Laura Dallman

Sonic Snapshots is a growing collection of short recordings and images that derive from my soundwalking work.

Today I was struck by the absence of people, both in terms of their physical bodies and their human sounds. It’s the summer session, so there are less people on campus. It’s quieter. But the absence seemed to be dual. People were missing, but any sounds of people in the area were covered—being made absent or missing—by the prevalence of construction sounds. Right outside the entrance to the main library, it appears the main garden beds are being excavated to make way something new. Standing a short distance away from the digging equipment, it was hard to hear any footsteps unless someone was right next to me. 

I found it curious that the sounds I heard with my ears were essentially reversed in this recording. In other words, the foreground/background sounds switched in the recording. I shouldn’t have been surprised: what our ears hear, and what recording equipment picks up, is clearly going to be different. (I am reminded of Westerkamp’s Kits Beach Soundwalk.) On this day, the various birds and the parents talking to their children—it was a homeschool day at the blueberry farm—were the primary sounds I noticed. The blueberries kerplunking in my bucket, a la Blueberries for Sal, were quieter. In the recording, the sounds of my feet shuffling, arms brushing branches, and the kerplunking of the berries is in the foreground; often the birds and families talking recede father into the background. 

Birds? Here? Really? I was surprised to hear birds while walking in the concrete parking garage, in part because the newly built dormitory creates a greenless space between the two structures. But it’s not uncommon to hear birds on campus, so perhaps I should not have been surprised—there is green space on the west and north sides of the parking garage. But, like the example in Paris (forthcoming), the visual and aural landscapes felt incongruent, albeit to a lesser degree. 

I tumbled off the metro, bleary from a transatlantic flight with two layovers. I looked at the signs and began navigating toward the Eurostar platforms; I still had a train to take from Paris to Brussels. As I traversed from a lower level to an upper level, I began hearing birds. Initially, I thought exhaustion was impacting my hearing—but, no, I was definitely hearing birds. I paused, trying to determine if I was hearing real birds or a sound installation. I was in a section of the station with no entrances/exits and no apparent open space. No birds were flying inside, at least that I could see. There also did not seem to be easily accessible information about a sound installation, either at the station or through a Google search.

I felt unsettled by the incongruity of visual and aural components, perhaps due to my travel fatigue. I know birds can get inside structures of all sorts, but this particular spot in the station seemed too far inside for a bird to venture. The sound source was, and continues to be, a mystery.

Bonus: If you are interested in Parisian soundscapes, check out Sounds of Paris!