Then a bird began to chirp—a long, insistent call, strangely monotone, holding the same frequency and pitch. Minutes passed, and gradually I realized it was not a bird at all. My neighbor was repeatedly playing a clip from social media, and the sound effects mimicked a bird’s chirping perfectly.
Presented as a sound installation, the project examines how fast‑food clips and other bite‑sized media quietly reshape our world and set the pulse of everyday life.
I began with lugging a recorder into the wild, chasing down the calls of birds, the croaks of frogs, and the hum of insects buzzing around. After gathering that soundscape, I ran the clips through a digital kitchen, re‑shaping them into artificial tones—phone rings, alarm beeps, and those bite‑size musical snippets we keep hearing on short‑form video feeds.
The remixed sounds were carried back into the forest, where the installation played them, letting the new tones weave into the existing chorus of leaves and birds and re‑entering the wild as a mediated echo.
I began with lugging a recorder into the wild, chasing down the calls of birds, the croaks of frogs, and the hum of insects buzzing around. After gathering that soundscape, I ran the clips through a digital kitchen, re‑shaping them into artificial tones—phone rings, alarm beeps, and those bite‑size musical snippets we keep hearing on short‑form video feeds.
The remixed sounds were carried back into the forest, where the installation played them, letting the new tones weave into the existing chorus of leaves and birds and re‑entering the wild as a mediated echo.
Comparing animal vocalizations with human‑crafted noises uncovers a convergence most evident in the way they pulse rhythmically and the looping textures they share. From the chirps of birds to the susurrus of wind weaving through trees, natural sounds often embed a subtle beat and a repeated architecture that reverberates like the low hum of a motor or the tinny ping of an electronic beep. In cases, the pitch and tonal span of these organic and synthetic snippets intersect, occupying the same narrow corridors of the acoustic spectrum.
Sugar‑shaped animal shells, each hiding a speaker, were later joined with wood that had been glazed in sugar. By constructing a “ natural tableau “ the work gently pushes observers to re‑evaluate the sonic backdrop of everyday life—how fabricated noises slip into our routines and meld so seamlessly with what we instinctively regard as natural soundscapes.
By embedding these contrived noises into an environment that masquerades as natural, the piece coaxes viewers into doubting the veracity of their sensory intake and musing on how human meddling subtly permeates the everyday soundscape.
By embedding these contrived noises into an environment that masquerades as natural, the piece coaxes viewers into doubting the veracity of their sensory intake and musing on how human meddling subtly permeates the everyday soundscape.
Weather: Mostly sunny, with light rain on day 5
Temperature Range: 23-27 °C
After coating the entire installation with sugar, it was left outside for weeks, where rain washed over them and sunlight slowly melted them away. The sugar crystallized after each rain, only to dissolve again under the heat. Through this quiet cycle of rain and sun, the work transformed—its surface growing thick with sugar crystals. Now it stands like a rusted relic unearthed from the soil, its parts fused into one, time and weather woven into its form.
Like information reshaped through countless edits, what we receive is no longer what it once was.
The sugar-crafted animal figures are scattered across the undergrowth, encouraging visitors to move among the figures and experience the layering of sounds in situ. Each step shifts perception—the man‑made tones blend with the wildlife, creating unforeseen harmonies and sharp dissonances.
The looping, the cadence, and the timbre of both engineered sounds coalesce into a riotous, immersive concerto, unsettling the tidy categories that separate the organic from the constructed.