This week’s Five Sound Questions are answered by Miriam Lohan. Coming from the world of theatre and live art she is drawn to sound recently. In one project Miriam created a composition for harp from noting positions and weight of apples falling from a tree. 

Other people; their footsteps, breathing, clothing - I could identify people by these and I liked knowing who was around, and how they were - there’s a lot of information in a footstep. I like being quiet when I’m on my own, and I remember deliberately making myself as quiet as possible, so I could concentrate on something or make mischief without getting caught. So it surprised me that others make sound for company when they’re on their own. 

Peripherally, or from a distant, quieter place. I prefer panorama - panophony! - to detail and listening like this, tuning in and out as needed, keeps me grounded when I’m thinking or daydreaming. I don’t wear headphones outside of work because I can’t navigate through the world properly without hearing it, and mismatched sound and vision make me nervous. I love the sound of a school playground or a party from a distance, but find it hard to cope with several streams of voices close up - though I think this is more to do with trying to process the streams semantically. 

 

I liked Alyce Santoro’s answer to this question - “For me it seems that listening requires not only the ears, but also a heightened awareness of other very subtle sensations/feelings in the body that cannot easily be described by the ordinary five senses.”  because I enjoy the effects from physical vibrations and from memory that occur in the mind and body - I find most sounds evoke temperature and haptic sensation.

The Atlantic coast of Ireland. It’s the biggest and the oldest sound I know, but even so you can find pockets of quiet and small sounds as you walk around cliffs and bays. Though I’ve known it all my life, it’s full of change and surprises - sometimes wind through wire fencing or the grass that grows on dunes sounds like human voices.

Listen. Everything that could improve our lives is already singing. I don’t feel much need to control the sounds around me because they are moving and finite and I can tune in and out as I wish. A baby crying on the train will not cry forever, for example, and that pleasant breeze through the leaves can be enjoyed as a living thing, and committed to memory for replay. So we could seek out sounds and sound environments that make us happy or give us peace, and try to find or shape echoes of these in areas under our control - music, architecture, engineering.

Woodpigeons cooing and the cracking of roof tiles in the heat. These were the sounds of a sunny, windless, summer morning in the house where I grew up. They’re soft enough to wake me slowly and because they mean a rare blue sky and warmth, I don’t mind leaving my sleep. So if they were made by an alarm clock on a grey day I would be heartbroken!