Stone-bedded rivers in natural state. All throughout my childhood we used to go free camping every summer (in fact, my parents still do this). We would always set up camp beside a river, which provided drinking water and recreation.When I was very young I used to throw stones into pools, and was always fascinated by the range of sounds they would make, depending on the size of the stone, the height of the throw, the depth of the water. And falling asleep at night was always accompanied by the sound of water running over stones in the river. When it flooded, as sometimes happened, even in summer.
I live in a great, noisy city at the moment. A lot of the noises it makes are loud and unpleasant, but buried within it are some special moments: empty subway stations before the train arrives, singing ventilation ducts at night, momentary silence in an acoustically sheltered park or garden. Public transport systems make fascinating environments, from the engine whines to the recorded voice messages announcing the stops. Most sounds can be beautiful, or at least interesting, if listened to closely.
There are so many, I don’t really have a single favourite. There’s a waterfront walkway in the city where I’m from (Wellington, New Zealand), on which the city council department responsible for building the walkway installed some tall poles for lighting. The poles have kind of artsy fins sticking out the side. I’m not sure if it was deliberate but when the wind is blowing strongly (as it often does in Wellington) the fins resonate like an Aeolian harp. It’s a haunting sound, quite beautiful.The next is another childhood memory - surf pounding on the beach, from a high cliff vantage point. I live at the moment in a landlocked country in Europe, and I really miss the sounds of the South Pacific ocean.
By providing space for it through noise reduction, by considering it in the construction of our habitats.I think there is a lack of understanding about how important sound is to our perception of the world, and I think raising awareness about sound could lead to a deeper understanding of how we relate to the world and to each other.
The rain on a corrugated iron roof in winter (just as long as I’m in a very warm bed).