2. Sound space, sound structure and materiality

Sound art is intimately intertwined with concerns of space – whether it be literal or metaphorical or perceived aural space, the acoustics of a physical site or the spatial orientation of sound-objects within a sound field (Ouzounian, Reference Ouzounian and Born2013: 71; Macedo Reference Macedo2015: 1; among others). As Brandon Labelle writes, ‘sound thus performs with and throughout space (Labelle Reference Labelle and Sterne2012: 470)’; sound is unabashedly relational and spatial, and spatial structures and identities are foundational considerations in the process of sound art installation design. Sound artist Bernherd Leitner has even claimed that the ‘central issue of my work is space and not so much sound’ (Leitner Reference Leitner and Schulz2022: 82).

Sounding collaborations with and throughout spaces can be situated in a variety of sites even within an artist’s own portfolio; Leitner’s work, for example, ranges from compositions composed to be specifically experienced inside the space of one’s head via headphones (Köpfraume, translated as ‘Head Spaces’, 2003), to an individual bespoke loudspeaker construct, almost beaming sound down onto a listener, in Vertical Space for One Person (Leitner Reference Leitner and Schulz2022: 86). Maryanne Amacher’s research into structure-borne sound and ‘third ear’ compositions explored both external physical materials and inner ear architectures to create alternate sonic realities (examples: Sound Characters [making the third ear] – 1999 and Music for Sound Joined Rooms – 1980). Amacher also developed many pieces for the space between two sites, such as in her evolving City-Links series starting in 1967 (Amacher Reference Amacher, Dietz and Cimini2020).

Some sound artists use the framework of sculpture to describe their practices, both as an imagined sonic spatial construct or as a physically constructed sounding entity. In sound artworks where loudspeakers are used, speaker placement blends into system and compositional design, with weight on both sonic and visual implications. Sculptural material sometimes comprises the electronics or housing container themselves; structures are composed of loudspeakers, for instance, such as in the work of Benoit Maubrey, who also often works with salvaged or reused materials. However, spatial concerns can often distract from an attention to the particularities of the involved physical structural materials and their social and ecological implications; scholars such as Jonathan Sterne, and later Jacob Smith, have encouraged critical reflections on the physical infrastructures within media artworks and artistic mediums, addressing the ongoing dialectic oscillation within sound studies of sonic dematerialisation and sonic rematerialisation.

Whether or not thought of specifically or critically, the placement of loudspeakers within a space is heavily considered in the sound installation design process, with both visual and sonic considerations. Artist and composer Adam Basanta identifies what he calls open and closed spaces in sound installation spatial design (Basanta Reference Basanta2015: 5). Open spaces encourage visitors to move more freely through a physical environment, and ‘[allows] multiple possibilities of linear narratives through space’ (Ibid.: 5). In contrast, closed spaces incorporate and ‘[use] architectural barriers to restrict possibilities of visitor mobility while affording others’ (Ibid.: 5), often inviting an easier linear narrative thread with a beginning and an end (Ibid.: 5). Loudspeakers and other physical materials further shape the sonic character within a space, changing timbres, reflections, and reverberations (Arford and Yau Reference Arford, Yau, LaBelle and Martinho2011: 202). Spatial design, site, and concept, often work in dialogue together to inform decision-making around loudspeaker placement, as was in the creation of Waste Whisperer.

Waste Whisperer was conceptually envisioned as an opera; one of ten ‘micro-operas’ created by RISE (Reflective Iterative Scenario Enactments), a SSHRC-funded research project housed at Concordia University’s Milieux Institute within the Performing Arts Research Cluster (LePARC) (RISE 2024). Through a reimagined expanded opera framework and a deep analysis of creative process, the interdisciplinary project investigated human responses to emergencies and crises (Ibid.). Featured ‘arias’ explored themes of waste and repurposing, with displayed text librettos written collaboratively with Chat GPT. The term ‘sonic scenography’, used by Otto Lähdeoja (Lähdeoja Reference Lähdeoja2017) to describe a sound-emitting scenography created for a contemporary dance collaboration, feels fitting to describe Waste Whisperer’s landscape of set pieces. The public wove their way through Waste Whisperer’s ‘sonic scenography’, their wayfaring led by sound within a forest of loudspeakers, marked by recycled field recordings of a forest soundscape, reused material from a previous RISE opera (Tsabary Reference Tsabary2024).

3. Creating sound spaces through mismatched speakers and unconventional speaker arrays

Sounds produced from loudspeakers are often perceived as spatially incorporeal; insubstantial, ‘ghostly illusions’ that lack the realism of physical acoustic excitation. This intangibility stems from several inherent limitations of the loudspeaker as a sound emitter. First, it imposes a fixed, uniform source size, eliminating the diverse, physically scaled source sizes of acoustic instruments which the ear can perceive. Second, even in multi-driver systems, sound is projected from discrete, localised points of origin. This fails to emulate the complex radiation of large acoustic instruments (e.g., a piano or double bass), where different frequencies emanate from various parts of a large, resonant physical body. Third, its sound distribution pattern is frequency dependent. As Colloms explains, ‘virtually all present-day loudspeakers…are fundamentally incorrect on grounds of their inappropriate directivity’ (Colloms Reference Colloms2018: 158–9), which differs fundamentally from the (nearly) frequency-independent spherical radiation pattern of acoustic sources (Rakerd and Hartmann Reference Rakerd and Hartmann1986; Kendall Reference Kendall2010).

Waste Whisperer’s approach to spatiality was a direct, multi-faceted critique of these limitations, aiming to build a more tangible, complex and ‘less abstract’ (Tsabary Reference Tsabary2024) sound field by emulating the richness of a natural acoustic environment. This was achieved by running three simultaneous spatialisation processes from three computers, all using the same stereo compositions as source material. The first system employed spectral diffusion, deconstructing the stereo track into frequency bands and distributing them front-to-back, causing a spectral glissando to also manifest as a physical movement through the space. The second system used real-time MS (Mid/Side) techniquesFootnote ¹ to deconstruct the stereo piece into four distinct ratios of Mid versus Side information, which were then projected from different speakers, ‘exploding’ the phantom image and allowing listeners to physically navigate within the stereo field. The third system used ‘inaudible compositions’. Here, pre-existing 8-channel compositions were played back silently, with each channel’s signal side chained to a gate on a separate loudspeaker. These gates, in turn, processed a mono version of the installation’s audible stereo track, carving the sound into the space with transient emphases that followed the inaudible piece’s gesture – a method of repurposing old compositions’ spatial dynamics as new, non-random spatial frameworks.

The cumulative sonic experience was one of immense spatial complexity, contrasting a continuous, immersive ambience with an ‘orchestra’ of tangible point source sounds. Listeners could ‘mix’ the overall sound simply by moving through a ‘forest of speakers.’ Each salvaged loudspeaker, with its own unique timbre and material limitations (such as a single driver in a metal can), was crucial to this effect. This deliberate combination and collision of timbral differences created a blend of tunings and contributions that drew attention to the particularities within the collective whole, leveraging the ‘flaws’ of the mismatched transducers to create a fuller and more physical sound image.

The loudspeaker and the microphone are foundational as ‘emblematic electroacoustic transducers’ in both recording and electronic music practices (Lähdeoja Reference Lähdeoja2017: 61). Hi-fidelity loudspeakers aim for the most ‘neutral’ and ‘transparent’ sound reproduction; the term transparency in this context meaning a prioritising of ‘inaudible sound reproducing technologies’ (van Eck Reference van Eck2017: 58). The techno-utopian emphasis on transparency, positioning an ‘erasure of the material mediation’ as ideal, has been culturally constructed (Lähdeoja Reference Lähdeoja2017: 61). Conceptually, the sound is an ‘autonomous object, independent from the medium of diffusion’, shaping our expectations as listeners; in general, the expectation is that we will ‘hear the same audio item in different renditions’, while transferring songs or tracks between systems (Lähdeoja Reference Lähdeoja2017: 61–8). Loudspeakers and microphones support and reproduce (van Eck Reference van Eck2017: 42), becoming almost an extension of the instrument itself while in the support role, while extremely flexible and ‘ideally able to reproduce all kind of sounds at uniformly high quality’ in the latter role (Ibid.: 42). This makes both have a particular positionality as instruments, acting dually as ‘physical sound producers’ as well as ‘seemingly transparent sound transmitters’ (Ibid.: 184).

Traditionally, the loudspeaker is not recognised as an audible mediator, but an invisible container; one which is not considered to have timbral or acoustic impact. Cathy van Eck points out that this desire for ‘silent technology’ is also witnessed in our approach to musical instruments – historically, we have also strived to make the valves, keys and pedals inaudible (van Eck Reference van Eck2017: 42). Technical transparency has long been part of the sales and ascribed value in audio in our quest for ‘perfect fidelity’, from advertisements for the Gramophone in 1908 to modern contemporary ‘Hi-Fi’ companies such as Genelec (Rogers Reference Rogers2017: 90). Audio companies promote that they will deliver the most ‘accurate’ or ‘realistic’ replication of an acoustic sound, suggesting the greater the ‘fidelity’, the more faithful and therefore better representation of the source. This is also commonplace in the increasingly popular world of ‘spatial audio’, with technologies such as Dolby Atmos offering listening experiences of ‘unparalleled space, clarity, and depth’ (Dolby Atmos official website 2024). The myth of transparency is similarly commonplace in visual contemporary media culture with companies like Apple promoting the ‘rhetoric of invisibility’ in products such as the iPad (Kane Reference Kane2019: 26). Noise, glitch, failure and error suggest product devaluation, despite mass failures in the development process making the ‘so-called innovation economy possible’ (Kane Reference Kane2019: 21, 29).

Naturally, some sound makers do recognise the mediation and sound-shaping of different loudspeakers and sound systems as a non-neutral process, even leaning into the distinct qualities individual speakers can offer. François Bayle’s Acousmonium, for example, consists of up to eighty different loudspeakers, and is often referred to as an orchestra of sorts, a ‘loudspeaker orchestra’ (van Eck Reference van Eck2017: 141). The different loudspeakers each have varying technical characteristics (such as amplitude or frequency ranges), which shape their emitting tones (Ibid.: 142). Bayle uses these distinctions to make design decisions about speaker placement and compositional routing, leaning into each speaker’s strength (ex. reproduced frequency ranges) when determining its role within the ‘orchestra’ (Ibid.: 142). This approach is similar with other loudspeaker reproduction systems; in Jamaican sound system culture for example, speakers are separated and grouped by the frequency ranges they are tuned or designed to emit best, with Do-It-Yourself (DIY) custom loudspeaker builds working in conjunction with already assembled cabinets (Kirn Reference Kirn2022). Public Address (PA) sound systems for live concert performances also often follow similar approaches to division of workload by frequency, though still operate by grouping stereo matched pairs, with the goal of reproducing a neutral sonic image, rather than embracing timbral differences between speaker types to produce creative results (Biederman and Pattison Reference Biederman and Pattison2013).

Though we are in an era where loudspeakers are being used in all sorts of creative ways, articles on spatial audio continue to assume that one is using a collection of ‘matched’ loudspeakers (Leonard Reference Leonard, Roginska and Geluso2018, for ex.). Variations in system design can occur regarding playback technologies or playback material, but not with the loudspeakers themselves, except in the instance of a subwoofer. It is rare, at least in sound art and electroacoustic realms, to encounter articles encouraging or suggesting the use of mismatched speakers as a possible creative technique, though there are nods to Bayle’s Acousmonium. Marije Baalman, for example, explores the distinction between technique and technology in spatial composition realms, but does not address the use of mismatched speakers as a creative technique (Baalman Reference Baalman2010). Creative approaches surrounding spatialisation can encompass intended ‘realism’ (recreating an acoustical event as ‘accurately’ as possible in the sound field) or a perceptual experience of ‘envelopment’ or ‘immersion.’ The narrative of ‘realism’ is interlinked with the narrative of fidelity and hyper-localisation, with ‘clear’ fidelity and precise localisation being positioned as both essential and desirable for obtaining the most ‘real’ sonic environment, however artistically abstract the material may be. Some composers, such as Éliane Radigue, intentionally avoid specific spatial directionality and push against the concept of the sweet spot (Saccomano Reference Saccomano2020). Tuning loudspeakers by hand and by ear, Radigue’s work features ‘unlocalizable sounds that envelop the listener’, that encourages one to move throughout the room as the sound is ‘different everywhere’ (Ibid.). In more experimental compositional realms, often with less concern for industry standards and ‘realistic images’, composers and artists can reimagine approaches to spatial image, noise and fidelity, combining formats and technologies in innovative ways (Baalman Reference Baalman2010).

Due to logistical limitations involved in mounting public temporary installations, initial sonic preparations often occur in different physical spaces than the final pieces are mounted. Moving away from sweet spot mixing and traditional speaker configurations and formats involves a process of further experimentation as well as preparation time; programs like SPAT Revolution allow precise preparations in placing sounds-as-objects beforehand, and loudspeaker variations, however interesting, introduce more unpredictability and variables. Even in the realms of experimental immersive and spatialised sound artworks, artists still strive to ‘reproduce’ and ‘replicate’ our composed soundscape between varying spaces and contexts, aiming for control and standardisation over improvisation and wanting things to sound consistent, at least to our ears, in each space (van Eck Reference van Eck2017).

There are sound artists who do use large collections of mismatched speakers to create their art works. Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller, for example, have often used a miscellany of various speakers in their works, such as in ‘Experiment in F# Minor’ (Reference Cardiff and Miller2013), which involved 72 varying speakers of all shapes and sizes affixed to a table. German artist Benoit Maubrey’s speaker sculptures, which he calls ‘electroacoustic sculptures’, incorporate hundreds of mismatched salvaged loudspeakers, ranging from home stereo system speakers to boomboxes to old radios (Maubrey Reference Maubrey2024). Sometimes even formed into the shapes of boats or lighthouses, his installations often feature an interactive element, recently through Bluetooth receivers and placed microphones, offering connectivity to individual smartphones, a meeting of analogue technologies and digital interactivity. The building process is also a collaborative one; in his artist statement, Benoit suggests the e-waste can be locally collected and encourages participation with local neighbourhood or youth organisations (Ibid.). The process of material collection was similarly locally focused for Waste Whisperer, with loudspeakers and cables sourced by weight at local Renaissance stores, a non-profit multi-location second hand retail outlet in Montreal. These ‘junk’ speakers are in continued use at Concordia for various performances in the electroacoustic department, such as with the Concordia Laptop Orchestra, continuing to foster creative community-rooted collaborations (Tsabary Reference Tsabary2024).

London-based artist John Wynne also often works with recycled or repurposed materials, including mismatched speakers, to vacuum cleaners and hospital equipment (Wynne Reference Wynne2006). In his 17-channel piece ‘230 Unwanted Speakers’, mounted in the Hull Art Lab in 2006, he explained that ‘when I started gathering speakers I noticed that they each had a personality’ (Interview with BBC Humber [Author Unknown] 2006). For ‘Fallender ton für 207 lautsprecher boxen’, Wynne acquired 162 discarded speakers after obtaining a sponsorship from a recycling company, noting that ‘In the studio, it became immediately apparent that each of these rejected pieces of consumer technology had a story to tell, a history’ and was inspired to begin to lean into each speakers unique qualities and modifications, both visual and sonic (Ibid.).

Some artist-scholars lean into the audible mediation of loudspeakers and technology so fully that ‘glitch’ and technical failure becomes part of the aesthetic; in Rosa Menkman’s ‘Glitch Studies Manifesto’, the ‘glitch artifact’ becomes an integral part of the work, and beyond; glitch is perceived as a personal and cultural experience, beyond the technical (Menkman, Reference Menkman2010). Leaning into and embracing these ‘failures’ and signal disruptions becomes not only a form of resistance to the status quo, but a living improvisational creative practice. Failure-as-process or practice can expose ‘the logics’ of both capitalism and heteronormativity and provide creative ways of being, unlearning and unknowing, in moving through the world (Halberstam Reference Halberstam2011). Van Eck notes that for many artists, ‘compositions become a discovery of the possibilities of (dis-)connections between the sight and sound of the set-up itself and, therefore, of the many potential identities of the set-up’ (van Eck Reference van Eck2017: 183). Failure-as-aesthetic becomes a countermelody to the song of hi-fidelity, questioning what a ‘pure’ or ‘clean’ sound really is and making audible the technical mediation we have previously positioned as inaudible. Electronic musician John Richards explores the concept of ‘dirty electronics’ within his building and performance practice, which encompasses circuit-building and making bespoke electronic sound objects, as well as facilitating participatory events (Richards Reference Richards2008). Richards describes dirty electronics as a philosophy and approach extending beyond a resistance to ‘clean’ aesthetics, one which also incorporates a postdigital, ‘DIY’, and embodied ethos (Ibid.). Digital ‘dirt’ offers a form of resistance in oft-sterile digital realms, encouraging reflection on the prevailing narratives of ‘high’ and ‘low’ tech, virtuality, mass-production and maker positionality (Ibid.).

A scene from the Renaissance liquidation centre in Montreal, where loudspeakers and cabling for Waste Whisperer were procured, Spring 2023.

A scene from the Renaissance liquidation centre in Montreal, where loudspeakers and cabling for Waste Whisperer were procured, Spring 2023.

4. The role of recycling and repurposing in art and sound installation practices

Using ‘junk’ as art material is not a new concept in the visual art world, dating back to Marcel Duchamp and Vladimir Tatlin, to an array of more contemporary artists such as Margaret and Christine Wertheim (Michałowska Reference Michałowska2021: 3) or Nor Tijan Firdaus (Merman et al. Reference Merman, Zakaria, Ismail and Amir Hamzah2021). Artist Nor Tijan Firdaus uses discarded e-waste as sculptural material, often using it to re-work and re-create well-known paintings by famous artists, such as Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night or Frida Kahlo’s Self-Portrait with Bonito (Gallery – AFK Collection 2020).

Recycling and reinvention are both material and concept, questioning sustainability in our design practices, during a time in which humans are producing large amounts of ‘high-tech trash’ (term used by Kane Reference Kane2011). In their ‘Zombie Media’ manifesto, which explores the ‘living dead of media culture’, media archaeologists Garnet Hetz and Jussi Parikka oppose the concept of ‘dead media’, stating their belief that ‘media never dies’ (Hetz and Parrika Reference Hertz and Parikka2012, via Rogers Reference Rogers2017: 31). They argue that though media may seemingly disappear, it either ‘stays as a residue in the soil and in the air’ or is re-contextualised and reused, collected or reinterpreted (Ibid.: 31). So-called ‘dead-media’ or discarded objects can offer new creative outputs and opportunities for musical exploration, proposes Rogers, who suggests ‘hidden sound secrets can be unearthed’, including those that were not intentionally part of the original design (Ibid.: 31). Artist and technician also becomes archivist when media archaeology and circuit bending are both methodology and artistic practice (Hetz and Parrika Reference Hertz and Parikka2012), a shift from the often disembodied and ephemeral lens of acousmatic listening practices and Schaeffer’s objet sonore.

Beyond the physical infrastructures involved in an eco-sonic praxis, the concept of rediscovering new and unheard sounds in waste can similarly inspire decision-making within the creation of sonic material itself, specifically around decisions to use and repurpose material that has been discarded or ‘unwanted’. In his thesis work, Paul Rogers explores the term ‘sonic waste’, which he likens to ‘junk sounds’ or sounds that are deemed to be undesirable (Rogers Reference Rogers2017: 8). Through Rogers’ ‘sonic waste’ methodology, he notes that unwanted sounds have the potential to transition to wanted (i.e., beautiful) sounds through aesthetic re-framing (Ibid.: 32). Using the structuring of an ‘environmentally based aesthetic’, Rogers reflects on how sonic waste can present in various forms; noise ‘pollution’ found sounds integrating into the soundscapes of our everyday lives, junk materialities and the resonances and sonic artifacts created by ‘the acoustic architecture of our inhabited spaces’ (Ibid.: 5).

The sonic material itself was also recycled in Waste Whisperer – some previously used in other contexts by RISE team members from as many as 27 years beforehand, and repurposed, recontextualised, and given new life in the container of this installation. Fluttering and whirring metallics propel a soundscape of bells and voices, then morph into ambient synthesiser landscapes, blossom into abstract experimental operatics for singers and percussion, finally blending into collages of found-sound percussion, bells and dream-like mechanical purrs and hums. Sounds fade in and out and bleed into each other, resonances swelling to reveal moments of human whistling and almost pop-adjacent rhythmic patterns. It is a full and strange sonic world; digital tones amongst analogue. An old computer display reads in rhyming stanzas:

5. E-waste and sustainable art practices; affordability

In addition to contributing to broader ecological sustainability, using recycled or waste materials can make the creation of large-scale works more accessible financially. Costs and affordability to audio equipment can be a barrier to artists working in sonic mediums, especially in mounting larger scale multi-channel works. Loudspeakers alone are costly; outfitting a space with even just one stereo pair can be an expensive investment. Brands like the much-loved Genelec (acclaimed by both industry professionals and education institutions alike) have loudspeaker prices ranging from $499 to $4299 CAD per loudspeaker, or £266.98 to £2300.12 at the time of this writing (Genelec 2024). Affording an array of 40 of these loudspeakers, for example, even at the low end of the pricing, would cost more than many used cars. Forty loudspeakers priced at $100 CAD each (approximately £53.50) would still be unaffordable for most artists. Granted, these loudspeakers are not intended to be single-use material and rather a long-term investment, but the utilisation of discarded loudspeakers can offer a lower barrier of entry to mounting installation works outside of an educational institution or commercial spatial sound studio. Using discarded loudspeaker materials can make it possible for artists and composers to experiment with different multi-speaker arrangements, allowing ideas to be explored more tangibly than in a hypothetical imagined sense. Gestures and diffusion can be rehearsed before they are solidified, and ideas can be re-worked and re-imagined.

Using recycled materials offers a more affordable route to mounting multi-channel sound works; however, the purchase of new materials to supplement systems is often still unavoidable. This was also the case in the creation of Waste Whisperer; though the bulk of material was salvaged, cheap audio interfaces and power amps from Ali Express were purchased, a direct contradiction to the conceptual promotion of reuse the piece was striving to promote. It is hard to fully reconcile ethical dilemmas around being consumers of e-waste and living theory as practice while participating and living in a capitalist society. As media scholar Jacob Smith aptly posits in his book Eco-Sonic Media: ‘Can we have a sound media that is ecologically sound?’ (Smith Reference Smith2015: 1). Despite the contradictory purchases, all the material used for Waste Whisperer was kept after the de-mounting of the work and is available for various future projects at Concordia, such as for the Concordia Laptop Orchestra, CLOrk.

In the research process for this paper, it proved difficult to find much scholarship specifically surrounding material waste generated (and/or the subsequent recycling approaches) through art installation practices, particularly in sound art, though in the realm of media studies, critical discussions surrounding media culture and its ecological impact are growing (Smith Reference Smith2015: 1). In the world of film studies, a shift towards ‘eco-cinema’, as well as reflection on the ‘cinematic footprint’ (Nadia Bozak via Ibid.: 1), has been visually oriented, rather than the sonically focused (Ibid.: 1). Ecological discussion is not a novel conversation in the realm of sound studies, however, with Canadian composers such as R. Murray Schaefer and Hildegard Westerkamp instrumental in the realm of ‘acoustic ecology’ in the late 1960s (Ibid.: 1), providing a landing from which to reimagine a contemporary eco-sonic practice inclusive of noise, and one such that explicitly acknowledges our intertwined relationality with physical technologies and media, and the objects that allow us to record the ‘soundmarks’ of an environment. Smith suggests that perhaps in parallel with environmentalists who look to the past for inspiration and knowledge on sustainable practices, media scholars might glean important insights from early technologies and techniques, outlining the record industry’s history of transitioning from shellac (nontoxic, biodegradable) to vinyl (toxic, very challenging to recycle) (Ibid.: 7). An engagement with older media can encompass more than nostalgia or gear fetishisation, becoming what Regis Debray calls ‘media ecology’ (Ibid.: 7).

Within art installation discourse, the focus has been traditionally on analysis of the conception, creative process and presentation of the work, rather than the activities that occur afterwards, the de-construction, the dis-mounting and the so-called ‘tear down’. In Anthony Brumpton’s MFA thesis, ‘Aural Scenography: Towards An Environmentally Aware Sonic Arts Praxis’, exploring the development of a sonic art practice inspired by philosophies of permaculture, he reflects on some of the contradictions and ethical questions an artist is faced with in both the design and creation process: ‘numerous aesthetic and ethical choices often came into direct conflict – for example, do we use a bright orange cable in this location where a black would be less noticeable, because it is a recycled product?’ (Brumpton Reference Brumpton2019: 51).

On the brink of the Anthropocene and within a continually unfolding climate disaster, where micro-plastics are ominously ever-present, and their production is continuing to increase (Michałowska Reference Michałowska2021: 2), discussions around an artwork’s ecological impact and reflections on ‘sustainable design’ in art-making practices seem more relevant than ever. The Internet, AI servers and our contemporary data storage systems, such as the ‘the cloud’, also require vast energy and resources, though positioned as ‘cleaner’ environmentally friendly alternatives occupying a virtual space (Smith Reference Smith2015: 2). The movement of ‘upcycling’, which describes and involves some sort of ‘value add’ or shift in use (vs. recycling which is a re-using process that does not stray from a material’s original intended purpose) (Michałowska Reference Michałowska2021: 2), invites further musing about ‘upcycled art’, what it encompasses and how it relates to capitalist structures. Though artists have also been working with ‘natural’ materials for many years, there are artists now specifically focusing on plastics and non-degradable materials as medium, in a new morphing of ecological consideration (Ibid.). Are we entering an era of plastic or e-waste-based artworks evolving into a form of environmental art? And can we, like Anthony Brumpton ponders, sacrifice our aesthetic vision for the sake of recycling and work towards a more ecologically minded sound art practice?

Setting up the loudspeaker scenography of Waste Whisperer, June 2023.

6. The making of Waste Whisperer

For the production of Waste Whisperer, loudspeakers and cabling were acquired by weight from the liquidation centre of the Renaissance, a non-profit multi-location second hand retail outlet in Montreal. Decisions were shaped by availability (i.e., what was at the liquidation centre) and what appeared to be in working order. Artfully balanced stacks of cardboard moving boxes, plastic bins and even a small red toy fridge were transformed into speaker stands, supporting a variety of loudspeakers (many of them with their previously adhered Renaissance price tags still affixed). Various models, brands, colours, sizes, XPL, Sony and Athena were placed and distributed throughout the room, some even directly on the floor and others pointed upwards towards the ceiling, providing a sense of vertical space. Several loudspeakers were tucked in overturned plastic bins or metal rubbish containers, resonating within them.

A tangle of cables (as the Germans eloquently put it ‘Kabelsalad’, i.e., ‘cable salad’) (via the Harper-Collins Dictionary 2024) emerged from a large arthropodal form in the centre of the room, its body seemingly sculpted out of cardboard and bubble wrap. Several plastic bins, some of which appear to be co-opted Concordia recycling bins, were filled to the brim with a miscellany of cables. Closer observation revealed many to be plugged in and incorporated into the sound system, though they were among bags of unused ethernet and Radio Corporation of America (RCA) and High-Definition Multimedia Interface (HDMI) cables. There are blurred lines between what is structural and what is decorative, the ‘wanted’ and ‘unwanted’.

This physical arrangement was a deliberate design choice intended to foster a specific mode of audience engagement. The goal was not to create a precise, sweet-spot-focused spatial image, such as one might find in an Ambisonic array, but to emulate the immense complexity of an acoustically rich, natural environment. The 40 mismatched speakers, each with a unique identity (ranging from large 12-inch woofers to boxless drivers in metal cans, placed on the floor, in bins, or pointed at the ceiling), created a dense and non-uniform sound field that functioned as an invitation to move. Audience navigation thus became a compositional act; by walking, visitors were actively ‘mixing’ their own version of the installation.

This immersive quality was reflected in audience behaviour. Visitors typically stayed for extended periods, often 20 minutes or more, at first navigating the paths and eventually lying on the floor in different locations to experience the sound. The 10-day installation concluded with an unofficial dance party, where visitors brought their own music (e.g., Radiohead songs) to play through the system. While not an official part of the work, this event was a strong representation of the unique, compelling spatiality the installation fostered and the curiosity it inspired in the audience.

The physical e-waste materials directly shaped this navigation. The 300 meters of salvaged speaker cables were not left as a barrier but were tidily arranged and taped to the floor, explicitly forming the paths for the audience to walk through. The visual ‘Kabelsalad’ was concentrated under the computers, where 20 small power amps with blinking lights created an aesthetic focal point of both junk and complexity. The vintage computers, such as an Apple II, were similarly dual-purposed: they served as ‘junk set design’ displaying the opera’s libretto but were also operational. Visitors occasionally sat down to run legacy programs like Dazzle Draw, creating their own ephemeral visual art and deepening their interaction from passive listening to active engagement.

The primary takeaway, as observed in visitor reactions, was often a sense of awe at the unexpectedly great sound quality as experienced through its level of immersion. The installation’s ability to produce a deeply immersive and sonically rich experience from visually ragged and discarded materials served as its core critical intervention. This directly challenged the techno-utopian-driven ‘hi-fi’ culture by demonstrating the powerful aesthetic and spatial potential of ‘unwanted’ technology.

As mentioned previously, the concept of waste and recycling moved beyond the physical domain, with most of the sonic material in Waste Whisperer also recycled sonic ‘junk’. Junk and waste are not neutral categorisations; similarly, in artmaking, often the ideas that are discarded and deemed ‘garbage’ by the artist, are meaningful, useful and beautiful to others. Unwanted sounds became reframed as wanted and intentional, spatialised through unwanted loudspeakers and travelling through unwanted cabling.

7. Concluding remarks

The use of recycled e-waste materials in art-making practices, particularly in the realm of sound installations, can offer both ecological benefits and new creative approaches for auralisation. Exploring how to use and re-purpose indecomposable materials feels timelier than ever in an era of mass e-waste production and climate crisis, even when it is tempting to continue seeking the new, the shiny, the ‘high-tech’ and the ‘hi-fi’ among continual technological advancement. The use of e-waste can reduce financial costs when mounting larger scale artworks (at least in terms of materials) and make multi-speaker experimentation more accessible for sound artists. Repurposing can successfully translate conceptually to the sonic palette and physical material, through sonic recycling and the use of ‘sonic junk’, encouraging reimagined sculptural and aural design approaches. Mismatched loudspeakers offer creative sonic possibilities and timbral lushness, and unconventional loudspeaker arrays encourage original spatial approaches. Waste Whisperer and other eco-sonic works suggest a revaluation of our ongoing and unsustainable global accumulation of non-decomposable new products, encouraging resistance to the current consumerist capitalist ideologies around design and innovation. If a 40-speaker sound installation can be successfully mounted using ‘garbage’ speakers and cabling, perhaps we as sound artists can continue to reflect on creative ways ecological sustainability can encourage artistic innovations while designing new works.