Art & Sound

No concrete definition exists for what exactly constitutes sound art, but we often know it when we hear it. In the most basic sense, we consider a work to be sound art if sound is the primary subject. Sound exists, of course, as vibrations through a medium that our ears receive and interpret. And sound art can include recordings, performances, sculptures, videos, installations, and conceptual pieces; it can involve listening, imagining sound in our minds, representing sound through visual means, and exploring the opposite of sound: silence.

Music has been described as "organized sound." [1] Music is sometimes included under the umbrella of sound art, as is noise. Noise is often considered undesirable or unintentional sound, but this definition is hotly debated. Exactly what makes a sound pleasant or unpleasant, music or noise, forgettable or art-worthy, can be just as subjective as what qualifies a work as "Art" with a capital A.

Sound art’s place within the art world is often problematic. It has remained an outsider medium for galleries, and it can be just as awkward in the concert hall, so it is frequently experienced in site-specific installations. Unlike visual art, which we can often take in fairly immediately with our eyes, sound must unfold over time. It’s quite difficult to place a value on and sell a medium that one can’t physically grasp.

Sound art also presents challenges when included in group shows. (Indeed, it is only contained by amplitude and the medium through which it travels.) One artist in a show may not want their work disrupted or affected by the bleeding-over of someone else’s sound work. And headphones or other means of mediating sound can impact the way that people interact with the work and risk diminishing the artist’s intentions or even negating them entirely. Finally, the means and resources frequently required to showcase sound art—live performers, sound-proofed spaces, technology, etc.—can be cost-prohibitive.

In reflecting upon how sound and art can exist together, how can institutions, galleries, music venues, etc. better serve sound art? How do we make space to hear from diverse voices and diverse media? How can we experience our world in a way that pays better attention, even homage, to our sonic environment? What are we missing from our sonic landscape? What should we be protecting? Can we grieve or memorialize lost sounds? And in the largest sense, we might ask: how can we be listening more–to our world and to each other?