Writing Project #4: Remix, Revise, Reflect

On August 15^th 2019, I took a flight from John F. Kennedy International Airport to the Charlotte Douglass International Airport. I soon learned that when flying halfway across the country, temperature and culture are not the only changes as for the atmosphere. In coming to the South, I found myself in a not only a new environment but a new soundscape entirely. Suddenly, I had experienced what I would later label as a multiplex consciousness, as stated by DJ Spooky, but at the time was nothing more than the realization of my other-ness. In New York, my voice and the sounds I was so accustomed to were a part of everyday life, whereas in Davidson, they had become a piece of my identity. For the first time, my identity wasn’t reflected by the surroundings, but rather the surroundings had become my identity. My identity had become more nomadic, and evolved into a product of the settings, Northern and Southern, that I had been immersed in. At the time, this understanding of my sonic relationship between myself and the new setting of Davidson was one of assimilating to a foreign environment, a product composed solely of accents and exclusively stereotypical “northern” or “southern” sounds.  

New York had always been a setting and surrounding. However, with the abrupt change of living my whole life in New York to suddenly moving into a dormitory in North Carolina, what had once been external noise had now become an internal part of identity. Without having any prior knowledge of the relationships between voice, noise, and sound or any of the vocabulary and tools to analyze them, this transition was anything but smooth. As a result of general ignorance as for how sound affected my identity, I categorized the two “factors of my identity” into the most stereotypical images of regional noise. The first of the two was the external part of my identity, my accent. My knowledge of my accent at the time was limited to describing it as fast paced and pronouncing “o” as “aw”. In the audio file below, you can hear two New York natives speaking (rather comically) in a slightly exaggerated accent from my hometown. Without any knowledge of DJ Spooky’s “multiplex consciousness” or Rhythm Science, I couldn’t explore the reasons, causes, or effects of my accent being my external mask to everyone; and as a result, my identity was the “kid from New York”. Additionally, without having ever read the works of Schafer and his “soundscapes”, I was unequipped to answer the many questions I had regarding the sound of the environment around me. Like the accents, the soundscapes of Astoria, Queens and Davidson, North Carolina are nothing short of different worlds. The contrast between the whizzing of vehicles on crowded corners or the roar of subway carts flying by and the peaceful hymn of cicadas is overwhelming. However, at the time these sounds were just a part of life, not an identity or soundscape; they were broken into their simplest form: a plethora of different pitched noises culminating to make a metallic or motorized noise that told me to stand clear of the tracks.  

On January 14^th, I began my first day of exploring sound within my writing course. Through exploring the noise around me, I was able to reevaluate and analyze my own identity in this environment, now equipped with the teachings of Aristotle, Schafer, Paul Miller, etc. Within my third writing project I analyzed the soundscape produced by my surroundings, and how these sounds influenced my thinking and listening. Interestingly, my identity can be portrayed as a bias in this project as my goal was to express how natural sounds aren’t always pleasant, and artificial or more urban sounds can also be pleasant; as seen in this excerpt from analyzing the sound of cicadas in Davidson. This preference for urban sounds such as those that I believed comprised my identity can be seen here: “… on any given night above sixty degrees without rain, the unmistakable call of cicadas drowns out just about any other noise. The incessant ringing is reminiscent of a broken air conditioner. In Michael Chion’s The Three Listening Modes he mentions three forms of listening of which one is particularly useful for observing these sounds in nature. Via “Reduced Listening”, we can listen to a recording of the cicadas as opposed to being in the presence of the sound, and the sound itself becomes much clearer and loses the natural and peaceful aspect of the soundscape. Instead of looking for the cause of the sound, such as in casual listening; we entirely disregard the cause and associations that come with it, leaving nothing but the sound itself and its individual soundscape. Upon listening to the recording below, the noise emitted is more reminiscent of the static from a television rather than any insect. While the individual might hear many different varying sounds, there is a common unpleasantness to the constant high-pitched, monotone ringing.”  

Towards the end of the semester, once my accent from winter break had fully reverted to the indistinguishable mid-Atlantic accent and I had resettled into the campus setting; I noticed my identity changed with it. Within the town of Davidson, the accents are indistinguishable, and the sounds aren’t necessarily suburban or urban. In one reduced listening exercise, I went to Raeford’s Barber Shop, and they allowed me to record an average day in the town. As I listen to the buzz of the razor and cars in the background, coupled with the small talk of the customers; I no longer viewed myself as the outsider. Like everyone within the Davidson Community, I was a Davidson student from a different hometown, not a New Yorker in Davidson. I had noticed a similar feeling as to when I was originally in New York: my accent wasn’t distinct, and my surroundings were a soundscape, but also a small part of my identity as a Davidson student. I had finally experienced my own multiplex consciousness.   

Throughout the spring semester and my writing course, I learned how to accurately and articulately analyze my own relationship between my identity and the sonic world around me. Additionally, as I grew more comfortable and figured my own place within my new environment, my role in listening to my surroundings had changed. I was no longer the outsider of the Davidson soundscape; I was an integral piece of it. This allowed me to entirely change how I listen to and assess the sounds of Davidson itself as both a town and a conceptual representation of both college campuses and North Carolina. Through exploring the intricate relationships between voice, noise, sound, and identity, I no longer experience the sonic world I live in as a foreign binary opposition of my identity being the north and my environment being the south; but rather my identity and surroundings being a culmination of both. That is the idea of multiplex consciousness to me, the concept that there is no monolithic sound in identity; all identities and sounds are a melting pot of different influences and factors that result in a distinct blend of noise. What made the sounds and voice of identity and my environment different and unique was not their specificity and originality, but their recycling, remixing, and revising of the sonic factors around them.  

Bibliography: 

“Aristotle on Voice.” The Complete Works of Aristotle, by Aristotle, Princeton Univ. Press, 1995, pp. 667– 670. 

Chion, Michael. “Michael Chion 3 Modes of Listening.” Artcites.uscs.edu. 

http://artsites.ucsc.edu/faculty/gustafson/FILM20P.W11/readings/chion.3modes.pdf

Kaplan, Matthew. “The Natural Sound of the Unnatural .” WRI-101: VOICE, NOISE, SOUND, SENSE., 15 Apr. 2019, www.wri-101k-s19.andrewrippeon.com/blog/category/writing-project-3-the-davidson-soundscape/. 

Miller, Paul aka DJ Spooky That Subliminal Kid. Rhythm Science. MIT Press: Mediawork, 2004. 

Schafer, R. Murray. “The Soundscape.” The Sound Studies Reader, by Jonathan Sterne, Routledge, 2012, pp. 95–103. 

I entered this class last January believing that I was going to struggle. The most common culprits of poor classroom performance, namely work ethic and engagement, were none of my concern. What intimidated me was the preliminary course title: “Voice, Noise, Sound, and Sense”. Allow me to explain — those four words were largely unexplored territory for me. I shuddered at the thought of public speaking, and those who have attempted to teach me to play music can attest that I infallibly convert harmonious instruments into cacophonous torture devices. I distinctly remember being left utterly dumbfounded by the most elementary trials of the recorder in 5th grade music class, and I probably cost my grandmother a few precious years of life through futile attempts to replicate Mozart on her piano. To make matters worse sound theory was a completely nebulous field to me. Moreover, my heavily visual learning style had discouraged personal auditory exploration in favor of reliance on primarily visual stimuli. Given a sonically-disinclined predisposition coupled with a lack of technical knowledge in sound studies, I expected to enter Writing 101 with a very high ceiling to grow in my understanding of the nature of voice, noise, sound, and sense, as well as their relationships to each other, their surroundings, and the entities that create them.

In order to apply sonic vocabulary within a broader context, it was first necessary to understand both the physical and the theoretical concepts of voice, noise, sound, grain, etc. at the individual level. Prior to studying the sound theory, I made no distinction between the words “sound” and “voice” and used them interchangeably. During my studies that would produce Writing Project 1, I grew to realize that voice and sound are in fact separate entities that carry alternate significance when describing the character of auditory information. I examined the ideas of Aristotle, who defined voice as incapable of being produced by creatures without a “soul” (669), which he understood to be exclusively human, and Cavarero, who claimed that “Every voice comes from a person; unique, unrepeatable, like every person” (521). Both of these philosophers argue that the possession of a voice is restricted to humanity. I originally found those ideas to be true, but my perspective evolved during my study of acoustic ecology in Writing Project 3 to encompass a broader scope. I now believe that other living beings and even inanimate objects can have a voice, because a voice is simply an expression of oneself that affects its surroundings. A fleeting birdsong, a blaring car alarm, or the steady flow of rushing water contribute to the soundscape just as human activity does, and they influence the acoustic ecology of our lives in both subtle and profound ways.

“Voice can be described as the personal expression of sound, meaning that [voice] has an inherent individuality” – Writing Project 1

The first time I had considered the intricacies of “voice” was when attended a beautiful chamber music piece entitled “Vox Balaenae” or “The Voice of the Whale”. The ensemble’s performance absolutely mystified me. When I closed my eyes, allowing only auditory feedback to occupy the spotlight in place of vision, it was easy to imagine that an actual whale, rather than a quartet of human musicians, was uttering the seemingly otherworldly sounds. My undiscerning ear completely bought that the production was the voice of the whale. However, upon applying my new perspective seven years later, I realized that I had been wrong. The performance, though exemplary, was not the voice of the whale. Rather, it was the sound of the whale being performed through the voice of a quartet, transferred mechanically through the voices of instruments. I maintain that hijacking/imitating the sound of a being does not constitute using its voice because voice is inherently individual. Therefore, it is impossible to truly speak through something else’s voice.

“Vocal emulation is merely a false voice encased in the sonic parameters of another’s physicality” – Writing Project 1

Despite my inability to sing, compose, play instruments, and speak eloquently out loud, I developed an appreciation for music while I was in middle school, after I had begun exploring the relatively new at the time application Spotify. I remember testing out song after song, downloading the tracks that had left me with a positive impression to my nascent playlist (which currently has over 1000 songs, by the way). However, it never occurred to me precisely why I had enjoyed a particular song enough to denote it worthy of being immortalized in my musical library. After exploring the shortcomings of certain cover songs in my Writing Project 2, I have developed a deeper understanding of the mechanisms that determined what songs made the cut, which will allow me to tailor my song searches in the future to better suit my musical affinity, resulting in a greater number of songs added to my playlist.

In short, I discovered that I appreciated certain songs because of how they make me feel, whether that feeling was achieved through the convergence of rhythm, beat, melody, lyrics, instruments, vocals, or some other inexplicable force. Great songs have the power to satisfy their audience by evoking a pleasing combination of emotions. As self-apparent as that seems, synthesizing powerful music is extremely challenging. As Taylor Swift revealed in her poorly-received cover of Earth, Wind, and Fire’s iconic hit September, sometimes its easier to recognize what makes a song great after someone cuts the greatness out. Julia Craven of The Huffington Post argues that Swift “manages to strip the song of its iconic funk elements, its soul, its rhythm”, which were essential in the original to conveying that sought-after sense of satisfaction to its listeners. Since completing Writing Project 2, I’ve been able to recognize which particular elements of music, and in what combinations, bring me the most enjoyment. By paying attention to how I react to various parts of songs, I can identify and isolate the components that comprise my favorite songs, and use them to create criteria for my endless quest to find great music.

“The significance of a song lies in how it makes people feel. It is the confluence of beat, rhythm, tempo, melody, instrument, and voice that make [beloved songs such as] September and Hey Ya! great” – Writing Project 2

Before taking this course I had considered a sound unaccompanied by an image to provide an incomplete “picture” of the entity in question (I just used the word “picture” deliberately in order to convey the fact that I had become accustomed to thinking visually, utilizing mental frameworks with visual language such as “picture”, “see”, and “illustrate” in the place of neutral words). However, while working on Writing Project 3, “The Soccer Soundscape” I discovered that stripping away visual obscurities allows for a more complete perception of reality. As I listened to recordings of my team practicing, I heard an array of diverse sounds, particularly in the form of players’ voices, that I had not noticed before due to optical distractions.

“While listening from the perspective of an objective observer who did not have to focus on visual stimuli and decision making, I was able to detect sounds that would have been imperceptible to me as a player” – Writing Project 3

Paul Miller aka DJ Spooky That Subliminal Kid observes that “We’re in a delirium of saturation” (29), suggesting that we need “to cope with the immersion that we experience on a daily level” (88). His insight is particularly applicable to soccer, where I am constantly bombarded by auditory communication. As a result of my exploration of the role of sound in soccer and subsequent exposure to Miller/Spooky, I have acquired an improved perspective towards the importance of communication in my favorite sport.

“The frequency of communication in soccer illustrates the importance of having a team that understands each other’s intentions; players constantly call out to one another to perform commands in order to achieve a desired outcome” – Writing Project 3

Acclaimed sound theorist R. Murray Schafer’s declared that the keynote sounds of a location (those omnipresent ones that form the backbone of the soundscape) “outline the character of the men living among them” (Schafer 101), just as the keynote sounds of a soccer team reflect its identity. A team that exhibits effective, cohesive chatter is likely to succeed, whereas disconnected, uncoordinated teams set themselves up for failure. Going forward equipped with this knowledge, I guarantee that not only will my communication on the field be sharper, more frequent, and more intentional, but also will I actively listen for the voices of my teammates amid the game’s action. I will contribute my voice to the team with unprecedented effectiveness.

Biologically speaking, audio precedes video. A fetus begins to respond to the sound of its mother’s voice sixteen weeks into a pregnancy, roughly two months before its eyes will open. After that moment, the entirety of its life will be inundated with sounds. It turns out that voices, noises, sounds, and senses, have always played an integral role in my life. In fact, scarcely have I experienced a moment that was absent of sounds, if such a moment is even possible in this chaotic world. They dominate our social lives, provide us with leisure, and determine the outcomes of our sporting events. Enrolling in Writing 101 with Dr. Rippeon denotes a new chapter in my life as the first time I became cognizant of sound’s profound influence over me. Now the burden is mine to act on this awareness, and consider, consume, and contribute accordingly.

Works Cited:

“Aristotle on Voice.” The Complete Works of Aristotle, by Aristotle, Princeton Univ. Press, 1995, pp. 667–670.

Cavarero, Adriana. “Multiple Voices” The Sound Studies Reader, by Jonathan Sterne, Routledge, 2012, pp 520-532.

Craven, Julia. “I Listened To Taylor Swift’s ‘September’ Cover So Y’all Wouldn’t Have To.” The Huffington Post, TheHuffingtonPost.com, 13 Apr. 2018.

Miller, Paul aka DJ Spooky That Subliminal Kid. Rhythm Science. MIT Press: Mediawork, 2004.

Schafer, R. Murray. “The Soundscape.” The Sound Studies Reader, by Jonathan Sterne, Routledge, 2012, pp. 95–103.

Our introduction to Voice, Noise, Sound, and Sense centered around a topic that has been recurring during this course: what is voice? Being my first insight to the topic of sound studies, it stuck with me and was something I always connected our new topics back to. Before this class voice wasn’t something I had really thought about. I knew on the most basic level that voice is what we hear when people speak. I’d heard of the mystical side where voice represents our soul and is a thing that separates us of from animals—something I now know comes from Aristotle. Still it wasn’t a thing I’d taken the time to consider. Then in this class we read multiple examples of people with well thought out opinions about what voice is. Barthes said, “The ‘grain’ is the body in the voice as it sings”. Aristotle called voice “a sound with meaning”, although he later spoke in great depths about the soul. We also looked at projects and writings that challenged these opinions. My first writing project for this class centered around reconciling different peoples work and ideas about soul. Since then I have thought even more about voice for the purposes of this class. For a while I thought that people were thinking too deeply, and voice is just the sound that we make when we are communicating. I entertained the idea that voice was an outward expression of our inner souls. My final judgement falls somewhere in the middle. Now at the end of the course I believe that voice is an expression of our inner selves meant for communication in any capacity whether it be with others or ourselves—although voice isnot necessarily representative of soul.

On the first day of class we watched a video of Alvin Lucier’s sound experiment, “I am Sitting in a Room”. The experiment features a recording of his voice being repeatedly fed into speakers as the feedback distorts what he is saying a little more each time. This continues for forty-five minutes, with the phrases losing intelligibility at the eleven-minute mark. The project is interesting because it disrupted Aristotle’s and other’s long-held notions about soul in sound. If the sound degenerated into something completely non-sensical and non-human, did it still contain its original soul? However, my initial response to Lucier’s project was colored by my unfamiliarity.

“I found myself wondering why Lucier chose to go on for so long. The difference between the sound made 30 minutes in and 44 minutes in wasn’t that large. He said he “smoothed out” his words and showed the resonant frequencies of the room, but I’m not sure I really understand the purpose of the exercise” (Gilleland, Jan 14^th response).

All in all, I seemed unimpressed. However, this disbelief was just my first reaction and my first writing project was more carefully considered. In my first essay I switched from thinking that this was all being made into more than it needed to be and leaned in to the idea of soul in voice. I used the writings of Adriana Cavarero to reconcile the difference between Lucier and Aristotle, Barthes, and others who believed that soul was innate in human voice. I argued that Cavarero’s term “inner uniqueness” was the same as Barthes “grain”, which I’ll go into deeper detail about later. I said that “the “inner uniqueness” [in voice] that conveys that soul doesn’t necessarily come through in all speech” (Gilleland, Writing project #1). So, I believed that soul is in speech, but it only comes through when we are being honest. My quote that “soul doesn’t have to exist in everything humans say— even though they do have souls” is evidence that I did believe soul can exist in voice, but with the caveat that voice still exists without soul in many cases. So, although I consider what voice can be, in this project I never define what voice is. That’s because that is a very hard thing to do. I needed to educate myself more beyond the work of Lucier, Aristotle, Barthes, and Cavarero.

Barthes was the first informative text I read about voice. He tried to communicate his meaning through music. He says that human voice is special because it has a “grain”. This grain is “the very precise space of the encounter between a language and a voice” (Barthes, 505). In my writing project I liken grain to “inner uniqueness” or “soul”. Barthes tries to convey in writing “the impossible account of an individual thrill” (Barthes, 505) he experiences listening to music. It is the grain in a particular artist’s harpsichord playing that he can hear intuitively and makes her music better than anything computer generated. This first text gave me the vocabulary to begin to discuss voice, but I find my final opinions align more closely with one of our last authors, Mladen Dolar. Dolar’s writings view the voice as a “vehicle” (Dolar, 541) for meaning. Dolar asserts that “the voice is the impeding element that we have to be rid of in order to initiate a new science of language” (Dolar, 542). The examples he used that made his meaning clear to me were how accent and intonation and characteristics that make us “aware of the voice” (544). Particularly accent can serve as an “obstacle” to gaining the meaning behind a voice. Think about how a thick accent can make it difficult to understand someone. This instance serves as a clear example of how the voice is a vehicle that we must deconstruct and look past to obtain meaning. Even if the meaning is difficult or impossible to obtain, the voice is still there. Dolar’s logic classifies anything expressed that attempts to convey meaning as voice. A third author that we read whose work circled around voice was Paul D. Miller aka DJ Spooky that subliminal kid. In his book, Rhythm Science, Miller talks about remixing and how technology blurs the lines of what voice is at all. A very provoking line in the book is “the voice you speak with may not be your own.” In the digital age, it’s easy to take other people’s words and repurpose them for yourself. They then become yours, even if you didn’t say them, using them makes them your voice. This supports Dolar’s conclusion that anything with a message is voice, regardless of if the message is received or if it comes from one person’s physical body.

Truthfully, as Dolar also notes, the vocabulary to describe voice is inadequate. This whole exercise is a futile attempt to put in words something very internal. In our class we read so many different opinions on voice and we were inconclusive about which is correct. However, I can speak for myself and my final opinion. I think that if we are tolook at voice in a scientific way the idea of soul should be discarded. The word is too hokey for many to take seriously and ultimately cannot be proven. My final judgement is that voice is any form of communication that has meaning, regardless of whether its intelligible or original. This means that voice can be in speech, writing, music playlists, animal calls—literally anything meant to communicate. Thinking about voice is important because its closely tied to our definition of humanity. I’m not suggesting that animals are human, but I am suggested that they be treated as humanely as possible. Our conclusions about voice affect the way we treat all beings. Our conclusions about sound affect the way we build our societies. To keep evolving we should keep thinking about sound, voice, and how they affect us every day. 

Works Cited:

Barthes, Roland. 1977. The Grain of Voice. In Image-Music-Text. Translated by S. Heath. London: Fontana Press. Pp. 179-89

Dolar, Mladen. 2006. The Linguistics of Voice. In A Voice and Nothing More. Cambridge: MIT Press. Pp. 13-32

Miller aka DJ Spooky that Subliminal Kid, Paul D. Rhythm Science. MIT Press, 2004.

Sound has always been a part of my life, and I have come to hear sound in a different light during this course. My perspective of sound changed while studying class listening and readings. I realized that sound is more than something that we hear, and it can possess various implications in your life. The writing projects we have done in class gave me the opportunity to utilize my sense of hearing in a way that I otherwise would not. Writing project one and two allowed me to observe voice and sound. I learned that you can draw meaning from sounds without language and voice can have different cultural interpretations. Writing project three introduced me to the concept of soundscape and allowed me to view how sound plays a role in my own life. A soundscape can be any acoustic environment. Before I didn’t think of the role that sound played in my life or how sounds are interwoven into my soundscape. After reading Paul Miller/aka DJ Spooky the Subliminal Kid, I learned about his concept of multiplex consciousness. He believes that our identity is a mixtape, composed of different sounds from different cultures and samplings from multiple spaces. Now, I view environments I am exposed to as a soundscape composed of mixing sounds that are a part of my identity.

I have heard a variety of sounds from different environments throughout my life. Going to different schools, playing different sports, and investing in my hobbies are a few examples of the environments I have been exposed to. These environments have generated various sounds from the screaming of coaches to the silence of classrooms to the clapping sound of skateboard wheels rolling over brick. Reading R. Murray Schafer changed my view of my environment by introducing me to the concept of soundscape. A soundscape consists of sounds produced in locations or by objects. One of my hobbies is skateboarding, and I observed the daily spaces that I skate through for writing project three. Before I started on writing project three, I did not acknowledge any of my environments at an auditory level. I only thought of interacting with the physical aspects of my environment, paying attention to the physical characteristics of objects. However, I transitioned to address the sounds in my environment after understanding what a soundscape consists of. While working on project three, I believed that my soundscape consisted solely of the sounds that I heard. In writing project three, I stated, “Even though I encounter other people in my soundscape, their soundscape and my soundscape are different because of noise.” That statement is true, but I realize now that our soundscape is still comprised of what we consider noise. I also realized that what is music to my hears, is noise to someone else. Even though I enjoy the clapping sound that my skateboard makes on brick, someone else considers it to be disruptive.

My outlook on my environments has further transformed. Soundscape is now a concept that I take into consideration when acknowledging my environment, but I also believe that soundscapes possesses a part of my identity. When I first read Rhythm Science: Paul D Miller, aka DJ Spooky that Subliminal Kid, Paul Miller’s concept of multiplex consciousness confused me. In his book, Miller claims, “…the twenty-first-century self is so fully immersed in and defined by the data that surrounds it, we are entering an era of multiplex consciousness.” (Miller, 61) After applying his claim to my soundscape, I realize there are more traits in a soundscape than I previously believed. In writing project three, I stated, “The second recording is a segment of the daily trip from Alvarez Union to our dorm.” Besides the sounds I have heard riding to union on my skateboard, there are various sounds I hear while venturing through campus that I can connect back to a previous environment, like my hometown, and I realize that those sounds are a part of me. I know what certain sounds are based off previous experiences. Paul Miller would argue that the sounds from my environments have aided in creating my personal identity. Miller asserts, “Identity is about creating an environment where you can make the world act as your own reflection.” (Miller, 61) Personal identity is more than just race or ethnicity, our place of birth or familial ties, it involves the experiences from different cultures and environments we encounter. The sounds I experienced while working on writing project three, and the sounds I experience in general all interconnected in my conscious which contribute to my identity.

I previously thought that my soundscape only consisted of the sounds entering my environment. I stated in my essay, “Soundscapes interweave as you move throughout your environment.” This claim meant that your soundscapes are in a constant state of change as you move throughout your environment only confined to you. My view of soundscape was limited to the point that I thought it was a closed space as I move around. Now, I believe that soundscape is a sound version of a mix that is open to all sounds after reading Rhythm Science: Paul D Miller, aka DJ Spooky that Subliminal Kid. Miller addressed, “That’s what mixing is about: creating seamless interpolations between objects of thought to fabricate a zone of representation in which the interplay of the one and the many, the original and its double all come under question.” (Miller, 33) He is discussing the mix, and I interpreted this quote as when we encounter objects of thought, we affect them by creating new meaning. The mix pertains to how we recontextualize experiences which defines the zone of representation. The zone of representation is like your characterization because your identity is based upon the recontextualization of these objects. I established a new meaning for my earlier claim about soundscapes. Soundscapes interweave such that your soundscape mixes with another person’s soundscape. Even though soundscapes are depictions of our own interpretations, people will still manage to experience others’ soundscapes. Our soundscape experiences mix with others’ soundscapes to form our personal identity.

My current understanding of soundscape resulted from the understanding of mix. The mix alters the traits and functions of the soundscape. While working on writing project three, I thought that soundscape consisted of pure sounds which is the reason why in my recordings for the project I remained quiet. This prevents any mix from occurring; while there will still be meaning, it hinders the recontextualization of objects. Schafer seemed to restrict the experience of soundscape by ignoring objects of thought and allowing nature to have its own natural mix. However, Paul Miller has the opposite philosophy. He would rather you create an environment that defines you based on the reflection of your experiences. You can only know your true self by learning from experience, as you change so do the sounds and objects you encounter which is why Miller states, “Any sound can be you.”