Making Sounds, Part 2: The Physical Space of Sound

Although my recent sound piece with Oriana is intended to be heard individually through headphones, I’m inspired to explore the physicality of sound from both device and spatial perspectives.

  • Can sounds be choreographed to move like wind through a space? What effect does this have if people are moving versus stationary?
  • What effect does seeing the sound-emitting device have on an installation? Why would it be important to hide the source of sounds or reveal them?
  • How can I create my own speakers to play sounds? Or a device that emits sound it generates itself? How Speakers Work, How to Make a Speaker

A new months ago, I heard Julianne Swartz’s tunnel installation piece at Mass MoCA. Within the tunnel connecting Sol LeWitt’s gallery to the rest of the museum, tiny speakers were carefully placed behind beams and steel rods. As you walk down the corridor sounds are heard from behind you, then to the left of you, or far ahead of you, or just below you. It is as if sound is physically jumping from speaker to speaker. The spatial dimension is most evident when the speakers perform “in conversation”, each taking a turn. Often the sounds are single tones, sung individually but occasionally merging together. The metal tunnel itself is an instrument, layering in reverberation and echo.

Q2 Music fortunately recorded a brief snippet on Instagram, but the piece’s physical dimension is inevitably lost in the “two-dimensional” recording.

In a separate piece from 2012, Swartz installed meandering PVC and plastic tubing through the deCordova Museum, tracing its way from the utility room, up three floors, to the gallery. At points along the way, openings in the tubing allow for “listening leaks”.

Julianne Swartz, How Deep is Your, 2012
Julianne Swartz, How Deep is Your, 2012
Julianne Swartz, How Deep Is Your, 2012
Julianne Swartz, How Deep Is Your, 2012

What’s fascinating in both these installations is the physical dimension of sound. At Mass MoCA, the sound has a spatial presence through movement, jumping around within a contained space. At the deCordova Museum, visitors visually trace the sound throughout the museum and seek out opportunities in different spaces to hear the hidden audio. But at each leak location—along the stairwell, in the lobby, at the final funnel—the audio takes on a different form as it has lost bits of itself along the way.

Further Reading/Listening:

Sampo Syreeni, Sound as a Physical Phenomenon

Robert Curgenven,Climata and Sound, Landscape and the Bastard Child Soundscape

Tim Ingold, Against Soundscape

Making Sounds, Part 1: Emotional Earfuls

Octavia E. Butler’s “Bloodchild” is a love story. Science fiction is often able to confront very real and tangible issues through the disguise of unbelievability or absurdity. In the afterword to “Bloodchild”, Octavia E. Butler explicitly states that the short story is concerned with three things: love between two different beings, having to make a difficult decision when faced with disturbing consequences, and men facing pregnancy. Fundamentally, this can be understand as a question of who we love, how we demonstrate love and what we are willing to do for those we love. These questions of love are universals, not limited to the realm of aliens or science fiction.

With this in mind, I collaborated with Oriana Neidecker to create an emotional soundscape inspired by Butler’s tale of love. How could sound communicate the emotional rollercoaster experienced by Gan, the main character? He loves T’Gatoi, perhaps more than his mother. Yet after watching and participating in the violent and gruesome birth of a Tlic by a fellow human male, he confronts whether he is willing to endure the same harrowing experience. Does he love T’Gatoi enough? His sister? His mother? Do we love anyone enough?

In structuring the piece, we identified four sections of emotion and described them in terms of colours. Discussing our intention through emotion and colour allowed us to broadly give definition to the written narrative without feeling constrained by the individual details. For each section, we established tempo and pacing, volume and legibility, degree of repetition, and how clips were cut together (blended or harshly).

  1. Grey-purple: calm, relaxed, placid, layered and blended sounds, yet on edge
  2. Deep red: chaos, anticipation, horrified, frenetic, abrupt cuts, overwhelmed
  3. Blue gradient: oscillating and alternating, waves moving in and out, thinking out loud, conflict,
  4. Green: acceptance, reconciliation, growth

The completed piece is meant to be heard individually through headphones—as opposed to earbuds—in the dark and with the listener’s eyes closed. The sound is envisioned as emanating from within each of us, deep in our ribcage. The sounds are in conflict, fighting to be heard above one another and rising in volume. They jump from right-to-left-to-right-to-left, unsure of where to land. Yet they find resolution and acceptance. Love is a series of questions.

Pejk Malinovski, “Don’t Be Boring”, September 16 2016

Originally trained as a poet, Pejk Malinovski considers himself to be a composer of documentary-based interviews, uniquely creating montages that operate outside of traditional narrative structure. His audio pieces often result from cutting many different sources together: audio clips from movies; children reading and interpreting stanzas of poetry; music created for specific geographies.

Although both language-based, the comparison between sound work and written work is worth considering. Perhaps the control of time is a fundamental distinction between the two. When reading, individuals have an easier ability to set the pace at which they engage the material. They may skim and only read headings, or flip back and re-read a paragraph not immediately understood, or even take extended breaks between chapters. This change in ‘timing’ occurs with the same sense in which the work is consumed: visually. To stop reading, or to reread, happens with our eyes. However with audio, the manipulation of timing cannot occur by telling our ears to stop listening, or to re-listen. The track continues on despite our mental thought. Thus, the manipulation or interruption of an audio piece requires action. Pausing a track happens with our fingers, pressing the fast forward button distorts the sounds and they come illegible. The ability to self-navigate through an audio track is not impossible, but it is a deliberate action. In this way, the creator of an audio track has significant control over how a listener consumes the pace of the piece.

Perhaps this control over the sequencing of the story is necessary when considering the lack of control regarding in what context the piece is heard. It may be in a quiet living room on speakers, or through earbuds on a crowded bus, or in passing while riding in a taxi, listening to the driver’s radio. How and where we consume creative content—whether it be auditory, static visuals, motion-based, or text—is increasingly out of the creators control. Everything is on the Internet and the Internet is everywhere.

Malinovski discussed his approach to establishing a place within his sound pieces, describing them site-specific responses. Through this specificity, whether it be the living complex for elderly actors in New Jersey or explicitly Poetry, Texas, the narrative is grounded geographically. By providing a physical context within the narratives, perhaps the physical context of the listeners is less relevant. They themselves are not in the story, but are hearing about characters as they relate to the established place. It is a world not to get lost in, but to observe and consider.

Follow-up questions for Malinovski:

  • In pieces for radio, what is your expectation for how or where they are heard? Is it something that factors into the work, or do you take the position that they should be heard anywhere?

On Computation

Computation is a calculation.

Computation adheres to rules; rule of it’s own making and governing rules.

Computation is a tool, a means of extending human capability to achieve a goal.

Computation is written by someone. Even an algorithm generated by another algorithm would have at some point been written by a person.

Is computation subjective or objective?

Computation is a process.

Computation converts an input to an output. The same output can be produced through many different ways of processing the input.

Computation can produce useful outcomes. Computation can produce useless outcomes. The outcome requires interpretation to determine whether it is useful or useless.

The interpretation of computation is a cultural product, reflective of the ideas, values, knowledge, opinions of a point in time.

On Endings

Afterward

Often written by the author, the afterward provides commentary on the piece itself. It may include context, additional information or alternative interpretation of the work.

Epilogue

Placed outside of the established narrative structure but concerned with the characters, plot and themes of the piece, the epilogue is a conclusion.