The Archeology of Sound

Sound exists in the physical world without our existence, without us labeling and categorizing it. But we do bring it greater definition with our labels and categorizations - And, if you've ever had the pleasure of owning an electric guitar and high end amplifier or have been in a recording studio, then the appreciation of manipulating sound as art work is known (what a pleasure indeed).

What is not known or, at least, elaborated upon or explored is the sound in our heads.

In fact, this essay could easily be titled: "The Sounds in Our Heads" but then there may be a negative connotation connected with it and people may perceive it differently just because of that title. In addition, I just finished reading a book (The Living Theatre: Art, Exile, and Outrage) that I started this summer before heading to L.A. and I saved the last two chapters until yesterday. One of those chapters was called The Archaeology of Sleep which was a poem by Julian Beck which turned into a Living Theatre play before his death. Thus I thought the Archaelogy of Sound made for a good title here as opposed to "The Sounds in Our Heads" or even "The Sound of Reading."

The sound of reading. ...

It's amazing that when we look at words and read them that there is a voice in our heads that we hear. Is that voice typically our own voice? I've found that the voice is my own voice or, at least, the same voice I hear when I talk to myself or think thoughts in my head unless I am reading a play or book or something that requires a character change and I am familiar enough with the type of character to create an appropriate or exact voice.

When one reads something - one just does not look at the words and comprehend and digest them as images only. It's impossible. When reading something or even writing something (like I am now - this very minute) those words that are read or written are sounded out in our heads by some type of voice. Is this connected to our soul? Our is this voice just connected to our heads - our minds?

It's not just memory here that we hear like we do when singing a song in our heads that we're familiar with. For example, when I think about a song like Bad Company's "Feel Like Making Love" in my head I am familiar with that song enough to replay the song in a way where I remember its lyrics, the voice of the singer of the song, his inflections, the music, etc. My memory replays this song in my head at will - but while I'm typing this - these words are in my voice and Bad Company's "Feel Like Making Love" just plays off in a distant region of my head like background music to my own voice in narration.

Even when I sit back and think about what I am going to write, I hear my own voice speaking the words - sounding them out as I would speak them aloud.

However, when we view a piece of art work (like a painting) in a museum we can view and interpret it without sounds in our head. We can visually take in a painting and its meaning and let it touch us without talking to ourselves about it or hearing what our Art History professor from Marquette University (the year I spent there before transferring into Penn State University's Happy Valley campus) would say in his voice. Of course, it may help some people translate a painting's meaning if they do talk to themselves about it, or hear in their heads what some one else may have to say about it for them to help better understand it and form an opinion.

The other afternoon while at a museum and viewing the complex, highly skilled and creative work of Giovanni Battista Piranesi I scanned and stared and marvelled at the pieces with my eyes and soul. I interpreted, translated and felt these images without necessarily using words and a voice in my head. Yes, at times, I may have spoken to myself or listened to my fascinated wife or general passersby - but, on whole, I solely only viewed the displayed images of Giovanni Battista Piranesi with my sponge like eyes and soul. Sure, they may have invoked feelings and emotions and other related images but, again, that was done without words and me hearing those words in my head.

Today when my wife and I visit the Andy Warhol museum in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania I will take-in the work while walking around and play this out again.

I do like to also read about artists when at a museum. And there are words read in my own voice or that of my wife or a narrator that the museum may use with the use of headphones or a tour guide. But yet again unless it's an "interactive" piece or a "new media art" piece using sound or sounds then I usually take-in a piece of art via visual stimulation = with sponge like eyes.

Try this for yourself.