings-based sound portraits make me feel like a guest welcomed into the setting and privileged to eavesdrop on the sounds of its places and people for forty-three immersive minutes. As I close my eyes, I imagine myself within the environment, breathing in its replenishing air and attending to the songs of its birds and the subtle vibrations of winds rustling through its grasses. As one finds in any physical place, the vast network of sound elements in play at any given moment is multitudinous. In Kozmické louky, a special universe opens up to those receptive enough to hear it and sensitive enough to appreciate it.

Created over a five-year span, the release (issued in 200 vinyl copies and as a download) presents artfully doctored field recordings and electroacoustic compositions by Manderlová, primarily, and a number of fellow sound artists. A graduate of Trondheim Academy of Fine Arts and University of Ostrava, she brings her passionate interest in ecology to work that's often site-specific and fieldwork-based and assumes the form of sound installations, compositions, concerts, writings, and, as is the case here, sound documents. Appearing on the release are thirteen pieces that were either created on site or in close proximity to it. Whereas the first side presents seven settings credited exclusively to Manderlová, the second features pieces by her, Peter Cusack, Lucie Páchová, Michal Kindernay, and others.

A symphony of bird caws, chirps, and swoops flows through the opening “Probouzení,” though even the dense mass of creature sounds isn't enough to prevent the faint hum of distant traffic from seeping into the mix. While an industrial thrum likewise remains audible during “U soutoku,” it's easy to ignore it when the commingling of site-specific bird chatter, burbling water, and human voices engages the attention. Furious bird cries dominate “Intenzita” so completely, one could be forgiven for imagining it a soundtrack excerpt from Hitchock's The Birds. They figure into “Soumrak” too, with in this case the arresting screech of one bird type and the high-pitched warblings and wailings of another competing for attention. After “Noc” shifts the focus to an unrelenting stream of frog-like croaks, “Léto” contrasts the natural sounds of bees and birds with the chug of a machine mechanism. Side A ends with the hum of a plane passing overheard while nature elements crackle below.

The album's second half begins with Cusack's “Wind in the face” and clangorous, dulcimer-like sonorities punctuating a restless mix of water, wind, and bird sounds. Its dulcimer thrum carries over into Páchová's ever-mutating “Mokrad” but now blended with an agitated array of writhing creature noises, distant vocal sounds, and gamelan-styled tinklings. Manderlová works two pieces into the second half, the first, “Souznení,” a live piece realized by participants at a 2023 symposium who, it sounds like, generated sounds to simulate the Kozmické louky site, and the second, “Struha,” a water-drenched setting featuring Manderlová conversing with her grandmother Vera. The project concludes memorably with “Opavice,” a piece co-composed by Manderlová, Adela Mede, and Klaus Ellerhusen Holm. One easily surrenders to the beguiling sound of a woman's voice as her four-note melodies rise and fall amidst the droning backdrop, the phantasmagoric collage transfixing in its effect.

Manderlová's visual abilities are well-accounted for in the colourful cover image, but it's her gifts as a sound artist that are primarily showcased here and to compelling effect. Even if one, like me, hasn't experienced the locale first-hand, her recording makes it possible to develop a clear and vivid impression of its character.

July 2026