Sirilak Saengsawang Rottler

Soundscape I: Child-centered learning/places

Sound Journal

Located off of Speedway and Tucson, Himmel Park is a high-traffic, mid-size city park with wide areas covered in grass and dotted with mature non-native trees and are suitable for a variety of recreational activities. On Saturday, September 21, I went to the playground facility that is very popular for children. A large mural of baby animals playing with train toys frames and points to the children’s area.  

To respect privacy I set my observation station about 100 feet from the busy playground. Even that far the metal creaks of the swing set dominated and almost drowned out other noises in the park. Occasionally, I heard the drums and the metal bars being hit. But the most dominant sound was the swing and its constant squeaks from regular use. Children and their families were also using the open, grassy areas. They brought toys (i.e., a plane, baseball bat) to play with. Conversations and shouts accompanied the play. Dogs with metal tags swinging from their collars jogged by with their owners. A young child (2-3 years old) shouted excitedly about the dogs and seeing older children play. Underneath the loud human sounds were the soft chittering of birds and swooshing of occasional breezes. Unfortunately, these underlying sounds were not directly interacted with.

The main element of child-centered learning seemed to be the open possibility of the park itself. The open areas, aided by soft grass, tall trees, and cooling breezes, allowed for active play in addition to the children-designated playground. The different users of the park, people of different ages and animals, helped to cultivate learning through senses. For example, the young child petting a dog and chasing after the older children. This park was active and alive with sounds, which I believed contributed to the high energy and variety of activities of the users. Even I played catch for the first time in my life.

Sound map

Soundscape Visualization I: Printmaking

I made two versions: the one on the left was made during class and the one on the right was made later. I wasn’t happy with the visual of the first one. It didn’t accurately reflect all the sounds captured. I did use the sound of the baseball being hit as the transitions between different activities, but looking back, this was not the theme of the soundscape. 

Meet Me at Himmel Version 1 features a baseball bat and  two baseballs  at the center with grass along the border. I chose grass to represent the park because most activities happened on this terrain. I also wanted the visual to remain abstract and didn’t include the obvious images such as trees or a landscape of the park. I used black to keep the look of a traditional print. I thought about using green, but it would be too obviously associated with the outdoors, and I didn’t want that. The first version of Meet Me at Himmel best captures the theme of the soundscape, which is about spontaneity, openness, and exploration. 

In the second version, the biggest change is the added footprints. The sound of walking anchors the entire soundscape and is the main sound. The footprints are nonlinear, representing curiosity and openness to exploration. I did feature a baseball and the cardinal, as those sounds appear frequently as well. Following the idea from the first version, I knew that I wanted the grass to represent the park, thus keeping the image abstract and not a replica of the park. I think this print captured the physical movements and the sounds that moved with them well.

Soundscape I

Tapping into a play- and place-based exploration, I created a soundscape from the perspective of a person walking through the park and encountering many activities and creatures during their walk.

Most of the sounds came from the recordings I made when I visited Himmel Park. I recorded the sounds as long audios, but they were mostly ambient sounds and indistinguishable, so I took snippets of the clearest sounds marks. These sounds were children’s laughter, wind, swings, etc. The longest sound mark was the walk which I extended throughout the audio to convey continuous movement. The walking sound is blocked out when an activity or an event is encountered. This was to highlight those activities/events as their own sound. Because my recorded audios were not that great for individual sound marks, I went scavenging on Youtube. These sounds were the bat hitting a baseball, footsteps on leaves, cardinal calls, and a dog panting. I used the sound of the baseball to mark the beginning and the end of our person’s encounter with an activity or an event. The baseball and the walking sounds help tie what is otherwise an electric group of sounds together.

As the intent of this soundscape was to focus on child-centered learning, I wanted to emphasize an element of play, spontaneity, and exploration. The soundscape is filtered through the human perspective (the person walking), but this person exhibits curiosity, openness, and sensitivity to their environment. This person both observes and interacts with their environment. I believe the park is conducive to this kind of learning because it’s an open ground for human and the more-than-human activities. This concept specifically connects to Lowenfeld’s  (1965/1987) emphasis on the importance of the environment on learning.  

Soundscape II:

Sounds of the Past: Historical Places

Sound Journal

I specifically addressed bullet point four: How can sound, as a medium, complicate or deepen the narratives of place, identity, and community? Consider how your sound project could be expanded or used as a tool for social change or education.

This assignment got me thinking, so the writing is long. 

Barrio Hollywood has been my home for more than half a decade. The house that we live in was purchased by my partner’s parents. They bought it with the intention to house their three college bound children. Ten years ago this neighborhood was not a yet desirable real estate, but it was at the center of tensions around outside investors and gentrification.

The name Barrio Hollywood “comes from a sour joke” (Pima Library). The name was acquired ironically because this was one of the poor and working-class neighborhoods in the city, its residents comprising mostly of those from Mexican descent. Individuals who have lived here for decades have strong ties and are protective of the neighborhood from outside interests. The tensions culminated to the decision to bar non-resident business owners and individuals from voting in the neighborhood association (Taracena, 2015).

When I moved in with my partner I was not aware of these tensions. My partner and his family are Mexican, but they are not from Tucson. As such, I’m aware of our part in the complex narrative on gentrification.

Are changes inherently bad? I’m not interested on the divide between the old and the new. New comers will eventually become old-timers. I believe paying attention to the tensions can produce more insights than focusing on either divide. This allows us a deep listening. Changes are inevitable at the time that people are being pushed out by capitalist greed and apathy. How can the economic and social dynamics of Barrio Hollywood be expanded without being co-opted by gentrification? For this project I still need to listen more.

Perhaps getting people to listen more can deepen the narratives of place. Cultivating skills that allow us to tune in to the complexity of place, identity, and community can lead to social change and justice.

Resources 

Barrios in Tucson. Pima County Public Library. (n.d.). https://www.library.pima.gov/content/barrios-in-tucson/

Taracena, M. I. (2015, July 21). 

Barrio Hollywood: If You Don’t Live in the Barrio, You’re Not Allowed to Vote in Our Neighborhood Association. Tucson Weekly. https://www.tucsonweekly.com/TheRange/archives/2015/07/21/barrio-hollywood-if-you-dont-live-in-the-barrio-youre-not-allowed-in-our-neighborhood-association

Sound Map

For this sound map I listened for changes in the neighborhood where the old is in tension with the new. I made a visit to a grocery store long abandoned at a corner street across from my house. Its former owners were Chinese. Through the QR code I listened to the daughter recalling that her mother had come from China. Their main customers were Mexicans. I tried to imagine the languages and communications being exchanged, but the freeway within sight was a noisy distraction. It’s a reminder of the careless way that these roads often cut through poor neighborhoods and contribute to noise pollution. Nearby is Barista del Barrio, a thriving breakfast and coffee place that draws in long queues on weekends. Coming from all over the city, the faces in this crowd are unrecognizable. Cars rush by on the main street. People talk to each other, baristas take orders, and alarms go off when food is ready.

Soundscape Visualization II: Digital Collage

Soundscape II

Barrio Hollywood

This is a story of one of the oldest neighborhoods in Tucson, Barrio Hollywood, as told through a straightforward narrative from past to present. This is a Mexican working-class neighborhood with families who have lived here for generations. In recent years, Barrio Hollywood has witnessed an encroachment of gentrification and outside interests. At one point, the tension culminated in the decision to bar non-resident business owners from voting in the neighborhood association (Taracena, 2015). This story focuses on the relationships between residents and the local business across two different times; the first as an imaginary past of a corner store and the second as the famous coffee and burrito shop that draws crowds on weekends. This soundscape asks that you listen for similarities as well as changes that took place in the neighborhood. For disclosure, this is from the perspective of a newcomer to Barrio Hollywood. I love this neighborhood dearly and acknowledge my part in the ongoing issues with gentrification. Rather than rushing to ill-informed solutions, I choose to listen and pay attention to the tensions between the past and the present, the old and the new. I know I still need to listen more.

Recorded sounds: modern train, traffic, walking on gravel, ordering food, rooster, barking dogs, ambient sound with English, distant church bell, beeping (food is ready)

Borrowed sounds: “This story from Barrio Hollywood”, steam train, birds of the Sonoran desert, bell (from the past), Banda music, old doorbell, old cash register, ambient sound with Spanish speakers. 

Soundscape III: Decolonial Practices

Sound Journal

Although I’ve never personally engaged in a decolonial sound walk, this concept/activity is not new to me as I have come across it through research in walking. I was excited about going to this field trip because hiking and being outdoors were the main reasons that helped me feel grounded in Tucson. Since immigrating to the United States there was no other place I wanted to call home; this was the first place where I learned to take roots. With all this being said, I know that in order for immigrants (in which we all are) like me to feel a sense of home, the original stewards of this land were violently displaced due to colonization. Therefore, I occupy this in-between space of being someone who has experienced disruption and displacement and someone who benefits from centuries of disrupting and displacing of Indigenous peoples.

The first Soundwalking session, “Tracing the Footsteps,” was an effort to connect us to the land by slowing down, activating our senses, and connecting our body to the landscape. The second session, “Listening and Touch,” invited us to explore the textures and sounds of the landscape through various prompts.  The last session, “Embodying Decolonization,” posed a series of questions through the activation of our movement to recall memory as well engage empathy and commitment to protect the resources of this land.

Soundwalking Experiences:

Soundwalking I: “Tracing the Footsteps”

I’ll be honest. I was exhausted by the afternoon. The Sunday before, I had a 12-hour day which consisted of me being constantly on the move. Not that I was falling asleep, but my energy level was low. Maybe it was the cold breeze of the wind or the sound of birds in the distance, but listening to the prompt and breathing slowly helped me feel rejuvenated. I thought about the weight of the earth beneath my feet. I didn’t take pictures during this session as my goal was to be fully present. One particular moment that came to mind was when I took a seat on a rock. I had noticed a small area of lichen clinging to it. Reflecting on the fact that lichen is a symbiosis of algae and fungi, I thought about the wisdom of collaboration and cohabitation. And how much this been lost to colonization and capitalism. I felt the weight of the this loss.

Although I didn’t record Sound 1 and Photo 1 during this session (it was actually at the end after we were done with all the sessions), it was one of the last things I recorded: the breaking apart of rocks that were so brittle they fell apart by the pressure of my hand. Usually when we think of rocks, they are the last things to erode. Yet the existence of this rock defies this common understanding. I’m not sure what metaphor I can connect to yet. Only that existence is a matter of precarity. 

Soundwalking II: “Listening and Touch”

The stick I picked up was the first thing I saw on the ground. It was about 3-4 inches in length and slightly bent. I rubbed the twig between the fingers and recorded the sound. Eventually, being so dry, the bark came off the stick. I captured this sound in Sound 2. I took the stick with me, regarding it as a gift. I took it because it was discarded on the riverbed. Following one of the prompts, I encountered a large rock covered in lichen and large porous textures. I felt curious about the sound that the stick and the surface of the rock would produce, so I recorded it in Sound 3. It sounds exactly as expected, like a stick dragging on a rock. This activity made me sensitive and more curious about the sounds I could (respectfully) produce with the materials in this landscape.

I also experimented with “drawing” using the play of shadow projecting onto the paper. The pencil I had didn’t work very well with rubbing on a surface (the pencil punctured through the paper). Using the shadow to “draw” could be a more ethical way to engage with the environment as it leaves no trace. See Photo 2.

Soundwalking III: “Embodying Decolonization”

Again, I felt a sense of grief. This time it was a personal grief mixed in with the grief of the landscape. Although I am an immigrant (defined as someone who moved to another country by choice), I was a child who had my future circumscribed by the mandate of my parents. At times I didn’t feel well enough to stand and naturally gravitated towards lowering my body closer to the ground. I placed my hand on the land and felt it mirror my loss. Yet, life springs from this ground.

On the way back, I took a picture of the petroglyphs (Photo 3) and realized that someone had carved the Roman alphabet on one of the cliffs. I continue to feel disappointed in the newcomers of this land. The lack of respect resulted in the need to display their initials on an ancient site. And yet the reverent feeling of this place was still echoing through this landscape.

Following my curiosity during the second session, I recorded myself walking on branches (Sound 4). These were discarded branches left by the rainwater in the riverbed. The crunch was satisfying. I reasoned that I was speeding up the decomposition process. I don’t believe that decolonization means leaving things alobe; we are meant to observe and gain knowledge to exist with the landscape and each other through mutual benefits.

Personal Insights & Conclusion:

My view of decolonizing practices in art education has not changed in that I’ve always felt strongly about naming the continued acts on Indigenous and land erasure, acknowledging my complicity, and using my position to mitigate these effects. I argue that the forgetting of land and its peoples, the climate crisis, and social oppression as interrelated phenomena caused by colonization and capitalism. I will continue to critique and (try) to dismantle this false narrative that we need to conquer land and each other in order to survive.

Soundscape Visualization III: Sound Sculptures

Soundscape III

Instead of creating a script that requires learners to be at the place, I want to use the sounds that I recorded from our fieldtrip to transport them back to that site. When we arrived at the site I noticed that we were standing in a wash. I was observant of the decaying materials brought into the wash by water and other factors. After taking weeks to think, I was inspired to create a story about washes, the preciousness of water in the desert, and climate change. I didn’t have a particular audience in mind. This soundwalk was intended as an artistic project that evokes critical thinking rather than an educational tool with specific objectives.

This sound-walk script engages multiple themes through the exploration of the intersection between Indigenous histories and wisdom, the ongoing colonization of this land and its effects on climate change, and our own potential to disrupt and transform the legacy of conquest into the legacy of stewardship. I think I needed to let my body feel the impact of our field trip and reflect on how this connects with my current engagement with place-based pedagogy. As I have mentioned before, Tucson was the first place that made me feel at home, and it was through gardening and tending to a sliver of land in my yard that cultivated this feeling of belonging and being at home. This land is part of me, and I am part of it. This close relationship made me realize how fragile this ecosystem is. Invasive species, like buffelgrass, threaten the landscape with wildfires that burn through the saguaros. Meanwhile the water table annually decreases due to municipal usage and longer human impacts like climate change. I grief for the uncertain future as much as I tend to the present of habitat restoration.

Take a moment to connect with your body. Find a spot where you can feel your body at ease. You may take any position that feels comfortable to you. You may close your eyes if you are able to. Take 2-3 deep breaths. With each breath, feel the air expand your belly as you breathe in. Feel the air deflate your belly as you breathe out. Take 1-2 more deep breaths on your own.

You may open your eyes or keep them closed.

Listen:

Listen to the sound.

You are now standing in a wash, also known as arroyo. This is one of the many dry stream beds in the desert. Water – winter rain, spring run-offs, and summer monsoons – is the maker of this terrain. Washes are not rivers. In the wash, water disappears as it arrives; the desert is a bed of sponge.

As you listen to the footsteps, imagine this set of feet is your own feet exploring the wash.

What surface are you be walking on? When does this surface change into another? What sounds do these surfaces make?

What does the water carry as it carves through this valley?

Imagine:

Imagine when, after a long dry season, thunder cracks open the sky,  the sound of water rushing through before the desert opens up the ground to welcome it. Imagine how the desert might love the rain, this precious resource made abundance in the thick of the sun-scorching summer.

Recall the feeling of rain. Its smell, petrichor we call it. It sound and temperature. Imagine, how after a month of hot, dry air burning your skin, water returns and surrounds you.

Consider the monsoon as the normal part of weather cycle. But also consider this natural phenomenon as a gift of this land.  In recent years, there has been less water pouring from the sky.

Reflection:

Nearby this wash is the cliff of petroglyphs. The ancestors of the local Indigenous peoples carved onto these rocks. They cultivated this land and thrived in this water-less environment.

The wash and the petroglyphs are in private property, cared for by the few hands instead of many. The concept of private property and ownership was imposed on this land. When you come to these carvings, what do you want to see – the remnants of the ancestors or their continuing future? Whose history and story do the petroglyphs belong to?

We who are guests of this land have our own idea about how to protect ourselves from taking ownership of land.

We call them national parks. We think best to leave land alone in order to protect it.

But according to Indigenous wisdom, humans are meant to work with the land. Far away in the land where sweetgrass is grown and braided, Indigenous scientists bring to attention how plants thrive with human harvest and cultivation (Kimmerer, 2013, p. 157).

Thinking about land as gift involves a reciprocated relationship – and gratitude…

Imagine:

Climate change doesn’t come for one but for all of us.

As guests of this land, imagine how we can continue the legacy of stewardship.

Listen as you imagine lifting a discarded twig from the wash in your hand.

Think about how you are witnessing the natural cycle of decay and growth. What plant might have this twig been a part of? What storm brought it here? How might it decompose and become the nutrients to support life?

Listen as you imagine breaking a rock, brittle and weathered, into pieces.

You are part of this natural cycle of decay and growth. How might this rock break down and release minerals to support life?

How might you play a role in supporting the life of this land?

Consider how despite centuries of colonization this land, the earth, still provides for us (Kimmerer, 2013).

Conclusion:

You have now returned to your current location. Notice the sensations in your body, the feelings in your heart and belly. Take a look at your surroundings. Did you notice something different from before you started this audio journey? 

Take your hand to your heart, reflect on the ways that you are still being nourished by this land and its resources. With a few deep breaths, take your time.

Now think about how you can return this generosity through a reciprocated relationship. How can you actively tend to this land with care and gratitude? Take more deep breaths.

Carry the vision of how you’d tend to this land into the future. How might this future look different from how we have been imagining it? Take your time.

As this soundwalk is coming to an end, take this vision with you. Carry it into our future.

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In linking this to Dr. Kraehe’s work, I was drawn to Herman and Kraehe’s (2018) chapter, “Toward a Counter-visual Education: Cinema, Race, and the Reorientation of White Visuality.” Citing Ahmed (2006), the authors analyze how director Steve McQueen created visuals that queered the narrative of slavery in 12 Years a Slave through durational shots that expose racial events as strange (Herman & Kraehe, 2018, p. 237). In thinking about how to disrupt the ongoing colonial discourse on land, I came up with my own queering tactics to expose these events as strange and out of the status quo. One tactic is to call attention to the notion that we, unless you are Indigenous, are guests of this land. This is repeated throughout the script. Another is to bring attention to the concept of private property and ownership as new and invasive to this land. And how our way of handling this issue is to designate protected lands as national parks. Again, this is highlighted as strange in contrast to the Indigenous knowledge on sustainability and stewardship. The script concludes with the invitation to tend to the land in line with the Indigenous approach. Although I’m not sure I want to make it super clear in the script, I’ve been thinking about the problems of land acknowledgement statements (I still included a version of this in the beginning), particularly in how individuals and institutions use them to bypass the actual responsibility of caring for the land and engaging with Indigenous peoples who are still here. The invitation to make a commitment of care was intended to remind listeners of responsibility beyond making land acknowledgements as “polite” gestures.

I owe much of my concept on land as gift, reciprocity, and gratitude to Robin Wall Kimmerer’s (2013) Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants. The reference on sweetgrass was an homage to her. She also reminded us that the earth still provides, as a signal to this ongoing relationship between the natural world and humans. I included this in the script to remind us of the continuing generosity of this land.

I also shaped the last half of this soundwalk based on Springgay and Truman’s (2017) walking-with, a method they developed to unsettle settler colonial logics through thinking with geologic timeline, Indigenous theories of land, and critique of landscape urbanism (p. 17). The prompt to imagine a different future came from their practice of countering futurity, especially in resisting capitalism and linear progress as markers of future-making. I also made an effort to problematize the way we often think of Indigenous cultures as belonging to the past by bringing attention to the reality that there are living and breathing Indigenous peoples now.

Overall, I’m not convinced that my sound project is a successful decolonial practice. Of course, this is for now based on a theoretical lens, and it’s better to try than not at all. I’m still thinking through my own complicity in the colonization of this landscape. I live in a house with a yard, which is inherited from the system of private property and ownership. As an art educator, I will continue to personally engage and encourage my students to engage with land critically. I will continue to name both the human and the more-than-human ancestors and descendants of this land. I say these names out loud to myself and to those who listen.