Why this project?
As a native of South County from birth, I almost never considered the sonic environment that has made up my aesthetic life for the past twenty-two years. Even through years of musical training, and eventually in sound studies and musicology in college, I was more interested in the “out of the ordinary” sonic occurrences than the constant sonic backdrop of life on the coast, whose constant presence lent it a comforting familiarity, but also something approaching the mundane.
However, in the extended study of acoustic ecology that I undertook for this project, what I’ve come to realize is that the coastal soundscapes of our daily lives here are distinctive and worth preserving. While it may otherwise be difficult to quantify aesthetic worth or merit, in this case the act of listening and recording is an urgent matter of preservation. According to the Coastal Resources Management Council, Rhode Island’s coastline is losing approximately two feet per year - which means that these sonic environments stand on the brink of inevitable erosion and eventual disappearance.
In acoustic ecology, we describe a soundscape as the sonic makeup of a place, including all noises either human-made or naturally occurring. One of the elements that makes up a soundscape is called a “soundmark,” a term coined by acoustic ecologist R. Murray Schafer and which “refers to a community sound which is unique or possesses qualities which make it specially regarded… by the people in the community… it deserves to be protected, for soundmarks make the acoustic life of the community unique.” (Schafer 10)
In terms of our coastal sonic life, these soundmarks are numerous and all equally endangered. Consequently, this project centers largely around capturing these soundmarks across different areas of South County, while also creating soundscapes that encapsulate the unique acoustic environment of each location.
Conclusion
In the execution of this project, I intended to generate an aesthetic record of the acoustic environment of South County’s erosional coastline at this present moment in time. What I didn’t expect were the ways in which I was also generating an emotional record of these soundscapes. There is always an element of artistic interpretation necessary to assemble the recorded soundscapes in a way that is appropriate, impactful, and accurate - and yet I couldn’t have anticipated the deep emotional connection I developed to these soundscapes taken collectively as an artwork.
Although this isn’t a traditional art project, I absolutely consider it to be a creative one nonetheless. Just like a collection of photos, the project reflects the capture and subsequent interpretation of tangible things, only with audio and soundwaves rather than visuals and light. In the larger discussion around the aesthetic preservation of these endangered communities, references to soundscapes are often omitted in favor of what’s visible. And yet, sound is a deeply primal and inherent sense that connects strongly to memory and emotion - so how could we forget to preserve soundmarks memorializing environments that are fated to disappear?
This is by no means a citizen science project - I can’t identify any of the birds on these soundscapes, for example, but I can tell you I’ve heard them every day of my life. Yet, a lack of taxonomical data doesn’t make these artifacts any less aesthetically valuable as predominant soundmarks on our coastlines. While scientific approaches to climate change amelioration or reversal are vital, so are acts of emotional and aesthetic response to this crisis.
Quantitative metrics are frequently emphasized in discussions of coastal erosion and human behavioral change change, but when it comes to motivating people to alter their behaviors, perhaps qualitative experience matters even more. Not every resident of South County can give you the data on shoreline recession, but they could certainly point to evidence of changes they’ve witnessed simply by dwelling near the coast. They could describe Hurricane Sandy roaring over the seawall, the Block Island Ferry gliding out beyond the getty, the carnival backdrop (and smells!) of the Misquamicut boardwalk. These place-based, time-boxed soundscapes may not prevent all the coming erosion, but in devising and saving them here, I hope to heighten the awareness of all who listen to them - awareness of those tacit soundmarks defining your own sense of place, perhaps places you wish to preserve.
Questions? Contact Me!
I'd be happy to answer any and all questions you have about this project.
401-935-3925