The first notable thing I enjoyed about the documentary 32 Sounds was how sounds are so valuable. In this immersive, sensory feature documentary by Sam Green, he wanted people to “think with their ears as much as their eyes” by proving that different audio inputs can cause an internal response in those who process it. Many unique individuals have run with that concept and made incredible works of art from those experiences. From recording their environment at intense volumes, using at-home objects to create action in movies, and videoing those we love, this documentary composes a beautiful collection of noises that encourage us to show more respect for our senses, especially the one we take for granted the most. From the very beginning of the film, I loved how the developers kept most of the recordings blank without playing anything on the screen. This allowed you to really take a step back from your computer and listen, leaving you stranded with the noise for a moment. I remember closing my eyes on the train while the first sensory pit stop played in my earbuds. I felt that first static clip coat my brain in this calming cloudiness, and maybe it was the added movement on the tracks below me, but it put me in a different state of mind, a different universe. The seat in my train sat beneath these steril blinding lights, my laptop couldn’t balance on its tiny pull-out table, and our car’s bathroom stink was floating up and down the aisle, but these things were only made apparent to me when I’d pause the video to reflect. I feel like it’s so important to disconnect yourself from your day-to-day life with sounds such as the ones emphasized in this film because it's a way to cancel out life’s chaos. If not for this video, I wouldn’t have anything to distract myself from the negative aspects of the world.
The unit about the Moho Precaudis is an excellent example of something significant that was recorded to keep its memory alive. We are lucky to reserve it in this audio format because it feels so intimate to hear and essentially lives on within the confines of the tape. I love the line by Charles Babbage in the video, “The air itself is one vast library, whose pages are forever written all that man has ever said or woman whispered.” Every bit of context that we have that is verbalized goes airborne, and if not for sound, there would be little ways to convey new ideas and communicate with our environment. The idea that many things we’ve said exist as tiny ripples and fragments in a path of sound waves somewhere is so freaky and intriguing that it adds a whole new dimension to what we project.
Another aspect I loved about this study was the recording of the lake by Anna Lockwood. She proved that nature is all a living organism that will always run rampant with life and, naturally, many sounds. In Lockwood’s first appearance in the film, I was fascinated by the contrast between the breathtaking sounds of the bog she recorded and the more rural chunk of stressful speed from passing trucks on the highway. Sound is always meant to elicit a feeling, and both clips are crucial because they showcase how fast sound can affect our moods and bring us back to a certain point in time. Anna's statement, when she says, “Everything changes and nothing is lost,” resonates with me the most throughout the entire video. While things may drift or cease to exist from reality, we can recall them with our senses. No matter how much something can fluctuate, a sound never falters, and you’ll always be able to tie it back to the same force.
The scene where Lockwood plays her stream of phone call laughter between her and Ruth Anderson is so intimate; if my significant other made that for us, I would melt. Something I also just personally adore about this sound bite is that it exists as this very rare instance of lesbian representation that I don’t think I would have been able to encounter anywhere else. This simple set of giggles made me feel so seen and validated for my own sexuality. It is truly such a fantastic way to capture the intensity of this kind of relationship. It shows how communication not only leaves a lasting impact on both parties but its frequency and tone do as well, which can attract two individuals naturally.
I've always wanted to get involved in sound design and production because it’s almost like a secondary form of music. The foley artist Joanna Fang demonstrated all the techniques they used for the classic recurring scenes in modern films, and her unique way of controlling her tools really drew me in. The materials used in movie production seem so rewarding to manipulate. It takes a specific ear to produce such pure sound that can be correlated to a particular scene and action. Even though we as humans are usually able to place a sound on a visual without much thought, I still think it is remarkable that this person conjured up a noise that is catered more perfectly to a clip of a movie than the original is quite impressive, and I would honestly love to learn.
Like the Moho Precaudis, we as people also fade away. It's so disappointing when someone passes, and it was extremely sad in Nahanda’s case because she never got to reunite with her family before she died in 2019. However, the clip of her reminiscing to “Ain't Nothing Stopping Us Now” was so sacred, and to have it on film to capture her beauty and vibrancy when she was alive is a true gift that we take for granted with all the recording technology we have access to. Having to march at the UN with the Human Rights Coalition must have been so dreadful, but that music reminded her of all the good that would come from the little victories and brought her back to Harlem in 1979, a place she’d unfortunately never return to but a place she could be transported back to for just a moment. Grief can make it hard to revisit these types of archives, but I feel that it is crucial when trying to fight the pain of loss and find the acceptance and appreciation of it in order to move forward. It helps us relish our time in the present when we can admire the touching instances of our past and what auditory aspects are attributed to it.
Olivia Schmidt is a sophomore Illustration major at SVA. "This piece was assigned to me by Merlin Ural Rivera, my poetry professor, to analyze for a class assignment," Olivia says. "I fell in love with it in a very unexpected way. The documentary inspired a lot of ideas for my response and has left me with a genuine curiosity to seek out the same sensations that I underwent when isolating myself in these clips during a hectic commute."