Atmospheric River Soundscape explores ideas of ecotone acoustics, the resonance of decomposition, atmospheric rivers and the soundscapes of climatic phenomena.
An ecotone is a convergence of two ecosystems, in this case the shore and the sea. It is a convergence of environments and acoustics, where land meets tide, tree meets ocean. These trees have been decomposing here for years and their sonic signatures are always changing, especially during events like an atmospheric river.
An atmospheric river is essentially a river in the sky, a moisture plume that collects water vapor from the tropics and dumps that water further north in the form of intense rains. In the light of California’s megadrought, this is a good thing for our reservoirs. But as climate change warms the earth’s atmosphere and increases the moisture in the air, the frequency and intensity of these events are also increasing. In the winter of 2023, an atmospheric river pummeled and flooded many parts of California, resulting in a massive storm event at this coastal site.
Rogue climatic events like atmospheric river events in this region of California are becoming less and less rogue. The soundscape of this site shifts accordingly. Thinking about growth and decay on a geologic timescale is tricky, but helpful perhaps in thinking about climate change—so what does listening to growth and decay on a geologic timescale do for our thinking about climate change?
I documented the residue of the storm—beached sea stars, wave-crumbled cliff faces, putrid crabs, knee-deep tangles of dead seaweed, decaying leopard sharks, plastic bags crammed into driftwood cavities. I took field recordings of this stretch of beach during and after the event, exploring the acoustic ecology of the site in relation to the resonance of its decomposing driftwood trees. I temporarily installed cello strings and tuning pegs in the trees, weaving strings inside the logjam of rotting wood and twisted roots. I bowed the strings and recorded the resonance of the wood in conversation with the bow and the surrounding environment. I played the cello bow until the hairs frayed and split and there were no more bow hairs to play, at which point I played the bow stick. I recorded the resonance of the decomposing trees in conversation with the resonance of the decomposing storm wreckage. My experimental compositions explore these relationships in the context of this particular storm event.
My recordings bridge the meeting of ecotones—bats and frogs from the hills above mingle with sea birds and waves.
The project transformed the driftwood trees into an immersive experience, creating the phenomenon of walking in a sound.
What can speculative sculpture do for our sense of place? How can sound transform our awareness of and relationships to a site? What are different ways to perceive and understand movement and sound and space? Which elements of a particular site—in this instance a tidal ecotone—are we potentially not perceiving?
A decomposing driftwood log transmogrifies into a soniferous body. How might its sonic signature change in the light of phenomena like an atmospheric river event? How might this soundscape facilitate a sensory experience of climate change, as something we can feel and perceive in the flesh?
The installation left no trace; cello pegs were temporarily drilled into the wood and removed.