1). What is silence for You? Is it a relief or anxiety?
3). We have 5 holes in our head, and a lot of research try to discredit the leading eyesight sense, yet the hearing sense is a minor case. Of course we don’t mean the superiority of the senses but not seeing the potential which lies in other of them. How can we use human hearing sense?
<1 and 3 I think can be addressed together>

Obviously, there is never really silence. There are two reasons why I would claim so: one is fairly banal – we simply do not experience silence. The very nature of experience bustles, constantly. I would imagine it would have something to do with how we are consciously situated in the world. We are located through sound and tactile touch. Not in a geographical sense but in a sense that anchors us and makes us somehow part of an outside surrounding world. Site introduces the world to us but sound internalizes the world and extends us beyond the apparent, even beyond the immediately recognizable. Sound and Touch also are direct evidence of physical occurrence, and sound also indicates an energy. Since the auditory sense is our most far reaching and engulfing – it is crucial to our conscious experience. And famously, even at the unechoic extreme one hears the internal sounds of the body’s workings.
The other reason has to do with the perception of sound. I cannot imagine completely preventing any auditory experience. For me, the flux of data which constitutes the sonic experience creates an analogue succession of mental sounds. You know – you hear the sounds. There is an import_ant distinction here: sound is physical; audio is perceptual. And in this sense – that which is heard constitutes the feeling of hearing. And I think for me, the thread of thoughts, the voices and the incessant internal vaudeville that goes inside my mind somehow exists on the same axis or plane as the sonic experience, albeit devoid of physical stimulus. And I can’t imagine ever shutting that up.
There is a sense in which I can relate to this notion of silence – as in the absence of a sound where such sound is anticipated, expected. Something that should be there, yet is missing. When I think of silence this way – it is a lack that is pregnant with traces of what is missing. Its form is the form of being–haunted, an existence which pervades a non-existence. This silence is foreboding. It is eerie.  This is the feeling I get when walking through a place like occupied Hebron – a ghost town. Or when you become aware of people who should form an integral part of your urban matrix, yet are nevertheless enclosed behind a curfew.
2). Do you remember the moment when you were conscious of the sound in a creative sense? Did you find any differences between the sound and the music if any?
 
I like to think that the very seed of my perception of the axis that lies between music and bare sound can be traced to my elementary school. I remember that -in fifth or fourth grade we had to arrange a song for Music class, and I came up with a voice-ambient piece that was very atmospheric (it sounded like a swamp) and that did not resemble the original in melody or structure. I later developed this idea in my head and broke the same song further using the form of the Israeli Hit Parade. I must have been no more than 11.
There were two crucial moments at a later time: it was during my army service, where I was taught signal theory for intelligence purposes that I one day heard a Bandulu remix for The Golden Palominos and I figured – I get that! I know how these sounds are made and I can make it. My understanding of the sine wave as the basic entity of music, and the understanding that music resides in arranging sine waves started there. Not long after I became aware of Brian Eno’s series of Ambient releases and also of David Toop’s notion of Ambient. I remember hearing a compilation which featured sound artists Robert Rich and Steve Roden which stretched the idea of music further than anything I was familiar with before. It was there that the diffusion between the world and music finally happened for me.
 
 
4). What sounds do you find most irritating? Which ones are soothing?
I hate whispers. If you wanna say something to someone use your fucking vocal chords. And I hated hearing missiles fired by helicopters or tanks in Jerusalem of the early days of the second Intifada.
The sounds of water engulfing me are probably the most soothing – whether in a pool, or tapping on my head in the shower. I have to say that I also find the sounds of a TV very relaxing – they immediately create a comfortable zone for me, a familiar living room reality which makes perfect sense.
5). We know that sound is a good way to possess the space. The amalgam of the city sounds which make noise is ambiguous. On the one hand it doesn’t represent nothing but a technological function, eliminating the silence (or the sounds in-situ), on the other hand it is abstract, so it can transform into musical pulp which enables the space control. Do artists and scientists still perceive the ecology of sound as socially and politically communicative, transgressive or enabling critical activity.
 
To the extent that the “ecology of sound” means the balance of the different sounds, then every act of organizing sound, whether artistically or in more direct social contexts entails a political action. But the effects of this realization have to be viewed within certain parameters. The very problematic of sound as a locus of criticality ties in with the terms implied by the framing here – that sound has the double capacity to “represent” as well as to be abstract. In our natural flow of events, within our environment, sound is always embedded in the concrete experience, and is therefore inherently meaningful. It does not “represent” but is simply experienced as a meaningful aspect of reality. But when applied in an artistic context, something peculiar happens; apart from techniques (such as field recordings) which are imitative and which derive from our natural experience, when abstracted from reality, sound does not carry any specific meaning. Furthermore, the more one connects with the sonic in the sound, ie with the energy manifested as waves, the further one gets from meaning. Sound as sound stands apart from the symbolic (I am here all too conveniently not addressing the question of modes of sound production). And here lies the a-poric nature of trying to project critically unto sound: when one really deals with sound, one cannot find ground for critical discussion. Sound has no meaning other than in the real. It does not represent. And accordingly, in itself, it is simply not conducive for critical discussion. But, as a distinct possibility for the lack of meaning, it is highly potent sphere for various facets of transformation: devotion, transgression, revolution.
 
6). Gugliemo Marconi believed once that we can hear even the oldest sound adapting the right apparatus. Do you think that sound can resist the trace of time?
 
Well, that’s what the big bang is, no? the oldest sound <energy travelling through a medium>. There is a sense that the world is still Pythagorean: as long as it expand or contracts or whatever – the universe embodies sound in itself. As far as audio – prior to the birth of recording the ephemeral notion of audio was unquestioned (apart from very rare Vocal Fossils). But this is part of the real revolution of the recording: the second audio was recorded and objectified – it was potentially eternal. However, recorded audio is always experienced through the mediation of the recording medium, which ultimately prefigures into the experience; and we should probably be aware that prior to recording any audio or sound event is not divorced from the wider context in which it was created. So while wave patters can be reproduced, they carry the mark of time at least in these two ways: the presence of the recording (and playback) medium which inevitably springs up and the detachment from the original context, physical, social and personal.