This exegesis was completed on May 30th, 2021 and has undergone minor edits since. I wrote and submitted it as part of my Bachelor of Performing Arts degree at ECU, and with permission I wish to share it here, as it is a deep reflection of how I have become the artist that I am this moment. In summary: I argue for a reclassification of theatre sound, while acknowledging that it is a technical practice, it is simultaneously a highly creative practice and specifically an immersive practice. These words are the beginning place of something I want to unravel and untangle as I grow alongside this artform.
THEATRE SOUND AS IMMERSIVE PRACTICE
INTRODUCTION
I am a theatrical sound artist and theatre sound practitioner: I use my tools as an electronic producer and sound designer to produce narratives and dramaturgy as well as elicit emotion. I adopt the fundamentals of theatre sound design and electronic composition to help spectators connect to or become immersed in space, place, people, concepts, and created worlds. I make performance and installation works, and my process tends toward manifesting participatory, interactive, or immersive experiences for audiences, spectators, and participants. In the context of my practice, sound is entangled with musical composition, as both are accountable for sensorially capturing and conveying the world or worlds in which the work takes place. This unique ability to instantly transform spaces and transport audiences can be described using the concept of “immersion”. Ross Brown (2010) describes that “the process of designing sound begins in immersive experience, but involves the abstraction of self from the environment in order to develop a conceptual working model, which is then translated back into an immersive experience” (p.3.). This links to theatrical immersion, a combination of immersive practice and dramatic forms. I understand theatrical immersion to be experienced through the physical presence of a participant within an imagined environment. This imagined environment can be constructed or site-specific – both intend to manipulate the real and the live or lived experience of the participant. Sound is a means of transporting audiences from the real world into the world of the work, thereby ensuing that sound in a theatrical work is inherently immersive and theatre sound is an immersive event.
As an independent practitioner in my fifth year of practice, I have observed that there is a distinct lack of sound designers in Perth’s theatre industry, and I wonder if this is due to the way that sound design is understood by both emerging and established artists. While the immersive nature of theatre sound could be subconsciously understood without being directly defined as such, I have noticed an apparent disconnect between how artists perceive the role and what the role encompasses. This exegesis intends to challenge the way that theatre sound is currently recognised by artists, arts organisations, and the wider performance industry. I believe that by addressing sound as an immersive practice, new vocabulary will emerge, which could lead to stronger and more sustainable systems of collaboration between theatre sound practitioners and artists throughout creative methods.
Theatrical sound or sound for theatre is commonly classified as “technical”, but I advocate – based on closely examining the theory and practice of sound design and composition, sound art, immersive theatres, and the act of listening – for it being understood as an immersive and highly creative process and practice. My advocation draws from practice-based research through my work on past productions, such as Whale Fall (2021), Undergrowth (2020), My Sandman (2017) and Our Sandman (2019), and is supported by theorists who write about sound.
Brown’s text (2010) is a key foundational reference in exploring my own approach to theatre sound. Brown’s critical perspective continually connects the philosophy, practice, and theory of stage sound to immersive process and experience, approaching the form from both “conceptual models” and the “subjective position of immersion” (2010, p.3).
In what follows, I investigate how theatre sound design and composition connects to sound art and immersive theatre, and how this connection influences the audience experience of the form through the comparison of processes between staged productions and participatory environments. I am arguing for the reclassification of sound by referencing my practice and identifying potential problem areas which could inform the distinct lack of theatre sound practitioners in Perth.
CHAPTER 1: SOUND AND PERFORMANCE
My upbringing involved touring with a puppetry and visual-theatre company throughout the UK and Europe, presenting performances and workshops to mainly children and adults. I have been in rehearsal and development spaces since infancy and therefore absorbed an intimate understanding of creative process and execution. My early curiosity with sound and music was founded through the sense that sound “seemingly eludes definition, while having a profound effect” (LaBelle, 2006, p.ix). During my studies in sound and electronic music production post adolescence, I developed my ability to create for performance by applying the fundamentals of production to my inherited understanding of theatre making.
Shortly after I started working as a designer assisting the visions of other performing artists, I began creating immersive performances and live installations based on my inherent belief that the sound I produce must be experienced by means of inviting audiences physically into the work. Sound design, as well as music, can communicate stories through the use and application of technology (Fry, 2019). Electronic music production has provided me the tools that I need to design and compose immersive sonic experiences. This extends to live performance, where I have presented experimental concepts and electronic scores to test the extent of my ability to shape atmospheres and influence responses using these forms. This also means that I am highly conscious of the audience’s experience of the work that I produce. My accumulation of experiences as a sound designer, composer, live electronic music performer and lead artist have compelled me to believe that sound and music hold a significant amount of power when it comes to creating meaning through art works.
COMBINED ROLES
A composer can be recognised as a writer of music, while a sound designer can be acknowledged as someone who arranges sonic material. The combination of the two roles within the context of theatre practice informs the construction of a score which heightens the dramatic, atmospheric and abstract actions, emotions and links within a work. Sound designer and composer Alma Kelliher (2014) echoes my approach by reflecting on her own process. She claims that “sound is often quite musical…and quite flowing and you almost can’t hear the end of one sound before the next one begins. So, I treat it almost like a score… I compose the sound.” To this day I have not had the opportunity to only work as a sound designer on a project*; I have predominantly been employed to deliver the combined work of both roles, which I am recently identifying as a considerable workload for one practitioner than it would be for solely a sound designer or composer. From observations and conversations, I can determine that the reasons behind the trend to hire multidisciplined sound practitioners are split between budgeting constraints and the sheer lack of sound designers and composers available, specifically in theatre, in Perth. While I recognise this saves money and resources on productions, the amount of tasks undertaken to fulfil both roles have subsequently brought about personal feelings of artistic inadequacy and overwhelm. These feelings can easily be understood as an expected part of the creative process, however, there are aspects to the combined workload that are not supported or considered in the context of presenting theatre and the amount of preparation time beforehand. One example is the time scheduled between hearing scores and designs in the acoustics of the performance venue for the first time and the first, if only, plotting session in a production day. Sound work then needs to be adapted and finished within a very tight timeframe to perform well in the space at hand, usually leading to burn out at the tail end of the process. Practitioners working in combined roles may need to unpack their process, abilities and requirements clearly and early in order to protect themselves, and this load may contribute to the lack of designers and composers in this field.
*In June-July 2021 I self-employed myself as sound designer for a collaborative project, handing over the role of composer/producer.
MY ARTISTIC PROCESS
Design serves actions and directions through a system of methodized creativity. Within theatre, sound design functions to facilitate understanding, support flow, define the environment, contextualise the work, and magnify feeling (Brown, 2010). Design is art restricted by an activity that is not its own (Bracewell, 1993), which defines why theatre sound is recognised as a design practice. At the same time as working predominantly in the role of ‘designer’ over the course of five years, I have confidently felt that I am, simultaneously, an artist. A theoretical basis of difference between art and design does not exist (Avital, 2017), however, my understanding may be found in the concept of crafting scores and how those scores concurrently become entangled in design processes.
The blurring of separation between sound and musical composition resides in emergent digital technology such as MIDI, sampling, looping and digital audio workstations, which enable soundscapes to convey musicality and rhythm in theatrical contexts (Brown, 2010). LaBelle (2006) describes that “sound functions as a new form of musical vocabulary by allowing new methods and perspectives on composing” (p.35). I have not received any formal training in music and composition: I have trusted my listening practice to develop my own understanding of what sounds right and what sounds wrong. Through my studies in sound production I learned how to write music as a programmable system, thereby ensuing that I could work comfortably as a composer for performance and other art forms.
In the scope of theatre, the sound designer knows the function and control of sound for the purpose of theatrical effect, which informs an understanding of dramaturgy and dramaturgical decisions. Brown states that “theatre scores are structured by dramaturgical form and ‘designed’ to be heard in relation to the main object of attention” (p.46). In the context of contemporary theory, dramaturgy is the way in which meaning is communicated through the shaping and interweaving of dramatic forms such as sound, text, and light. Throughout the rehearsal and production process the operator of the sound has an obligation to perform, thereby suggesting that theatrical sound is a phenomenon that behaves dramaturgically to evoke ‘meaning’ (Brown, 2010). This organic impulse to make dramaturgical decisions in projects driven by other artists supports how I have found confidence in directing or leading my formed ideas and theatrical works. This is not to suggest that a dramaturg and an artistic leader or director is the same role, but to reinforce that a theatre sound practitioner may find themselves creating their own arts projects. A dramaturg can outline the links and separations between the connective tissue of a performance from an outside perspective. Theatre sound designers and composers conduct a closely similar examination with the intention of supporting, creating, or enhancing connectivity using sounds, music, sonic sources, and the practice of listening. Links between scoring and dramaturgy correlate deeply with my approach to sonic practice in theatrical contexts.
CASE STUDY: WHALE FALL (2021)
The process of designing sound for a contemporary theatre production provides a good example of how immersive practice flows from concept through to execution. Throughout January and February 2021 I produced sound design and composition for the production Whale Fall as part of Perth Festival, which was presented by The Kabuki Drop and Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts. Written by artist and playwright Ian Sinclair, Whale Fall discusses Caleb, a 12 year-old child needing to medically verify his gender identity through the process of transitioning, through the words and relationships between his mother, father and stepmother. Initial conversations with director Mel Cantwell revealed that my work would require a sensitive approach to elevating the content of the play and the waves of emotions spoken and physicalised by all characters. The first few meetings were exploratory in terms of what sounds we imagined or could hear being in support of the text and transitions. The early aspect of scoring a production with lead artists uncovers a dialect on sonics with the mutual intention to conjure conceptual understanding between the parties involved. Terms I have become intimate in for my process such as score, underscore, atmosphere and sonic intention often reveal themselves to be ambiguous to ears who do not have a familiarity with sound, or moreover, a clear grasp of the objective for using sound in the first place. This crypticism has led to misunderstanding in the past, which may later form into or illuminate mistrust between artists, even if the project commenced in collaborative positivity.
Perhaps confusion occurs here more easily than in visual forms because sound travels in a subconscious plane of registration (Collison, 1976). The ear is always acquiring and transferring material to the brain, yet only a small amount of information is recognised consciously. This is because awareness to the auditory cortex, which is taking in information, can be omitted. Therefore, the function of hearing contrasts to the concept of listening (Oliveros, 2005). The act of listening between both leading creatives and the sound practitioner affects the process of scoring from the first instance of the work being discussed, thereby insinuating that it is listening and transparently communicating or understanding mutual ideas which determines the resulting scores in a work.
What resulted in these opening conversations with Cantwell uncovered a trajectory of fundamental and immersive scores that would weave their way into the presented production. The details of what sounds I wanted the audience to hear and how each score differentiated from one another was unpacked through my analysis of the text. The character Caleb would break past the fourth wall to communicate the journey of a whale fall, a term used to describe the descent and decomposition process of a whale at death, through solitary, staged moments that required the support of lighting and sound. Sinclair provided the team with a link to resources on whale falls and other aquatic occurrences his text referred to, which served my work more than any other creative on the project. I wove recordings of the deep ocean and sound effects into ambient compositions that tracked the plunge of the deceased whale according to Caleb’s monologues, beginning as one coherent score before splitting into four individual tracks. It was clear to me that these scores should be executed through an immersive sound system, and Cantwell agreed. I achieved this through questioning how I wanted the audience to be placed in the space and who I wanted to be immersed.
Under guidance from audio lecturer and sound designer Kingsley Reeve, I designed a playback structure that enabled me to access eight channels of amplification, allowing me to direct each sound individually. Conceptually, I wanted sounds of the ocean to always be situated around the audience, which would then instigate a sensorial experience of being immersed underwater for Caleb’s monologues. Different frequencies conveyed different information that translated into a physical sensation, and when I began plotting my scores from the audience seating bank, I could achieve an immersive effect for spectators by means of listening and adjusting each singular sound in the complete score. We provided the young actor with a headset microphone, which when set at an prime level seamlessly blended into the soundscape of the scores. These sonic components unified in order to evoke a superlative intimacy between the world, the character and the spectators. In reflecting on my creative progression for Whale Fall, speaker placement and amplification were a key factor in how I could create a truly immersive experience of the whale fall through Caleb’s imagination.
The reoccurring limit of working in theatre sound is the inability to record or document the work that is produced. Spectators that described their experience of this resulting score, specifically designed to be heard in auditorium of that space, and the subjectivity of the “‘dynamic emotion” (Kent, The Conversation, 2021) my work evoked for audiences is evidence of a produced listening context, rather than the scores I created. “A sonic environment is, to an extent, produced by the subjectivity of its inhabitants” (Brown, 2010, p.128). Sound does not exist if a listener is not inside of or immersed in their surrounding environment. If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? (“If a tree falls in a forest”, 2021).
CHAPTER 2: SOUND AND SPACE
While sound design serves through developing and staging an idea that connects to the directorial vision, sound artworks undergo the same process – the sound artist directly conceptualises their ‘directorial vision’ for the work they are producing. Although I connect more to the title of ‘sound artist’ by the way I craft sound and scores than I do to ‘musician’, sound art is a form that is only beginning to be self-identified within my spectrum of interdisciplinary forms.
Space and sound are innately multimodal, and sound art is sensitive to the distinctions of space because of this existing relation (Curtin & Rosener, 2015). Space has carved way for sound, becoming more than seeming materiality, and occurs in multiple places at once amongst the presence of bodies (LaBelle, 2006). Theatrical immersion, like space and sound, relies on tangible presence in order to transmogrify surroundings. In the context of my practice, I have been fascinated by the ways that sound can “both defamiliarise and heighten the individual response to the surroundings” (Machon, 2013, p.128). This occurs frequently in performance through speaker configuration, and it also plays a part in how people interact with music on a daily basis. Evolving creative methods in theatre-making and collaborative practice have established an artistic association and exchange between scenic and sonic design (Rosener, 2015), and many companies have utilised sound devices in order to encourage a visceral and detailed experience of the surroundings for spectators. The isolated effect of headphones or high quality earphones creates a particular intimate spatiality between the spectator and the sound, thus conjuring a privately experienced immersion into a sonic work. Sonic immersion can be magnified through audio mixing and processing techniques such as panning and binaural or surround ambisonics.
CASE STUDY: UNDERGROWTH (2020)
As an example of intimacy in sonic design, I was commissioned to create Undergrowth: a sound art work for headphones through an online mentorship program with Signal Arts. I had conceptualised a few audible moments that moved through a theatrical narrative, and I wanted these to be from both the internal and external perspective of a karri tree. During this time I scored together sounds that resembled the depthful bodily processes shifting throughout the tree, and then I shifted that focus to outside the tree by integrating ambisonic recordings of the Boranup karri forest into the work. It made sense to me that if the tree was personified or theatrically heightened, then it may be imaginatively ‘seen’ by listeners as embodied and a living being. Spatial design and dramaturgically organised sound became key elements arranging this concept. Sound provides a connection to contact, language and innate human understanding (Bathurst, 2017), therefore the spatial design I had sonically crafted could evoke an empathic response from listeners.
The next stage with this project is to create a site-based and interactive experience through the use of wearable speakers, whereby uncontrolled environmental noise, field recordings from across time and electronically arranged compositions entangle together into a score. I am interested in how sound can be pushed upon further and accentuated into a physically immersive experience by integrating new and evolving sound technology into my work. Sound and space are unquestionably collaborative, which implies the importance of spatial design for artists that wish to communicate theatrical narratives through sonic-scenographic devices for experiences.
IMMERSIVE PRACTICE
Sound synchronously mirrors, is bounded to, and breaks away from its environment (Hayes, 2017), which links to how installation and sound intersect through immersive practice. Installation art is a form in which the spectator “physically enters” (Bishop, 2010, p.6) and “not only physically immerses the viewer in three-dimensional space… [it] is psychologically absorptive too” (Bishop, 2010, p.14). Installation intends to transform perceptions of a space, whether it is site-specific to an existing environment or presented in gallery spaces. Installation provides an aesthetic approach to constructing a space, place or environment that in turn allows sound to be tied into the initial groundwork of a concept. The partnership between sonic and scenic devices through the form of installation not only encourages a participatory experience of sound but also takes speaker placement into critical consideration. Whether they are noticeable or unnoticeable, visible or hidden, speakers and their arrangement can uphold an existing or created space to be understood as real, imagined, illusory, or mobile. Regardless of being presented as design or art, sound is “intrinsically and unignorably relational” (LaBelle, 2006, p.ix), and any ‘meaning’ that is intended through the arrangement of theatre sound is also relational (Brown, 2010). Interestingly, immersive practice is also recognised as a relational art (Machon, 2013), which altogether upholds theatrical sound as an interdisciplinary and immersive practice.
I believe that sonic practice and immersive practice are interconnected. Immersive practice is when physical immersion inside of an experience takes place, and an immersive event heightens live exchange and interaction between the audience and the work (Machon, 2013). Because there are multiple art forms that engage in immersive practices, immersive theatre is an intentionally ambiguous term that categorises work through assessing how audience and concept co-create the intended ‘meaning’ and experience.
CASE STUDY: MY SANDMAN (2017) AND OUR SANDMAN (2019)
Both practices also hold space for imaginative process. An example of this interconnection is through my investigation into how sound could incite theatrical immersion and imaginative events through my project My Sandman in 2017 and again through its evolution into Our Sandman in 2019. Both works were formed from a personal interest in dreams, particularly how dreams and memory are affiliated, and how to evoke a truly dreamlike experience for the conscious mind by predominantly removing the sense of sight. I also wanted to recontexualise the myth of the sandman by performing the scores live for participants, as if my live presence was accountable for conjuring dream experiences. Live electronic performance suggests a method to spotlight the intricate and active connections between performers, audiences and surroundings (Hayes, 2017) Stimulating the other senses and sonically designing a narrative trajectory for the auditory cortex drove me to pay close attention to scenographic as well as sonic design.
The first form of this concept was created and delivered as a fifteen-minute, one-on-one work performance called My Sandman for Crack Theatre Festival in New South Wales, with a focus on how seven-minute scores made up of electronic music and environmental sounds could trigger imaginative behaviour. Early in the conceptual process I identified that beds were objects intrinsically connected to dreaming, and decided that having participants engage with the work from beds would assist the scores to be linked and likened to dreams. In a closed off gallery space, I created an environment similar to that of a bedroom, consisting of a night light, a bedframe complete with comfortable bedding, aromatherapy oils, and a chair, lamp and side table upon which were a journal and pens. A participant was guided into the room, informed of exactly what would be happening, and with consent was tucked into the bed followed by the placement of sleep-phones upon their head. Sleepphones are speakers woven into a headband, however I later realised they were not effective as a playback device due to the mobile misplacement of the speakers and poor sound quality. Once participants were settled I performed a score, and once the score was finished I guided the participant to the journal where they could document their experience through text or imagery as well as view what other participants had imagined.
Visual and spoken feedback obtained from this performance shaped the next phase of this project into a collectively experienced and immersive performance-installation called Our Sandman. In revisiting the concept through a residency with Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts, I questioned how people could better connect to having a dreamlike experience. Therefore, I decided to undergo recording dreams through facilitating discussions: I called out for individuals to share with me their dreams and recorded their audible responses. What struck me was how some dreams closely intercepted with reality and memory, such as my own vivid recollection of being in the womb, which relates to how sounds are interlaced with memory through the individual mass of personal history and remembrances (Toop, 2004). These collated memories formed the backbone of the fifty-minute score that was supported and elevated by a sensory-driven spatial design, more specific to rapid eye movement activity in dreaming. Myself and an assembled creative team of designers, artists and collaborators paid attention to creating an experiential and intimate environment from the moment participants entered the venue: a completely empty gallery space tucked away in Perth’s city centre. We focused on sound, smells and tastes associated with sleep to construct a transitory waiting environment before participants were guided into the main performance space. In the performance space itself was a low seated platform in the shape of a moon upon which myself and my electronic equipment sat, surrounded by five mattresses with bedding, hanging fabric, a scent diffuser and a quadrophonic sound system setup. Colourful and abstract video visuals inspired by the Dreamachine (nLabs, 2016) were projected onto the ceiling, designed to be ‘seen’ with eyes either open or closed throughout the performance. The score itself interspersed between live, pre-recorded and improvised elements including foley arrangements of environmental sounds, stories recorded from individuals, and compositions written by myself and two collaborators. The performance concluded by means of me exiting the space while the audience, seemingly meditative, engaged with the final moments of the score, but not without leaving next to each participant a question on a card that requesting collective conversation, such as what is the earliest dream you can remember? For some of the participants, their favourite part of the work was the opportunity for discussion with a small group about past memories of dreams that had resurfaced through the experience. “The recurring dreams all have an aching familiarity: they each touched at the edges of dreams I myself have experienced… I found myself unravelling and becoming engulfed in a personal experience that was truly emotive and sublime” (Patrick-Mitchell, 2019, para. 3-4). Tsang (2021) states that “sound can be the conduit for mediating knowledge and imagination”(p.104), and through these works I explored how I could be the sonic conduit of transformation in real-time by performing the scores live to participants.
When it comes to any form of sonic work integrated into a theatrically immersive concept, “audio-journeys…are essential in inspiring the imagination that underpins that world” (Machon, 2013, p. 95). Theatrical immersion requires the participant to engage in both listening and hearing in order for them to be immersed and transported, but both are separate actions that differentiate on the basis of attention.
CHAPTER 3: SOUND AND LISTENING
Through witnessing and acquiring audience feedback across my creative trajectory, I have perceived an elevated connection between spectators and the artwork through the active engagement and incorporation of the spectator within my theatrically immersive work. While I use the term spectator to consider attendees in a work, I strongly lean towards identifying spectators as participants. A spectator implies that the person in attendance is seeing, observing or viewing a work, which does not apply to how sound functions, unless that sound has been designed as an audio-visual production. This links to listening, whereby “the relationship between the individual conscious attention and the environment changes continuously during the course of a live theatre performance, and has a modulating effect on the way sound is perceived” (Brown, 2010, p.130).
Hearing sound is a spatial event which reinforces that when sound is experienced in any environment it is immersive. “There is no silence, the body is working perpetually, breathing, vibrating and emitting energy even in repose of sleep” (Toop, 2006, p.40). Listening is selective hearing – a relational dimension that “encompasses both the physical aspect of hearing and the psychological. There is a sense of embodiment with listening and also an active reflection” (Tsang, 2021, p.104). Triggering an evocative response through music and sound depends on the act of listening through the interconnection between the human brain and body that produces consciousness. Activating a feeling that has previously been experienced “depends on the juxtaposition of an image of the body, correlated to an image…such as the auditory image of a piece of music. Under the similar listening conditions, your brain may recreate this correlation of images and you may experience the feeling” (Milicevic, 1999, p.168). Long-term memories are interpretations of past experiences that change depending on the individual’s day-to-day context (Milicevic as cited in Ascott, 1999). Sounds and music imitate feelings by being in association with emotion, culture and familiarity due to either short term memory (an immediate association) or long-term memory (a reconstruction). In the context of art, sound is powerful because it disturbs our “daily surroundings of (not) listening” (Tsang, 2021, p.112).
Perhaps it is due to misunderstanding the differences between hearing and listening that sound has not been widely recognised for how it affects and behaves. In theatrical contexts, aural attention is harder to separate and detach in comparison to sight because “the theatrical mode of listening does not gaze uniformly, but it is, by nature, a state of continual omnidirectional distraction” (Brown, 2010, p.132). Listening is such a crucial aspect of my creative process that I can be surprised by how much sound is missed by audiences amidst visual and text-based elements in a production. The point and utilisation of theatre sound is not as easily recognised by artists who do not identify with the form, and consequently becomes an afterthought or overlooked in processes of theatre-making. While I have had first-hand experience with this, there is no clearer example than through the National Institution of Dramatic Art or NIDA. NIDA’s undergraduate courses include a Bachelor in Fine Arts in Design for Performance, and surprisingly, sound in not listed in this degree. Instead, sound can be found as part of the Technical Theatre and Stage Management course among many other technical disciplines. Interestingly, lighting design can be discovered through both course structures (National Institute of Dramatic Art, n.d.), which suggests that sound is a purely technical practice and not related to creativity or design. I believe theatre sound is yet to be appreciated and recognised for what it is from an institutional perspective before the same can be expected from others.
CONCLUSION
Sound is inherently immersive and relational because it is constant – as human beings our reality is a constant experience of sound. Sound is intertwined with environments and through the living beings that move through those environments. “Sound… is in totum an immersive environment” (Brown, 2010, p. 132), which applies to individual experiences across theatrical forms. The ephemeral nature of this vibration through the conventional behaviour of listening restricts our understanding of how we experience it. Technology is responsible for the possibilities of theatrically organised sound for interdisciplinary forms of art and design, and consequently, sound has become an immersive practice. After five years of working in this field, I continue to not know the names of any great theatre sound practitioners. I have met very few theatre sound practitioners, and have met even fewer sound designers and composers that identify as female, trans or gender diverse. Sound needs to be considered differently to how it is currently being recognised in order to make space for a range of voices to pursue understanding and working with this form in the wider arts. Moving forward, I am evolving my own sound design and artistic processes so that my practice can make way for interdisciplinary devising, collaboration, and experimentation. Openly making room for a breadth of collaborative creativity to occur with sound might be a small step to achieving new perspectives and a wider conversation that can continue to be spoken about. Or perhaps, like that of listening and memory, theatre sound will continue to be recalled by spectators as ephemeral matter moving between subconscious and conscious acknowledgement.
Like the remnants of a dream, sound is as evocative as it is easily forgotten.
REFERENCE LIST
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Avital, T. (2017). The confusion between art and design: Brain tools versus body tools. Vernon Press.
Bracewell, J. (1993). Sound design in the theatre. Prentice Hall.
Brown, R. (2010). Sound: A reader in theatre practice. Palgrave Macmillan.
Collison, D. (1976). Stage Sound. Drama Book Specialists.
Curtin, A. & Roesner, D. (2015). Sounding out ‘the scenographic turn’: eight position statements. Theatre & Performance Design, 1(1-2), 107-125. doi: 10.1080/23322551.2015.1027523
Fry, G. (2019). Sound design for the stage. Crowood Press.
Hayes, L. (2017). From site-specific to site-responsive: sound art performances as
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“If a tree falls in a forest”. (2021, May 21). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_a_tree_falls_in_a_forest
Kelliher, A. [National Theatre]. (2014, November 10). Designing sound for theatre [Video]. Youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGtX9P8gDI8&t=59s’
LaBelle, B. (2006). Background noise: Perspectives on sound art. The Contiuum International Publishing Group.
Machon, J. (2013). Immersive theatres: Intimacy and immediacy in contemporary
performance. Palgrave Macmillan.
National Insitute of Dramatic Art. (n.d.) Technical Theatre and Stage Management. https://www.nida.edu.au/courses/undergraduate/technical-theatre
NLabs. (2016). Dreamachines. https://no-labs.com/demos/dreamachines/index.html
Oliveros, P. (2005). Deep listening: A composer’s sound practice. iUniverse.
Patrick-Mitchell, S. (2019, January 14). Snuggle up with Our Sandman at Cool Change Contemporary. https://www.outinperth.com/our-sandman-cool-change-contemporary/
The Conversation. (2021, February 23). Perth Festival review: Whale Fall is a powerful story about a trans boy, and the life of a whale. https://theconversation.com/perth-festival-review-whale-fall-is-a-powerful-story-about-a-trans-boy-and-the-life-of-a-whale-155733
Toop, D. (2004). Haunted weather: Music, silence and memory. Serpent’s Tail.
Tsang, C. (2021). Sound art as ways of exploring aspects of place. Fusion Journal, 19, 102-113.
THEATRE SOUND AS IMMERSIVE PRACTICE
INTRODUCTION
I am a theatrical sound artist and theatre sound practitioner: I use my tools as an electronic producer and sound designer to produce narratives and dramaturgy as well as elicit emotion. I adopt the fundamentals of theatre sound design and electronic composition to help spectators connect to or become immersed in space, place, people, concepts, and created worlds. I make performance and installation works, and my process tends toward manifesting participatory, interactive, or immersive experiences for audiences, spectators, and participants. In the context of my practice, sound is entangled with musical composition, as both are accountable for sensorially capturing and conveying the world or worlds in which the work takes place. This unique ability to instantly transform spaces and transport audiences can be described using the concept of “immersion”. Ross Brown (2010) describes that “the process of designing sound begins in immersive experience, but involves the abstraction of self from the environment in order to develop a conceptual working model, which is then translated back into an immersive experience” (p.3.). This links to theatrical immersion, a combination of immersive practice and dramatic forms. I understand theatrical immersion to be experienced through the physical presence of a participant within an imagined environment. This imagined environment can be constructed or site-specific – both intend to manipulate the real and the live or lived experience of the participant. Sound is a means of transporting audiences from the real world into the world of the work, thereby ensuing that sound in a theatrical work is inherently immersive and theatre sound is an immersive event.
As an independent practitioner in my fifth year of practice, I have observed that there is a distinct lack of sound designers in Perth’s theatre industry, and I wonder if this is due to the way that sound design is understood by both emerging and established artists. While the immersive nature of theatre sound could be subconsciously understood without being directly defined as such, I have noticed an apparent disconnect between how artists perceive the role and what the role encompasses. This exegesis intends to challenge the way that theatre sound is currently recognised by artists, arts organisations, and the wider performance industry. I believe that by addressing sound as an immersive practice, new vocabulary will emerge, which could lead to stronger and more sustainable systems of collaboration between theatre sound practitioners and artists throughout creative methods.
Theatrical sound or sound for theatre is commonly classified as “technical”, but I advocate – based on closely examining the theory and practice of sound design and composition, sound art, immersive theatres, and the act of listening – for it being understood as an immersive and highly creative process and practice. My advocation draws from practice-based research through my work on past productions, such as Whale Fall (2021), Undergrowth (2020), My Sandman (2017) and Our Sandman (2019), and is supported by theorists who write about sound.
Brown’s text (2010) is a key foundational reference in exploring my own approach to theatre sound. Brown’s critical perspective continually connects the philosophy, practice, and theory of stage sound to immersive process and experience, approaching the form from both “conceptual models” and the “subjective position of immersion” (2010, p.3).
In what follows, I investigate how theatre sound design and composition connects to sound art and immersive theatre, and how this connection influences the audience experience of the form through the comparison of processes between staged productions and participatory environments. I am arguing for the reclassification of sound by referencing my practice and identifying potential problem areas which could inform the distinct lack of theatre sound practitioners in Perth.
CHAPTER 1: SOUND AND PERFORMANCE
My upbringing involved touring with a puppetry and visual-theatre company throughout the UK and Europe, presenting performances and workshops to mainly children and adults. I have been in rehearsal and development spaces since infancy and therefore absorbed an intimate understanding of creative process and execution. My early curiosity with sound and music was founded through the sense that sound “seemingly eludes definition, while having a profound effect” (LaBelle, 2006, p.ix). During my studies in sound and electronic music production post adolescence, I developed my ability to create for performance by applying the fundamentals of production to my inherited understanding of theatre making.
Shortly after I started working as a designer assisting the visions of other performing artists, I began creating immersive performances and live installations based on my inherent belief that the sound I produce must be experienced by means of inviting audiences physically into the work. Sound design, as well as music, can communicate stories through the use and application of technology (Fry, 2019). Electronic music production has provided me the tools that I need to design and compose immersive sonic experiences. This extends to live performance, where I have presented experimental concepts and electronic scores to test the extent of my ability to shape atmospheres and influence responses using these forms. This also means that I am highly conscious of the audience’s experience of the work that I produce. My accumulation of experiences as a sound designer, composer, live electronic music performer and lead artist have compelled me to believe that sound and music hold a significant amount of power when it comes to creating meaning through art works.
COMBINED ROLES
A composer can be recognised as a writer of music, while a sound designer can be acknowledged as someone who arranges sonic material. The combination of the two roles within the context of theatre practice informs the construction of a score which heightens the dramatic, atmospheric and abstract actions, emotions and links within a work. Sound designer and composer Alma Kelliher (2014) echoes my approach by reflecting on her own process. She claims that “sound is often quite musical…and quite flowing and you almost can’t hear the end of one sound before the next one begins. So, I treat it almost like a score… I compose the sound.” To this day I have not had the opportunity to only work as a sound designer on a project*; I have predominantly been employed to deliver the combined work of both roles, which I am recently identifying as a considerable workload for one practitioner than it would be for solely a sound designer or composer. From observations and conversations, I can determine that the reasons behind the trend to hire multidisciplined sound practitioners are split between budgeting constraints and the sheer lack of sound designers and composers available, specifically in theatre, in Perth. While I recognise this saves money and resources on productions, the amount of tasks undertaken to fulfil both roles have subsequently brought about personal feelings of artistic inadequacy and overwhelm. These feelings can easily be understood as an expected part of the creative process, however, there are aspects to the combined workload that are not supported or considered in the context of presenting theatre and the amount of preparation time beforehand. One example is the time scheduled between hearing scores and designs in the acoustics of the performance venue for the first time and the first, if only, plotting session in a production day. Sound work then needs to be adapted and finished within a very tight timeframe to perform well in the space at hand, usually leading to burn out at the tail end of the process. Practitioners working in combined roles may need to unpack their process, abilities and requirements clearly and early in order to protect themselves, and this load may contribute to the lack of designers and composers in this field.
*In June-July 2021 I self-employed myself as sound designer for a collaborative project, handing over the role of composer/producer.
MY ARTISTIC PROCESS
Design serves actions and directions through a system of methodized creativity. Within theatre, sound design functions to facilitate understanding, support flow, define the environment, contextualise the work, and magnify feeling (Brown, 2010). Design is art restricted by an activity that is not its own (Bracewell, 1993), which defines why theatre sound is recognised as a design practice. At the same time as working predominantly in the role of ‘designer’ over the course of five years, I have confidently felt that I am, simultaneously, an artist. A theoretical basis of difference between art and design does not exist (Avital, 2017), however, my understanding may be found in the concept of crafting scores and how those scores concurrently become entangled in design processes.
The blurring of separation between sound and musical composition resides in emergent digital technology such as MIDI, sampling, looping and digital audio workstations, which enable soundscapes to convey musicality and rhythm in theatrical contexts (Brown, 2010). LaBelle (2006) describes that “sound functions as a new form of musical vocabulary by allowing new methods and perspectives on composing” (p.35). I have not received any formal training in music and composition: I have trusted my listening practice to develop my own understanding of what sounds right and what sounds wrong. Through my studies in sound production I learned how to write music as a programmable system, thereby ensuing that I could work comfortably as a composer for performance and other art forms.
In the scope of theatre, the sound designer knows the function and control of sound for the purpose of theatrical effect, which informs an understanding of dramaturgy and dramaturgical decisions. Brown states that “theatre scores are structured by dramaturgical form and ‘designed’ to be heard in relation to the main object of attention” (p.46). In the context of contemporary theory, dramaturgy is the way in which meaning is communicated through the shaping and interweaving of dramatic forms such as sound, text, and light. Throughout the rehearsal and production process the operator of the sound has an obligation to perform, thereby suggesting that theatrical sound is a phenomenon that behaves dramaturgically to evoke ‘meaning’ (Brown, 2010). This organic impulse to make dramaturgical decisions in projects driven by other artists supports how I have found confidence in directing or leading my formed ideas and theatrical works. This is not to suggest that a dramaturg and an artistic leader or director is the same role, but to reinforce that a theatre sound practitioner may find themselves creating their own arts projects. A dramaturg can outline the links and separations between the connective tissue of a performance from an outside perspective. Theatre sound designers and composers conduct a closely similar examination with the intention of supporting, creating, or enhancing connectivity using sounds, music, sonic sources, and the practice of listening. Links between scoring and dramaturgy correlate deeply with my approach to sonic practice in theatrical contexts.
CASE STUDY: WHALE FALL (2021)
The process of designing sound for a contemporary theatre production provides a good example of how immersive practice flows from concept through to execution. Throughout January and February 2021 I produced sound design and composition for the production Whale Fall as part of Perth Festival, which was presented by The Kabuki Drop and Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts. Written by artist and playwright Ian Sinclair, Whale Fall discusses Caleb, a 12 year-old child needing to medically verify his gender identity through the process of transitioning, through the words and relationships between his mother, father and stepmother. Initial conversations with director Mel Cantwell revealed that my work would require a sensitive approach to elevating the content of the play and the waves of emotions spoken and physicalised by all characters. The first few meetings were exploratory in terms of what sounds we imagined or could hear being in support of the text and transitions. The early aspect of scoring a production with lead artists uncovers a dialect on sonics with the mutual intention to conjure conceptual understanding between the parties involved. Terms I have become intimate in for my process such as score, underscore, atmosphere and sonic intention often reveal themselves to be ambiguous to ears who do not have a familiarity with sound, or moreover, a clear grasp of the objective for using sound in the first place. This crypticism has led to misunderstanding in the past, which may later form into or illuminate mistrust between artists, even if the project commenced in collaborative positivity.
Perhaps confusion occurs here more easily than in visual forms because sound travels in a subconscious plane of registration (Collison, 1976). The ear is always acquiring and transferring material to the brain, yet only a small amount of information is recognised consciously. This is because awareness to the auditory cortex, which is taking in information, can be omitted. Therefore, the function of hearing contrasts to the concept of listening (Oliveros, 2005). The act of listening between both leading creatives and the sound practitioner affects the process of scoring from the first instance of the work being discussed, thereby insinuating that it is listening and transparently communicating or understanding mutual ideas which determines the resulting scores in a work.
What resulted in these opening conversations with Cantwell uncovered a trajectory of fundamental and immersive scores that would weave their way into the presented production. The details of what sounds I wanted the audience to hear and how each score differentiated from one another was unpacked through my analysis of the text. The character Caleb would break past the fourth wall to communicate the journey of a whale fall, a term used to describe the descent and decomposition process of a whale at death, through solitary, staged moments that required the support of lighting and sound. Sinclair provided the team with a link to resources on whale falls and other aquatic occurrences his text referred to, which served my work more than any other creative on the project. I wove recordings of the deep ocean and sound effects into ambient compositions that tracked the plunge of the deceased whale according to Caleb’s monologues, beginning as one coherent score before splitting into four individual tracks. It was clear to me that these scores should be executed through an immersive sound system, and Cantwell agreed. I achieved this through questioning how I wanted the audience to be placed in the space and who I wanted to be immersed.
Under guidance from audio lecturer and sound designer Kingsley Reeve, I designed a playback structure that enabled me to access eight channels of amplification, allowing me to direct each sound individually. Conceptually, I wanted sounds of the ocean to always be situated around the audience, which would then instigate a sensorial experience of being immersed underwater for Caleb’s monologues. Different frequencies conveyed different information that translated into a physical sensation, and when I began plotting my scores from the audience seating bank, I could achieve an immersive effect for spectators by means of listening and adjusting each singular sound in the complete score. We provided the young actor with a headset microphone, which when set at an prime level seamlessly blended into the soundscape of the scores. These sonic components unified in order to evoke a superlative intimacy between the world, the character and the spectators. In reflecting on my creative progression for Whale Fall, speaker placement and amplification were a key factor in how I could create a truly immersive experience of the whale fall through Caleb’s imagination.
The reoccurring limit of working in theatre sound is the inability to record or document the work that is produced. Spectators that described their experience of this resulting score, specifically designed to be heard in auditorium of that space, and the subjectivity of the “‘dynamic emotion” (Kent, The Conversation, 2021) my work evoked for audiences is evidence of a produced listening context, rather than the scores I created. “A sonic environment is, to an extent, produced by the subjectivity of its inhabitants” (Brown, 2010, p.128). Sound does not exist if a listener is not inside of or immersed in their surrounding environment. If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? (“If a tree falls in a forest”, 2021).
CHAPTER 2: SOUND AND SPACE
While sound design serves through developing and staging an idea that connects to the directorial vision, sound artworks undergo the same process – the sound artist directly conceptualises their ‘directorial vision’ for the work they are producing. Although I connect more to the title of ‘sound artist’ by the way I craft sound and scores than I do to ‘musician’, sound art is a form that is only beginning to be self-identified within my spectrum of interdisciplinary forms.
Space and sound are innately multimodal, and sound art is sensitive to the distinctions of space because of this existing relation (Curtin & Rosener, 2015). Space has carved way for sound, becoming more than seeming materiality, and occurs in multiple places at once amongst the presence of bodies (LaBelle, 2006). Theatrical immersion, like space and sound, relies on tangible presence in order to transmogrify surroundings. In the context of my practice, I have been fascinated by the ways that sound can “both defamiliarise and heighten the individual response to the surroundings” (Machon, 2013, p.128). This occurs frequently in performance through speaker configuration, and it also plays a part in how people interact with music on a daily basis. Evolving creative methods in theatre-making and collaborative practice have established an artistic association and exchange between scenic and sonic design (Rosener, 2015), and many companies have utilised sound devices in order to encourage a visceral and detailed experience of the surroundings for spectators. The isolated effect of headphones or high quality earphones creates a particular intimate spatiality between the spectator and the sound, thus conjuring a privately experienced immersion into a sonic work. Sonic immersion can be magnified through audio mixing and processing techniques such as panning and binaural or surround ambisonics.
CASE STUDY: UNDERGROWTH (2020)
As an example of intimacy in sonic design, I was commissioned to create Undergrowth: a sound art work for headphones through an online mentorship program with Signal Arts. I had conceptualised a few audible moments that moved through a theatrical narrative, and I wanted these to be from both the internal and external perspective of a karri tree. During this time I scored together sounds that resembled the depthful bodily processes shifting throughout the tree, and then I shifted that focus to outside the tree by integrating ambisonic recordings of the Boranup karri forest into the work. It made sense to me that if the tree was personified or theatrically heightened, then it may be imaginatively ‘seen’ by listeners as embodied and a living being. Spatial design and dramaturgically organised sound became key elements arranging this concept. Sound provides a connection to contact, language and innate human understanding (Bathurst, 2017), therefore the spatial design I had sonically crafted could evoke an empathic response from listeners.
The next stage with this project is to create a site-based and interactive experience through the use of wearable speakers, whereby uncontrolled environmental noise, field recordings from across time and electronically arranged compositions entangle together into a score. I am interested in how sound can be pushed upon further and accentuated into a physically immersive experience by integrating new and evolving sound technology into my work. Sound and space are unquestionably collaborative, which implies the importance of spatial design for artists that wish to communicate theatrical narratives through sonic-scenographic devices for experiences.
IMMERSIVE PRACTICE
Sound synchronously mirrors, is bounded to, and breaks away from its environment (Hayes, 2017), which links to how installation and sound intersect through immersive practice. Installation art is a form in which the spectator “physically enters” (Bishop, 2010, p.6) and “not only physically immerses the viewer in three-dimensional space… [it] is psychologically absorptive too” (Bishop, 2010, p.14). Installation intends to transform perceptions of a space, whether it is site-specific to an existing environment or presented in gallery spaces. Installation provides an aesthetic approach to constructing a space, place or environment that in turn allows sound to be tied into the initial groundwork of a concept. The partnership between sonic and scenic devices through the form of installation not only encourages a participatory experience of sound but also takes speaker placement into critical consideration. Whether they are noticeable or unnoticeable, visible or hidden, speakers and their arrangement can uphold an existing or created space to be understood as real, imagined, illusory, or mobile. Regardless of being presented as design or art, sound is “intrinsically and unignorably relational” (LaBelle, 2006, p.ix), and any ‘meaning’ that is intended through the arrangement of theatre sound is also relational (Brown, 2010). Interestingly, immersive practice is also recognised as a relational art (Machon, 2013), which altogether upholds theatrical sound as an interdisciplinary and immersive practice.
I believe that sonic practice and immersive practice are interconnected. Immersive practice is when physical immersion inside of an experience takes place, and an immersive event heightens live exchange and interaction between the audience and the work (Machon, 2013). Because there are multiple art forms that engage in immersive practices, immersive theatre is an intentionally ambiguous term that categorises work through assessing how audience and concept co-create the intended ‘meaning’ and experience.
CASE STUDY: MY SANDMAN (2017) AND OUR SANDMAN (2019)
Both practices also hold space for imaginative process. An example of this interconnection is through my investigation into how sound could incite theatrical immersion and imaginative events through my project My Sandman in 2017 and again through its evolution into Our Sandman in 2019. Both works were formed from a personal interest in dreams, particularly how dreams and memory are affiliated, and how to evoke a truly dreamlike experience for the conscious mind by predominantly removing the sense of sight. I also wanted to recontexualise the myth of the sandman by performing the scores live for participants, as if my live presence was accountable for conjuring dream experiences. Live electronic performance suggests a method to spotlight the intricate and active connections between performers, audiences and surroundings (Hayes, 2017) Stimulating the other senses and sonically designing a narrative trajectory for the auditory cortex drove me to pay close attention to scenographic as well as sonic design.
The first form of this concept was created and delivered as a fifteen-minute, one-on-one work performance called My Sandman for Crack Theatre Festival in New South Wales, with a focus on how seven-minute scores made up of electronic music and environmental sounds could trigger imaginative behaviour. Early in the conceptual process I identified that beds were objects intrinsically connected to dreaming, and decided that having participants engage with the work from beds would assist the scores to be linked and likened to dreams. In a closed off gallery space, I created an environment similar to that of a bedroom, consisting of a night light, a bedframe complete with comfortable bedding, aromatherapy oils, and a chair, lamp and side table upon which were a journal and pens. A participant was guided into the room, informed of exactly what would be happening, and with consent was tucked into the bed followed by the placement of sleep-phones upon their head. Sleepphones are speakers woven into a headband, however I later realised they were not effective as a playback device due to the mobile misplacement of the speakers and poor sound quality. Once participants were settled I performed a score, and once the score was finished I guided the participant to the journal where they could document their experience through text or imagery as well as view what other participants had imagined.
Visual and spoken feedback obtained from this performance shaped the next phase of this project into a collectively experienced and immersive performance-installation called Our Sandman. In revisiting the concept through a residency with Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts, I questioned how people could better connect to having a dreamlike experience. Therefore, I decided to undergo recording dreams through facilitating discussions: I called out for individuals to share with me their dreams and recorded their audible responses. What struck me was how some dreams closely intercepted with reality and memory, such as my own vivid recollection of being in the womb, which relates to how sounds are interlaced with memory through the individual mass of personal history and remembrances (Toop, 2004). These collated memories formed the backbone of the fifty-minute score that was supported and elevated by a sensory-driven spatial design, more specific to rapid eye movement activity in dreaming. Myself and an assembled creative team of designers, artists and collaborators paid attention to creating an experiential and intimate environment from the moment participants entered the venue: a completely empty gallery space tucked away in Perth’s city centre. We focused on sound, smells and tastes associated with sleep to construct a transitory waiting environment before participants were guided into the main performance space. In the performance space itself was a low seated platform in the shape of a moon upon which myself and my electronic equipment sat, surrounded by five mattresses with bedding, hanging fabric, a scent diffuser and a quadrophonic sound system setup. Colourful and abstract video visuals inspired by the Dreamachine (nLabs, 2016) were projected onto the ceiling, designed to be ‘seen’ with eyes either open or closed throughout the performance. The score itself interspersed between live, pre-recorded and improvised elements including foley arrangements of environmental sounds, stories recorded from individuals, and compositions written by myself and two collaborators. The performance concluded by means of me exiting the space while the audience, seemingly meditative, engaged with the final moments of the score, but not without leaving next to each participant a question on a card that requesting collective conversation, such as what is the earliest dream you can remember? For some of the participants, their favourite part of the work was the opportunity for discussion with a small group about past memories of dreams that had resurfaced through the experience. “The recurring dreams all have an aching familiarity: they each touched at the edges of dreams I myself have experienced… I found myself unravelling and becoming engulfed in a personal experience that was truly emotive and sublime” (Patrick-Mitchell, 2019, para. 3-4). Tsang (2021) states that “sound can be the conduit for mediating knowledge and imagination”(p.104), and through these works I explored how I could be the sonic conduit of transformation in real-time by performing the scores live to participants.
When it comes to any form of sonic work integrated into a theatrically immersive concept, “audio-journeys…are essential in inspiring the imagination that underpins that world” (Machon, 2013, p. 95). Theatrical immersion requires the participant to engage in both listening and hearing in order for them to be immersed and transported, but both are separate actions that differentiate on the basis of attention.
CHAPTER 3: SOUND AND LISTENING
Through witnessing and acquiring audience feedback across my creative trajectory, I have perceived an elevated connection between spectators and the artwork through the active engagement and incorporation of the spectator within my theatrically immersive work. While I use the term spectator to consider attendees in a work, I strongly lean towards identifying spectators as participants. A spectator implies that the person in attendance is seeing, observing or viewing a work, which does not apply to how sound functions, unless that sound has been designed as an audio-visual production. This links to listening, whereby “the relationship between the individual conscious attention and the environment changes continuously during the course of a live theatre performance, and has a modulating effect on the way sound is perceived” (Brown, 2010, p.130).
Hearing sound is a spatial event which reinforces that when sound is experienced in any environment it is immersive. “There is no silence, the body is working perpetually, breathing, vibrating and emitting energy even in repose of sleep” (Toop, 2006, p.40). Listening is selective hearing – a relational dimension that “encompasses both the physical aspect of hearing and the psychological. There is a sense of embodiment with listening and also an active reflection” (Tsang, 2021, p.104). Triggering an evocative response through music and sound depends on the act of listening through the interconnection between the human brain and body that produces consciousness. Activating a feeling that has previously been experienced “depends on the juxtaposition of an image of the body, correlated to an image…such as the auditory image of a piece of music. Under the similar listening conditions, your brain may recreate this correlation of images and you may experience the feeling” (Milicevic, 1999, p.168). Long-term memories are interpretations of past experiences that change depending on the individual’s day-to-day context (Milicevic as cited in Ascott, 1999). Sounds and music imitate feelings by being in association with emotion, culture and familiarity due to either short term memory (an immediate association) or long-term memory (a reconstruction). In the context of art, sound is powerful because it disturbs our “daily surroundings of (not) listening” (Tsang, 2021, p.112).
Perhaps it is due to misunderstanding the differences between hearing and listening that sound has not been widely recognised for how it affects and behaves. In theatrical contexts, aural attention is harder to separate and detach in comparison to sight because “the theatrical mode of listening does not gaze uniformly, but it is, by nature, a state of continual omnidirectional distraction” (Brown, 2010, p.132). Listening is such a crucial aspect of my creative process that I can be surprised by how much sound is missed by audiences amidst visual and text-based elements in a production. The point and utilisation of theatre sound is not as easily recognised by artists who do not identify with the form, and consequently becomes an afterthought or overlooked in processes of theatre-making. While I have had first-hand experience with this, there is no clearer example than through the National Institution of Dramatic Art or NIDA. NIDA’s undergraduate courses include a Bachelor in Fine Arts in Design for Performance, and surprisingly, sound in not listed in this degree. Instead, sound can be found as part of the Technical Theatre and Stage Management course among many other technical disciplines. Interestingly, lighting design can be discovered through both course structures (National Institute of Dramatic Art, n.d.), which suggests that sound is a purely technical practice and not related to creativity or design. I believe theatre sound is yet to be appreciated and recognised for what it is from an institutional perspective before the same can be expected from others.
CONCLUSION
Sound is inherently immersive and relational because it is constant – as human beings our reality is a constant experience of sound. Sound is intertwined with environments and through the living beings that move through those environments. “Sound… is in totum an immersive environment” (Brown, 2010, p. 132), which applies to individual experiences across theatrical forms. The ephemeral nature of this vibration through the conventional behaviour of listening restricts our understanding of how we experience it. Technology is responsible for the possibilities of theatrically organised sound for interdisciplinary forms of art and design, and consequently, sound has become an immersive practice. After five years of working in this field, I continue to not know the names of any great theatre sound practitioners. I have met very few theatre sound practitioners, and have met even fewer sound designers and composers that identify as female, trans or gender diverse. Sound needs to be considered differently to how it is currently being recognised in order to make space for a range of voices to pursue understanding and working with this form in the wider arts. Moving forward, I am evolving my own sound design and artistic processes so that my practice can make way for interdisciplinary devising, collaboration, and experimentation. Openly making room for a breadth of collaborative creativity to occur with sound might be a small step to achieving new perspectives and a wider conversation that can continue to be spoken about. Or perhaps, like that of listening and memory, theatre sound will continue to be recalled by spectators as ephemeral matter moving between subconscious and conscious acknowledgement.
Like the remnants of a dream, sound is as evocative as it is easily forgotten.
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