After guiding my photographers through taking pictures of the chosen points and recording the GPS coordinates, I returned to those points to take my measurements. Both photographs and measurements were taken in eight directions: north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest. For the sake of time (and my sanity!), any distance too far to realistically measure using armspans was simply noted as infinity.

An observation I made during the process was that despite my best efforts, and the use of both a basic GPS device and a compass, I did not end up at exactly the same place the second time, nor did I always end up measuring the distance to the exact same object that was photographed. This observation, like the failure of the electronic measurement device I had constructed, reminded me of how technology is not always quite the godsend it is sometimes made out to be. It also reminded me of the possibility for human error while using technology - I may have written the initial coordinates incorrectly, for example.

Processing the data for output contained both arbitrary and mathematical elements. For example, I had to decide how I wanted to determine duration, frequency, and overtone for each point and direction. I opted to define forward direction, righthand direction, and reverse direction for these elements. To clarify, if I was facing north from a particular point, the north measurement was "forward" and determined the initial frequency. The south measurement was "backward" and became the overtone frequency. West was "righthand" and determined duration of the tones.

I also selected the order I wanted to put these tones in. I started at my northernmost point and went clockwise around the Grandstand. However, for each point, I opted to move in a counterclockwise circle at each location. In other words, my first eight tones are the tones for the north point, starting with north as "forward" and moving in a counterclockwise circle, my next eight tones are for the northwest point, and so on. (The move to a new point is further marked by a 1-second silence after every eighth tone.)

However, once I made these choices, I converted each measurement to centimeters, then multiplied them by factors in order to determine frequencies (factor 2.6) and durations (factor 1/120). Determining the factors themselves was somewhat arbitrary, based upon the range of frequencies audible to human beings, but the actual use of said factors was strictly mathematical.

I also opted to turn "infinity" distances into either 13 kHz (near the end of the average range of middle-aged human hearing) or 2 seconds, depending on which direction the "infinity" measurement was taken from. Again, these numbers were chosen due to combination of scientific and subjective factors.

Once I had compiled all of the appropriate numbers, I then used a tone-generating program to convert these numbers to an audio file. The result is a strange, impersonal minute and a half of sound, but at the same time, I could not completely sever the link between the impersonal and the subjective in this piece. Perhaps it will never evoke the sense of the Grandstand for those who have never been there (or even for those who have). But, at the very least, to me this piece will always remind me of my day at Racetrack Playa.