Exit Slip: Sept 18 Soundscaping in the Garden

During our lecture in the garden, we revisited our sit spots, this time not to draw what we saw, but to listen. I chose to represent myself at the center of the page, almost like a radar, with icons drawn in the directions I heard sounds. Their sizes reflected the volume: larger for louder noises, smaller for softer ones.

Because my spot was near the road, the sound of cars dominated. At times I could barely distinguish between the whoosh of traffic and the wind moving through the trees. I also caught faint bursts of birdsong, though they felt almost hidden beneath the louder hum of the background.

What struck me most about this exercise was how easy it was to lose the very thing I was trying to focus on. I became so concentrated on how to notate the sounds, what symbol to use, how big to draw it, where to place it, that I realized I had started tuning out the world around me. In trying to capture the soundscape on paper, I unconsciously disengaged from the listening itself. The exercise reminded me that representation and perception can sometimes compete for attention, and that true listening requires letting go of the need to “get it right” on the page.