2. UNITING THE LISTENING EXPERIENCE

A common practice among electroacoustic composers is the use of listening instructions or lessons to direct and enhance the listening experience. Some pedagogies are the art piece itself: 4′33″ by John Cage and Sonic Meditations by Pauline Oliveros are quintessential – the former teaching the musicality of everyday life and all spaces, and the latter finding the inner and outer vibrations connecting the individual, the space and others. However, as Adam Tinkle argues in his paper ‘Sound Pedagogy: Teaching Listening Since Cage’, although ‘these artists attempt to transform auditory perception in the everyday life of the subject’, they have the problematic potential to infer that there is a ‘primordial condition to which we must return’, by way of these ‘protocols for organised listening’, which is in ‘themselves, forms of enculturation’ (Tinkle Reference Tinkle2015: 222–3). Nonetheless, there is more to the listening pedagogy and ceremony than just the presumption that there is only one way to experience a certain sonic piece. Not only do the observers’ ears become tuned to the musicality of everyday life sounds (in the Cagean sense) but it also functions as a unifying and meditative ritual for all those gathered at that moment, for that experience. It advises the audience towards open ears, minds and hearts, nurturing the phenomena of collective thought, inspired empathy, participatory expression and active listening. Acts that, in themselves, encourage a more profound, more affected response and a heightened, creator–performer –participant rapport. Tinkle admits this himself:

In the sound installation Not Being Able to Speak is Torture, the listening pedagogy is integrated into the entire experience from beginning to end. Before experiencing the installation, the audience shares their own life stories while drinking juice together in a community-bonding ritual, encouraging participant dialogue while opening the pathways of empathetic expression – the audience are not merely observers, but also participants. After, there is an interview period where they share their emotions and personal memories sparked by the encounter. Here, the listening pedagogy is not explicit but subconsciously encouraged. ‘It proposes that by turning both the narrator and the public into performers of listening, they are placed in a relational context that offers an alternative space in which victims and the public’s memories, emotions, and thoughts in a transitional context can be worked through’ (Sotelo Castro Reference Sotelo Castro2020: 220). These group bonding sessions open up participants to share their own stories while supporting a safe space that facilitates special care towards the subject matter, the participants and the storytellers.

The raw material for the NBATSIT installation consisted of recorded accounts (via actors through headphone verbatim technique) of a refugee family from Colombia who had to hide in an abandoned house in the Colombian countryside while the violent guerrilla military group the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC – Spanish: Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia) occupied other rooms of the house, having thought that it was vacant. The recordings diffused throughout the maze-like installation structure (via Arduino microcontrollers through compressed wood soundboards) were interspersed with a specially commissioned composition by the American sound artist Barry Prophet and helped communicate this emotional story of a family hiding for survival. Sotelo Castro explains the purpose of the project and the importance of creating a centralised listening practice for the installation: ‘There is not a mechanism to control the public’s listening process, to check that they have heard correctly, to know if they refuse to listen or to raise awareness about the effect that their mode of listening is having on those who speak. This is because listening is not framed as part of a dialogue and a relationship but as part of a transmission process’ (Sotelo Castro Reference Sotelo Castro2020: 221). Active and participatory listening must be at the heart of all socially engaged art forms, especially where an individual’s personal history is involved. Many victims suffer from the inability to be heard, and it is a prominent reason they are involved in these types of projects in the first place – it is sometimes a form of therapy for the subject, the participants and the artist. Creating a safe space for all involved is essential.

An aspect hidden from the NBATSIT project participants was that one of the family members whose oral history was heard in the installation was also secretly a participant in the group. Both the storyteller and the audience, on an equal plane, were performing and stimulating active listening. While Sotelo Castro’s group interaction does not explicitly call itself a ‘listening practice’, but rather ‘performative listening’, the intent and results are similar. One participant talked about how they felt more open to sharing their own story due to the honest conversation, the safe space and sense of community – an environment shaped and supported by active listening:

It is important to note that when working with sound compositions or installations that repurpose the sonic material from sensitive personal histories, there must be cooperative integration of the person behind the stories themselves, no matter how much group meditation or awareness is brought to the practice and dissemination. In his paper ‘The Exploitation of “Tangible Ghosts”: Conjectures on Soundscape Recording and its Reappropriation in Sound Art’, John Levack Drever proposes that composers must reflect deeply while working with personal histories. They must acknowledge a ‘responsibility and sensitivity to the material that they are dealing with; constantly reminding themselves that no one lives in a cultural vacuum, art is not self-contained, and does feedback into society. We must strive for the utmost awareness of our actions’ ramifications on society, with our ears and eyes wide open, and to respond appropriately to that awareness’ (Drever Reference Drever1999: 28).

I, too, propose that to ‘unite the listening space’, we must do more than just meditate together. There must be an ethical responsibility to the entire process, from sound collection to the schizophonic palette and presentation. There is no sense of unity if the most vulnerable in our communities are not cared for. Without this consciousness, the thing that we hope to accomplish may instead do the exact opposite – fracture the community we wish to empower and educate. Those stories become exploited, and those people have their historical breadth stolen, while the uninformed go forth to further appropriate while positioning themselves ahead of those whose stories they have devastated. No one goes forth to engage in progressive social practice alone. It becomes narrow-minded and self-serving. I fully second Drever’s proclamation: ‘I believe the challenge for the sound artist is to be able to deal critically and innovatively with all sounds, hand in hand with a profound sense of compassion for the impact of their work on the social environment’ (ibid.)

Pauline Oliveros describes how the pedagogical method in Sonic Meditations is also solicitously dualistic: non-judgemental perception of sonic space while stimulating empathy through listening. The intimate listening ritual creates unexpected, surprisingly magnetic emotions between the participants (Osborne Reference Osborne2000) as ‘members of the group may achieve greater awareness and sensitivity to each other. Music is a welcome by-product of this activity’ (Oliveros Reference Oliveros1974: 1). Beyond the direct result of opening up the ears of an individual in the literal act of listening, Deep Listening and Sonic Meditations create an unforeseen side-effect among the participants – similar to the benefits of spiritual group meditation – an ethereal sense of unity and community in those on the journey together. A consequence wholly useful outside of the Oliveros practicum, and thus another instance where the intersections of sonic art and oral history work together to enhance public reception of a socially conscious art piece.

The cause of this unexpected consequence of group listening lies in the essence of the listening theory itself: listening is not merely hearing sounds or dialogue, it is understanding the profound communication occurring underneath. The historical, cultural, societal and psychological meaning within the connections between anything, everybody and everything – or as Oliveros calls it, ‘the ears hear, the brain listens, and the body senses vibrations’ (Tedx Talk 2015). Oral history as a practice is deeply intertwined with the theoretical teachings of listening. The second, third and fourth laws of listening, as outlined in The Art of Listening, are taking an interest in others, tearing down roadblocks by keeping lines of communication open and listening between the lines (Schrank Reference Schrank2007). These statements encourage listening by creating and maintaining a deep connection with and awareness of the subject. It is understandable that the intersections of these two different disciplines’ pedagogies centred on listening generate a unified, group empathy:

Fostering empathy results in better listening – which is also a clear mandate for oral history pedagogies and another intersecting, synergetic theory between the disciplines.

Combining this connection of oral history and active listening will result in the best quality oral history record, whether intended for performance/presentation or ‘merely’ archiving. At the heart of the practice is the passionate care and respect for the human subject and history with special attention to the interview and recording conditions (University of North Carolina Libraries 2020). A composer practi sing Oliveros’s Deep Listening and Sonic Meditations could teach the oral historian the importance of listening to the acoustics of an interview space before starting an interview – not only to filter out unwanted noise but also to capture the delicate sonic nuances of an environment through the recorded experience. The composer can take from the oral historian the respect, care and utilisation of the human condition – community, communication, storytelling and history – with a well-researched background on the subject to accomplish high-quality and effective socially conscious sonic art. This care also bonds composers, collaborators, performers and musicians when creating and presenting an art piece; they need to go beyond just ‘hearing’ their collaborator so they may respond (sonically and performatively) in a way that is creatively provocative and engaging. In achieving this, they understand and connect with special care and intention. This care is the essence of active listening.

3. SONIC SENTIMENTALITY AND SILENCE

As predominately vision-dependent creatures, human beings tend to ‘believe it when they see it’, suggesting that the eyes are the true testament to reality. This obsession with the visual creates shackles for the imagination, where sound may be the key. Often in minimal theatre, the stage is laid bare, and it is the sculpted score playing through the loudspeakers that paint the scene. This application of sonic design is an indicator of the immersive power of sound (Amelides Reference Amelides2016), and conversely, the limitations of the visual world. Three classic electroacoustic compositions bring this imaginative potency of sound to the subjective toolbox for sonic empathy: Mi Bémol by Yves Daoust, Red Bird: A Political Prisoner’s Dream by Trevor Wishart and École Polytechnique by Hildegard Westerkamp. They depend on our ability to switch between two different listening spaces – the reflective and the referential as described by Katharine Norman in her paper ‘Real-World Music as Composed Listening’:

The creative listening space afforded by the two modes works together by connecting our subconscious and conscious mind to bring us closer to the composer’s meaning while cultivating sonic empathy.

The significance of Daoust’s Mi Bémol is rooted in one of the most widely publicised events in Canadian history, highlighting the contentious relationship between the Government of Canada and the First Nations peoples. From 11 July 1990 to 29 September 1990 there was a tense standoff between the Mohawk people and the settler populace of the Oka region, including the Canadian Government and the Quebec Provincial Police (Sûreté du Québec), over sacred, indigenous land. The tensions culminated with the death of two people and over 100 people injured, ending in the government’s eventual concession to the demands of the First Nations People to halt the expansion of an exclusive golf course in the Oka region (Montgomery Reference Montgomery2016). Mi Bémol is Yves Daoust’s anecdotal observation and documentary-style response to this historical event. Daoust weaves a narrative through human emotion while reflecting the cultural climate through the transformations and relationships of his chosen sound events, in both the recordings of the protests and newscasts themselves and its interplay against the more non-figurative but central, metallic and tonal object (reminiscent of pinballs). He summarises his approach and execution of the piece as such:

While direct soundscape transmission defines Daoust’s social narrative, in Red Bird, Wishart uses the various layers composed of multimodal and modified versions of life sounds juxtaposed in such a way to encourage different narrative interpretations through consideration of a recording’s spectromorphological path. In other words, the way raw sounds change into either a new, manipulated version of itself or morphs into other sounds in the composition (e.g., books closing changes into doors slamming) offers the composer a multidimensional palette by which new experiences are communicated through the temporal development of that arrangement section. Since the listeners have a metaphorical and realistic point of reference – symbiotically – the raw sounds create an abstraction that uses this baseline by way of telling a story. A story is communicated through the process of the raw sound becoming the manipulated sound. By knowing a sound’s origins – the referential listening space – the path it takes to change along the timeline tells the tale, with the listener taking the ‘reflective stance’ to do so: to build this storyline from an imagined world grown from the referential beginning. So, spectromorphology, both temporally and spatially, is the narrative medium that reveals the story of the political prisoner’s journey:

Wishart’s compositional intent is aligned with the theories in this article. The metamorphosis of familiar sounds encourages sonic empathy towards the political prisoner’s tribulations: the interpretive scape lays way to human connection. The intersections of oral history and acousmatic composition – when integrated successfully – result in a fused art form that is more engaging and compelling. The audience experiences the narrative intention through varying sentiments, the literal story in the historical/verbal communication, and the composed environment of the story world, translated through sound while functioning as ‘an autonomous agent of storytelling’ (Amelides Reference Amelides2016: 214)

Audience members who experienced Dr Sotelo Castro’s sound installation reported the same effect. The use of specific, environmental sounds in the installation composition and the acoustic treatment of the speakers in the compact, maze-like structure created a unique experience that enhanced the emotional response of the audience:

The theoretical and conceptual use of sound art in the oral history sound installation strengthened the audience’s response towards the socially conscious art piece. Furthermore, the use of the acoustic space as an instrument (speakers in the structure walls affecting the sound transmission) lent to the experience, recalling Oliveros’s philosophy that the acoustic space should be treated as a musical instrument and collaborator itself (Oliveros Reference Oliveros1995). The structure physically influences the aural output to create an unexpected environmental quality – the physical sensation that the observer is a participant of that oral history. The effect is similar to the use of sound memory and subliminal suggestion, as mentioned earlier.

By expanding this practice of sensorial, emotional and environmental catalysts, a comparable result may be achieved by applying aural triggers throughout more abstract compositions. Whether implementing clear nostalgic clues as entire samples – recording of an ice cream truck from one’s childhood, for example – or merely insinuating one through the use of similar sounds – like bit-crushed synthesisers replicating classic arcade game sound design – the works can be ‘considered as a form of “saved” cultural information’ (Amelides Reference Amelides2016: 220) in addition to pulling the audience into the creation and execution of the piece. Activating the audience in this way turns subjectivity into a unique and powerful compositional tool. It is a tool to wield the ‘immersive power of sound’ as a vital narrative instrument with the ability to be harnessed by sonic art and other intersecting art forms (Amelides Reference Amelides2016).

The interplay of using sound to trigger emotion and response comes from the relationship that sound has with memory. ‘Visual memory presents, whereas sonic memory suggests’ (Voegelin Reference Voegelin2006: 14). Anytime the mind creates the reflective space to inject imagination into an experience, it may exploit that opportunity; the ‘sonic memory suggests’ with a sound sparking the imagination, and then space is provided for one’s own experiences to fill the blanks. They become involved in the presentation through the subjective mind. ‘It is sound’s quasi-virtual, immaterial blindness and “immersivity” that renders it more effective than the visual in promoting an emotional engagement with the work’ (Voegelin Reference Voegelin2006: 14). If a composer is widely aware of their audience and what would constitute a societal or generational sensorial trigger, the opportunity to manipulate that cognizance and foster engagement is uniquely efficient. Songwriters may do this consciously (and subconsciously) by including samples, a familiar harmonic progression or even just by using a culturally iconic and recognisable instrument or sound. Sensorial triggers become much more than a compositional tool, but rather an engaging, inspirational one.

Hildegard Westerkamp’s composition École Polytechnique is a jarring sonic commentary to the horrific, femicidal killing of 14 women at École Polytechnique, Université de Montréal on 6 December 1989. A steady mechanical heartbeat, the sound of church bells, a choir, gunshots, sirens and recordings of live media reports from the day of the event conjure intense emotional responses. The symbolism created by the bells and the choir reflects what many feminists consider to be at the core of misogyny and the oppression of women – the religious institutions that promote and uphold the subjugation of feminised people. The organisation of these sounds through the perspective of this incident gives new meaning to the experience of listening to these recognisable sonic events:

These sounding elements trigger the best listening conditions through recollection, memory and imagination, but it would be remiss to ignore the importance of the silence woven throughout the noise. Much like Daoust’s Mi Bémol, Westerkamp anchors the piece from beginning to end with the sound of a steady, mechanical heartbeat, culminating in its sudden absence at the six-minute mark – a heavy use of silence to illustrate violence and death.

It is in silence where the anticipation and imagination have the chance to grow and where an inter or intrapersonal dialogue can flourish, either remaining inside the participant or shared among a group. In the practice of active listening, silence is the golden commodity that quietly encourages people to imagine, empathise and share (Schrank Reference Schrank2007). Teaching and applying the power of silence, especially in a socially conscious setting, cannot be understated. It allows the mind to fully absorb and connect with the experience, enabling imagination, memory and anticipation to blend into a powerful remedy: ‘When there is nothing to hear, so much starts to sound. Silence is not the absence of sound, but the beginning of listening’ (Voegelin Reference Voegelin2013: 83). Imagine how the delicate and strategic application of silence following a subtle or explicit sonic memory trigger may heighten the audience’s connection with the space and the piece; allowing this deep rapport to grow may inspire the individual to social betterment. That is the hope.

4. THEORIES IN PRACTICE AND EXTENSIONS THROUGH RESEARCH-CREATION

The theoretical intersections of oral history and sonic art outlined throughout this article – unified listening rituals and harnessing sonic sentimentality – are just some initial suggestions of what is possible through an interdisciplinary and socially engaged creative practice. Further research and exploration are needed to support the efficacy of these combined theories in practice. Although there are unifying links made throughout numerous works, these intersections are still only theoretically, synergistically strong. An extension of this article is a proposed research study and sound installation with the assistance of hardware sensors and multichannel production to test different compositions’ engagement levels by a diverse group of people. The different ‘levels’ of sonic triggers included in the compositions will be categorised as such: raw/subtle (where the sound objects are used without manipulation but are not easily identifiable), raw/explicit (where the sound object or soundscape is without manipulation and is easily recognisable), manipulated/subtle (where the sound object is transformed and integrated into the work) and manipulated/explicit (where the sound object is transformed but is a clear compositional element). The participants will take part in an active listening ritual and meditation exercise before experiencing the installation, and sensorial memory triggers will be dispersed throughout in the soundscape meditation and installation to study further the intersecting theories proposed in this article. I have chosen the raw sensorial memory triggers from four different categories: nature sounds, city (and suburban) sounds, farm sounds and media sounds (including news clips as well as common computer and web-based cues). At this point, and for clarity and cohesion, I will use sensorial triggers familiar to Canadians in Ontario and Quebec that are generally recognisable to most generations because that is where my experience lies. However, some sonic objects will not be familiar to some generations and some inhabitants and will need to be studied to see how they may affect the aware and unaware differently.

Using Bela microcontrollers and four multichannel ‘pods’ or sectioned off areas, participants will move through the space in a clockwise path, interacting with each AV installation as they go. The projections animate according to the soundscape and the participants’ movement within the space. A few participant-volunteers will be outfitted with a MyoWear muscle sensor attached to the person’s face on the cheekbone area, just below the ocular cavity. Facial movements will be detected by the sensor and recorded along with the corresponding position in the composition that the participant is experiencing. These data will also be sent to a visual projection parameter to be modulated by their facial movements.

The four different visuals will be compatible with each soundscape, and the audio composition and animation pair will be randomised at every cycle of the composition. This is to (hopefully) address a possible issue with the influence of an individual’s visual preference over the sonic composition: that the visual aspect may override how a participant reacts to the soundscape.

Two PIR sensors (Passive Infrared Sensors that measure electromagnetic radiation fluctuations from people, animals and objects) will monitor each room, recording the amount of activity taking place in the space over a 20-minute timespan through motion detection. The data will be recorded while simultaneously modulating another parameter in the visualisation. The animated visualisation will be created using a digital visual synthesiser traditionally used in live coding called Hydra – a library built by the programmer Olivia Jack using JavaScript and WebGL. I will write a program that cycles regeneratively and receives the MyoWear and PIR data through OSC (Open Sound Control).

To document and research the effect that this interactive experience has on the AV processes and participants, I will record the AV output and ask the participants to answer a small questionnaire about themselves voluntarily. They may answer none, some or all of the questions, as they feel comfortable. These recorded interactions, along with the recordings from each production will be archived and presented as an online art piece itself, completing the full interdisciplinary project fusing electroacoustics, oral history, computation and digital art, physical computing, research-creation, installation, collaboration, and mindful meditation.

Before the participants proceed into the installation, the group partakes in a mini deep listening and meditation session. I am currently developing my own ‘deep listening’ workshop at the Acts of Listening Lab at Concordia University in Montreal inspired by Oliveros’s Deep Listening sessions. The following is only a preliminary breakdown of the program at this juncture. My first workshop will be presented at Concordia in summer 2022.

First, the group will meet and mingle over juice and tea to get accustomed to the environment and the other participants. After a moment, the group will sit together and answer the questions, ‘Where does sound live in your life?’ and ‘What sound invigorates or motivates you?’ Once all participants answer, there will be a quiet moment for the group to reflect and write down any thoughts in a small notebook – these will be distributed to the participants when they arrive, along with a pencil or pen. I will then lead the group in a short breathing exercise and meditation in the silent space. Next, I will play a specially chosen multichannel soundscape for the group, either my composition or another composer’s that has both recognisable raw field recording elements and modified sounds. The group will be asked to listen mindfully while walking around the space slowly, encouraged to note how the piece changes as they move around the space and as they change their attention to different elements of the composition at different times. After the piece concludes, the participants reflect on their individual experiences while writing in their notebooks. The group then reconvenes and discusses together. Lastly, the group will perform an improvised, collaborative sound piece chosen from Pauline Oliveros’s (Reference Oliveros2005) book Deep Listening: A Composer’s Sound Practice or from Trevor Wishart’s (Reference Wishart1977) collection of musical games Sounds Fun before proceeding into the sound installation. The goal of this session is to connect the group and tune the inner and outer ear for optimal listening and motivation.